Work Text:
No Peace
The October leaves crunched harshly under his feet as he walked through the park, and too loudly. He wanted them to shut the fuck up and leave him in peace.
But there was no peace to be found these days, only war. Dark against light, which meant wizard against wizard, brother against brother. Lover against lover. No peace to be had whatsoever.
The leaves were mocking him. They knew where he was going and what he had to do, and they mocked every step that took him closer to the task at hand.
Sirius would hear him coming. He wouldn’t even have the element of surprise, or time to observe his lover -- no, his former lover -- just for a moment ... but maybe it was better that way. The less time he had for observation, the less time he had to wonder once more why Sirius had left him.
Strangely, Remus didn’t actually feel that he deserved an answer. People loved, people lost. And it certainly hadn’t been the first time Remus had lost in his life, so ... no, he didn’t deserve an answer, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want one.
With James and Lily on the run (and having so much more to worry about in caring for Harry than Remus did in his mess of a love life), the only one he could ever think of talking to was Peter. But the damned war kept Peter busy these days as well, and barely available, except for the occasional owl. The one time Remus had tried to confide in his friend, Peter had said, “Look, Sirius is wonky these days -- worse than ever -- with worry about James. You know how he gets. Besides, we’re all out of sorts. Leave it be, Remus, until the war is over. There will be time to sort it all out then.”
Since then, Remus had kept to himself -- his troubles, his work, and his company.
He was almost there, and a surge of anger nearly turned him around and sent him home. Why did Sirius insist they meet at that exact location? Why there? Was he trying to be cruel? Remus knew he was capable of cruelty, he’d certainly been the victim of it more than once, but rarely in a in calculated sort of way. So ...
When Sirius had left, saying “it just isn’t working out,” Remus would have sworn he’d seen regret in his eyes. Perhaps he’d been wrong about that, though, the same as he’d been wrong about the depth of Sirius’ feelings. Because meeting here, of all places, was cruel, calculated or not. No other word for it.
He could see it now. Near the center of the park was a rock. A boulder really, about a head taller than Remus, and wide enough around it would take three grown men to encircle it with outstretched arms. It was covered in graffiti, scratched and drawn-on obscenities, drawings, declarations of love, that sort of thing. At one time, Remus had read nearly every word, examined every drawing on the rock, but now he didn’t want to think about what messages might remain. He just wanted to get this over with and go back to his flat. His half-empty, half lived in, half loved in flat. Get there and get drunk and forget the park, the rock, the war and his hideous part in it and whatever Sirius’ part in it was. He wanted to forget Sirius.
In order to do that, however, he had to do this. So he’d owled Sirius and asked him to meet. He’d been shocked when he’d agreed, and horrified when Sirius insisted on this meeting place, but here he was.
And so was Sirius. As Remus had predicted, Sirius had heard him coming, and was watching his approach, though he was still a good distance away, just close enough to make out hair color and the familiar posture.
As Remus got closer, he could make out the more distinctive features, and he couldn’t help but notice how tired Sirius looked, and how much older.
Remus shook himself. It was no longer his concern. They all looked tired and old these days.
Sirius was sitting on the ground, knees to chest, his back against the rock. Such a childlike position, and Remus almost smiled, until he remembered why he was here.
He stopped about two feet away, and when he spoke, it came out stronger than he’d felt capable of.
“Sirius.”
“Remus.”
They stared at each other for a full minute before Sirius stood, putting his hands in his coat pockets. It was cold, yet he hadn’t worn gloves. Not that long ago Remus would have eagerly warmed them up. He still ... no.
“How are they?” Remus asked, moving on to business.
Sirius shrugged, his shoulders looking burdened by the weight of the gesture.
“Fine. Lily makes her nest where she can, you know, and James is strong. And Harry,” a small smile took years away from Sirius’ face, “he laughs as if he thinks all the moving about is a grand adventure. He really is James’ son in that respect and ...” the smile faded and the worn look returned with a vengeance as he let his words drift off.
In that moment, Remus knew that this was just as difficult a meeting for Sirius as it was for him. He wanted to reach out, trace away the worry lines on Sirius’ face with his fingertips.
But he wanted a lot of things he was never going to get. But he did have something left to give.
“I don’t know when I ‘ll see them again, with the war and all. I thought I should ... I have something for them. Not much, but ... I know it’s not safe and I understand, but I just ... Here.” Remus held out a small package. “It’s just a letter for James and Lily, and a book for Harry. I want them to know...” now Remus let his words drift off at the sight of Sirius’ stricken expression.
Sirius was staring at the package in his hands, making no move to take it. Desperation crept into Remus’ voice.
“I miss them,” he said, though I miss you was no less true, and what drummed through his heart.
Sirius looked about to speak, but instead he turned and faced the rock, and began gently tracing over some of the words scratched into its surface, as gently as Remus had wanted to trace the lines on his face just moments ago. It made him angry again.
“For God’s sake, Sirius, why here? Why did you make me come here?”
Sirius looked sad, and he continued to lovingly move his fingers along the rock’s surface.
“I wanted you to remember,” he whispered, almost too low for Remus to hear.
“You wanted me to what? To remember?” His voice nearly broke on the last word, but it held. Remus wouldn’t allow Sirius to break anything else. “Sirius,” he scolded, “as if I could forget.”
“Do you want to? Forget, I mean?” Sirius asked plaintively, again making Remus ache to touch him, though whether to hold him or punch him he couldn’t say.
Damn him.
“I’m not the one who left, Sirius. I’m not the one who grew cold and quiet. But if I have to forget so I can get by ... If I could forget, I would.”
Sirius stilled his hand, and let it drop. His features hardened as he stepped away from the rock and approached Remus, who hoped he would just take the package so this could be over with. At least as much as it could ever be over.
Remus raised his arm a little higher, still holding out the package.
“Please, Sirius. Take it. Give it to them, and give them ... my love.” His voice did break this time, but he didn’t care anymore. His love was still for Sirius too, why hide it, he had nothing to be ashamed of.
Sirius quickly took the package out of Remus’ hands, and though they didn’t touch, he still knew exactly what Sirius’ fingers felt like, but the memory of touch wasn’t nearly as warm as the real thing had once been.
“I’ll pass it along,” Sirius replied. “The Fidelius Charm ... I don’t know when or if ... It could be a while before you see them again. They miss you too, Remus.”
He’d said the last so quietly, Remus felt hope try to push it’s way up and out of his throat and before he could stop it he was asking, “Do you?”
Remus quickly turned away before looking at Sirius made him say, ask, or do anything else stupid and rash and true.
But he heard Sirius speak.
“I miss ...” and then silence.
Remus risked turning back around, but Sirius was gone. No, not entirely. Remus could see the big, black mongrel running toward the park’s edge. He must have been carrying the package between his teeth, but Remus supposed it didn’t matter, at this point, if his gifts were a bit slobbery.
He walked to the rock, and stood exactly where Sirius had, and touched the same spot, traced it just as tenderly.
“I don’t want to forget, not really. You still have James and Lily and Harry. Memories are all I have left. How could you even ask?”
But Remus would get no answer, so he let his own hand drop (as Sirius had) and he walked away (as Sirius had), leaving behind the rock and the words scratched into its surface with a knife some three years earlier.
Fuck Kilroy. Moony and Padfoot were here.
End