The Long and Winding Road

The Long and Winding Road

The long and winding road that leads to your door
Will never disappear
I've seen that road before it always leads me here
Leads me to your door

The wild and windy night that the rain washed away
Has left a pool of tears crying for the day
Why leave me standing here, let me know the way
Many times I've been alone and many times I've cried
Anyway you'll never know the many ways I've tried
And still they lead me back to the long and winding road
You left me standing here a long, long time ago
Don't leave me waiting here, lead me to you door

But still they lead me back to the long and winding road
You left me standing here a long, long time ago
Don't keep me waiting here (Don't keep me wait), lead me to you door
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

The Beatles, The Long and Winding Road


The rain fell softly and slowly, surprisingly cold for this time of year. I could feel it soaking my fur and chilling me from the outside in, as if my bones weren't frozen already. I was grateful that it softened the road beneath my paws, though. I don't think they could have taken a hard dirt road in their condition. Every time I stepped on a stone embedded in the soft dirt, it was all I could do was to whine and whimper in pain. I was amazed they were still supporting me, still carrying me forward. Forward. To your house. Remus. Moony. "Lie low at Lupin's," Dumbledore had said. How I yearned to obey him, but how I feared it, too. Try as I might to focus on the tremendously difficult task of putting one foot in front of the other, my mind started to wander to other things....

Warm golden eyes looking at me from a far-too-serious face, fear dancing in them, controlled, pushed down, just under the surface. Long fingers, a trembling hand, reaching out for me, and then snatched back. Pearly teeth, nervously working a lower lip.
"What is it Remus? You can tell me, honest. We're best mates, right?"
"Sirius, no, go, just...go. You don't need to hear this, don't need to know. This is for me to handle on my own."
"You handle too much on your own. You hold too much in. Let me help you. Please."
"You won't want to. Not after I tell you this."
"I swear I'll help you through anything. I don't care what it is."
There were tears in those eyes for just a moment, swiftly closed. They opened again and were dry; looking right into mine. You leaned toward me, oh so slowly. I leaned in too, thinking you wanted to keep it secret, even though no one else was near. Your warm, soft lips pressed against mine so sweetly. You drew back quickly, pushed me away, head turned aside. You said you understood that I wouldn't want to be near you now, that I would never want to see you again, that I might hate you. I grinned. You, the prefect, always right, had gotten this so wrong. I told you so and your head jerked up, eyes meeting mine. I nodded slowly and admired your smile, gorgeous, beautiful, the sunrise in my own private world. How I loved you, and rejoiced that you loved me too.

The soft rumble of thunder jerked me out of my reverie, back to a world of pain and cold. But I still was happy, as happy as I could be, that my memories were coming back. Some of them, of course, had never gone away....

Madam Pomfrey did not want to let me into the hospital wing that morning. She knew. But she did. She always did. She knew about us, I think. I walked in. You were lying in the same bed you always did, right at the end, under the window, with the weak morning sunlight shining on you. I had often seen you lie in this bed, but never before like this, never. Dark, sunken circles marred you under your eyes like you'd been hit. Your blood was still oozing from dozens of bites, cuts, and scratches, from under cracked and broken fingernails, despite the nurse's best efforts. You looked so pale and drawn, small and frail, almost dead. I sat in the chair by the bedside, not wanting to look, but unable to look away. You began to stir; I stood and leaned over you, anxious. Your eyes opened and you struggled to sit up. I put out an arm to help you, but you pushed me away. You looked into my eyes.
"How could you, Sirius? How could you do this to me? I trusted you. I loved you."
Trusted. Loved. Things that happened once, but were now gone. My heart died inside of me at that moment.

A sharp stone banished the memory and brought a howl from my throat. It was one of my worst memories. One of the many that had played again and again inside my head, stuck in that awful prison, robbed of myself bit by bit. Robbed of you. But not all of you...

The flat was small and crowded, but it was home. Our home. At least, it had been. Now, it was a place where two men went after work, ate and slept. I walked in the door. You were sitting on the couch, reading the paper. You didn't look up as I came in, didn't give me the smile that was reserved just for me. And I didn't expect you to, wasn't surprised that you didn't. I went to the kitchen to dig up something to eat, and I could feel your eyes on me, watching me, suspiciously. Was I the traitor? Had I turned? Was everyone in danger because of me? No, no, of course not. It was you who couldn't be trusted, you who had to be watched. You were the only one who had anything to gain from the Dark Side. I returned to the living room, sat down, and picked up a magazine. The thought of saying something never crossed my mind. How long had it been since we had spoken? Days? Weeks? I didn't know. Too long. Too long since we had hugged, kissed, made love. Too long since we had lived in anything but suspicion and fear.

I shook my head, to clear the rain from my eyes and the fog from my brain. But the memories kept coming I couldn't stop them...

I looked at my reflection in the grimy iron bars, not recognizing myself. The sunken, sallow face, tangles of filthy dark hair and blood pouring from scratches I had given myself, trying to claw my eyes out, to take those horrible memories from me, to stop seeing them over and over again, the anger, the fear, the betrayal. I wanted to stop seeing the gray stone walls, the bars on my cell, and the dirty pile of straw that was my bed. To stop seeing the hooded, cloaked figures whose approach always marked the beginning of another hour or hours or day of torture, locked in my own head, my own fear and anguish and guilt, all of my own making.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There was noise and confusion and shouting. Peter was there, as I made sure he was, and Harry, Harry my godson, who looked so much like James, and two other children, one hurt and pale on the bed, one trembling but putting on a brave face. Then you were there, you, Remus, my friend, my lover, and I knew here was my chance. Explanations were made, secrets revealed, and everything would be alright. I would be free, we would be together again, and Harry would have a family. Then hope was gone, all gone, whisked away yet again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I lived in the wilderness, surviving however I could. I visited with Harry and his friends when I could, not often enough to suit me. I was worried for him, someone wanted to hurt him, kill him, and it was my job to protect him. I sent you owls, again not often enough to suit me. Then, that fateful night. Harry was gone, and I was scared, so scared, and angry too. Then he was back, and I was even more scared as I sat in Dumbledore's office, waiting. He finally came, and Harry with him, and others too, but they made no difference to me. They told me everything that had happened. Dumbledore gave me orders. Alert the old crowd, he said. I could do that. It was obvious to me that the Order had to be put back together. Then he said those fateful words that burned in my mind all through my journey: Lie low at Lupin's.

Now I find myself here, on this long dirt track out into the middle of nowhere, the place you have chosen to make your home. It is through much pain, and fear, and sorrow that I have made my way here. Not just the trek from Hogwarts, around Britain, then here, to this remote track on the endless moor. No, the trek through time and the depths of human emotion leads me to your house, Remus. I am afraid, so very afraid. So much has happened since we were teenagers, just out of school, young and in love; sure we could conquer the world. It would seem the world has conquered us. I see the lights of your cottage up ahead in the distance. My pace slows. I cannot do this. I cannot face the past, cannot tell you of the things I have faced in your absence. Still, I have no choice. My entire life has led me to you, why should this be any different? I draw closer, doubts filling my mind. The light shines in the window, warm and friendly. The first warmth I have seen in so long. I resume my human form. Not good for keeping out the cold, but much better for knocking on the doors of long-lost friends. I slowly approach, the stairs creaking even under my slight weight. I raise my hand, but no need. The door is already opening. You stand there, so much older than I remember you, with gray in your hair, lines around your mouth, and your eyes, so tired, so filled with grief.
"Sirius," you say, and your voice is still the same. "I've been expecting you."