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The Healer said getting a pet would help the crushing loneliness Remus felt in his chest. But then again, Healer Jones didn’t know his complicated history with furry creatures. After careful thought and consideration, Remus found himself standing in a dark and moldy animal shelter that February afternoon. It couldn’t hurt to look, maybe it would help.
It was loud with boisterous barking dogs, rattling cages from their frantic leaps at him. Each sound made him jump, clench his teeth and grip his concealed wand tighter in his pocket. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe he should have just stayed in his flat where it was quiet. Where only his never ending thoughts could make him jump.
“Can I help you?” A kind voice startled him out of his trance. He whirled, eyes wide with surprise. It was an older lady, with wrinkled skin around her eyes as she smiled. “Are you looking for a pet?” She asked softly again, despite the deafening roar rushing through his skull. He could only nod, fiddling with his cardigan buttons. It was one that James and Lily had gotten him last Christmas, soft like their friendship had been.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Ah, yes. I wasn’t set on a dog, though.”
“I’m Sarah,” The woman offered, extending a hand. Remus took it, hoping his hand wasn’t as clammy as he felt. “It seems to me that you need a quiet friend,” she remarked, glancing around the cages in the room.
Remus nodded, looking around at the various hounds and scruffy dogs. There were large mastiff dogs, with soulful eyes and more drool than Remus could stomach. He passed on those, letting a young yellow Labrador lick his fingers.
“Seems like you’ve made a friend in Millie,” Sarah commented, opening Millie’s cage and letting the dog out into the yard. She trotted around the outskirts of the yard, sniffing various patches of grass and trodding through mud.
His inner turmoil raged on. He didn’t really need a dog, especially a large one. What was he going to do when eventually his neighbors found out about his condition? He was alone now, alone to deal with his “furry little problem.”
Remus swallowed hard, pushing away the memories of headstones and newspapers screaming at him that his best friends were dead, their son orphaned and Sirius was to blame. Sirius, with his unending loyalty to James and Lily, was the reason Harry would grow up without parents. Feeling his bones start to rattle and his chest constrict, he stumbled over polite excuses to Sarah before rushing out of the yard. He managed to make it to a patch of pine trees before he started dry heaving. Tears stung the corners of his eyes, bile rising in his throat. As much as he didn’t want to believe that his Sirius had betrayed their group of friends, the evidence was damning.
He couldn’t see Sirius after he was apprehended, and burned the letters he sent. Remus spent the majority of his time locked in his flat, surviving off takeaways and Muggle books he hoarded. Everyone handled him delicately, like a bull in a china shop. They were convinced that he was going to snap, whispering gossip as he passed. Maybe the scars on his own face were the result of an unhinged Sirius Black. Remus stopped going to Diagon Alley after that, preferring to fade into oblivion in the Muggle world.
Wiping his mouth, Remus straightened and sighed. He had given the idea of a dog some thought, put a valiant effort into finding a friend. Healer Jones would sigh and her self-writing quill would continue to document that he wasn’t getting any better.
Prefers solitude over companionship.
Is unresponsive to traditional and new methods of healing.
Seemingly stuck in a cycle of depression and anxiety.
These were just some of the notes Healer Jones passed to him, in an attempt to force him to start taking action to help himself. As much as Remus tried, the overwhelming sense of heaviness and guilt did not leave him.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, his mind slinking back into quiet dissociation until a moment of clarity hit and he found himself sitting in his dark apartment. Remus sighed, standing to retrieve a chocolate bar from his coffee table. The chocolate melted in his mouth, a quiet tang that he relished. It was getting dark outside, dark enough for Remus to convince himself that he could go to bed early. In reality, it was only 5:30 but Remus paid little attention to that. He collapsed on his crumpled sheets, not bothering to change into pajamas.
He flipped over and stared at the ceiling with its stark white paint. It was not as welcoming or comforting as his Hogwarts dorm had been. The bed wasn’t as soft either, but if he tried hard enough, he could still picture it all.
Peter attempting a spell above his level, usually resulting in a trip to Madame Pomfrey. James either polishing his broomstick for the next Quidditch match or moaning about how Lily wouldn’t give him the time of day. Sirius would roll his eyes when James would start on the latter, offering bits of advice as he lay on the end of Remus’s bed. Sirius would wink at Remus as he edged closer, starting by casually laying on the end of Remus’s legs. As much as Remus would huff and attempt to kick him off while trying to focus on his schoolwork, he wouldn’t trade those moments for the world. Eventually Sirius would come lay next to him on the bed, shoulder to shoulder. His long black hair would be begging to be touched, but Remus never dared.
If he concentrated hard enough, he could still smell the husky cologne Sirius wore.
“Enough.” Remus’s own words startled him out of his daydream. His face was wet, salty tears falling down his cheeks. He sat up, pushing down the thoughts of the past. It was the first word he spoke today, his voice hoarse from misuse. “He killed your friends. Sirius Black is a traitor.” Remus spoke hotly, rage bubbling inside.
Rage was different from grief. It had to be released, white hot anger filling his bones. Before he realized, his wand was in his hand.
“Silencio.” He cast and let his anger rage. He screamed, gripping the sheets as he tried to pour all the rage and grief he felt out into the room. Eventually, his voice cracked and he stopped, his chest heaving. Remus swallowed and straightened before he spoke.
“Sirius Black is a traitor. He is not your friend. He doesn’t care about you.”
Exhausted, he fell back onto his bed and fell asleep with one thought on his mind. Tomorrow, he will go back to the shelter and get a dog. Or a cat. Or a bird. He would give an effort to getting better, to stop letting his thoughts be consumed by the man he thought was everything.