All day, the threat of rain has hung overhead; all day, the clouds have remained black with this promise, and yet still it has not come. A solitary figure can be seen walking through the streets of London, his eyes fixed in front of him, completely unaware of the sky. He passes shops and people and bustling Underground stations, yet his mind is somewhere else; he left his mind at Hogwarts, all those hours ago.
Now, as he walks through Muggle London, oblivious to those who stop and stare at the man with sandy-coloured hair and dead eyes, his unusual robes moth-eaten and worn, he hardly hears what they whisper as he passes.
It doesn’t seem to matter now he thinks, walking out too soon in front of the traffic, only to be met with angry toots from the drivers. He smiles apologetically before moving on, ignoring the expletives that the cab drivers shout. Their words are pointless; they don’t seem to reach him.
He turns down the alleyway; the walls are sprayed with graffiti. Many Muggles would be scared to venture here alone with nothing but the dim, orange streetlamp to light their way. As if afraid, his hand grasps inside his robes and closes around his wand tightly; the feeling of it comforts him slightly as he walks. As he turns into the street which holds his destination, the sky begins to break.
He continues to walk; the rain softly caresses his tired face, drizzling down over his back as he narrowly avoids being splashed by a bus. For the first time in miles he raises his face to the sky, his eyelashes catching the water which is falling in mists all around, as he inhales deeply. He knows he will be there soon.
He thinks and it appears, squeezing its way out between the two houses either side, their Muggle occupants completely unaware of what lies next door. With heavy feet he climbs the steps and pushes the front door open and, without even glancing back, he closes the door behind him, and the house disappears.
Remus presses his back to the door and buries his head in his hands. Grimmauld Place would never be the same for him now; it has lost the only thing that had ever made it bearable to live in. Now he can’t stand to be here; surrounded by nothing but cold, empty darkness. Sadness has fallen like a shroud over everything. Yet as Remus opens his eyes to gaze upon the dimly lit corridor, he feels his heart lift as he senses him…his trace…his touch…in everything.
As he walks to the kitchen Remus knows that it will be empty; he seems to be the only member of the Order who uses Grimmauld Place now. Of course, it is still their headquarters, but after the events of the past few months many are unwilling to enter a place that had, if only for a short time, been the residence of the one they have lost. The Weasleys have returned to The Burrow; Molly had never liked the place much, and after everything her family had been through she had decided that staying at The Burrow would be best. Tonks has been to visit more than the others; often she has turned up unannounced and scolded him for spending so much time on his own. He has welcomed her interference; sometimes the house has proved too much, its solemnity is draining.
Remus puts the kettle on the stove and lights the gas with a flick of his wand, leaning back against the sideboard to stare at the wallpaper which is yellowing; the mildew obscuring its pattern. As he stares he once again hears Snape’s cruel, hard voice in his headPerhaps not…she was not exactly to your tastes, was she?
The kettle whistles and steam rises from the spout and without taking his eyes from the wall, Remus mutters under his breath in its direction, causing the water to pour into the cup he has set out; the teaspoon begins to stir. Snape had tried to hurt him, saying those words in that cold, distant voice - and it had worked. He had known just what to say to make him remember the pains of his past…the pains of years long gone. Remus sits down at the kitchen table, the cup hovering towards him; and as he takes it he winces at the memory of the question Harry had asked;I want to know Remus…I want to know what Sirius and my dad fought about that night…
Suddenly the cup falls from Remus’ hand and smashes on the floor, sending the light golden liquid oozing across the tiles. Harry had asked him and he had feigned ignorance…he had acted as if he hadn’t known…as if it hadn’t happened. Remus can feel the familiar surroundings swim, his head becoming heavy as he blinks slowly, trying to rid himself of the black shapes that seem to float across his vision. He hadn’t even meant to do it he thinks to himself, rubbing his face with his hands, blinking again to steady his gaze. Harry had just assumed…it hadn’t really been a lie…
Without you, I'm nothing by Clare Mansfield
Chapter Notes: Although this story is set post OotP, it does not interrupt, or contain any spoilers to HBP. Through Remus' memories we are also taken back to the past and the Marauders 6th year at Hogwarts. This story not only is an attempt to explore Remus' feelings for Sirius, when he was alive and now he is gone, but also will shed some light on alot of other things along the way.
This does contain definate exploration of slash, but it is not your typical fluffy/graphic story. I have attempted to remain true to the characters created by Rowling as much as is possible.
So, all that remains to be said is I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.