After the Veil

June 17, 1996

Sirius...I don't know why I'm choosing to write this. Is it for you or for me? It's definitely for me. Somehow this just feels very selfish. I remember after Halloween 1981 I felt so much sorrow for James, Peter, Lily, and yes even you. The thought of "poor Remus, all of his friends are dead, his lover was responsible, and now he'll be poor and alone for the rest of his wretched werewolf life" never even entered my mind back then. Dumbledore and the others tried to talk things out with me, as though I needed it. In my head I kept wondering how I screwed up more than anything. I kept wondering just how you could kill your best friend just weeks after we had last slept together. Had Voldemort been torturing you without me noticing your pain? For the next year afterward, I tried to figure out just exactly how you could have been framed because your guilt seemed impossible to me despite the evidence.

I keep wondering just why I'm fated to be alone. Does a werewolf curse people like a black cat? Everything I touch turns to rubbish. Sirius, I couldn't save you either time. I couldn't even console you enough for you to put your past behind you. You lived through Harry. I think by seeing his face you were constantly reminded of the one mistake that took James and Lily's lives. You remembered happier times and looked at the present as a bad nightmare that wouldn't end. If my kisses could have woken you up, I never would have stopped kissing you. I've always been far to wide-awake to be able to save a dreamer such as you.

You just had to fall into that damned Veil! The worst part about it is the ambiguity! The first time you left my life I wasn't sure of your guilt; and the second time, I don't even know if you're actually dead! This is far worse than the first time. All we know is that those who walk through the Veil never return. Right now you could be feeling pain worse than any werewolf transformation, and no one is coming to your rescue. I'm just so useless! Accepting that you went into the Veil would have been so much easier if I hadn't just spent a year with you. The suffering you've endured sits heavily in my mind still. It's as though you're this tragic hero who was fated to fight his entire life and must suffer and die so that goodness could come to those who remain. And yet, your fate was even worse. You didn't get to save anybody. In fact, only a few people knew of your heroism. You died... or disappeared... completely in vain.

Somehow, I feel the need to dwell in my own depression. Or, rather, I need to write it out. You know that I can't show my emotions at all. And now, with Harry left in my care, he's going to need someone who won't break down into sobs while next to him. But, honestly, I don't think I'm capable of crying anymore. I haven't cried since I was nine. I sometimes wonder whether the lycanthropy is aging me so hastily or if it is because I'm a person who cannot release the darkness within. I so wish I could scream and cry as Dumbledore told me Harry had in his office. I could have exhausted myself to sleep that night. Instead I just shook, unable to mourn for you properly. I don't even know if I was in shock. At this point it seems life in itself is a cruel irony, and I don't really look forward to positive outcomes anymore. Right now you'd probably elbow me and laugh saying I was far too morose for my own good. Well, you would have said that when we were twenty. I knew better than to tell you how sad I've felt this year. You probably would have seen through a fake smile in the past, but not anymore. You were too busy with your own problems to notice anything about me. You were always the person who filled my hollowness with love and emotion. And yet, all year the roles have been switched, but I could never fill you like you filled me.

Sirius, I'm so sorry for everything. Because I went to the Shrieking Shack two years ago, Peter escaped and you remained a fugitive. Because I'm not openly supportive enough, I couldn't console you. Because I couldn't convince Snape to teach Harry again, Harry saw the vision of you being tortured. Because I wasn't there to protect you, you fell into the Veil. Despite how much I strive to be liked and perfect it seems like I've always failed you.

I just...I don't want to be alone anymore. Part of me wishes I could just hug the people who are still in my life and confide in them like I did with you, James, and Peter. But I can't. I wonder how Harry will act around me from now on. Will he pity me, hate me, or just feel very uncomfortable? He can't even call me 'Remus'. I suppose it is my own fault that the invisible wall surrounds me. Knowing Harry, he is going to try to find out if there is a way to save you, if you're still alive. Part of me just wants to say that you're dead and force him to think the same. It's cruel for me to write this, but it hurts far more for you to rise from the dead as a shell of your former self again. And in the end you're always taken away from me. I'm always left to suffer alone, which is the penalty of having a secret romance I suppose. No one realizes that I just lost the equivalent of a spouse. And no one can read the sadness from my face anyhow. It's for the best because having others pity me would only make it worse, make it more real that you're no longer here.

Perhaps Harry will find a way to bring you back, and on that day, I will show you this letter and hopefully we can laugh about it. We can laugh over the idea that both of us suffered for so long, so completely disconnected from one-another. You can hold me, smell my hair like you always used to, and tell me that life is good and the last 14 years were merely a bad dream.

Your love,

Moony