Professor Remus J. Lupin (galarusblaidd) wrote in breaking_point, @ 2010-02-09 06:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | *complete, 2025 02, character: regulus black, character: remus lupin |
RP: Remus/Regulus
Who: Remus Lupin and Regulus Black
Where: Hogwarts
When: Tuesday, 9 February, 2025, 2am-3am (-ish)
Rating/Warnings:
Summary: Remus worries, frets, broods, and blames himself.
Fingers of paling moonlight slipped through the break between the bedroom drapes, never pulled quite closed, to stretch across the bed where Remus Lupin lay awake, unable to sleep despite the warm, reassuring presence at his side.
This was the first he'd been able to let himself think about the events of the previous day, the first quiet stillness that would allow him to let loose the tight rein he'd kept on his thoughts all day so he wouldn't talk about them. He couldn't talk about it, not even to the man sleeping beside him. If he did, he'd have to admit that Harry was dying, that Lily Luna was trapped in the enemy's influence, that he, Remus, had seen the warning signs and not recognised them for what they were until it was too late.
Then, if he did that, he'd lose it.
And he couldn't lose it. There wasn't going to be a time when he could afford to lose it. The students needed him, the staff, the family -- all umpteen permutations of the crazy hodge-podge of people who claimed him as such. He couldn't afford to let them see anything but the calm, competent defence professor. That was who they needed, who Ginny needed, who Prongs and Lily needed, James and Sirius.
They didn't need the man who lay in the bed blaming himself for not seeing what was right in front of his face.
Their grief had to come before his own. It was their right, not his.
When Sirius had found him, given him the news, there hadn't been time to do more than commiserate in silence a moment. His friend had to bear that news to the others and Remus had to focus on the students. That had been his whole day -- he focused on the students. He focused on the staff. He focused on Regulus. And he didn't let himself think.
Didn't let himself remember the changes that had come over Lily slowly over the course of the last two or three weeks. Didn't let himself wonder how he could have thought it was grief when she closed up on him just three days ago at the Burrows. Didn't let himself silently ask how he could have been so stupid as to not know something was going on.
Harry, is Lily all right, with her friend's death?
Gods, he'd sat there and told Harry something seemed wrong, then dismissed it as the ravages of grief!
But, he should have known better. He should have remembered what it was like to see the subtle changes in behaviour, to carry that sense that something undefinable was out of place. Maybe he hadn't seen it with Peter, and he knew if he said any of this aloud, he'd be told that was different because Peter's had been a deliberate betrayal. But, shouldn't he have known? Shouldn't he have developed a sense of things to be wary of from that?
Remus had been the one to spend hours with Lily during the weeks her brother was ill, keeping an eye on her to give her father the peace of mind he needed to deal with other things. He'd come to think of her as a sort of psuedo-little sister and now she was out there, somewhere, and when -- he couldn't, wouldn't, think if -- they found her, saved her, she was going to be devastated.
If he'd been more suspicious, less willing to let Harry deal with it in Lily's own time, would his friend not be fighting for his life right now?
A heavy sigh broke the near silence of the room, the deep rush of air doing nothing to alleviate the weight on his mind and heart. The sun wouldn't rise for hours yet. As he continued to turn worries into blame into fears into doubts, Remus suspected he would still be awake and fretting when it did.