It was dark, even as the sun set sail across the sky to bring mercy through the morning ray. Darkness consumed these filthy decaying walls, but more than dark it was quiet. Not even the squeaks of the rats who roamed these halls had made their daily appearance. Alone, physically he was alone but his mind plagued him at this unholy hour with their names marked across his chest like a map to his inner longing. Perhaps if the wolf could read and write, these scratches would have reflected more than the facade of anger. How could anger replace sorrow? No, even wrath can be released through storms of retaliation, but sadness.. sadness is a disease made to wrap around the patient’s neck and ail him with suffocation that never ceases.
Merlin! Why does his subconscious loathe him so? What kind of a masochistic body was he cursed with? Was the full moon’s torture from the night before - the cuts and bruises of isolation - not enough to silence the beast inside of him, just for one morning? It has grown impossible for Remus to close his eyes without the rendezvous running a pensive in his mind, to reveal these hymns and whispers in his ears, these falsifications of hope… of home. Not his cottage away from this hell-hole, but his true home - with them.
“He can’t see us..”
“He can’t hear us, Sirius.”
Hand caressed that sandy coloured fur of hair, running through it like he’d run through walls. His lips curled into a fixed smile, one not of pity but of reassurance. “We’re here, Moony..” Despite what Lily had told them, as her eyes watered from her corner - Merlin, how could the dead still hold tears within them to shed anyhow? - James couldn’t will himself to give up. Fifteen years and he never stopped coming, every single month. Fifteen years and to James his friends were still those young boys who huddled together in their red and golden common room, and dreamt of conquering the world with a pirate ship.
His hands were trembling, pushing back fair locks mudded with dried blood, the mist of last night still running a cool breeze through the windowless room, and the sound of footsteps from outside nearly lulled Remus to sleep. He had accepted that he was now alone, ever since he held on to Harry to keep him from jumping after Sirius, he’d known that this was the moment in which even that gleam of hope which had rested at the back of his mind many years ago - when he believed Sirius to be a traitor - the whisper that sang of his last companion rotting behind the walls of Azkaban; as if the mere actuality of his existence was enough to carry Remus on, was erased behind those curtains.
Suddenly, a shiver passed through him and he felt a weight rest uncomfortably atop of his heart. This was not the discomfort of a cold morning, but the icy realisation that someone was there with him. His forehead rang with sweat, but his shoulders buried deep into him with a whimpering cold.
“Padfoot…” Whispered Remus.
His smile glazed across his handsome face, and Sirius tilted his head to welcome the comfort of Remus’ shoulder “Moony…”
But then, the door swung open…