I Am Not Yours
There are some books, that you can lose yourself in. Books that draw you in from the first words and leave you still enthralled at the last. It's pure escapism, the pull of a good book into another world, and Remus knows it. He's seen Pensieves before, and used one once. In a roundabout sort of way, he muses, good books and Pensieves are very much alike. A Pensieve captures a memory as it was, a book can capture the thoughts of the author as they were. But the differences all come down to the reactions. Books can be read in context, for pure enjoyment or for academic purposes. Books are open to interpretation. A Pensieve is everything just as it was. But despite this, things and contexts and knowledge, Remus thinks, can still be brought to one. Not exactly the same as a book, sometimes generally less enjoyable to experience, but just as real and valid and open to change.
Sometimes Remus wishes he could transfer his own life into a book, to draw it away from himself, become disembodied within the text and allow himself to look at it in a less harsh manner. But then, he reconsiders, and decides he doesn't particularly want to see everything, again. And so Remus loses himself in books, about other people's lives. People who are brave and daring and always usually end up winning in the end. He knows Heathcliff's woes as he does Sirius's laments over the scratch on his motorbike. He understands Peter's sometimes worried nature as he does Miss Havisham's bitterness. He knows Lily is James's Juliet to his Romeo, though with slightly messier hair. The book people merge with real people in his mind and join to create a fabric rich with joy, tragedy and value.
There's something about books that makes the characters in them alive. Remus does not know what it is, but on the odd occasion he feels he wishes it came bottled, for he does not feel too alive all the time. Another thing Remus notices is that after reading a book, you can feel like you own the characters, that you are a part of their lives. This is of course another con for turning his life into a book. Remus Lupin does not want to be owned. He does not want to be caged. As far as he's concerned, he already is as caged as he could handle. It's funny in a way, that this thought process leads up to the almost breaking of one of his friendships.
"I didn't mean to," Sirius says, sitting close beside his bed in the infirmary.
Remus shrugs, or attempts to, as he is lying down. "It wasn't your secret to tell. You shouldn't have told him," Remus refuses to look at Sirius's face which is most likely etched with remorse from the tone of his voice. "I'm not yours, Sirius."
"I suppose not," Sirius replies, and Remus feels the slight weight which was Sirius's arms folded on the side of the mattress disappear. "But I'm terribly sorry. Honestly Moony-it just slipped out."
Remus makes a humming sound and crosses his bandaged arms across his chest. "It's alright, I suppose Padfoot. Can't do much about it now." He barely has time to brace himself before Sirius is throwing himself carelessly into his arms, hugging him tightly. Something twinges in Remus's stomach which he doesn't actually think is nausea though it seems to be masquerading as it, and he thinks, perhaps just a little bit yours.