Fic: A Heart Twice Shattered. PG-13, Remus.
Title: A Heart Twice Shattered
Author: dacro
Pairing: Remus/Sirius, Remus/Harry
Rated: PG-13
Warnings: Implied character death, implied suicide
Beta: saladbats *hugs* Brutally honest editing and hand-holding services.
Summary: Refusing to pick up the pieces of his broken heart, Remus finds another option.
Challenge: For beren_writes birthday.
Notes: Sorry to give such a sad offering, but Remus kept on telling me that this was how the story needed to be told. Feedback welcome.
A Heart Twice Shattered
There had never been a public funeral for Sirius.
‘And how could there have been?’ Remus asked himself as he walked down the gritty London streets. He weaved through the alleys silently, head lowered slightly, hood up.
There had been no body to bury, the Wizarding world wasn’t even aware of Sirius’ death and there was still the matter of him being a wanted criminal, even after so many years. A handful had mourned him, but he deserved more respect in death, had suffered too much for someone else’s crime.
But Remus treasured the days they spent together, desperate to make up for twelve years of darkness.
He remembered the first night he spent alone. How empty the room felt without Sirius’ deep breathing, and only the sound of his own hitched sobs breaking the silence. The creaks in the house seemed louder, along with Buckbeak’s constant scratching and thumping. There wasn’t really anyone to talk to about his loss, so he sealed it deep inside, vowing to be strong for Harry.
He had long since lost hope that there was anyone left to be strong for him.
~*~
He rounded a corner and noticed a young couple pushing their way into a taxi, hurrying to get out of the cold wind. They were openly kissing and clutching at each other, while the grinning driver asked them where they were off to.
Remus paused to watch, even though it hurt him to do it.
In his whole life, his heart had only loved two men. Dreams of walking hand in hand along the busy pavement, or kissing outside a crowded café were quickly extinguished in the necessary reality of secret relationships. With both men, he had ached to have the same freedoms as the happy couple in the cab, but it just wasn’t meant to be.
Werewolves loved from the shadows.
He gave a few coins and his gloves to a ragged man begging on the steps of St. Andrew’s, who thanked him warmly, and prayed blessings for Remus’ future. Remus walked away before the prayer had ended, retreating further into his hood.
~*~
Two years he had rattled around the Black mansion, a portion of his former self. Days of going through the motions of the Order, unfocused and uncaring, had placed him within firing range of Moody and Severus’ tempers more than once. He spared a smile for a select few, and always for Harry, who often looked in worse shape than he did, and still had the pressures of school and the Dark Lord hanging over him.
In his seventh year, Harry spent a good deal of time at the house after lessons and on the weekends. It made a lot of sense, since there had been almost daily meetings of the Order by that point and Harry said he found it easier to focus on his revising without all the distractions of the dormitory. He also teased Remus that he couldn’t fail any of his exams because he had his own former professor in the house whenever he needed help.
Remus remembered the late-night sessions, pouring over the texts and parchments, Harry frequently falling asleep on the couch or face down on a still-wet paragraph of essay.
His hair was soft like Sirius’ the first time Remus lightly brushed it away from the closed eyelids.
~*~
He spotted a bus bench and sat for a moment as he gathered himself together. His bottom lip was shaking, nothing to do with the cold. Remus closed his eyes and saw Harry stepping out of the fireplace, the evening of his last day at Hogwarts, with every possession he owned, including Hedwig.
He hadn’t announced his arrival, nor did he really need to, since it was now his home, but Remus remembered being surprised nonetheless.
It took Remus two weeks until he finally confided to Harry about his former relationship with Sirius. Remus had been in for another shock when Harry confessed that he had already figured it out for himself. He smiled and told Remus that he was happy they were able to be together, even if it had only been for a short while.
It was a week later that Harry walked softly into Remus’ room and invited himself under the covers.
At first it was only backrubs or resting against each other while Remus told him all the stories he could remember about his days at school amongst the Marauders. Harry asked every question in his repertoire and Remus tried to answer them all. It was difficult to talk freely about the night he was infected, or to describe what the monthly transformations felt like, but he gave everything to Harry, knowing it was long past time to trust again. When Harry drifted off to sleep on his back, he would snore lightly, just like Sirius.
It was ten days later that the world turned on end.
At the disappointing climax of yet another long story of Remus’ early trials with Wolfsbane potion, Harry rolled on top of him, and looked down into his shocked eyes. Remus remembered trying to ask Harry what he was up to, when he suddenly found his lips quite busy. He pulled away several times, whispering his desire, but warning of their age difference and how he’d never want to do anything Harry would regret.
Harry sat bolt upright, pulled off his nightshirt, grinned, and promptly told Remus to shut up.
He remembered the painful and perfect pangs as his heart slowly rebuilt itself under Harry’s touches, kisses and breathy promises. Any apprehension he had left, melted away the moment his fingers buried themselves in that soft, dark hair.
He thought to himself, if this was the closest to heaven he would ever get, it would be close enough.
Three months later, the world flipped again.
~*~
Harry’s funeral had been fit for royalty. Bagpipes, hours of speeches and testimonies, candles lit at midnight and a marble monument in the center of Godric’s Hollow Memorial Garden.
It was everything Harry would have hated.
The arrangements, Harry’s wishes, had been ripped from Remus’ hands and ‘improved upon’ by the Ministry. The only thing Remus was allowed to keep was the house and one quarter of Harry’s gold, although Harry had left everything to him. He refused spend or enjoy any of it, afraid the memories he had of their time together would run out with the last of the coin.
After Harry’s spectacular victory over the Dark Lord, and his pointless suicide three days later, there were no more tears left for Remus to cry. There was scarcely a man left under the thread-bare robes. His heart had shattered twice, and there was no point trying to sew it back together this time. He was beyond broken.
He clung to the long letter Harry had lovingly written to him in farewell, and to the memories of the last two days and nights they spent together. There had been so much hope for the future with Harry’s burden to the Wizarding world finally lifted. They were ready for freedom, ready to show their love to the sunlight.
Remus had no warning that Harry was still in pain, still haunted by the ghosts of his past, or that their call was stronger than anything Remus had to offer within the greying walls of a dead house.
When Harry didn’t return to bed after running to feed Buckbeak, Remus wandered up the stairs to check on them. Harry was snugly tucked under a warm wing, one arm extended on the floor, an empty vial wrapped in his still fingers. Buckbeak nudged Harry’s head, making mournful cooing noises.
Remus slid to the floor.
Too late.
~*~
He swallowed his grief and rose from the bench, catching a thread on a loose nail. He lowered his eyes as he continued to walk under the ever darkening clouds, people and shops blurring around him as he moved with purpose until he stood in front of a door that read ‘Auguste’s Antiques’.
Even before Harry’s death, Remus had heard rumours of a man…vampire, who drained those who wished to end their lives fairly painlessly, for a price. There was no shortage of people who would kill Remus for free, but losing his soul to the dementors or enduring endless torture from Death Eaters were not options he was willing to explore. He had even thought about asking Hermione to help him. She would see that it was done properly, but he didn’t think he would be strong enough to bear the look of anguish on her face, or listen to her pleading words.
After weeks of searching, he had finally tracked down the vampire, in a small shop in Muggle London, and struck a deal. The man had seemed more than eager to assist Remus in his task, even offered his services for free.
Remus had done his homework and knew that once the vampire drained his blood, the man would gain the strength of the wolf without the nasty side effects of turning into a howling beast once a month. Since the vampire was already dead, and a dark creature himself, the only infection would be power.
The man knew who he would be biting, what his payment really involved.
Remus no longer cared about the consequences. It was time to go to Sirius and Harry. He could feel it.
~*~
He pushed the door open and was greeted by the sound of a little bell. He said a silent prayer for his soul and stepped into the warm room.
There would be no funeral.
Author: dacro
Pairing: Remus/Sirius, Remus/Harry
Rated: PG-13
Warnings: Implied character death, implied suicide
Beta: saladbats *hugs* Brutally honest editing and hand-holding services.
Summary: Refusing to pick up the pieces of his broken heart, Remus finds another option.
Challenge: For beren_writes birthday.
Notes: Sorry to give such a sad offering, but Remus kept on telling me that this was how the story needed to be told. Feedback welcome.
A Heart Twice Shattered
There had never been a public funeral for Sirius.
‘And how could there have been?’ Remus asked himself as he walked down the gritty London streets. He weaved through the alleys silently, head lowered slightly, hood up.
There had been no body to bury, the Wizarding world wasn’t even aware of Sirius’ death and there was still the matter of him being a wanted criminal, even after so many years. A handful had mourned him, but he deserved more respect in death, had suffered too much for someone else’s crime.
But Remus treasured the days they spent together, desperate to make up for twelve years of darkness.
He remembered the first night he spent alone. How empty the room felt without Sirius’ deep breathing, and only the sound of his own hitched sobs breaking the silence. The creaks in the house seemed louder, along with Buckbeak’s constant scratching and thumping. There wasn’t really anyone to talk to about his loss, so he sealed it deep inside, vowing to be strong for Harry.
He had long since lost hope that there was anyone left to be strong for him.
~*~
He rounded a corner and noticed a young couple pushing their way into a taxi, hurrying to get out of the cold wind. They were openly kissing and clutching at each other, while the grinning driver asked them where they were off to.
Remus paused to watch, even though it hurt him to do it.
In his whole life, his heart had only loved two men. Dreams of walking hand in hand along the busy pavement, or kissing outside a crowded café were quickly extinguished in the necessary reality of secret relationships. With both men, he had ached to have the same freedoms as the happy couple in the cab, but it just wasn’t meant to be.
Werewolves loved from the shadows.
He gave a few coins and his gloves to a ragged man begging on the steps of St. Andrew’s, who thanked him warmly, and prayed blessings for Remus’ future. Remus walked away before the prayer had ended, retreating further into his hood.
~*~
Two years he had rattled around the Black mansion, a portion of his former self. Days of going through the motions of the Order, unfocused and uncaring, had placed him within firing range of Moody and Severus’ tempers more than once. He spared a smile for a select few, and always for Harry, who often looked in worse shape than he did, and still had the pressures of school and the Dark Lord hanging over him.
In his seventh year, Harry spent a good deal of time at the house after lessons and on the weekends. It made a lot of sense, since there had been almost daily meetings of the Order by that point and Harry said he found it easier to focus on his revising without all the distractions of the dormitory. He also teased Remus that he couldn’t fail any of his exams because he had his own former professor in the house whenever he needed help.
Remus remembered the late-night sessions, pouring over the texts and parchments, Harry frequently falling asleep on the couch or face down on a still-wet paragraph of essay.
His hair was soft like Sirius’ the first time Remus lightly brushed it away from the closed eyelids.
~*~
He spotted a bus bench and sat for a moment as he gathered himself together. His bottom lip was shaking, nothing to do with the cold. Remus closed his eyes and saw Harry stepping out of the fireplace, the evening of his last day at Hogwarts, with every possession he owned, including Hedwig.
He hadn’t announced his arrival, nor did he really need to, since it was now his home, but Remus remembered being surprised nonetheless.
It took Remus two weeks until he finally confided to Harry about his former relationship with Sirius. Remus had been in for another shock when Harry confessed that he had already figured it out for himself. He smiled and told Remus that he was happy they were able to be together, even if it had only been for a short while.
It was a week later that Harry walked softly into Remus’ room and invited himself under the covers.
At first it was only backrubs or resting against each other while Remus told him all the stories he could remember about his days at school amongst the Marauders. Harry asked every question in his repertoire and Remus tried to answer them all. It was difficult to talk freely about the night he was infected, or to describe what the monthly transformations felt like, but he gave everything to Harry, knowing it was long past time to trust again. When Harry drifted off to sleep on his back, he would snore lightly, just like Sirius.
It was ten days later that the world turned on end.
At the disappointing climax of yet another long story of Remus’ early trials with Wolfsbane potion, Harry rolled on top of him, and looked down into his shocked eyes. Remus remembered trying to ask Harry what he was up to, when he suddenly found his lips quite busy. He pulled away several times, whispering his desire, but warning of their age difference and how he’d never want to do anything Harry would regret.
Harry sat bolt upright, pulled off his nightshirt, grinned, and promptly told Remus to shut up.
He remembered the painful and perfect pangs as his heart slowly rebuilt itself under Harry’s touches, kisses and breathy promises. Any apprehension he had left, melted away the moment his fingers buried themselves in that soft, dark hair.
He thought to himself, if this was the closest to heaven he would ever get, it would be close enough.
Three months later, the world flipped again.
~*~
Harry’s funeral had been fit for royalty. Bagpipes, hours of speeches and testimonies, candles lit at midnight and a marble monument in the center of Godric’s Hollow Memorial Garden.
It was everything Harry would have hated.
The arrangements, Harry’s wishes, had been ripped from Remus’ hands and ‘improved upon’ by the Ministry. The only thing Remus was allowed to keep was the house and one quarter of Harry’s gold, although Harry had left everything to him. He refused spend or enjoy any of it, afraid the memories he had of their time together would run out with the last of the coin.
After Harry’s spectacular victory over the Dark Lord, and his pointless suicide three days later, there were no more tears left for Remus to cry. There was scarcely a man left under the thread-bare robes. His heart had shattered twice, and there was no point trying to sew it back together this time. He was beyond broken.
He clung to the long letter Harry had lovingly written to him in farewell, and to the memories of the last two days and nights they spent together. There had been so much hope for the future with Harry’s burden to the Wizarding world finally lifted. They were ready for freedom, ready to show their love to the sunlight.
Remus had no warning that Harry was still in pain, still haunted by the ghosts of his past, or that their call was stronger than anything Remus had to offer within the greying walls of a dead house.
When Harry didn’t return to bed after running to feed Buckbeak, Remus wandered up the stairs to check on them. Harry was snugly tucked under a warm wing, one arm extended on the floor, an empty vial wrapped in his still fingers. Buckbeak nudged Harry’s head, making mournful cooing noises.
Remus slid to the floor.
Too late.
~*~
He swallowed his grief and rose from the bench, catching a thread on a loose nail. He lowered his eyes as he continued to walk under the ever darkening clouds, people and shops blurring around him as he moved with purpose until he stood in front of a door that read ‘Auguste’s Antiques’.
Even before Harry’s death, Remus had heard rumours of a man…vampire, who drained those who wished to end their lives fairly painlessly, for a price. There was no shortage of people who would kill Remus for free, but losing his soul to the dementors or enduring endless torture from Death Eaters were not options he was willing to explore. He had even thought about asking Hermione to help him. She would see that it was done properly, but he didn’t think he would be strong enough to bear the look of anguish on her face, or listen to her pleading words.
After weeks of searching, he had finally tracked down the vampire, in a small shop in Muggle London, and struck a deal. The man had seemed more than eager to assist Remus in his task, even offered his services for free.
Remus had done his homework and knew that once the vampire drained his blood, the man would gain the strength of the wolf without the nasty side effects of turning into a howling beast once a month. Since the vampire was already dead, and a dark creature himself, the only infection would be power.
The man knew who he would be biting, what his payment really involved.
Remus no longer cared about the consequences. It was time to go to Sirius and Harry. He could feel it.
~*~
He pushed the door open and was greeted by the sound of a little bell. He said a silent prayer for his soul and stepped into the warm room.
There would be no funeral.