Sirius O. Black (srslypadfoot) wrote in unloading_zone, @ 2010-06-25 10:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | remus lupin, sirius black |
Who: Remus and Sirius
Where: Remus's bungalow
When: Friday afternoon
What: Sirius punches Remus in the face. But then they make good.
Status/Rating: Complete, high for language/violence
There was a few good things about this rotten island. Each bungalow had a sign by the door, telling you who lived where. It made tracking down someone easy. If you didn't mind walking from door to door. Fuming and seeing red with his fists clenched at his sides, Sirius went to every bloody door until he found the one he was looking for.
"OPEN THE HELL UP!" he growled, banging on the rickety wooden thing in his way.
Remus had been sitting on one of the beds, wondering just how in the world he'd managed to get so lucky when the banging started. He jumped up as though guilty, caught red handed touching - even sitting - on a bed to which he had no right. He followed his feet to the front door and opened it quickly, taking a few steps back lest the angry person on the other side of the door hit him in the chest next.
No, Sirius wasn't going to knock on Remus's chest. As soon as he saw the face that vaguely resembled the one he was looking for, he let all his anger and fury unleash itself. He drew his arm back and drove his fist into Remus's face with all his might.
"THAT'S FOR TONKS!" Sirius snarled.
Remus' head snapped back, and nothing, not even the hand clutching at the door could prevent him from falling backwards, his feet too slow to catch up to what was going on. His face stung, and there was blood in his hand when he moved it away from his face. He looked up, needing to know just who was punching him for Tonks, though the voice couldn't have belonged to anyone but Sirius Black. He just had to make sure. He had to see for himself.
Merlin, he looked angry. "I didn't do anything to Tonks, Sirius," he told him calmly, struggling to get back to his feet without dropping any blood on the floor.
"You married her," Sirius shot back, even more enraged by how calmly Remus was managing to speak. He was always so damn calm and collected about everything and at a time like this it drove him up the wall. He wanted Remus to swing a fist back. Yell at him. Do something.
But no. It was the same old Remus he knew, even if the face was older (and bloodier). "You married her when she's practically a sodding INFANT in comparison! And now she's all sodding heart-broken over you and it's disgusting."
His heart was thudding away in his chest, confusion making him wonder which way the sink was again. He walked towards it when he eventually remembered its location, not at all worried that Sirius was going to follow him into the Bungalow and continue bellowing. Because that was what Sirius did.
"I'd like to point out that I didn't. The last time I saw Nymphadora Tonks, she was tiny. She had pink hair and she was tiny and furious when we called her by her full name. I have no recollection of marrying her because I haven't done that yet and I don't know..." He didn't know why he went on to do it because love was not an excuse. Not for that. He arrived at the sink, leaned forward over it and pinched his nose, wondering if there was any kind of tissue lying around but afraid to go look for some and leave a trail. "What do you want me to do, apologise for something I haven't even considered yet?" he asked, his voice echoing in the sink.
"But you do eventually," Sirius argued, refusing to let his anger dissipate despite the effort it took to keep it on full blast. He followed after the man, not feeling one bit sorry for him as he bled over the sink.
"Probably in just a year or two. You said it yourself. You haven't married her yet, but you will for fuck know's what reason. Desperation? Loneliness? Probably one of those, and she probably married you out of pity," he sneered, every word cold and biting.
Remus closed his eyes, allowing the words to wash over him. Nothing Sirius said was anything new to Remus, anything he hadn't thought for himself. Why else would he marry anyone, besides desperation and loneliness? Both words described him perfectly, after all. He had never been so alone in his life and no man could be more desperate than he. Perhaps she provided for him. He was, after all, completely unable to provide for her; he couldn't even keep a roof over his head. And what in the world could possess any woman to marry him? A werewolf, a man surrounded by misery, unable to keep a job, unable to keep a home, to eat regularly? Of course it was pity. It could be nothing else, no matter how often or how hard he had ever prayed for it to be otherwise. The blood didn't stop, drops smacking the bottom of the sink at a slow enough pace not to worry him, but often enough that he wished he could slow the beating of his heart to match it.
The worst part wasn't that Sirius thought all of this- No, that was the worst part. Remus didn't even know why, though he supposed... Sirius and James had picked on others, on those weaker than themselves, had refrained from doing it with him, but by all appearances, that time had passed.
He had been terrified to learn that Sirius was alive, that he was here, but happy. So happy to get another chance, to apologise for believing that he was the traitor all along.
He didn't say anything, staying over the sink, listening to the blood drip, echo, and counting his heart beats.
Like the majority of the things that came out of his mouth without a thought, Sirius felt a faint pang of regret. It was faint because he was still struggling to stay furious, and it was a struggle because Remus had never looked so damn pitiful in all his life. Sirius could be ruthless and harsh and colder than a damn iceberg in the Arctic, but he still had a heart and Remus..
He didn't know what Remus was now, or what he had been when he was hauled off to this miserable rock in the ocean, but he knew that once upon a time ago Remus was one of his best friends. An anchor in the sea of his own maddening (and spectacular) mayhem. Back when they were in Hogwarts and none of them gave a toss about anything in the world other than making trouble, passing classes, Quidditch, and nothing else particularly important. Nothing like waking up and knowing the day could be their last.
Part of him wanted to chew out the words, I'm sorry, but he knew he wouldn't sound sincere even if he fully meant it. Different words came out instead. "Aren't you going to say anything?"
"Five years," he answered eventually, opening his eyes to watch his blood progress towards the drain. "In five years, I marry her. I don't know why. I don't know what happens to me that I- that I would do that to someone. I've apologised to her already, for not remembering. I can't apologise to you for doing it though; I haven't done it yet and I don't know the circumstances around it. I can't excuse it, I can't explain it. I don't know." Remus wished his wand worked so that he could fix his nose and have this over with. Instead, he remained over the sink, pinching his nose and hoping this would stop soon. He really would like to be facing Sirius when he punched him again.
Sirius dragged a hand over his face and made a guttural sound of frustration in the back of his throat. Not knowing what to say (what the hell was he supposed to say?), he disappeared and found something for Remus to catch his nose-bled drippings on because it didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon by hanging over the sink.
When he reappeared, it was with his own bunched up shirt in hand for lack of tissues or anything else to give. "Here," he said, shoving it into Remus's hands. "Use it."
Remus took the piece of cloth to his nose, holding it there a moment before straightening to his full height. When he turned around and saw Sirius without a shirt on, he pulled the cloth from his nose, letting it open, revealing where it had come from. Shaking his head, Remus bunched it up again and returned it to his nose; it was bloody anyway.
"The shirt off your back," he said, shaking his head again. Remus sighed and leaned back against the counter, facing in Sirius' general direction. He looked good. Well, Remus didn't remember a time when he hadn't, but he supposed he was an especially sorry sight to behold to such a young Sirius. "How old are you?" he asked finally.
"S'my fault," he muttered as if that was the reason why he'd given it over. Like it or not, Sirius had lost the struggle and his anger was on a slow simmer, fading with every beat. Right then, he was tired and his knuckles felt bruised and he wanted his old life back. Even if it was still shoddy by comparison, at least it was familiar and Remus wasn't going to marry his little cousin anytime soon.
"I'm twenty-one," Sirius answered gruffly, leaning back against the door jamb. "You?" Scanning his eyes over the other man, he decided Remus looked older, far older than he should look, but when hadn't he? His premature grays had started in Hogwarts, and the recollection of picking them out like a chimpanzee almost brought a smile back to his face. Almost.
Remus let out a sort of laugh, a breath. "Thirty-two. What's eleven years between friends?" he joked, calculating Sirius' life as quickly as he could, hoping it wasn't too obvious on his face. Twenty-one, that meant James and Lily were still alive. It meant he hadn't gone to Azkaban. It meant Sirius had no idea what awaited him when he went back home. It meant Sirius... Remus was a jealous man by nature, but he had never been as jealous of anyone in his life as he was right this moment, of his best friend. Of the man who had been his best friend. Of the man... the best friend he had believed wholeheartedly to be a traitor, a murderer, who was innocent of all of that and who spent a decade in Azkaban. Who died- "Twenty-one. Busy year, that one. Anything happen yet?" he asked, just to be sure.
Eleven years. The number echoed in his mind like a Banshee screech. Thirty-two was younger than he would have chalked Remus's age up to, but still bloody old. He barely caught the joke Remus made, and he didn't think it was funny for even a breath.
The next question curtained an even darker look over his face. "I'm not in Azkaban yet, if that's what you're asking," he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone.
"I still can't believe it," murmured Sirius, almost to himself his voice was so low and hollow. "James and Lily and Harry–" And it was all his fault, wasn't it? He was the one who trusted Peter over Remus. He didn't know what was worse. The guilt of knowing he hadn't trusted Remus for all the wrong reasons, or being powerless to stop it all from happening even though he knew that rat betrayed them all.
Those feelings that keened from the moment he turned the key and opened that blasted piece of luggage – the fear of knowing beyond every shadow of a doubt that Remus was the spy – still clutched at Sirius and he couldn't shake them. He didn't want it to happen. He didn't want to keep distrusting Remus. He didn't want the miserable future Harry and Tonks and Remus were describing to him.
"Someone told you," he whispered, saddened by the knowledge that Sirius' innocence had been ruined by another, someone who might have been less gentle with the information than Remus might have been. Remus had received his fair share of startling news in the last couple days and nothing would ever make him deliver this sort of news like Dora Tonks had done.
"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, pulling the shirt away from his face, completely forgetting about his nose and not caring to make sure he wasn't getting blood down his chin. "I thought it was you! You were the secret keeper, it was... it had to be! And I-... I was sure it was you. I spent eleven years hating you, wanting to know why you would do something like that to James, to Lily, to Harry. I needed to know and I was so sure! I'm so sorry, Sirius."
Frowning at the blood dribbling down Remus's chin, he grabbed Remus's hands and made them put the shirt back.
"It was supposed to be me, yeah, but we must've switched it last second. I.. I'd been thinking we should switch it to Peter when the time came. That way they'd go after me first, because of course everyone would think it was me. I didn't–" and that's when Sirius felt something in his throat, blocking the words, and a sting in his eyes.
Fuck. He wasn't crying. He wouldn't. He absolutely refused to break down in front of Remus. Sirius fought to get the words out, and when they did, they came out hoarse and gravelly. "He poisoned my mind against you, Moony. Made me think you were the one leaking information. That's why we didn't tell you. That's why that fucking rat was the secret keeper. That's why Lily and James are dead. I'm the one who's sorry as fuck, Remus." Sirius ducked his chin, letting his long hair fall over his face like a veil.
It was all his fault. He couldn't stop thinking it. He was certain Remus must have been thinking it too.
That wasn't possible. Remus couldn't accept that, that wasn't... "Peter?" His hurt latched onto the name, his voice didn't even sound like his own. They had chosen Peter instead of him. They had suspected him over Peter. Had trusted Peter... Remus wasn't a violent man, but really now, PETER? Remus knew he didn't deserve much, that he didn't deserve half of what his friends had given him, decades ago. But he did not deserve to be distrusted to that extent. Forget the fact they had made Pettigrew the secret keeper, they'd never even told him!
"You thought I was the traitor." His calm exterior began to crack as his eyes tried to search Sirius' face, hidden by his hair. For decades he had wondered, and now he knew. His friends hadn't trusted him at all. That was why he was the last one standing, looking at what was left of life as he had known it. That was why he was alone. Because his friends hadn't trusted him enough to confront him about any of it, because they had assumed the worst of him.
Remus stood there, staring over the shirt at Sirius' bowed head a moment, taking it all in. His whole life... It really was Sirius' fault. Just not the way he had always thought. And, he supposed, it was his, as well. He supposed he had never given his friends much reason to trust him, if they distrusted him so completely at Peter's word.
Peter. If he were still alive, Remus would kill him, he really would.
Unable to keep looking at the top of Sirius' head any longer, Remus stepped closer to wrap an arm around Sirius' shoulders. "Not your fault," he lied, his voice broken.
Something in him broke the moment he felt Remus's arm on his shoulders. Sirius couldn't just stand there with limp arms, and he didn't want to. He wanted his friend back (even if a niggling voice reminded him he didn't know what he had done to deserve him as a friend). His arms closed around Remus, who seemed bigger than he had just a few days ago, filled into his limbs, but leaner than ever.
"It is," he forced out, almost choking on the words. "Just– fuck, I'm sorry. About your nose. And everything. I fuck everything up." In his future tense, and Remus's past tense, and no matter what the man said they both knew it was true. But just holding Remus – even with the bloodied shirt between them – helped more than he knew the words to express.
And it was so fucking pitiful, but Sirius couldn't be arsed to care right then and there.