End of November

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End of November



Remus returned on a particularly snowy day. The other three Gryffindors had been out on the grounds all morning, building a snowman that looked disturbingly like Argus Filch doing unspeakable things with a mop... They'd just left his office with another detention on their records, still dripping wet from the snow, and returned to the Gryffindor common room to find Lily Evans staring sadly up the stairs to the boys dormitory.

"Looking for us, Evans?" Potter called, walking over and attempting to put his arm around her, but she ducked away quickly.

"Remus," she said, "He's just got back and I tried to talk to him, but he murmured about wanting to be left alone and went upstairs. He looked positively miserable. I feel awful." She looked about ready to cry.

Sirius hastened up the stairs.

"Oi mate, she's only just said he want to be left alone," called James.

"He doesn't know what he wants," Sirius answered and he bounded off.

Upstairs, Sirius pushed open the dormitory door and stepped inside. Remus was laying on his bed, face down in the pillow. Hearing the door, Remus turned his head and looked over to see Sirius hovering by the door awkwardly. "I don't want to talk about it," he said, and he turned to push his face back into the soft cotton.

"You don't have to talk about it," Sirius agreed, and he walked over and sat down on the edge of Remus's bed and he reached down and gently stroked Remus's spine. He'd touched Rey's back a hundred times over the past four years, but this was the first time since he'd decided to tell Remus how he felt... and it made his tummy flip with excitement. He could feel the scars even through the fabric of Remus's white button-down uniform shirt. "But if you want to talk about it some time, I'll be here for you. I'll be here for you anytime, Rey, for anything. Just so you know."

Remus didn't react.

Sirius inched closer. "You know what James did while you were gone?"

Remus murmured, "I'm sorry, I don't want to talk at all, Sirius. Like about anything. At all."

"Okay."

Sirius paused, still running his palm over Remus's back gently, then he asked, "Would you like me to massage your back a bit? It's really tight, perhaps that'll make you feel better? Get your muscles loosened up...?"

"No," Remus replied.

"Want me to be Snuffles and you can put your fingers in my hair like you enjoy doing?"

"I just want to be alone," Remus whispered. "I'm going to end up alone anyway. You might as well go away now. Just go."

Sirius let his hand fall away from Remus's back. He sat at the edge of the bed, staring at his trainers, not wanting to go away. He glanced back at Remus again. "You're not gonna end up alone..."

"Sirius. Please."

"I'm always going to be here for you, Rey, I'm not going to go anywhere, I'm --"

"Yeah until somebody decides to kill you because you WON'T BLOODY SHUT UP AND LEAVE THEM ALONE WHEN THEY TELL YOU TO!"

Sirius's feelings bruised instantly, and he got up and hurried out of the room.

Remus felt bad for shouting, but shouting had felt awfully good, too, he could do with shouting a bit more, he realized, and a white-hot blinding anger took over him, squeezing all his Remus-ness out and leaving behind a burning desire to break things. He got up and started smashing about the room, knocking books off the shelves and smashing a vial of balm on the floor. He kicked his trunk and tipped over the desk chairs, tore the curtains from his four poster, punched the pillow until feathers burst about the room and grabbed hold of a framed photo sitting on the nightstand by Sirius's bed - the four Marauders, taken sometime the year before that Rey couldn't even recall, and he slammed it onto the floor, the shattering of the glass and cracking of the frame quite satisfying and the picture fluttered loosely, the edges torn a bit.

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