Remus J. Lupin

When the house is silent, and everyone else is asleep, sometimes Remus has trouble doing the same. Sometimes he just stays in bed, letting his mind wander away from him while listening to Sirius breathe. It's extremely comforting and relaxing to do such a thing, actually, and most of the time it relaxes him enough to get him close to sleep again.

Tonight, however, there is no such luck.

When that happens, Remus sometimes goes downstairs for a cup of tea and so he can read for a few hours. It's the insomnia that hits him every now and then, the one that gets impossible to get rid of from time to time.

Before any of that, however, he follows a different routine. He slips very carefully out of bed, he makes sure that Sirius is asleep and well before quietly making his way out of the room. The difference from the warmth he had been sharing with Sirius to the cold hallway always makes him shudder, but instead of going back he first makes a stop at Harry's door. From the threshold he makes sure that he's also sleeping, and that he is also all right before making his way over to Teddy's room. Teddy is always tangled in the covers as if a hurricane ran through them and trapped him in it, his hair wild and everywhere against the pillow, but he's peaceful. And he always looks happy while sleeping, so he just leans over and kisses his forehead as softly as he can. His baby, growing up. His baby, who is not such a baby anymore, but who's happy and healthy.

Feeling content enough that his family is all well, and not a minute before that, Remus finally makes his way down to the kitchen. He prepares a cup of tea, and he brings with him a book close to the fireplace so he can keep warm while reading. In a few hours he will go back upstairs. He will check on his sons once more, and he will crawl back into bed so he can try to get at least a couple of hours of sleep next to Sirius.

But for now he just reads. And he lets that content feeling grow and settle inside him, making him feel more at peace than he has ever felt.

If he didn't know any better, Remus would be able to swear that the way his chest is aching is because a Crucio had been aimed in his direction. After all, they had just fought a battle - getting hurt in the process wouldn't be surprising in the least.

Yet, he knows. Of course he knows. It isn't the aftershock of Crucio. The reason is replaying in his mind nonstop at a speed that only makes the air evaporate from his lungs faster than one could ever believe was possible.

"Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!"

If he stares at one spot for long enough, he can see him fading. He can see him falling. He can see every detail so vividly that tears sting at the corners of his eyes, but none of them fall. He just stares. He doesn't look away, no matter how much it hurts. No matter how much he should.

"We can still reach him -"

What if they had been able to reach him? What if he would have done something? What if he had been able to bring him back?

His heart aches.

But he's gone.

Gone.

Gone.

Dead.

It just makes his chest ache more.

If he had the power to change something, anything, he already knows what it is. He wouldn't think twice about it. He would have Sirius live, and Remus would willingly march into the veil for him. Harry would have his godfather back as he should. Sirius would get a chance to live. He wouldn't be gone.

Dead.

Gone.

And he can't do a thing to change it.


word count: 258, not including the quotes (which were taken from OotP).

Continuing from here.

Time seems to slow as Remus sits in his corner of the corridor, knees drawn up. He has been there for a few minutes now, and McGonagall has already approached him to see how he is since she had stepped out for a moment with Sprout. Upon seeing the blood on him he was urged to get up and walk into the infirmary as well, but Remus just shook his head and refused to move from where he was. Cedric needed Poppy more than he did, didn't she realize that? And not only that, but he knew well enough his appearance would get Harry worried as well, so for now he'd wait here.

When the corridor is empty again, Remus turns to look at his hands and just stares at them blankly for a moment. There's no longer blood on them, because Minerva had insisted on at least helping with that, but even if he can now just see the bruised knuckles he can still feel the blood there. His own and Fenrir's mixed together. Or was it really just the same blood? he thinks bitterly, hearing Fenrir's laugh so clearly that he shudders despite how hard he tries not to.

It's still a little surreal to think about himself physically fighting, and Fenrir of all people, but as numb as he may feel about it he doesn't regret it. He would do it again if he had to. In fact, he would try to hurt Fenrir worse because now that he's left alone with his thoughts he can continue hearing him and his taunts.

Raking his fingers through his disheveled hair, Remus sighs under his breath and closes his eyes. His head is pounding from getting slammed on the floor so hard, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that he's still bleeding wherever Fenrir dug his nails into his skin along his arms and abdomen. It doesn't matter that his shoulder is still bleeding from the bite he had received there as well. His mind is more concentrated on the cut on the inside of his lip, because it hasn't stopped bleeding either and even if he hates to admit it...that taste of blood is enough to calm him down.

It's not enough to ease away the worry he feels, however, because he keeps thinking about Cedric and how the house smelled of blood. He keeps thinking of Harry and Luna, and how the three of them are far too young to be fighting in this. And, as his thumb toys with his ring, he thinks of Sirius and of where he could be. The thought that something could have happened to him is enough to make him nauseous as his stomach twists, but Remus just takes a slow deep breath.

Turning back towards the door leading to the infirmary, Remus leans his head back against the wall and just continues waiting. For now there's really nothing else that he can do.