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r. lupin (tufty) wrote in silverage,

Remus let out a laugh. It was a messy kind of laugh -- weak and full of air, scattered and he looked sad as he pulled his head back and let it hit whatever was behind it, laughing at the ceiling. Tears might have streamed down his cheeks but he didn't deny them. Not in front of Sirius, he didn't need to.

"I'll," he grunted as he somehow pulled himself forward while managing to stay in his spot just the same, "clean it up." He was sure that the crevice he'd done wasn't the only thing that was a mess, everything was. But it was, at least, the mess he could do something about.

He dragged himself to his feet and then to the carving, sighing through his nose as his eyes flew to the many tiny debris he had created and the gaping injury in front of him. It took him a moment to lift his wand and direct a quiet spell to the center of the hole where the rocks he had undone began flying back to patch it up.

"Padfoot," he said a little later, in a soft voice still, as he shuffled and turned to look at the brunet. "You said...Harry's all right...didn't you?" He didn't want to believe in what was no longer true anymore. He knew Harry had survived but he wasn't sure he heard right so he didn't want to sound sure. "Where is he?"