Stranger // Remus & Sirius
"Say what?" Sirius asked the ceiling, somewhat annoyed that Remus would even think to ask such a question. Wasnât it obvious? "The whole point was that everyone would think it was me. Who would have believed my word if I said I wasnât? No one. Not unless that fucking coward confessed." Not that anyone had even stopped to question Sirius. Not a single person even thought to pause and check the last spell he had cast. All apparent evidence had been stacked against him and that had been enough for the Ministry. Not even Dumbledore (fuck the old wanker) had insisted on holding a trial.
"There was no time, even if you would have believed me. He was going to get away." It was the truth but that wasnât what had gone through his head that night. His thoughts were more along the lines of destroy the traitor. That was all that had mattered to him in that moment. And even if he hadnât gone after Peter the Aurors would have come for him. He had nothing to lose that night. Had he managed to succeed he might have more easily accepted his fate, gone quietly.
Suddenly, Sirius sat up, causing the drink to slosh violently and threaten to spill over the couch. âBut heâs here now, Moony. We can make things better. The Ministry is too stupid to punish him.â A plea for help. A chance for Remus to redeem himself. Sirius turned his gaze to look Remus straight in the eyes, his stare intense, demanding a response.
Something that Remus would readily describe as a 'deathly silence' settled over his home. He had no idea what to expect, but this... It was shock. Remus was definitely experiencing shock. His limbs refused to move, he was pretty sure he hadn't taken a breath in minutes, and everything in his vision had blurred into one big plane of beige. Then, suddenly, he was breathing too hard, too quickly. He stood violently, and the low table he had been perched on rattled as he backed blindly into it.Â
"No," he said, breathing shallowly, words clipped. "No, I can't, not again, IÂ won't, Sirius, I can't kill--" It was almost instinctual, the way he retreated to the corner of the living room. "You have no idea what you're asking of me."
He stood there for a minute, hands over his face, looking for all the world like a man possessed. "You can't play judge and jury again, not again, not after..." He dropped his hands and gave his old friend a desperate look. "Please, don't. This is... this is the wrong path, Pads. I'm not sure of most things anymore, but I know this won't end well."Â














