Mistakes

It was somewhere between night and day when a small boy, maybe five years old, peered under the large wooden cart.

This wasn't a strange occurrence. Many a summer day like this one, the boy had left the house to play in the garden. And many nights the boy had stayed out long after dark, his black collie bounding along playfully as he ran from place to place. It confused the boy, though, that the dog wouldn't come out after the first time he had called this night. In fact, the creature seemed, if anything, scared.

"Remus, come inside!"

The boy looked around to see his mother standing in the doorway. It appeared she had just finished cleaning up after dinner. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel, and her usually clean, white apron was wet and smudged.

"But Pontoof--"

"Don't worry, Dear," his mother said. "The dog'll be fine. I don't want you staying out late tonight."

"But Mama--"

"Remus Lupin, I want you inside now."

The boy stood slowly. He looked back at the dog, who stayed stubbornly under the cart. He then looked up into the now black sky. The moon was large, round, and bright, shedding silver light over the garden.

"Oh, Mama, just a few more minutes!" the boy pleaded, looking back at his mother.

"I'm not going to say it again," his mother said, placing her hands on her hips.

The boy sighed again.

"Remus," his mother said. But this time it wasn't scolding. It was frightened, and she stared wide eyed in his direction. "Get in here. Now."

The boy turned slowly, curious as to what his mother was looking at. A huge, brown wolf crouched, ready to attack. The boy stood wide-eyed, too scared to move.

"Remus." His mother's voice was quiet, as if she didn't want to startle the wolf into attacking. "Get in the house."

The wolf pounced.

And Remus Lupin awoke with a start.

He sat up slowly, and dropped his legs to the side of the bed, rubbing his face. It was older now, and his hair streaked with silver. Sirius said it was from worry, but Remus knew it was because of what he was.

Perhaps it had something to do with his dark-haired friend being reminded of his past in this house, but lately Remus had been dreaming about this a lot lately. Maybe this was just the spell of the old house.

Remus padded lightly out of the bedroom and down the hall. He paused outside Sirius's room, and changed his mind about waking him up. The man didn't need to wake up to the reality that was being inside Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

The place had certainly seen better days. Once Remus had been there over a week in the summer he had turned fifteen. The grandeur was enough to take anybody's breath away. The chandeliers had lit the hall brilliantly in golden light. Never a house-elf was to be seen; instead, the Blacks had hired human servants, believing that nobody should ever have to seen the creatures that did their laundry and cooked their dinners. They had huge banquets with hundreds of guests, family and friends. Remus look at his feet and see his reflection in marble floors, and mirrors lined the walls with portraits of deceased family members.

Now, try as they may, the grime would just not come off the floors and mirrors, they never had enough candles for the chandeliers, lamps, torches, and desktops, and many of the keys to a good majority of the rooms were lost.

Remus reached the door to the kitchen and pushed it open. It was dark, save for a few embers in the giant fireplace. Felt around for a few moments before feeling the wax of a candle, and lit it with his wand. A small circle of light filled a section of the room, and Remus walked across the room to a small table with a few bottles of liquor. He then changed his mind and headed for the stove, where he put the kettle on to boil. It would not due to follow Sirius's example and drown his sorrows in alcohol.

In a few moments he had a cup of chamomile and he sat at the long wooden table. He must have sunk into a stupor, for when sat up again, his tea had gone cold. He looked down and pressed the little button on his muggle watch, making it glow blue. Nearly six in the morning. He had better go back upstairs to get dressed.

"You're up early."

Remus spun around to see Sirius leaning against his doorframe. He looked tired, and was still dressed for bed.

"So are you," Remus said. "I couldn't sleep."

"Neither could I," Sirius said, smiling slightly, looking at his bare feet.

"I--" Remus paused for a moment. "I dreamt about the night I was bitten."

Sirius's head jerked back up, and looked at Remus curiously.

"I suppose," Remus continued, "you could say it was a nightmare. Only...only how could you, since it was real?"

"Remus Lupin, have nightmares?" Sirius scoffed for a moment, teasingly. Then he sobered, saying, "I suppose you could, couldn't you? Call it a nightmare, that is."

"I almost went and got drunk, you know," Remus said. He was hoping if he played his cards right, Sirius would take a hint. But then, Sirius could intentionally miss a hint, so there wasn't much hope. "I didn't want to sink to that level; I wanted to fix my problems, even if all I could do was make my everyday life better."

Remus could see it forming behind Sirius eyes. The man ignored the hint, but heard the message.

"You were always the strong one, Remus," Sirius said. "I don't think I could manage to survive all that."

"Yes, you could, Sirius," Remus replied. "You got through Azkaban, didn't you? Just hang on a little longer."

Sirius nodded, but he remained as sad as ever.

"I'll help you get through this, Sirius."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Remus knew his greatest mistake. He tried to cool the fire inside his best friend. It didn't work. He watched that best friend fall through the veil, and knew that the fire would never have been cooled.

He didn't feel the wrath that Harry did against Sirius's cousin. If she hadn't done it, somebody else would have. She would have explained it away. In that way, she was just like Sirius; for they were cut from the same cloth, they had the same fire. He knew what her exact words would be:

"It's not my fault he decided to fall backward."