Cold, and the whiskey is wearing
And I'm on the edge of my breath
And I'm thinking of leaving
I could just lay down
Lay down and freeze to death.

Numbness for Sound- Howie Day

He trudges along the streets, wanting a drink fucking desperately but not willing to veer into any of the local pubs.

She'd find him if he did. She'd crawl into his head with her bloody sad eyes and her knowing words and he'd feel even worse.

He wonders if he managed to push her away for good this time.

It's gotten colder now, the false warmth of alcohol wearing off far too quickly. His breath feels like shards in his lungs and he's developing a stitch in one side.

There's a huddled shape up ahead, crumpled in a doorway. Remus tugs out his wand surreptitiously and approaches the form.

He hears a snort, the a long drawn out snore.

Homeless. A homeless man asleep on the stairs.

Glancing around, Remus cautiously casts a warmimg charm on the rags wrapped around the man. These days, it would be too easy to fall asleep in the cold and never wake up.

Too easy. He couldn't say the thought hadn't crossed his mind. To just lay down and give in to the cold.

But when he did think of it, her face would pop into his head. And he'd realize he would never be able to go through with it.

Standing in your shoes
I turn and now
You're standing bare in my doorway
I only wish that I had been prepared
I'm gonna have to go along with your way
Just take the plastic camera out
It's the pants you borrowed in the driveway
Alive from the first
Now I'm denied by the ghost of you

Ghost- Howie Day

She's standing in the doorway now, a steaming styrofoam cup held out, her shoulders covered in a dusting of snow, her hair wet and stringy.

"I hope that's whiskey." He stated. He hadn't thought that she'd track him down here of all places. He wasn't prepared to deal with her on his turf, such as it was. "I still need a drink."

She shook her head."So you still pretending to be a drunken bastard?"

"Not pretending." He muttered.

She hands him the cup and comes in, taking off her snowy shoes and her thin jacket and leaving them in a heap by the door. Without asking, she plops down on his bed and curls up like a cat, eyeing him shrewdly.

"Yer a heartless sot, then?"

He shrugs, hanging her jacket on a hook by the door. He takes a sip of the truly awful coffee and puts it on the rickety table beside the bed.

"How's that working out for you?" She asked conversationally.

He sighed and lay down beside her, her knees pressing against his ribs. "Not so well."

Her small hand reaches out and brushes his hair away from his forehead. "You're not trying to become Sirius, are you?"

He turns his head. "You think I am?"

"I don't know. You're not being you." Her hand is on his shoulder.

"How do you know that?" He asked. "How do you know this isn't who I am?"

She shifts, straightening out her legs and shimmying closer. "I just do."

Her movements have brought her mouth unbearably close his own. He stares at it.

The room is silent, the only noise is the quiet sproing of the bedsprings as she wiggles closer. And then her other hand is plucking at his jumper.

"What are you doing?" He whispers.

"I'm cold." She says.

"That's what you get for wandering around without a proper coat."

She rolled her eyes and poked him. "Come on Remus."

"Sod off. You can't have my jumper."

Her hands slide up underneath the clothing in question and icy fingers press against his skin.

He jumps. "Bloody hell, woman!"

"Told you I was cold." She said sweetly.

He knows what she's trying to do. She's trying to find the way back to the easy comaradarie that they used to share.