Fic: The Impossible Dream (5/5) (RL/SB) Novella

[sam_i_am_89]

Title: The Impossible Dream (5/5)
Author: Sam I Am
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Summary: What if that night at the Shack in Harry's 3rd Year had ended differently?
Warnings: None
Rating: R
Author's Notes: This fic was partially inspired by the song 'The Impossible Dream' by Andy Williams, which could've been written specifically for our favourite werewolf!

i - Invincible    ii - Incomplete     iii - Incentive     iv - Instinct

Part Five: Ineffable

Night is shrinking back out of the sky and I flinch, woken by the creak of thunder at the crack of dawn again. I shake off the remnants of troubled sleep, filled with strange memories of icy smoke and fog, remembering the same darkness from my other nightmares... I shift slightly and then frown. After those dreams I always awoke cold, but now I feel so warm and heavy; I can’t move.

Then my bleary eyes glance at the head nestled on my bare chest, analysing that a naked arm and at least one equally naked leg are tangled amongst my own limbs. Hazily I remember shadow-covered scars, laboured breathing and eyes, soul-stealing eyes like I had never remembered. It’s strange not to remember the exact colour of blue when I’ve seen him every day for eight years; then again we never did meet each other’s gaze in those blind days, not properly. My body still feels weak and sapped of all strength. I smile softly and soon grin, almost smugly, because that sated feeling is very familiar indeed.

I consider drifting back off to sleep, feeling thoroughly lethargic, and then I remember waking him up every morning. That was always something I loved doing, whether we were twelve and I was bouncing on his bed or we were twenty-one and I was tickling him back to consciousness with my lips and eager fingertips. I decide that after I’ve woken him up properly, I’m not going to move from his side for the rest of the day and, by force if necessary, his side isn’t going to move from this bed!

I shift slightly, noticing for the first time the patches of pins and needles here and there. I wonder if Remus always insists on sleeping mostly on top of me instead of his side of the bed. He stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, much to my relief. I smile, finally able to see his face, and I lean forwards. It is high time that I reassume my alarm clock responsibilities...

I take a final glance at his sleeping face and pause before my lips reach his bony shoulder and the scarred puncture-marks there. This close I notice the tearstains on his pale cheeks, faint but present. My smile dies and something twists sharply just below my stomach as my eyes trail his features properly. I noticed the grey smudges of exhaustion under his eyes, the lines of worry around his mouth, the grey hairs I’ve caused. I think back on the past eight years, think of Remus loving me but patiently never saying a word... I shiver as the knot clenches again, viciously.

Then I crawl from the bed slowly, extricating myself with care, pace quickening as I frantically pull on my clothes, my robes, shed across the carpet like shrapnel from an exploded mine. I notice that my hands are shaking far worse than they were when I touched him last night and I clench them into fists to stop the tremors.

I feel awful, sick and angry; I feel like the worst person in the world.

I don’t look at my sleeping mate as I stumble from the room...

~~~ * ~~~

“What are you doing?”

The red-haired woman turns to me with a smile, “Making gingerbread men. Mum sent me a recipe, said you were looking on the skinny side the last time she saw you.”

I chuckle softly, deciding not to mention that since we’d been living together I’d already gained nearly a stone, and pressed a kiss against her temple, breathing the scent of her in contentedly, “Thank her for me.”

Ginny glances over her shoulder, blue eyes smiling, brushing flour onto her apron from her hands, before saying quietly, “You off then?”

“Yeah,” I reply suddenly sombre, glancing at the clock on the wall, “They’ll be expecting me.”

She nods, grim understanding in her eyes, and then smoothes the shoulders of my robes, “Will you be back for dinner?”

“Maybe...” I rest my forehead against my wife’s, needing her strength to motivate me, “I’ll floo call if I’m going to be late.”

“Alright then,” Ginny smiles again and gives me a gentle peck.

I smile, although it is faint. My mood is always fragile on Sundays. I guess it wouldn’t be so bad visiting Sirius every week as I do if I didn’t have to see Remus. Sirius’ amnesia is difficult for me to cope with, of course, but it’s the hollow expression in the werewolf’s eyes which affects me the worst. My ex-professor has spent eight years praying that the only link he has to his past, the only person who truly knows him, will be salvaged and it’s killing him. Whenever I see him he looks ill, worse than even a curse like his can make him. He’s fading away like ink in an old book and now only a recovered Sirius can possibly retrace the missing script.

At least I don’t truly know what I’m missing like Remus does...

“Right. I’d better go. Already late.”

My wife kisses me again and murmurs, “Alright.”

“See you later. And you too, Bump.” I glance down at the swollen shape of my unborn child under Ginny’s apron and can’t help but grin like an idiot as I pull out my wand.

As usual, I apparate to a spot at the bottom of the garden under the large willow tree, its long leaves dangling in the swollen stream’s clear water. The water’s usually smooth surface is disrupted by the raindrops plopping loudly into it. I quickly cast an Impervius charm and step out from under the shady shelter, looking at the two-storey cottage perched on the hillside, grey stone standing out against the brown ferns and dull green grass covering the mountain.

I begin trudging up the steady slope, slipping twice and almost falling on the slick layer of wet grass and mud before reaching the kitchen door. Scraping my feet on the worn bristly mat, I knock softly.

There is no immediate reply and I glance at my watch; I am late and usually, even if early, Remus would be ready with tea and toast and his usual strained smile. I peer around at the rain-flecked window Sirius always sits at, but his chair is unoccupied.

Worried, not just by the lack of reply, but by the rumblings of the indigo clouds blooming above that promise a heavy enough downpour to break my rather weak Impervius charm, I knock again.

The door opens quite abruptly and I start in surprise. Before I can reprimand my ex-professor for making me jump and inquire as to what took him so long, the werewolf has turned, leaving the door open.

I step inside puzzled and stunned by the eerie silence as I pull my muddied boots off and sit them by the door. Usually, Sirius would be eating breakfast at the vacant table before me if he wasn’t in his chair by the library window.

Remus is stood with his back to me, filling the kettle at the sink. I notice his hands are shaking as the werewolf murmurs, voice surprisingly even and composed, “Tea, Harry?”

However, I know my old teacher’s distraction methods by now and stride towards him, lifting the heavy kettle from his unsteady grasp, “Where’s Sirius?”

Immediately, I can see something splinter the smile in Remus’ frozen expression like too thin ice under a clumsy foot and his trembling worsens. I frown, becoming increasing concerned for the man I have come to care for as an uncle. I place the kettle down and touch a hand against his shoulder, anxiety and the scratchy jumper itching at my palm, “Remus?”

“I can’t find him anywhere,” the man blurts out suddenly and then to my horror, he chokes on the air in his lungs, releasing a sob which seemed to snag on his vocal chords, “... and it’s all my fault. I went looking for hours, like last time, but he could’ve been gone all night and I-I...”

Those eyes meet mine and they are wilder and more terrified than I’ve ever seen them, “I even read his book...” He looks horrified by his betrayal of Sirius’ privacy and I know he must be utterly desperate to have done it, “...and he was thinking about leaving because I was unhappy and he didn’t know why. And now... Merlin, he could be anywhere! He could be hurt!... And I was so stupid and... He’s gone!”

I am so stunned by my old professor’s behaviour that I hardly know what to do. I feel suddenly like I am still an awkward teenager, unsure how to act around an emotional adult. I try to reassure him gently, “He can’t have gone far; we’ll find him. It’ll be fine.”

I move back to the door, starting to slip on my boots again as the man exclaims, “No, it won’t.” His eyes are swollen and watery, the spiteful salt making the whites in his blue eyes blood-shot. He’s probably been crying all morning and that means that Remus gave up hope the moment he realised Sirius had disappeared. If anything filled me with worry it was that; something awful must have happened...

Suddenly feeling the control of the situation within my grasp, knowing I would need some answers to help me find my godfather, I ask gently, “Why do you think he left?”

“Oh Harry...” He whispers, expression lifting for the briefest of moments, a blue glimmer of triumph in his eyes, “Last night, he found our old photos... He-He remembered...”

I freeze half-way through lacing my boots, back door wide open behind me, filling the kitchen with the sound of heavy raindrops spattering against the sodden ground which almost drowns out the soft stammer which tumbles from my mouth, “What?!”

The respite is short and his face creases into crumpled defeat once more, “He remembered... maybe not everything, but... he remembered things... things that will have shocked him and I don’t think he could cope just like before... when he ran out into the snow...”

His voice is suddenly filled with choking anger as he collapses into one of the kitchen chairs, body shaking so hard he can no longer stand, “And I just... I just made everything worse! I should’ve stopped him; I should’ve realised what it would do, but I was just so... I couldn’t stop... I didn’t think! ...And then when I woke up this morning, he was gone and... Oh God! It’s just like before! I don’t think he’s coming back!”

There was nothing I could think of that would be so terrible it would drive Sirius from the only place he knew again, nothing as painful as the guilt he had felt the first time he ran away. There must’ve been some misunderstanding; perhaps Sirius had just needed to clear his head or perhaps he hadn’t thought that Remus would worry...

“What did he remember?”

The panic-stricken werewolf looks up slowly and I can see the weary surrender etched across the man’s face. I think that in this moment he is so beaten that he would spill all his secrets if it just meant Sirius was returned to him safe and sound. Our eyes meet and I know that he is about to explain everything, tell me something that has been a secret for years, as he murmurs, “Love... He was in love before... at least I thought he was, but he never said for sure...”

The minute he says it, I realise just how awful a discovery like that must’ve been on Sirius, especially if the woman he’d loved had married, moved on, maybe even died. I shudder at the thought of losing Ginny like that, spending eight years of my life without her because I couldn’t remember her. For Sirius to suddenly find out something he thought he should’ve known, must’ve broken his heart...

I ask the obvious question almost dreading an answer, “With who?”

“With Moony, of course...”

I spin and Remus’ head jolts up to the figure stood in the doorway. Sirius Black is soaked through, robes filthy along the bottom, boots caked. His cheeks are flushed pink from the chill of the rain and his dark grey eyes are staring past me at Remus, filled with the same storm clouds as the sky. His shoulders are tense, his body seeming like a spring pulled taut, soon to snap back into shape. I am suddenly filled with memories of that night in the Shack because although Sirius is so different, there is life in him again. In this moment, I can see a man where the ghost would’ve stood, someone bursting at the seams with repressed emotions.

As the shock of his sudden appearance fades, what my godfather has just said sinks in. I glance slowly back at my old professor whose eyes are still brimming with tears, jaw slack as he stares at the man in the doorway, all motor function seemingly forgotten. I know then just how certain Remus had been that Sirius wasn’t coming back.

Water trickles down into Sirius’ eyes from the black hair plastered to his scalp as he steps past me like I’m not even there and mumbles, “I’m sorry I took off like that... Should’ve left a note or something... but I had to... I had to think...”

He seems to lose the power of speech briefly and then, frowning, he shakes his head slightly as if trying to shake the words he needs to say out of him. His voice is a frustrated growl as he drips pathetically, staring at the man in the chair, "Right, let’s just get a few bloody things straight...” His voice tails off again, a water droplet falling from the tip of his nose to the tiled floor, “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Remus stares at him both frightened and determined, hurried justifying words broken by his cracking voice, “I didn’t want to do any more damage; Dumbledore said that you... you had to remember on your own, that any shocks could wipe whatever was left away.”

“I needed to know!”

At Sirius’ snapped reply, Remus flinches, quiet voice carrying a hint of outrage, “You think it was easy for me! For four years, you thought of me as no more than your house elf!”

“You let me think it!” Sirius’ voice is filled with anger, but I don’t think it’s aimed at Remus as he hisses, “You chose to suffer as you always do rather than take the chance you knew I would’ve wanted you to take!”

“If I’d ruined everything because I was too selfish, if I’d been the one to destroy the only possibility I had at getting you back, I would’ve suffered far worse!” His voice strengthens, eyes filled with an decayed ache only Remus could’ve carried so wordlessly for so long, “I was willing to endure it because there was still some hope that you would remember me eventually, even if it was only the day I died! As my friend, you deserved my patience and my loyalty in healing you, not pressurisation by greed for my own happiness.”

They both stare at each other angrily before Sirius asks tersely, uncertainty quivering almost imperceptibly in his furious words, “Was I just your friend? Is that what you are saying?” Fingers white-with-cold, the rain-soaked man pulls off his cloak violently throws it into a corner. He begins to pace silently for a few moments, leaving tracks of water and earth in his fuming wake. His eyes rise up again as he growls, “What was I to you, Remus? I could never work that out and I still can’t. Did you ever love me?” When Remus flinches again and blanches, he repeats the question fiercely, swiping the accumulating liquid from his brow, “Did you?!”

Sirius’ silver eyes are still sharp like blades as he interrogates his friend, some desperation I can’t quite grasp contorting his face, “Do you love me, Remus? Answer me!” Remus is shaking, face ashen, unable to meet Sirius’ gaze. My godfather kicks one of the kitchen chairs flying across the room, shouting, “I can’t remember because there is nothing to remember! You would never say it! Never! For once in your fucking life, will you just open up?! Do you love me?!”

“In-Ineffably.”

The soft sound is enough to stop Sirius dead. I glance nervously between the two, Remus staring at some spot on the floor well away from Sirius, who in turn is staring at the splintered chair.

There is silence for a long time and I try to digest all I’ve heard, wondering if I should say something or stay silent. I run over the whole scene again from the beginning. I remember what Remus had said, everything slipping into place. ‘It’s all my fault’, ‘I should’ve stopped him,’ ‘when I woke up he was gone...’

The past few years fall into contrast, the blurred edges sharpening just as the world had when I’d first been given my glasses. An overwhelming sense of pity and then nauseating guilt rise in my throat. Remus, my dad’s friend, my friend, had been in love with my godfather, had been desperately praying for a miracle and I had never realised how much he was suffering, never done anything to help. I’d almost avoided him and now my behaviour sickens me.

Remus had been looking after Sirius, but who had been looking after Remus?

Sirius’ rigid frame shifts slightly and I’m broken from my thoughts. The tension in the kitchen is almost tangible, the air feeling stuffy and reluctant to be breathed. Sirius’ face relaxes, the frown smoothed away as he looks at his friend again.

There’s something there in his eyes, something I vaguely remember seeing when I was thirteen as Remus had taken his friend’s hand and helped him up from the floor. At the time I had felt too angry and betrayed to notice it. Now I recognised it, I still couldn’t quite translate what it meant, unable to draw from what I had seen eight years ago. It had all happened so quickly that night, a card pack full of emotions shuffled and re-shuffled and dealt out in some peculiar order that made memories of the events hazy and unreliable for a teenager who had scrutinised them from every angle as I had.

For the first time since he entered the room, my godfather glances at me. It is brief, but long enough for me to be able to predict what will happen. His eyes lower to the floor for a moment as he mutters gruffly, “Now that’s settled...”

And in one long squelching stride he reaches his friend, clasps his face in his hands and presses his mouth tightly to the other man’s. My ex-professor releases an involuntary sob of relief and surprise, sounding almost like a laugh. Sirius hardly pulls away as he mumbles, “I missed you, you hopelessly self-less prat!”

Remus laughs properly this time, not trying to disguise the liquid that makes his eyelashes cling to one another as he clenches his shaking fists around the sodden material at Sirius’ chest and pulls him in for another kiss. My godfather slips with a muffled yelp of surprise, mud slick on the floor, falling practically sprawled over his lover, both chuckling between fervent kisses.

Awkwardly, I wander back to the door and out into the garden, an unwanted intruder in a moment both men had been waiting for for twenty years. I am glad to feel the cool rain on my scorching cheeks. It is all such a shock, but now the basics are set out before me, I notice the clues that were there all along. In ways it had always been so obvious; Remus had devoted himself fully to Sirius’ restoration, had rebuffed Tonks’ advances and, despite his depressive situation, had refused to leave it. Why had no one ever questioned a friendship that was powerful enough to destroy a man?

Unsure quite what to tell Ginny when I get home, I start to head back down to my apparition point when I hear someone cry out, “Harry!”

When I turn, I see my godfather for the first time since I’d glimpsed him that night at the Shack before the Kiss. Not the burnt-out figure sat in his armchair, watching the seasons change through a pane of glass and blank ignorant eyes; Sirius. I see the grey eyes glittering with uncontained joy, the handsome grin, the sloping grace of his limbs as he jogs out of the door towards me; I see Sirius just as those who’d known him when he was young had described. And as the man enfolds me in a huge bear hug, heartily shaking with barking laughter, I know it was the first time that Sirius had seen his godson too.

~~~ * ~~~

Epilogue: Incandescent

Remus Lupin Esq.
Probably in Sirius’ bed
With Sirius (!)
Not just HAVING A LIE IN!!!
Sirius’ Shag Pad,
London

I am only writing to inform you and that lump of a so-called Gryffindor hiding under the duvet like a third-year Hufflepuff GIRL beside you that in light of your nightly activities (and the fact you didn’t tell me!!!) I have decided to demote you both from your positions as vice and principal best friends to that of mere acquaintances!

I am mortified that, not only did you not tell me, but that you, two Marauders for Merlin’s sakes, were so indiscrete that my darling Evans figured it out before me! Unacceptable!! (She’s very sneaky, by the way; I enclose a couple of her incriminating photographs which she has made well-hidden copies of and is planning to use as black mail when necessary!)

Seriously, why didn’t you tell me? Well, I guess I know why you didn’t tell me. I can practically see you, Moony, alphabetising your bookcase manically, pretending this isn’t happening and Sirius, pacing, wrought between punching me and hugging me for finding out. There are many reasons I wouldn’t tell me either; in fact on many an occasion I have tried to hide information from myself, understanding from many a Tongue-Lashing of the Irate Female Red-Head variety that I can be ‘an insensitive little wart who makes inappropriate jokes, lewd comments and graphic gestures when he is uncomfortable’. But I digress...

As usual, I guess I haven’t chosen the most subtle way of admitting I figured it out, but I wanted to show you I’m OK with it. Thought it might’ve been a prank at first and I won’t deny that, when I actually added both you and Padfoot’s previous behaviour into it, I wasn’t a bit shocked, but I’m not going to disown you two or anything so stop panicking, put down Defoe, Dickens and Dumas and come round here when you finally come up for air,

Prongs

P.S. Padfoot, I wish to remind you of how you stole Araminta Ashington off me in Fourth Year. I’m afraid that even though she was not, as it turns out, the true love of my life, you ruined a perfectly good, if not awkward and hormone-y, relationship DESPITE the fact we all know now that only Moony ever floated your boat!!! Outrageous Treachery of the First Degree, Old Boy!!!

And so, I have decided, when I have married the Red-Headed Wonder, Goddess of Perfection, Power and Pure Evil, and amassed an army of dashingly handsome heirs, I will SMITE you and then ask Moony out for a drink or to a Library conference (you and I both know that he cannot resist the Siren call of a group of people ANALYSING LITERATURE) and see how you like it!  MWAH HA HA HA HA!

P.P.S Moony, owl me if you and Dog-breath don’t work out!

Sirius looks at the photographs attached to the old piece of parchment in my hand. I was much younger, dressed in Gryffindor uniform, Sirius stood beside me. It had been our last day, before the feast. Everyone had left the common room and we’d told James and Peter to go on without us. I should’ve realised at the time, when Lily turned up a few minutes late to the feast, flushed and smirking omnisciently at us...

In the photograph, the second the portrait hole closes, I literally collide with a surprised Sirius, bowling us both into the wooden panelling of the wall. I can still hear the muffled thud in my ears as we struck it, Sirius’ laughter soon stifled as I started kissing him fiercely...

“I can’t believe I didn’t remember you,” Sirius whispers. I look over my shoulder at him, the two of us lying on the old plum coloured sofa in the living room, far too short for our long legs. He is still staring at the picture bewildered, “I mean it wasn’t just like I fancied you once; I adored you. I used to spend our time alone together fighting between listening to all the interesting things you had to say or... well, shutting you up.”

I snort and pick up another photo album from the chest sat on the floor in front of us, “I never ever got to finish a thought process when you were around.” I flick open the cover and smile, “Look, baby James.”

Sirius drops the letter immediately and looks over my shoulder at the image; a two-year-old James Potter stood holding one of his parent’s wands in a podgy fist, the room filled with bubbles, innocent expression in his large hazel eyes. Sirius chuckles, the deep sound vibrating against my back as we press even closer together.

I flip the page, watching our friend grow. Although I’d salvaged these from Godric’s Hollow after that dreadful night, I’d never really looked at them or even mentioned their existence to Harry. I’m generally good about accepting the past, but I think I still haven’t fully come to terms with what happened. I never had any one to talk to about it, no one who could truly understand, all the friends who should’ve been there for me taken in an instant.

Sirius places the album back in the box and silently I thread my fingers through his. It’ll get much easier now with him here; the good things will be easier to remember, the times when we’d all feared haemorrhaging because we’d been laughing so hard.

“Moony?”

“Hmmm?”

When he says nothing more, I shift so I can see his face...

It’s the devil’s smile which I notice first; wicked and wide and tempting. His voice is hushed, older, hoarser, but no less persuasive, “Come with me.”

Something in my head tells me I’ve fallen for this before, but I’m too awestruck to quite remember as I waver, far quicker than I once would’ve.It takes no longer than a brief instant of surrender and I’m bewitched, ensnared by eyes glinting madly as the man leaps over me and the long clever fingers entwined with mine pull me up from the sofa.

I barely have time to slip on a pair of shoes as I’m whisked out into the darkness, the rain slashing down in huge pounding sheets. I don’t complain about the bone-numbing cold that engulfs me within seconds, clothes next to useless protection against the amount of water pouring from the heavens. I’m unable to do much accept follow Sirius into the chaos of the November Night, follow him as if he is my only sense of direction, a star used to find myself whenever I am lost.

My common sense tells me it’s treacherous on the mountain when the weather is like this, but I’ve been careful for far too long; now I ache for danger, watching as the black haired man before me grins into the pelting rain, pulling me with him, upwards.

Lightning splits the sky in harsh electric forks, the air filled with the smell of white fire, only revealing the true power of the dense blackness above. The thunder roars and Sirius impatiently speeds up our ascent to the peak. I see its outline against the fearsome sky as it is illuminated once more, trying not to lose my footing on the steep scree slope, the wild explorer before me following a path only he can see.

Suddenly, I am yanked up onto a fairly flat point nothing but the jaws of the storm before us, buffeting our vulnerable forms. My eyes are full of rain and wind and I blearily watch as Sirius’ hand slips from mine and he dives to the very edge.

He spreads his arms out like wings, fingers pale, dark robes and hair whipping away from his body like he is flying, like he is in the midst of some heathen ritual; I’m mesmerised as he stares into overwhelming dark and does not bend under it weight. He has faced the storm and found himself invincible once more. I see that power fill him once again, zipping along every fingertip like threads of lightning, up every strand of hair flickering in the gale. His eyes are filled with molten silver and some elation that only he could feel soul bared and tested by the storm.

Then he laughs... He laughs and laughs like a man possessed, closing his eyes shut and feeling for the first time. The icy rivulets of water are swept across his bare skin as he throws his head back, face turns up towards the maelstrom, and he laughs helplessly. Somehow the tears I feel building do not want to be shed, seeming too humble on the mountaintop where Sirius and I are engulfed by a raging tempest. I chuckle as well.

Eventually, the thunder becomes less frequent and the howling wind quietens; we are silent as the clouds break. Slowly Sirius’ arms fall back to his sides and his eyes open. Without a word, I slowly approach the abyss and the man stood at its edge. I slip my arms around his waist, eyes following his own as he leans back against me.

We stand amongst the calm of the stars and find peace.

~~~ The End ~~~

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this final part. Please leave me your thoughts and I will grovel for all eternity in the temple of your feedback.

Sam x