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“So this is it.”
‘It’ wouldn’t have done the scenery justice. It was beautiful; the grass was high up their waists and the stars were clearer than they could ever be in London’s grey sky, and—bonus point—The moon was a thin sliver, slipping in and out of view from behind the clouds.
February, and the flowers haven’t even wilted
It would be perfect, if the grass wasn’t knife-sharp and didn’t claw at his wrists and legs, and if Canis Major hadn’t been so clear, and if Sirius hadn’t been buried here only a few minutes ago. It was just a meadow in the middle of nowhere. That was where Walburga had buried her own son.
It’s crazy how fast you tilted
The world that we were busy buildin’
It felt like Remus’ whole world had turned upside down, this way and that, and right side up again. Nothing was in its correct place. The stars were bright, there were tears in James’ eyes, and his best friend was underground.
Regulus’ apparition abilities hadn’t come as a big surprise; he was a Black after all. He’d given three sentences of explanation and then he was grabbing James and Remus—and if James hadn’t hurried to grab Peter’s hand, he would have probably been left behind—and whisking them away. The Potters must be worried sick by now, seeing as a rather hostile stranger had just claimed their soon to be adopted son was dead, and now they didn’t know where their actual son and his friends were.
He shouldn’t laugh, but it bubbled up inside him, foaming in his throat until he couldn’t bottle it down anymore and it came out as a strangled noise, something between a chuckle and a sound someone would make when stabbed in the neck. He let his hands stay at his side, let his tears flow freely, let them wet his cheeks and drip to his cloak.
Mid-November, and I'm sippin’ on a half cold coffee
It was cold, the wind biting at his skin every time his cloak shifted a little. Had Sirius had a cloak? Was his last breaths spent in the freezing cold, his teeth chattering?
“It wasn’t that cold when she… when she brought… when…” Regulus said unevenly, seeming to read Remus’ thoughts, “I marked where she, where she put him. She seems to have enchanted the ground though…” his voice gave out. He let out a broken sob. James stiffened from where he was standing next to Remus.
Starin’ at a girl who’s not me
On your arm, a carbon copy
Well. The boy standing next to Remus looked like James. He had is unruly black hair, his hazel eyes and brown skin, his crooked rectangular glasses. But in so many ways, he wasn’t. He was a copy of a boy Remus had used to know, but in a different font.
This was James if he lost Sirius. Which he had.
Stop. Regulus said he knew how to get him back.
As if they could trust Sirius’ brother, who supposedly hated his guts. Who had made it incredibly clear that he hated Sirius’ guts.
Feels like we had matching wounds
But mines still black and bruised
And yours is perfectly fine now
But Regulus didn’t look like he hated Sirius’ guts. He looked like how Remus felt, like his whole soul was a big, black bruise. For once, Remus didn’t mind the moonlight. No matter how much he hated that stupid satellite, they needed all the light they could get if they were to save Sirius.
When. When we save him, Remus reminded himself harshly. Regulus said he knew how to fix this.
Although the shame on Regulus’ face looked new. Remus felt his hands clench into fists. Suddenly he felt a lot less sympathy for Regulus—if that grey-faced, prejudiced piece of dragon shit had led them on about this—
James’ head snapped to him, “So you’re telling me you don’t know where he is?!”
Regulus shook his head.
“Are you fucking kidding me—!” James broke off, kicking at a nearby rock violently, sending it flying across the meadow, clashing against another rock and turning it over. “So you apparently know how to revive my best friend, who was buried alive, and you don’t know where the fuck he is? What are you gonna do, cast the spell in the air and hope it reaches him? Are we gonna have to Accio that bastard—“
But Remus wasn’t listening anymore.
Feels like we buried alive something that never died
So god it hurt when I found out
There was a dark stain on the rock that James’ kick had turned over. It was fresh, and gleamed in the faint light. And Remus didn’t need to get any closer to smell the iron.
“James, I think we can find him just fine.”
James quieted after that.
They made a strange group, a potter, a werewolf, a plump boy and a Black—but not their Black—walking side to side. Remus was leading the strange partnership—but not their partnership—their wands were lit with lumus and their faces grim.
Remus had a sneaking suspicion that the Ministry couldn’t track their wands here, otherwise the Potters would have surely found them by now; the meadow looked and felt out of this world; all he could see was grass and if he squinted strongly enough, a bit of rippling dark blue that could belong to an ocean.
And even if the Ministry could detect their wands and the Magic they were using outside of Hogwarts… That didn’t matter right now, and it wouldn’t matter for a while, not until the Ministry cleared up the disaster that Sirius’ return to the living would bring. The Black heir, buried alive by his own mother? A few children casting Lumus and resurrection spells would have to be put on a future to-do list.
You love her, its over
Do you even doubted on your lips
Remus should be at least worried, though; he was a Lycanthrope, his attendance in Hogwarts was already a risky affair, and any trouble with the students, let alone the Ministry, could threaten his position. But Remus couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything other than absolute horror.
They left Sirius alone one time, and he got himself buried alive. It was terrifying to think about how somewhere beneath their feet, Sirius laid, with his soft hair covered in dirt and his perfect grey eyes closed, never to look at Remus again, never to glance shyly at him, never to squint them in concentration or harden in anger ever again.
Regulus said he knew how to get them out of this mess, but the boy said a lot of things that Remus now knew to be lies. He said he didn’t care about his brother, he said Sirius was a disgrace, he said he wouldn’t give a shit if he lived to see another day or not. All things Remus had said in the past, also.
It seemed they were both lying to themselves.
They loved Sirius. They all did. Somewhere in first year, he’d wormed his way into their hearts and stayed there even when things went south, and even now—after that stupid fucking prank—he was there, a thorn forever stuck in Remus’ veins, a paper cut on his pinky, the Lego to stub his toe on. There was no way to avoid the boy.
And now he was six feet down Remus’ rib cage, and it was as though there was a piece of his heart stuck there between his ribs, where he just couldn’t reach.
Why had they left Sirius there? Why hadn’t James let him come home—his real home—again?
Oh.
Remus had asked him not to.
Why?
Why the everlasting fuck had he thrown his best friend, the love of his life, the boy he’d crushed on for the last five years, back to the wolves?
You love her, its over
You already found someone to miss
Remus was standing at the exit of the hospital wing with his button-up shirt soaked in blood, his eyes blurry and his head filled with cotton, and he couldn’t remember why he was there at all.
It was all over. He was done lying to himself, doubting his love for Sirius. Sirius might be able to come back using Regulus’ dark Magic, but Remus was going to miss the boy for a long, long time.
The Sirius from before. The carefree, kind, charming boy he’d fallen in love with.
Because while having your deepest, darkest secret thrown around like a cheap pun was heartbreaking, he couldn’t even imagine how he would feel if his own mother was to bury him, to push him down onto the ground and pile dirt onto where his body lay.
There was never a ‘default’ Sirius to begin with, was there? He was always changing, a thunderstorm in the making.
While I'm still standing at the exit
I'm still standing at the exit
The whole fucking incident had been a confusing mess from the start, some enigma Remus couldn’t make sense of. No matter how many times Sirius tried to explain, either throwing himself at Remus’ feet or trying to get through James—which almost always resulted in a crushed nose, on Sirius’ end—Remus still couldn’t understand.
I can’t hate you
For getting everything we wanted
He didn’t hate Sirius, and he didn’t hate his anger either. He would have been angry too, if that greasy son of a bitch—Snape, of course—had been putting his nose in any of his friends’ business. He would have gotten pissed, actually, and while he didn’t look exactly intimidating, he could throw a punch as well as anybody and take it as good as he gave. But that was the fucking problem.
Why couldn’t Sirius just punch Snape like a normal person?!
Why did he go and get them all in so much trouble?
Remus didn’t share his problems, and he certainly didn’t share the fact that he was a werewolf with anyone. The marauders had been nosy, and the most persistent—although Snape had recently won that title—people Remus had ever encountered, and he hadn’t been ready for them to find out. He honestly thought he’d be left alone, to his own devices, for the rest of his education because no one really ever looked at him let alone bothered to start conversation.
So the marauders cornering him in the hospital wing one bloody morning had come as a shock. Turning themselves into animals was also another shock, though by then he’d gotten used to their shenanigans.
Remus knew Sirius was one angry motherfucker. He always had been, and Remus loved him, and he didn’t expect him to change just because Remus would prefer him to be a bit more cold-headed.
Remus even expected him to plan revenge for Snape.
He just thought he would play a different part in it.
I just thought that I would be part of it
And not as Snape’s murderer.
I was moving up to your apartment
When you met someone, she's from your hometown
The iron-y smell of blood was getting to him. It was everywhere he turned, a trickle on a blade of grass, a drop on a nearby stone, a tiny puddle in the dirt. He knew it was virtually impossible for the others to see or smell them, but being a Lycanthrope meant having enhanced senses, and considering how close he and Sirius were…
That was another thing. Remus was half-sure that Sirius had loved him back. The Wolf must have been completely convinced, though, because Remus felt the beast tugging at his insides, leading him closer and closer and closer to…
To where Sirius must lay.
Remus raised a hand, stopping everyone in their tracks. Regulus must have noticed late because he bumped into Remus’ back, muttering an apology as he moved to stand next to the three of them.
The ground looked inconspicuous enough. It was clear Walburga knew what she was doing; it looked just like the rest of the meadow, covered in grass. But to the Wolf, to the beast that lived inside Remus’ mind, body and soul…
It reeked of Sirius, the boy’s very essence; old, well-worn leather, cigarette smoke, too much wine for Remus’ liking, and expensive yet tasteful cologne. As well as quite a lot of blood.
“Are you sure?” Regulus asked.
James’ usually honey-warm brown skin looked pale and lifeless. He was staring at the ground like he wanted it to swallow him whole and take him too. But at Regulus’ question, he turned his head toward the Black and there was something dangerous in his eyes, a hate to fierce it seemed to burn. Remus could feel the unspoken words in his bones, Weren’t you the one to bury the body?
“Yes. I’m sure.”
That was all Regulus needed. The Black heir—for now—fell onto his knees, and to Remus’ surprise, started pushing the dirt away with his bare hands. Regulus Black, who had presumably done nothing that could respectably be called manual labor, was on his knees, digging with his bare hands?
“Move over, idiot,” James hissed, raising his wand. Before he could so much as whisper a single word, though, Regulus’ hand wrapped around his wrist, bringing it down forcefully.
“Stop, you might hurt him!” Regulus shouted frantically.
“Regulus, he’s deep underground,” Remus said carefully, pushing away his own feelings. Regulus looked very distressed, and the poor boy was only a child, no matter how mature he acted, “I think we should dig at least four feet with Magic before worrying about hurting him.”
Plus, he’s already dead, went unsaid.
For a moment, Regulus looked like he was going to continue being difficult, but he sighed, and all the fight seemed to leave him with the action. He just looked lost.
You hate the East coast, it's where you live now
Impossible to understand
“He hated being confined, you know,” Regulus whispered, “They used to force him into the basement as punishment. I wouldn’t know how it was down there, because I never even got close to it. But I imagine Sirius knew that place as well as he knew you lot.”
The quiet seemed to engulf them, but Regulus carried on, “It was also where my mother kept her wine collection. It was all underground—the wine—but Sirius, whenever the thirst got overwhelming, would dig the ground with his bare hands until he reached it. I suppose that’s why he drinks as much as he does, now… If only—“
Regulus broke off into a sob. It was a raspy sound, one that rattled in his throat like he hadn’t imagined it would dare come out.
James put a hand on Regulus’ shoulder, and magically, he didn’t push him away. Remus knelt next to the ground as well, and muttered a simple, but well-known and effective incantation. Regulus moved to do the same thing, but James squeezed his shoulder, “You need to save your magic for the resurrection. We’ll take care of this.”
How you're not comin' back, but I can't say it out loud
It was true. Remus had no idea how he would live if Sirius wasn’t at his side. But that just meant that Sirius not living wasn’t an option. Remus may be a battered, lanky Lycanthrope, and his education may just be the result of Dumbledore’s charity—and the favor the man owed to Remus’ father—but he didn’t give up. Not on the ones who mattered to him. He wouldn’t let Sirius give up on himself.
You love her, it's over
Do you even doubt it on your lips? (What do you say, say?)
You love her, it's over
There was never a question of him loving Sirius or not. Who couldn’t? It was impossible. Unthinkable. Not a chance.
It was the question of him letting Sirius leave or not.
And Remus would be damned before he let him walk out of the exit.
You already found someone to miss
While I'm still standin' at the exit
So they let the incantation dig deeper and deeper into the ground, until Regulus told them to stop. The anxiety and helplessness had vanished from his voice, and he looked like the Regulus they knew all too well again; cold, harsh, commanding. But it was the Regulus Sirius needed, so that was the way it had to be.
They dug with their hands for a few minutes, careful of where their nails were scratching against. Any second now, they would find Sirius. His scent was getting stronger and stronger. Any second now…
Remus’ fingers brushed against something cold and flaccid. Skin.
Feels like we had matching wounds
But mine's still black and bruised
And yours is perfectly fine
Sirius’ lovely, warm, soft skin… Remus felt something ugly rise up in his chest. He wanted to kill Walburga. He would, he would push her down this exact hole and keep her there until the ground consumed her, until she was one with the soil, until her screams stopped and her mouth filled with dirt.
But there was time. They had so, so much time. They could have the rest of their lives for revenge. But there was a boy they needed to resurrect. So Remus turned to Regulus, and tapped him on the shoulder, “He’s here.”
Feels like we buried alive
Something that never died
Be gentle is what he actually meant. Sirius was dead—that felt all kinds of wrong to say—but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt when he woke up. And the last thing Remus wanted Sirius to feel was pain, after the dreadful way he’d been killed.
So God, it hurt when I found out
Regulus nodded. It was a tight fit for the three of them, inside the grave—Peter had opted out because there was no way he’d be able to breathe if he was stuffed in there with the rest of them—and with some difficult maneuvering, Regulus—the 5’1 bastard—stood up on James’ hands to reach the ground.
Once he did, he busied himself with patting down his clothes, but Remus knew what he was actually doing. Distracting himself, so he wouldn’t look at the corpse more than it was necessary.
Soon, all the soil had been removed and Sirius’ face had come into view. His skin was cold to the touch, his muscles tense. There was dirt in his teeth, and eyes, and ears, and his clothes, and hair… Walburga was going to pay.
(Feels like we had matching wounds) you love her
It's over (but mine's still black and bruised)
But another day. That was all for another day
Do you even doubt it on your lips?
(And yours is perfectly fine now, what do you say, say?)
Because Remus loved Sirius. That was the only constant in his life, the one thing he didn’t doubt. He loved Sirius, and he would do anything for him.
James couldn’t stomach the sight. He grabbed his mouth, forced air from between his teeth, and crawled out of the ground. Remus could hear vomiting.
He supposed he should feel the same way. But all he could feel was anger, and sorrow, and devotion.
And love.
He’d missed Sirius like hell, the last few months. Time to get him back.
Regulus wasn’t shaking, his arm was held steady as he shouted a complex incantation, something Latin, or Arabic, or something. But there were tears running down his face. Peter looked horrified.
And he should; Sirius was raised a few feet above the ground with the spell’s power, and there was black smoke wrapping itself all around Sirius, engulfing him, crushing him, and turning him inside out. Remus was viciously glad that Sirius was dead; no person alive should experience this. So this was dark Magic.
Regulus looked like he was about to faint from the effort of the spell, so James pushed himself up on shaky legs and grabbed his hand, and if Remus had to guess, he was channeling his magic onto Regulus, giving him access, a boost. Peter joined in too, and if Remus was there, then he would have as well.
(Feels like we buried a life) you love her
It's over (something that never died)
You already found someone to miss (so God, it hurt when I found out)
But he needed to be here with Sirius, when he fell.
And he did.
Remus was there to catch him.
You love her, it's over
You already found someone to miss
(And his skin was so, so blessedly warm again. )