'where we are now' remus lupin & regulus black

The Cut That Always Bleeds

Cordelia will just need time, I tell myself. She will get over this. Maybe she doesn't really care, maybe she just looked like that because Iris is dead.

Oh, fuck.

Iris is dead.

Cordelia is having a night, isn't she?

Perhaps life can be simpler if I just take her away and we deal with this, rather than be here when then news gets scattered. I grow slightly less depressed as I consider all the uninterrupted alone time.

I'm able to talk myself into enough composure to handle walking into my dorm. Sirius has beaten me here, and he looks up at me when I come in. I go to my bed, nodding vaguely at his distraction. I'm still imagining pleasant scenarios that consist of Cordelia and I running away with absolutely no issues.

Sirius interrupts my fantasy. "She's dead."

"I know," I mumble, staring at my canopy. "I'm sorry."

Did you love her?

Did you love her?

Did you love her?

I can tell he knows somethings wrong. Whether he assumes it's about Iris, or not. But he doesn't ask and I don't have to tell and that makes me grateful.

So much has changed, and so abruptly. It's making me feel a bit dizzy, like I'm standing on an edge, a precipice somewhere much too high.

Will she still want to be my girlfriend?

Will she hate me?

Will I ever be in her good graces again?

I don't want to think about this anymore.

"Sirius," I whisper.

☽☽☽

February 7th, 1979

Smiling back, "Hi," I breathe out.

My lips tremble for a second, and I nearly choke. Then I hurl myself at him.

"James, oh, James," I gasp, as I slam into him.

I always forget how hard he is; it's like running into a wall of cement. From the quidditch.

"Remus?" There is a strange mingling of concern and confusion in his voice.

I don't notice when the gasping turns into something else—I only realize I'm sobbing when his shoulder becomes wet from snot and tears.

"I—I need—"

"I know," James sighs, patting my back. "I know."

After a few more sniffles I pull back, composing myself. James says nothing as he looks upon my guilt stricken face.

It's a crippling feeling. This notion that something you did has the power to eat you alive from the inside out. Kill you slowly. Painfully. However, there comes a soothing sensation—like aloe on a sunburn—when you remember it's less than you truly deserve.