The Light In The Darkness

Remus felt as though he were falling…endlessly, hopelessly spiralling downward with little chance of catching himself before he struck bottom.

It was all too much. First he and Severus had that rocky year while Remus taught at Hogwarts; then Sirius had returned and Peter might as well have risen from the grave; the following year had been very hard on Remus, between worries over the Triwizard tournament and being ousted; and finally, Voldemort had returned.

Afterwards, life became even more hectic and complex. Sirius and Severus fought as though they were schoolboys all over again. Severus and Remus had to take up their old positions as spies again. Harry remained in danger, and Sirius’ grasp on reality was constantly under question. Old wounds reopened, but Remus could not bring himself to address most of them, leaving them to remain untouched instead.

Next, Sirius was gone. Harry and Severus were no safer. Tonks had some ridiculous infatuation with him and refused to cease her advances. Remus was spending most of his time underground, spying on other werewolves and feeling further from humanity then he had since before he attended Hogwarts. Old lines were drawn again, and Remus felt as though he had been fighting the same war for the whole of his life…then he realised that he had.

Remus knew a large part of his current disposition was due to Sirius’ sudden death; that he had not properly mourned his friend. Harry and the other children had been in danger at the time and Remus needed to be calm and strong for them. Then, Voldemort no longer had to hide from the Ministry’s gaze and so much happened at once that Remus fell into a strange numbness as he handled the aftermath.

What else could he do but continue as though nothing were the matter? He had done it before; had moved forward as though some part of him wasn’t keening in agony inside. The werewolf honestly had to wonder how he was constantly the last one standing when he usually felt as though the ground had disappeared from under him.

Nevertheless, Remus continued on, as always. His only comfort came from the stolen hours that he and Severus managed to share, and the lycanthrope cherished every second of them, especially as they were about to become increasingly rarer once the new term at Hogwarts started again.

Recently, as though none of this were enough, Dumbledore decided that Remus should clean up Grimmauld Place in case Harry decided to check out the house that was now his. They would not want him to find out just how bad his beloved godfather had gotten towards the end, after all. The werewolf agreed, and began the painful task with the same aching forced-detachment as he had everything else up to that point.

It had been a silly thing, really, that had finally broken the lycanthrope’s hazy shell. He was cleaning up some empty fire whiskey bottles that Sirius had hidden in a den, no doubt to avoid Severus’ condescending remarks on his drinking. Severus always made it sound as though he were just taking an alternate attack on his old rival, but Remus knew that he was actually worried about how moody -and often angry- Sirius became when intoxicated, since Remus spent a good deal of time trying to exercise some control over his friend.

Thoughts of Sirius and Severus -and even Harry, James, Lily, and Peter- filled Remus’ mind, choking him old and new pains and causing him to pummel down even faster, until he literally was falling. The werewolf’s knees crushed the bottles when he landed, and he pressed his face into his hands as silent tears finally fell.

He could not say how long he kneeled in the broken glass, sobbing quietly, before he heard someone speak his name near the doorway, followed by the sounds of hasty footsteps and billowing robes. Then he felt the heat of another body kneeling beside him while strong hands grasped his shoulders.

“Remus!” Severus’ familiar voice was like a balm to the werewolf’s fractured soul, and he immediately leaned into his lover’s hold. “Remus, what’s happened? You’re bleeding…can you stand?”

Severus pulled Remus against him as he stood, and lead him to a nearby chaise. Once they were seated, he kept one hand wrapped around the werewolf as he inspected his cut knees and shins. Remus took a few deep breaths, trying to pull himself together.

He opened his mouth to speak, but was halted by the obsidian-eyed man, “Do not even think of offering me any false assurances that you’re all right.” Severus began to remove the glass from his lover’s legs carefully, “And don’t you dare apologise either.”

Remus, who had been about to do just that, closed his mouth and simply nodded.

Once all the glass was removed, Severus began closing the wounds with his wand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You have enough burdens to bear,” Remus whispered hoarsely, “And you hated him.”

“Are you not the one who took it upon himself to help me bear each of my burdens? I may have loathed Black, but that does not mean I want you to suffer alone in silence.” Satisfied that Remus was not in danger of bleeding to death, Severus took both of the man’s shoulders in his hands again and forced the werewolf to face him.

“I love you.” Severus spoke those words so rarely that they awakened Remus as nothing else could have.

“I love you,” Remus whispered in return, even though he said the words far more often.

Remus’ tears abated quickly, and Severus shed none, but they remained there for some time, talking, touching, feeling, and simply taking some time to let the other know how important they were.

When they finally had to rejoin the world, Remus still felt as though he were falling, but he no longer feared the feeling.

He knew Severus would be there to catch him in the end.