Shut Up, Padfoot!

43

"I need a smoke," I murmured.

"Shit, me too," Moony replied.

His knee went up when he rummaged around his pocket. I leaned my head on the wall, the wood of a broomstick clear on my right. The dim sunset shone through the window and muffled quidditch practice bore from outside.

Remus pulled his metallic cigarette holder out and the quiet click of the clasp emit. He swiped a cig out, settling it between his lips. He pat his pockets again and it took him longer this time. He furrowed his brows and the cigarette tipped upward.

"Got a light?" he muttered, his syllables muffled.

I tucked my fingers into the pocket of my skirt and the cool metal warmed under the heat of my skin. Leaning forward, I flicked the top back and the flame roared. He lowered his head and the end of the skin burned.

I closed the lighter with a satisfying clack and pocketed it again. He took a huff and pulled it away from his mouth, holding his arm out for me to take it. He tilted his head upwards and smoke blew into the air.

The familiar smell soothed me and I took the cigarette between my index and middle. I placed it on my bottom lip and inhaled.

"Pretty fucked lately, yeah?" he said.

Blowing the smoke out, I closed my eyes at the constant. There's been so much going on that we've barely had time to just sit and have a smoke. Or to even talk.

The soles of our feet pressed to each other and we sat with our backs to the wall. Dust and smoke filled the room and it's a twisted pleasure.

I passed it back to him, replying, "How's being a prefect? Boring, I assume."

"Always. How's dying?" he responded.

"No off days, know how it is."

"Nah.. someday I might," he retort.

"Albeit different circumstances," I corrected.

He handed it back to me and a couple centimeters already seared off. His tongue swiped along his lips and ran his finger in the dust on the ground. He traced a pattern.

I parted my mouth and watched little O's float in the air. Blowing the rest of it out, I turned to stare out the window. I hope the sun goes down faster.

"So you can't turn anymore?" he questioned.

I frowned, centering my attention on the window pane rather than the orange glaring through the glass. I swallowed before taking another huff. The subject still gets to me a lot.

I rose my arm and he took the cigarette back with his thumb and index. I kept staring at the wood along the window.

"No," I answered.

"Took a lot of you, I bet? Your truest form and can't get back to it ever again," he said.

"Yeah. It's shit."

He shifted around, pushing a couple brooms further away from him. My eyes flit to him and I smiled bitterly when he looked back at me.

"Have you tried after that night?" he asked.

"No. I haven't," I said.

"Oh?"

He rose his brow, cig on lip. Remus played with the engravings in his holder. His nail scratched into the indents. He waited for me to continue.

"But I know. I know I can't go back. I can feel it," I added.

He nodded, lowering his eyes and reopening the holder. The click resounded again when he closed it once more. That's what I like about Moony. He doesn't say shit. He doesn't doubt us or say it because he believes us. If I'm certain, then I might as well be damn right about it.

Love him, this boy. He's a good guy. Keeps it real, stands with me, loves me just as much. Closets thing I'll get to a brother.

"I can feel it, Moony," I repeated.

"Mm," he hummed to show that he heard.

"In here.. and it hurts a lot. But what doesn't? Hurt?"

I grasped my sweater above my heart. He glanced quickly and back down to his lap. He slightly nodded his head again, smoke puffing out.

"Yeah, it hurts. Us lot can't catch a break, can we? Everyday.." he breathed out.

"You've got the werewolf thing, I've got the strega mortale thing. What next? Siri's a vampire?" I complained.

"Might as well be," he chuckled.

I grimaced, accepting the cigarette once more. Only a little bit is left, and I'll hand it back to him to finish. It's his, so he should take it to the end.

"Yeah, wouldn't be surprised," I retort.

He laughed again, brushing his hand through his hair. Remus gripped the ends of his strands and let go afterward. I could hear footsteps near the window and realized practice must be over. The light of the dying day lowered.

"I hope one day you'll find real happiness," I said gently.

The rest of us, Marauders, know how Moony is.

We know he's not really happy.

He works harder than all of us and holds us together. He's earned all of this; he earned the prefect position, his great future, his compassionate self. He's earned it all by working for it.

But his curse holds him back.

He can't live peacefully with it. He'll never know a life without the dread of hurting the ones he loves.

And he's broken because of it.

He deserves true happiness. Someone who would accept him and know that he'll never hurt them. Someone who stays by his side in the end. Someone that would hold his hand until his last moments.

"What's life without a little pain?" he teased.

"Partly true, but c'mon, Rems. You know what I mean," I whined.

He grinned, a short cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth. His eyes didn't hold the appearance of the smile, but he kept it up. The doodle of a phoenix in front of the moon found in the dust blew away as dawn rose.

-lana