Slash

Slash

It hurt. Oh god, it hurt. Every second he spent awake, every dream he had while asleep, they hurt so badly, tearing him to shreds inside. Warmth and love were gone, instead leaving him with sadness, emptiness. Pain. Nothing worth living for except the promise of life for someone else. And when it was all over...

He would leave this world by his own hand, if it hadn't happened yet.

Wolves mate for life. Ironic, really, that particular aspect was. Vicious creatures they could be, but their pack was their family. Though it wasn't as strong, that tie, that way of life, was ever present in werewolves as well. Ironic, that even something like love could cause pain for a werewolf, as if their suffering wasn't horrible enough. All it took was loss of their life-mate, through death or separation, and a werewolf would be emotionally tormented until they were reunited or the said werewolf died.

And how Remus Lupin wished for death. Death, the only thing that could give him a reprieve, the only way he would be free, not only of his monthly transformations, but of the terrible reality that faced him.

Sirius was gone.

When he had gone through the veil, it was like a tie connecting them had snapped. Numbed from shock, Remus had stopped Harry from following with no real emotion connected to his thoughts... yet. But he had been right, and Sirius was dead.

Only when he had returned to his flat that night had his mind accepted what his heart knew beyond doubt. And with that acceptance came loss, pain, and an incredible loneliness so great that he lay the rest of the night without sleeping, clutching one of Sirius' old shirts to his chest.

And the next night. And the next. Until finally, he had to succumb to sleep out of sheer exhaustion.

It was about that time when Dumbledore finally sent someone to check on him. Through the haze of pain, he vaguely registered Tonks before passing out again. The auror kept him fed and rested and tried to sooth his hurt, his loss, but failed miserably in the last task. Even with someone there to comfort him, all he could think of was Sirius. Sirius' face, his touch, the way he smelled right after a shower, the sound of his voice...

Remus choked down another sob. Would it ever stop hurting? He could no longer think clearly, and surely would do more harm than good in his current state. The problem of the matter was that he couldn't stop it. But he had to live, in case he was needed.

At least, that's what he told himself. For beside the grief, filling a small corner of his heart, was the lust for revenge. Revenge on Bella, who had taken Sirius away. Revenge on Voldemort for issuing the orders. Revenge on Snape, for goading him until he was fairly mad with wanting something to do. Revenge on all of them, even Dumbledore, who let him die.

All but Harry, the only family he had left.

Remus drew the knife across his palm, perversely fascinated by the thin line of blood it drew. But it didn't hurt enough. It couldn't distract him from the pain. The pain of the physical to numb the emotional. It could never completely distract him, but it gave him something else to focus on, a moment to breathe. Almost eagerly, he pulled the leg of his trousers up and dug into his ankle. He welcomed the rush of hurting it caused. Physical pain, he could deal with, had been dealing with since he was a young child. Pain could be his release.

With the fervor of an insane man, he slashed and dug at his ankle frantically. And for a moment, he almost forgot.

FIN