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The afterlife wasn’t how Sirius Black had pictured it all those years ago when he’d been rotting in Azkaban. It wasn’t blinding white or anything much like what Muggles preached, either. It was simply another type of existence. Here there was no pain and no reason to be on guard. He could relax and let his hair loose so to speak.
So when he received the first voicemail, he cried. How could he not? The love of his life was still there, fighting a war and dealing with raw grief again. Sometimes it felt like grief was all they knew and the mourning never ceased. It was only replaced by another dead friend.
It hurt the most when Sirius watched James and Lily as they watched over Harry. He joined them sometimes, when he wanted to see how his godson was doing. Sirius was so proud of him — he was becoming an honourable and kind man. The afterlife put certain things into perspective and Sirius was learning that Harry was more and more like Lily every day.
That was good. Better than Sirius at his age.
But most of the time Sirius watched Remus. He watched the records stored but never played. He watched as the park was walked but not enjoyed. He watched flat after flat failing to become a home. Remus deserved a home and he deserved to be happy and fall in love again. Sirius wanted nothing more than for Remus to continue on living a good, fulfilling life.
Instead, he watched his lover spiral and despair.
It tore his heart into pieces.
“Moony,” he sighed as Remus bought the pills. “I’m so sorry, Moony…”
Sirius watched Remus every day after that. His voice was just as husky and soft as it had been in their teenage years when they were just silly boys falling in love. He wanted to hear that voice whisper sweet nothings in his ear, not listen to it give details about how its owner wished to die.
It was inevitable though, Sirius knew. He knew that when Remus got something into his head, he wouldn’t back away. Gryffindors were stubborn gits like that and his lover was no different. But more than anything Sirius wished he could be something like a guardian angel, with white fluffy wings and a spot on Remus’s shoulder. He had the angelic constitution for it, after all.
If he were a guardian angel, he could tell Remus that his life could be more than this. That he could listen to Sirius’ records as a way to celebrate his life and their love. That he didn’t need to mourn year after year. That even over here in the afterlife, Sirius did hear Remus’ voicemails.
But wishes were just that — impossible prayers that would never reach their intended recipient. So Sirius continued to watch over Remus until that fateful day where his call connected for the first time.
“You don’t have to do it, Moony,” he whispered to himself and the rough image of Remus putting down his phone. “You have so much to live for. What about Harry? Who’s going to watch after our pup, Moony?” he sobbed in desperation.
Sirius wiped his tears away with a trembling hand. There was no stopping Remus now. All he had left to do was wait.
“Pads.”
Sirius turned and smiled at his old lover. The weight on Remus’ shoulders was gone and there was a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there in years, even when Sirius had been alive. They crashed into one another and hugged like cosmic forces might try to pry them apart. How he had missed his Moony, his love, his friend. It hurt more than anything to know that Remus had been so deeply miserable in the last years of his life, but there was a certain comfort now in knowing they could be together forever.
“Moony,” Sirius mumbled in Remus’ curly hair, “missed you so much.”
“Me too, so much, more than you know.”
But Sirius knew and maybe that was why he held on a little tighter for a little longer. He would never let Remus feel so abandoned again.