Death and Denial

Death and Denial

The wind whips around my form, dragging black edges of thick fabric every which way and covering my face with silvering brown hair. My amber eyes are tearless as I watch them lower the empty black casket into the ground, knowing it is not my Sirius they are burying today, only air and memories.

I am not part of this charade of a funeral for I will never bury my memories; never give him up. I am not part of those silent ranks of Order members, barely touched by the wind that dances around me. They don't look at me, as if afraid that my true grief will make a mockery of their tears.

They never knew Sirius. They never saw the absolute beauty of his soul, the perfection that he covered up with pranks and jokes and a shifty looking exterior. They never saw him crying sweet release in his sleep, dreaming of James and Hogwarts and a time when life was easy and simple. They never felt his gentle hands holding their bruised bodies up, saving them again and again from utter damnation.

Now they never will, and maybe that is why they cry, for the beauty that has so swiftly faded from their lives without understanding. I am the only one who would cry for him. For I knew him, inside and out, and I loved him.

Ah yes, I loved him with all my heart and soul. I loved every part of him, both bad and good. And I will love him forever, the only way I ever could: from a distance.

I remember the first time I said it. We were graduating from Hogwarts. The next day we would be leaving its hallowed halls, never to return as students. Our trunks were packed and sitting by our bedsides, and we were nervously pacing the halls, as if to memorize each twist and turn.

Hogwarts had been my refuge, a place of learning and understanding and friendship. I knew the world outside of its halls was different. And somewhere in my heart there lay the fear that once my friends went out into that big wide world they would realize their folly in befriending a werewolf and forget about me. I would be left with no one and nothing but a broken heart.

After the Leaving Feast I asked Sirius if I could have a word with him outside. He gave him a confused look and dutifully followed.

The moon had already set, or not yet risen, so the only lights in the sky were the thousand pinpricks of stars, gleaming down at us. They gave me courage as I tried to stop my pulse from trembling so weakly and my hands from shaking feebly.

I brought him into the rose garden, picking a secluded bench far away from prying eyes and ears. But once we sat I couldn't think of anything to say. I just stared at him, overcome by his beauty, speechless with fear and awe.

"So what did you want to talk about, Moony?" he asked me quietly after a few long minutes had passed.

"I..." I quickly looked away, knowing I would be completely incoherent if I watched him while talking.

"Is something wrong?" A gentle hand resting upon my own, worry clear in that beautiful voice. Love caught in my throat, stopping my breath.

"I don't know. I just don't know." I could hear the hysteria growing in my voice. "I want to tell you so badly but I'm scared that if I do you'll hate me and..."

"Remus, I could never hate you. You can tell me," he interrupted softly, effectively stopping my hysterical rant.

I took a deep breath and jumped off of the known and into new territory.

"I love you Sirius."

Now, years later, you would think that the memory would have faded, but the sheer desolation that followed is still as sharp in my memory as it was that night as I cried myself to sleep. The shock and the horror in those grey eyes hurt me more than any moonlit transformation. The words he never had to speak because they were so clear in his eyes killed a part of me.

I remember with amazing clarity each time those words came out of my mouth. I remember the thoughts running through my head and the emotions that brought me to that point, whether fear or sadness or mirth. And I remember the soft, tired rejection that followed each one. Well, all but one.

One time he couldn't say no, couldn't do anything but accept what I was so freely offering. One time he could only hold me close as I cried and tell me that he loved me, had always loved me, and would always love me.

That one time was the night after he fell, the night he came back to me in my dreams and let me hold him one last time. That one time was in my memories and my imagination.

And I know that, how dearly I know it, but it's all I have left of him but his perfection and rejection. He is no longer here to reject me. Why can't I have the love I've yearned after for so long? Why can't I pretend that the empty casket being lowered into the ground contains the body of my lover? Why can't I pretend that the tears they shed are for our lost love, ended so prematurely?

To soft sounds of surprise I step forward to put the first shovel of soil over him, taking before all of these people my place as his life companion. Ignoring the whispers that swirl around my black-clad form, I watch the dirt hit the wood, making it reverberate with a dulled complaint.

"I love you Sirius," I whisper to him for one last time.

And though I listen intently to the breeze, it doesn't give me the denial I am now so familiar with.