Thirty-Nine

Remus touched the cold stone of the Archway. This was not the first time he had snuck his way into the Department of Mysteries to stare through the veil and wonder at what lay beyond. It was the closest he could feel to Sirius now.

He sat down in the dust on the floor and stared through the arch. When he was there, it was as if time stopped. As if the entire world stopped for a moment, which he could spend alone, dreaming. Sirius did not have tomb, or a grave monument anywhere. There was nowhere else Remus could go to spend time with his lost friend.

“So, this is it, then, isn’t it Padfoot?” he said softly. “This is the end. This is where we get no further, you and I.”

The veil fluttered, and from beyond he could hear the voices whispering. He tried to imagine it was Sirius answering, and tried to imagine what he would say. Don’t worry about it, Moony. You just got to live on and try to make it without me.

“I’m the last marauder. I’m nearly forty years old. Bugger it all.”

I’m glad you get to grow old. Not everyone does.

Remus shook his head and smiled grimly, looking down at the dust. His cloak and the fluttering of the veil had upset it a bit and it swirled dully. But the dust under the arch, where Remus had not stepped, still held Sirius’ staggering footprints from when he had fallen. Remus held back the tears.

He reached inside his robes and pulled out the letter. The one he had received on the day Sirius died. The one he had left him, as if sensing that that day would be his last. Remus had arrived at 12 Grimauld Place the following early morning, exhausted and depressed, to find it on the desk of his room.


Dear Remus,

It was never easy to be around you and feel like I could not tell you what I have been longing to tell you for years. I’ve known you wouldn’t listen to me, or accept it. But one day must be the day when you take your chances, and this is mine.

I love you, Remus. I always have. I tried ladies, as you know. It never worked. But I’ve never felt so safe and good as I do around you. I just want you to know that. I feel like I’m going insane in this house, and if I don’t tell you this now, I’ll probably end up killing myself.

I will make this brief, because I see no reason to bore you to death with my declerations of love. You don’t have to pay it any mind. We can just go on being friends. But if you can, if you want it, then just tell me.

Love,

Sirius


Tears had stained the parchment a million times. Now they did again, and Remus reread the letter. He touched the arch again, as if he could somehow touch Sirius now. It had been over two years, but the pain still burned inside him.

“I have news,” he whispered, trying not to sob. “I’m getting married. To Tonks. Bet you didn’t see that coming. She’s not you, but… She loves me, apparently. How I don’t know. How you could love me, I can never guess. But she does, and she wants to be with me. If I can give her something she wants, then I’ve done something meaningful, I suppose.”

He listened to the whispers again. At this point, Sirius would begin telling him how stupid he was to worry about it. That it didn’t matter. That it was far more important that Remus went on with his life.

“In some sense of the word, you died a long, long time ago. Azkaban killed you, Padfoot.” He shed a tear. “I don’t suppose I’ll be able to come back quite as often as I have, now that I’m getting married…”

He listened to the whispers again, but they were faint, and he could no longer imagine them to be Sirius’ words.

“You can hear me,” Remus whispered, “can’t you, Sirius? You can hear me?”

There was silence, and for a vague moment, Remus began to believe that Sirius had now left him for his betrayal.

“Don’t go…” he sobbed. “Please, Padfoot… What am I to do? No matter how many times I read this letter, it can’t sustain me. It can’t quench my thirst for human contact, Padfoot!”

The veil fluttered again, causing the dust underneath the arch to stir. Through blurred eyes, Remus almost imagined that the still footprints had turned into letters, forming the word Moony. But drying his eyes, they were the same footprints, vaguely distorted.

“I loved you, Sirius…” It was barely more than a whisper. “I still do.” He realised with a jolt that this was the first time he had said it out loud.

Remus put the letter back in its envelope and stuffed it in his robes, before looking back to the arch. And as if in some strange waking dream, a light shone in the archway, changing form, becoming Sirius, who stretched out his arms, embracing him.

Don’t worry, Moony. Everything will be alright.

Warmth. Comfort. Love.

Remus opened his eyes, having no idea what time it was or how long he had been asleep. The whispers had stopped. The veil no longer fluttered. Remus sat up, rubbing his eyes. He smiled.

The room was quiet. Remus was uncertain as to why, but he felt more comfortable in his own skin than he had since Sirius died. The dust under the arch lay smooth, and there were no prints from staggering feet there anymore. Taking care not to reach in under the arch itself, Remus wrote in the dust with his finger: Goodbye, Padfoot.

He stood up and, brushing the dust off his cloak, walked up the steps of the round archway room, and felt through the door.