Revenant

...Crucify this unholy notion of the mythic power of love ~ Rufus Wainwright

Revenant

If I were more like Sirius, I would be shouting at her by now. More likely Sirius would have thrown out some cutting remark and stormed from the room an hour ago. I, having always the calmest among us, merely sit and let her prattle on about how open minded and accepting she is. How she loves me...no matter what I maybe...how old, poor, or broken...and I cannot help but wonder why someone so besotted by love has yet to notice my utter lack of interest. Can't deign to understand what any of those things she "doesn't care about" might mean to me...or how they may have some effect on whether I might actually want her love.

Her single-minded self-absorption is actually fascinating, never mind that Sirius is gone, Dumbledore dead and Fenrir bloody Greyback has just stormed the bloody castle...no, to her mind what matters here is that I am not handing myself over to her tender devotions. Surely, this all-consuming conceit must run in the Black family blood. It reminds me somewhat of Sirius in our first years at school, before he had learned even iota of humility or empathy. I taught him those things, I think proudly...never mind that I taught them painfully, bitterly and unwillingly...often ripping myself apart, quiet literally, in the process. Now I am too bruised and scarred and yes broken to teach them to again.

She is saying she would have me, even as I am...but the truth is the poor thing hasn't the faintest clue as to what that is, nor do I think she would care to learn. I tell her again that being with me would be unfair to her...but what I do not tell her is that it isn't for any of the reasons she denounces ...it is only that the love has gone out of me like a candle in a rainstorm. What I could offer would only be a revenant of the fiery living thing that love truly is. I would tell her this if I thought she could understand, but no I think it would only remind her of the fairytale notion that love can overcome all else.

In the end, I think this notion is what separates adults from children. We have lived and loved and know beyond any doubt that despite its great powers and strengths, love is no panacea. If it were, I surely would not be in the uncomfortable position I am now. Did love keep James and Lily alive? Did love keep Sirius from Azkaban? Did love keep doubt and suspicion and mistrust from separating us? Did love keep Peter from betraying us all? Did love keep me whole and happy? No, it did not. I have seen the limits of love, and found them wanting. I almost wonder though, if I will be one of those things that finally bring her through that bitter threshold of maturity. Now which one of us is borrowing Sirius arrogance?

I listen still with one ear, because I know at some point she will pause and expect an answer. Should I turn her away again, she will only come back and come back and come back, and truthfully, I am too tired for this. I am too tired to love her and too tired to fight her. I wonder idly how long this can go on, and I wonder what could have caused a lovely young woman to act like this. She seemed so fierce and bright not so long ago, but now she only whines and makes a fool of herself over and old and broken man. I know were I to ask her, she would again proclaim the depths of her love. However, I know she does not love me. To love me she would need at least to see me, if not know me.

I sip my tea and breath and my heart continues beating, but where it matters I am nothing more than an inferi and somehow she has never seemed to notice