#hp textpost

summary: Sirius falls through, and all Remus can feel is entirely, utterly alone.

keywords: wolfstar, marauders, set in the battle of the department of mysteries, angst, death, tiny mentions of self harm/suicide

word count: ~500

They've had this conversation before - about a dozen times in the last few months, through whispered promises and ghosts of kisses in the dark, only allowing themselves rest after numerous I swear's and reassurances: they had chosen to fight and Harry had not; when it came to it, he was all that mattered, not them, not any promises made to Dumbledore. He doesn't remember really choosing to fight: it seemed the only option back then, an effortless, unanimous decision made in the wake of youth and with the stubbornness of invincibility. This fierce indomitability over the past few years has slowly chipped away at them with each grey hair into a sense of hushed acceptance: Sirius would joke about greeting death like an old friend, like in the stories, he would say. Stories from a book that stands atop his desk, destined to outlive him. And yet, as he sees his last remaining companion fall through the white blanket, he wants to scream. Howl. Howl and claw at his flesh until it is all that he feels instead, like the animal that he is.

No, Remus. He cannot. Not now. Because now, the responsibility falls onto him. He can still hear the words of Sirius Black echoing in his ears, the last time Harry was handed over to him for temporary safekeeping. It's your turn, moony. Even as the boy escapes his weak grasp and is gone, he holds back tears.

Sirius, his friend, his lover, is gone. But he doesn't want to make it reality. He shuffles through the bookshelves in his mind, desperate to clutch onto any memory that may hold him back from following his padfoot into the veil. And now he is back at Platform 9¾ , when they first met on the train. At Hogwarts, shuffling noisily under the cloak through halls with their map to retrieve their confiscated wet-start fireworks from Filch's office. At the Shrieking Shack, where he watches them transform from human to animal, because being only friends with his human isn't enough. They are telling him to take it easy as they continue to fumble with the clocks, and all he can think about is when the next full moon is. Sirius is pulling him into an empty broom cupboard between classes, where it's just the two of them and no one else, clumsily teasing and stealing kisses before Remus can teach him a lesson later within the curtains of their four-poster beds.

And just like that, the last marauder is left standing, all alone, as jets of light and spells fly too close to his head, too many times. Pink hair swarms his shaggy head, arms wrap around him, soothing him, comforting him, shielding him - but all he can feel is numb. The truth hits him like a punch to the gut, dropping him down to his knees, as he realizes that there is no one left but him.

Credits to @uzmacchiato for the beautiful divider. hope this was a good read! My first ever writing post: first of many, I'll be doing some mcu one-shots as well, amongst other fics and genres (hehe smut) please please tell me what you think!! Like and reblog, love, ruelle

George: you know we’re twins, right?

Sirius: okay fine moan-y

Sirius: moony**

Peter: how even-

James: PADS WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN TYPING TO GET “MOAN-Y” IN YOUR AUTOCORRECT

Sirius: I HA-

Remus: ᴮᵉ ᵠᵘᶦᵉᵗ!!! ᵀʰᵉ ᵇᵃᵇʸ'ˢ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵘ ᵈᵃᶠᵗ

Sirius: ᴼʰ ˢᵒʳʳʸ⁻