Thirteen Years
Thirteen Years
Summary: It's been Thirteen Years since they've really talked
Disclaimer: No, they're not mine. I wish!
The moon tugged insistently at Remus, sending shudders through his lanky frame. It was always this way, before the transformation. The moon would make itself known in many small ways before it finally decided to claim him for its own. His muscles were seizing up, sending shivers of pain all down his arms and legs. But Remus was used to it. It had been this way for as long as he could remember. And if it was worse now, now that he was older and alone, it didn’t change anything. The moon had owned him forever it seemed."
"Come on Remus", he muttered to himself. "When did self pity ever get you anywhere?"
He stood, stretching out his cramped limbs, and walked slowly toward the kitchen, vague notions of a cup of tea brewing in his mind. Remus was decidedly British, and tea always helped soothe him.
Strong hands rubbing his aching shoulders as he sipped a cup of steaming tea. The overwhelming smell dirt and dog and comfort...Remus pushed the memories away, more out of habit now than anything else. He had spent too long trying to forget those hands to welcome them back easily, even though they were no longer forbidden.
Had it really been nearly a year since Sirius escaped? Since Remus had seen him in the shack, battered and worn but alive and innocent? Oh God, innocent. After so long trying to hate him, to forget him, he was there. And Peter was to blame after all...
Again Remus pushed the memories away. He didn’t have the strength for them, not today. Didn’t have the heart to wonder why Sirius had never written back...
"You’re getting maudlin in your old age Remus", he muttered to himself. Old age. Was he supposed to feel this old? Sometimes he thought he must be 64 instead of 34....
"When I get older losing my hair..." Remus sang softly as he opened the cupboards. The decidedly empty cupboards.
"Bollocks." Remus muttered, slamming them shut. Of course there was no tea. There wasn’t anything. Just a tin of moldy biscuits and two cans of peas. Remus couldn’t remember the last time he had been shopping.
"Damn Umbridge" He sighed. After her anti-Werewolf legislation had passed it had become almost impossible for him to get a job. He hadn’t been employed in months, and his savings, left over from his teaching position, were fast running out.
He glanced out the window and saw a light drizzle beginning to fall.
"Oh good." He muttered, "It’s raining again."
Rain always made the wolf angry. Maybe it was something to do with the sound of it pounding off the metal roof...
Another, harsher, tremor ran through him and Remus wished for the thousandth time that he was back at Hogwarts with a ready supply of Wolfsbane potion... It had been hardest in the first few moons. He had gotten so used to staying in control, to keeping his mind, that the first transformation without it had nearly driven him mad. In his desperation he had bought a supply of it for the next moon, spending nearly half his savings on one months salvation. It had been bliss, transforming in his tiny livingroom. But he couldn’t afford it again. There would have been nothing left. So Remus had resigned himself to being locked in the basement tearing himself apart. Like he had for so long.
But it wasn’t always like that. Once he had been part of a pack. They had run together, and at the end the beautiful one had been there to ease the pain...Remus shook his head. This close to the moon it was often hard to distinguish his thoughts from the wolfs. This time though he doubted there was much difference.
As another tremor shook him Remus knew it was time to lock himself up. He headed slowly into the basement and began casting every ward and protection he knew. The door was reinforced with silver, a precaution his parents had installed when he was a child. Finally, when there was nothing left to do, Remus settled down to wait.
It started out as a prickling on his arms as the hair began to grow. But soon it was mind numbing pain as his limbs began to stretch and his organs reform. But Remus didn’t scream, he hadn’t screamed in years. It was the only control he had, and he’d be dammed if he was going to give it up. The moon was not gentle when it claimed him, and Remus quickly felt himself fading away, replaced by a creature who knew only pain and longing. But tonight, and every moon it seemed for the last thirteen years, Remus and the wolf longed for the same thing.
"Padfoot", he whispered, as the beast took him.
***
Padfoot was running. The full moon beat down on his back, taunting him with yet another failure. If he’d only been faster, if he’d only been smarter, maybe he would have made it on time. Bu the moon had been up for hours now, and Remus was still alone.
The last few weeks seemed like the longest ones in his life. After the Third Task he had been running all over the country, trying to convince people who hated him that their worst fears had come to pass. Sometimes it worked. Too often it didn’t. Elphias had been the hardest by far, point blank refusing to believe that Sirius was innocent. He had loved Lily. It was only after Sirius had immobilized him and forced him to listen that Elphias had agreed to speak with Dumbledore. And so now he was late, if things had gone to plan he would have been at Remus’ yesterday.
If Remus is even still there...
Sirius knew he should have written, telling Remus he was coming. Knew he should have answered the letters Remus had sent him over the past year. But he just didn’t know what to say.
Im sorry I didn’t trust you?
Im sorry I left?
Im sorry I believed Peter over you, how could I have believed anyone over you?
And how, in Azkaban, it was only the thoughts of their last days together, the bitter fights, the accusations they had flung around, the passionate, angry lovemaking, that had kept him sane? Because none of that was good, but at least it reminded him that Remus was alive, somewhere out there. How could he tell Remus that, after everything, he still loved him?
And how could he face Remus’ new life? Because there had to have been others. It had been twelve years after all! Maybe there was even someone special, someone steady who had replaced Sirius in Remus’ heart. Because Remus had hated him, it would have been so easy to replace him.
So Sirius hadn’t written. Hadn’t been able to. And now Remus was spending another full moon alone. Sirius ran faster.
The cottage appeared suddenly over a hill. It was tiny and old, but looked well taken care of. The rickety porch, obviously held up by magic, was spotlessly clean. The tiny garden was well tended and neat. Even the sagging roof showed signs of being repainted.
This was clearly Remus' home.
He didn’t bother to knock, knowing Remus would be long beyond answering. He transformed back into himself and tried the door. It was locked, not surprisingly. But a simple Alohamora opened it. Sirius was a little shocked, Remus’ warding ability was almost legendary. How could he not have warded his home? All thoughts of wards were pushed from his mind by the agonized howling he heard from the basement. Remus.
He sped toward the door and tried the handle. The wards around the basement were palpable, humming with magic. Sirius didn’t dare take them down. So he waited, knowing it would only be a few minutes before the moon set and he could go in. The time seemed to drag by, but finally the howls began to turn into screams, and then all was silent. Sirius banished the wards with feverish intensity and charged down the stairs.
Remus was sprawled on the ground, surrounded by a pool of his own blood. His right arm hung at a strange angle and his chest and stomach were covered in deep, angry gashes. Sirius had to fight back his rage as he slowly gathered Remus into his arms and carried him up the stairs to his bedroom. He laid him out gently before going into the bathroom in search of the first aid kit. There it was, right under the sink. Right where Sirius knew it would be. He took it back into the room and began the familiar task of patching Remus up.
Every movement was like a memory. How often had he done this...? But there were slight differences now. Once he had known every mark on Remus body better than he knew his own. But there were new scars now, some clearly from the wolf, others not so easily identifiable. Several looked distinctly like silver burns, and Sirius shuddered to think how Remus might have gotten them. He turned his mind back to the practical matter of keeping Remus from bleeding to death.
It had been so much easier when he still had a wand. All the charms and healing spells he’d learned were useless without one. But he did the best he could, using what was left of Remus’ healing potions and wrapping each wound gently. When it came to his clearly broken arm all he could do was bind it tightly and hope the bone would set on its own. Remus’ bones tended to do things like that...
Oh God, Remus! Your leg! It’s all.... Bent and...
Relax Padfoot, it’s, ugh, just a hairline fracture and, ah! It’ll set itself. Watch.
When he was finally sleeping comfortably Sirius slipped from the room. He knew Remus was always starving after a transformation, and wanted to have some food and tea ready as soon as he woke. The sight of Remus cupboards left him hollow. There was nothing, not anywhere. And no sign that there had been anything in weeks. Sirius knew Remus had to be having a hard time but... No food at all? Not even any tea. Remus always had tea. Always. Even when it had been a choice between tea and rent...
Focus Padfoot. You can fix this later.
He filled a glass with the slightly muddy water from Remus’ tap and crept back into the room. Remus was still fast asleep, his jaw tense with pain. Sirius settled himself beside him, resting his head on Remus’ arm. He still smelled exactly the same. Something caught in Sirius’ chest and he let out a tiny sound, which might have been a sob but wasn’t, because Sirius Black didn’t cry.
I’ll just close my eyes for a minute, then I’ll see if there is anything edible in his garden...
***
Remus woke to warm sunlight on his face. He basked in it for a moment, enjoying the feel of the light on his skin. His whole body was aching, but it wasn’t the fierce, fiery pain he was used to. It took him a minute to register what that meant.
I’m in my room!
He sat up, or at least, he tried to sit up, but there was a warm weight on his chest that was holding him down. Remus glanced at it, and his heart froze. Sirius Black was fast asleep, arms flung across Remus’ body in a wild abandon that was achingly familiar. He reached down, hands shaking, and touched Sirius' hair. It was tangled, greasy, but solidly there. This was no dream.
"Sirius," he whispered, wincing at the raw sound of his voice.
Sirius woke instantly, springing from his side and staring around the room, eyes wild.
"Sirius" Remus said again, trying to calm the look of terror on his face.
Sirius stopped, blinking at him, and slowly his eyes began to focus. His breathing returned to normal and he lost the desperate, pained look.
"Remus." He took a tentative step towards the bed. "You’re awake."
"And you’re here."
Neither man knew what to say. The silence stretched, thirteen years of silence loomed between them... And then it broke, and nothing in the world seemed to matter except that they were together again.
"Moony I..."
"Padfoot...."
And they laughed, because it was ridiculous really! And how could they ever have thought that thirteen years of doubt could change anything? Because hadn’t they loved each other all their lives?
When Sirius kissed him, it was release. It was bliss. And as they made love, slowly and gently, it was like those thirteen years had never happened at all, and they were sixteen again and awkward and shy but so happy that none of it mattered. And for that moment nothing existed but them. And for the first time in thirteen years, Remus was complete.