Survivor's Guilt: Moony's Tale

Survivor's Guilt
Moony's Tale

CHAPTER EIGHT
I'M YOUR MAN

Arriving back at his rooms Remus closed the door behind him and sagged against it, eyes closed. Such a backhanded Christmas gift the mirror had given him! To show him that beautiful scene, full of light, love and happiness, but at the same time the knowledge that it could never be for any of them -- that none of them could hope for anything half so good. Well, maybe one day there will be a happy ending for Harry, poor boy, but not for the rest of us. James and Lily dead, Sirius a madman, murderer and fugitive, and himself a prisoner to this unending loneliness.

How fortunate the people who looked into the face of Erised and saw that their heart's desire was an achievable thing -- something they could work for an attain! That had been him once, the first time he had seen the mirror. Though what it had shown him then had surprised him and taken a while for him to accept.

Remus went to the cupboard beneath the windowsill, took out a bottle of firewhiskey and poured himself a generous drink. He felt he deserved it. His hands were shaking as he poured.

He had been fifteen years old, he remembered, and suffering from a general discontentment with his life, filled with the angst, frustration and confusion that are the malaise of the fifteen-year-old boy. He had been grouchy and snappish with his friends, especially Sirius. He had said intentionally hurtful things to all of them without knowing why. At one point he had yelled at Sirius for teasing him about his grouchiness and saying it was "that time of the month". Of course he had felt badly about it after but his pride would not let him apologise.

He had thought long and hard about why he was so unhappy. What did he want? He did not know. The mirror had taken him by surprise then, too. He had found it entirely by accident. The Marauders had been up to their usual antics, sneaking about the castle at night, testing their new map. Filch had nearly managed to corner them and they had all taken off in different directions, knowing that even if only one of them were caught, it would still implicate the other three in Filch's mind.

Remus had gone tearing off down a side-passage, trying doors along the way until he found one that was unlocked. He ducked in and shut it quickly behind him. And when he turned around, there was the mirror. He had blinked at it stupidly for a moment, he now recalled. But when he saw the first word of the inscription, Erised, and knew what he had found. He approached it nervously, unsure what he might see.

At first he thought there must be some mistake, for in the dim room it seemed like any other mirror. Then he realised that the person reflected in the mirror was not himself but Sirius, looking into his eyes and grinning back at him. He smiled hesitantly, not really sure what this meant.

Sirius-in-the-mirror raised his hand and Remus, powerless as a reflection, did the same, reaching towards the surface of the mirror until their fingertips met against the glass. In that moment Remus, so full of the innocence of youth, began to understand.

The mirror seemed to work in the same way dreams did -- a series of images strung together without much continuity. Now he could see himself and his friends lounging beside the lake on their spread-out cloaks, enjoying the sun of a spring day. He saw Sirius turn and say something to mirror-Remus, and he saw himself blush and try to hide a tiny smile. He saw Sirius's hand casually brush his own and felt his own real fingers tingle with the touch.

The mirror worked its magic on him. The more he saw, the more the truth dawned on him, the more he wanted. The tingling in his fingers had moved to his chest and was spreading through his limbs. He felt different, as if something had clicked inside him and now the world made a great deal more sense.

Now he saw himself and Sirius sitting on his own bed, talking and laughing, the fingers of both hands interlaced. Then Sirius leaned in and kissed Remus's mirror-self on the mouth. The mirror-Remus looked surprised for a second, then as the kiss continued, appeared to be enjoying himself. Remus saw his own fingers run through Sirius's dark curls, caress Sirius's neck, slide around Sirius's waist and pull him close.

The boys in the mirror were now lying on the bed together, lips locked, hands moving over one another's bodies, exploring tentatively at first and then more boldly. He saw his own hand slide up under Sirius's shirt and knew in his heart that he longed to feel that smooth, warm skin beneath his fingers. Without transition, they were naked from the waist up, their bodies pressed urgently together, lips trailing to each other's neck and shoulders, kissing and biting.

Remus had stayed and watched, enthralled as scene after scene of passion, affection, love unfolded before him. He had still been standing there, fingers against the glass, when Filch finally found him. He had blushed a deep crimson then, forgetting that only he could see his own desires. Filch had grabbed him by the ear, effectively ending the sensations that were coursing through his young body and dragged him to his office where the other three Marauders were sitting looking sullen.

Without his willing it his eyes had sought Sirius's and their gaze had locked for a brief moment, Remus's searching, Sirius's puzzled by the look his friend was giving him. Then they both quickly looked away. Remus glanced back a moment later under his lashes and he could almost have sworn he saw a faint blush on his friend's cheeks.

Filch had railed at them all a bit, threatening them with the usual range of unlikely punishments, and kept the map which he had found when he caught Peter (thereby enabling him to catch the rest of them as well). It had been a damn shame to lose such a fine piece of sorcery as that map, and so soon after it was finished, but James created a diversion and Sirius had been able to tap the parchment quickly with his wand, whispering "mischief managed!" They had all agreed afterwards, during the following week of detention, that it was unlikely Filch would ever figure out how the thing worked.

Even after seeing the truth in the mirror it had taken Remus nearly six months to work up the courage to do anything about it, though he had taken Lily aside before the end of term and confided in her. He had spent so much time with the boys that year he was worried that they might not still be friends, but much to his relief she had been very understanding and had hugged him and told him he would find a way and that he deserved to be happy. Then she had complained about James who only days before had been being horrible to Severus again just after they had all finished their OWLs.

Remus shook his head at the follies of his boyhood, smiling slightly, but the vision he had seen in the mirror today and the recollection of the vision he had seen on that day almost twenty years ago would not leave him.

He decided it was going to be a long Christmas Eve whatever he did. He might as well spend it remembering happier times. Crossing the room to his gramophone, he selected an LP which he knew under the circumstances to be a bad choice. He set the needle down on the second track (an even worse idea) and as the music started he went to pour himself another large firewhiskey. Then he settled back into his chair, pulling a large leather-bound book from the shelf beside him.

I loved you for a long, long time
I know this love is real
It don't matter how it all went wrong
That don't change the way I feel

The leather cover was scuffed and worn and darkened with age and much handling. There were no words printed on the binding. Remus opened it to the first page. It was filled with pictures of the young Marauders, some from their school days and more from their early twenties. It stopped abruptly in the autumn of twelve years ago with nearly a third of the pages still empty. Remus had not taken a single picture since that day, nor had a moment he felt worth remembering.

And I can't believe that time's
Gonna heal this wound I'm speaking of
There ain't no cure,
There ain't no cure,
There ain't no cure for love.

He had been able to look through the photo album in recent years without feeling too much pain. Sometimes he could pretend that they had all died that day including Sirius and that the memory of those events was far enough removed from him that he could remember the good times with bittersweet fondness. The photo album had not been opened, however, since the day Remus had learnt of Sirius's escape from Azkaban. It was no longer possible to pretend the man was dead when one might catch a glimpse of him around a corner or through a window.

I'm aching for you baby
I can't pretend I'm not
I need to see you naked
In your body and your thought

Remus turned the pages slowly, every now and then pausing to tenderly trace the features of one long dead, long lost. He absently poured himself another drink.

There. That picture. The picture of Sirius as he so often remembered him: young, handsome and smiling, wicked eyes dancing, wicked grin full of fun. He was dressed in very formal, well-cut black robes, looking sharp and sexy as hell.

I've got you like a habit
And I'll never get enough
There ain't no cure,
There ain't no cure,
There ain't no cure for love.

The day that picture had been taken was still firmly engraved upon Remus's mind and he knew it would be with him until the day he died. Halloween a year to the day before his world had fallen apart. It had been the day of Harry's christening when Lily and James had named Sirius Harry's godfather. It had been a small, private event with only the four of them and baby Harry attending and Dumbledore officiating. Sirius had teased Remus about being Harry's "fairy godmother" and Lily had given her son's new godfather a playful smack.

I don't need to be forgiven for loving you so much
It's written in the scriptures
It's written there in blood
There ain't no cure,
There ain't no cure,
There ain't no cure for love.

And then there had been another ceremony -- short and equally private -- an exchange of words and promises and rings and a kiss, Dumbledore presiding again, Lily and James witnessing and Harry asleep in his mother's arms. It had not been a secret as such. Those things were certainly permitted in the wizarding world, but many old houses including House Black were staunch in their disapproval of such ideas. It was enough for them to do the thing, though. They did not need anyone to know but their nearest and dearest. They would have invited Peter as well of course but he had been so busy in those days.

If you want a lover
I'll do anything you ask me to

They had not worn the rings much. They had talked about it and decided that while the symbolism was nice for the ceremony itself, they were not really practical for daily wear on a shape-changer. There was too much risk of them being lost or damaged. Instead they had decided on tattoos as an indelible mark of their love.

If you want a partner
Take my hand
Or if you want to strike me down in anger
Here I stand
I'm your man

Unconsciously, Remus put his hand over his heart where he still carried a large, black gothic-scripted letter "S". He would bear that mark until the day he died -- see it every day -- and even if he could have removed it he would not have. His heart still belonged to Sirius -- had since that first dawning moment of realisation before the Mirror of Erised -- and he was powerless to change that. He still kept the rings as well. Both of them were in a small pine box which he kept in the drawer of his night-stand.

Ah, the moon's too bright
The chain's too tight
The beast won't go to sleep
I've been running through these promises to you
That I made and I could not keep

Several of the pictures in the album were from that day. Remus gazed at the happy, glowing faces, so young, so full of life. It had been such a good year despite the war and the horrors Voldemort had perpetrated. But a year to the day later it had all been smashed to pieces. Remus poured himself another drink and then another as he gazed into the laughing eyes of Sirius Black. "Why'd you do it, Sirius?" he asked the picture softly, tracing over and over the line of that jaw with his finger.

I'd crawl to you baby
And I'd fall at your feet
And I'd howl at your beauty
Like a dog in heat
And I'd claw at your heart
And I'd tear at your sheet
I'd say please, please
I'm your man

He lost track of the passage of time, simply staring at the pages of photos and occasionally noticing with some surprise and puzzlement that his glass was empty again. He finally realised that the record had finished some time ago and got unsteadily to his feet to turn the LP over.

Yeah I loved you all my life
And that's how I want to end it
The summer's almost gone
The winter's tuning up
Yeah, the summer's gone
But a lot goes on forever
And I can't forget, I can't forget
I can't forget but I don't remember what

He stood swaying alarmingly over the gramophone. Perhaps he had had a bit too much to drink, he thought slowly. He looked around to check the level of the firewhiskey bottle. The room seemed to spin and wobble in unsettling ways. Nothing looked quite right.

"Been enjoying yourself?" asked a voice from the doorway.

Remus spun around, overbalanced, and sat down hard on the floor. He squinted blearily at the man standing by the door looking at him warily. Ah, so that was it. He had fallen asleep and was dreaming. That was why everything looked all swimmy.

"Stay outta m'dreams, Sirius," he slurred at the thin, ragged figure cautiously approaching him. "Knew I was gonna dream tonight. Knew it. Erised always does that," he nodded, causing the room to wobble alarmingly. "Thought I'd dream 'bout th'girl, though. Lollia. I'd've called 'er Lollia. Or mebbe Erised. 'S a pretty name. Sweet li'l thing. And mebbe she 'n' Harry ...."

He looked down in puzzlement to see that there was a bony hand on his arm and found himself being pulled to his feet.

"Christ, you're drunk! What on earth are you rambling about? Erised? Girls?" Sirius held him by the shoulders to keep him from swaying too much. "Remus, I came to explain, if you'll let me. I need your help ...."

"Go 'way, Sirius. Lemme 'lone," Remus said dully. "Tired of dreaming 'bout ... 'bout you ... all th'bloody time." He tried ineffectually to shake off the other man's grip.

"Poor Remus," said Sirius with a trace of humour in his rough voice. "What's become of you with no one to look after you?" He guided Remus by the arms until they were standing by the bed where Sirius made him sit down. He sighed. "I can see that you're in no state to hear me out." He knelt and began to remove Remus's shoes.

"Stoppit! I do'need ... I do'want ... Just bugger off, Sirius!" He pulled away but nearly lost his balance and had to grip the bed with both hands to remain upright.

Sirius sat back and put his hands up. "All right, Moony Old Man, I'm sorry. It just looked like you could use a hand."

"Sorry? You're sorry?! You killed them, Sirius -- killed me too .... Sold us all, traded in everything we were. And for what? Pat on th'head from Voldemort? Just get the fuck 'way from me! Do'want you 'nywhere near me." But as he said this, he looked down into the saddest eyes he had ever seen and the anger drained away. "M'sorry, Padfoot, Din' mean it," he mumbled tearfully. "It's just been so hard .... S'all right if you visit m'dreams. Do'mind s'much."

Still kneeling on the floor in front of him, Sirius took his hands in his. "I wasn't going to come down here tonight," he said at last. "I knew it would be too risky with the full moon not until tomorrow, but I had to come on the off chance that you might listen to what I have to say." He looked up hopefully at Remus then but apparently failed to find what he was looking for. The corners of his mouth drooped. "I could smell the liquor on your breath from all the way down the hall and, well, I knew there wasn't much chance of you turning me in if you were already that drunk. But I guess there wasn't much chance you'd understand either." He squeezed Remus's hands, then said softly, "how could I not come see you, Moony? It's Christmas."

Remus frowned. This was a very strange dream, he decided. He had never had a dream where Sirius had behaved in quite this fashion. Nor could he remember ever smelling anything in a dream and the man at his feet certainly smelled as though it had been some time since he had had proper bathing facilities or a change of clothes. Remus thought that if he could just get his mind to focus he could figure this all out -- what the dream meant, why he was having it -- but he felt so tired. Maybe he would just close his eyes for a bit. He lay back on the bed.

Dimly, he heard Sirius sigh. "Poor Moony. I can see you're in no state for company." Remus felt his shoes and socks being removed but did not struggle this time. He felt thin but strong arms swing his legs up onto the bed and lift his head to put a pillow under it. A blanket was tucked up under his chin and he could feel himself beginning to drift into unconsciousness. The last thing he felt before descending into sleep was a brief and tender kiss on the forehead and the whispered words, "good night, Remus. Merry Christmas"

Well my friends are gone and my hair is gray
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on ...