Maybe it is all just a terrible dream; Remus sometimes thinks this when all that has happened to him, to all of the Marauders, becomes almost too much to believe. Sometimes Remus likes to think that the last fifteen years are just a dream, and in the morning he will wake in the Gryffindor dormitory and he will already be able to hear the voices of his friends. If only he could seriously believe that he now thinks to himself as, with a quick flick of his wand, he ignites the lamp on the bedside table. If only Remus Lupin had an imagination great enough to truly believe that Peter had not been the one that had betrayed them all; that all that messy business was just a mistake. If only he could convince himself that Lily and James had not been murdered by Voldemort and that, any minute now, they would walk in through the front door with Harry beside them. If Remus had ever been a successful fantasist then, as he stood in this room, he would be able to make himself genuinely believe that Sirius was not dead and that in a few moments he would burst through the door behind him and demand to know what Remus was doing in his room. Yet these feelings are only fancies and as Remus looks around the room that once belonged to his friend,he knows, perhaps for the first time, that there is no turning back the clock; there is no way to go back. James and Lily and Sirius are lost to him now, and there is no way to change that.
He moves to sit on the bed, stumbling forwards before he feels the ancient mattress sag beneath his weight. There is nothing very personal about this room. It is, in many ways, just like any of the other now deserted bedrooms in Grimmauld Place. Yet somehow, to Remus, it feels so different…it feels like so much more and as he looks around he now sees that even though there are no photos, no personal affects, the memory of his friend is in everything. There is a clock on the bedside table that has wound down, its arms frozen in time. It would be just like Sirius to forget to wind it; perhaps the ticking annoyed him? Beside the clock there is a mug, long drained of its contents and it is now that Remus indulges in fantasy and imagines Sirius taking a sip of tea that has long since gone cold, before vanishing the remains with his wand. The lamp, with its multicoloured glass shade, has not seen a duster for years and Remus smiles as he pictures Sirius shouting expletives when he finds Kreacher attempting to clean.
This room has no portraits or wall hangings; Sirius stripped them down when he returned with the Order and, despite the dust and cobwebs, the room seems unnaturally sterile in the weak lamplight. An ancient gilt mirror is lopsided on the wall above a dormant fireplace, and Remus eventually finds it within himself to move and straighten it. As he is adjusting its position,his eyes become fixed on the reflection of the room behind him. For in this mirror he is not alone; over his shoulder, he can clearly see Sirius lounging idly on the bed, the sheets kicked to the floor as he grins mischievously in Remus’ direction. Remus swallows hard and blinks, yet the reflection is still there, and though it seems absurd he says, “Y…you’re dead…”
Sirius laughs. The laughter breaks the stillness of the room and even though it causes Remus to shiver, he cannot tear his eyes from the image in the glass.
“It was a joke, Moony…it was always a joke. Frightened you, did I?” Remus nods, his appearance seems all the more drained and grey in the tarnished mirror. Sirius laughs again and begins to slowly shuffle forwards on the bed. The reflection is moving closer. Remus blinks again and yet Sirius is still sitting there, his eyes now clearly visible in the half-light of the room. Sirius smiles and shrugs flippantly before saying, “Come on, Moony, do you really think I’d go like that?”
Remus smiles and turns, half hopeful, half disbelieving, and the room is empty, just as he knew it would be. Sirius does not sit on the bed before him. He is not there to tell him it was all just some terrible dream or a bad taste joke. There are no photos on the walls. The room Remus Lupin is standing in is empty.
Without you, I'm nothing by Clare Mansfield
Chapter Notes: We return to the pesent and to Remus' attempts to control his grief.