A/N: So… No clue where this idea came from. It just…. kinda flowed out of me. The idea was never even in my head. It just went from my keyboard onto my laptop, without me really thinking about it. And… I'm kinda, sorta happy with it, even though it's incredibly weird, lol. But whatever. I'm weird, so the writing should match the author right?

Disclaimer: I own nothing, yadda yadda. Will I really get sued if I don't say this? Lol, Guess I won't take the chance of finding out.

Hope Found Between Dreams and Reality

Sirius is dreaming.

He knows, even as darkness of his fitful, dreamless sleep fades into shallow, barely visible light and the blurred images shape themselves together and form shadows, then a more solid, human form before colors finally explode around every direction, coating the faucets of his mind in a natural, forest like landscape, much like the ones Padfoot would love running through if Sirius was giving his animagus form such privileges at the moment, that he is dreaming, that this is merely a figment of his ever present imagination, and that he should not be so fascinated by it, should not give into it as if it is real, that he should will himself awake somehow and not allow himself to indulge in this false reality.


Except that as that moment the figure in his dream comes more clearly into focus and looks at him, really looks at him, with eyes so brown that they can put even the richest, purest cocoa to shame, and it's not just the color of his eyes that manages to take Sirius' breath away, but also the look that is in those brown depths, that look of utmost tenderness and joy, joy at the fact that Sirius is there with him, and nothing else, and how can Sirius just leave, just disappear from this dream, when that look is directed at him? Sirius is speechless for a moment as he looks at the figure before him, takes in the light brown hair and deep brown eyes and those freckles that are so endearingly present on the other person's face with greedy, almost starved eyes, like a man who has gone far too long without a meal, and really, that's almost exactly what Sirius is, sort of.

He's so hungry for Remus, and he doesn't entirely mean that in a lust driven way.

He just wants to look. Merlin, he has to look. He honestly can't stop his eyes from roaming over every inch of the figure that stands before him, from head to foot and back again, repeatedly. He just can't get enough. He's so hungry for the sight of the other man. It feels like it's been forever since he's looked at the werewolf properly.

Finally, finally he speaks, and when he does, it's as if the single word, the name, is torn out of him by some higher power, by Merlin himself maybe, or by some other God that he's never believed to exist. He says it like a prayer, like a plea, and has no idea what exactly he's asking for, but knows that he's asking for something, that he's always asking for some answer to some unsolvable question , or perhaps making some request, when it leaves his mouth sounding like some strangled, choked off cry. "Remus…."

"It's ok Sirius," dream Remus whispers, stepping forward, almost directly into Sirius' personal space, but Sirius steps back quickly, because as much as he wants to be closer, as much as he longs for the contact, he knows he can't, he just can't. Because even though dream Remus says that it's ok, Sirius knows it's not.

Sirius is afraid that the real Remus may never forgive him.

It's his own fault really. It's his own god damn fault. If he only he hadn't told Snape about the secret passage under the Whomping Willow, if only he hadn't given away Remus' secret and almost turned the werewolf into what he fears becoming most, a murderer, a monster, though he could never be either, not ever, no matter what actions he would commit as a werewolf, because it would never be his fault, then Sirius wouldn't be dealing with this loneliness, with this lack of Remus.

God, he misses Remus so fucking much.

It's been almost a month since the Willow Incident, a month since Remus had looked Sirius in the eye and told him that he never wanted to see him again, that he hated him, that he could never trust him again… it's been almost a month, and Sirius has been left to dream of the werewolf every night, seeing him as he once was, so happy, so carefree, so filled with love for him…..

So like he'll never be again.

Sirius hears himself sob, and he's sure that it's a cry that enters the real world as well as this dream world of his. He just hopes that the real Remus doesn't hear it. It wouldn't be fair for him to have to carry Sirius' anguish as well as his own.

Dream Remus looks at him tenderly, moving forward again. "Sirius, it's ok."

Sirius shakes his head. "I'm sorry," he says, tears streaming down his cheeks. "God Remus, I'm so, so sorry. I'm so sorry that I betrayed you, I'm so sorry that I wasn't what you needed me to be, what you expected me to be. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough to be your friend in the end, much less your lover. I'm just…. so sorry Remus. I don't expect you to forgive me, but I have to say it, I'll always have to say it. I'm so sorry for giving up your secret when you trusted me with it."

Dream Remus moves forward again. "Sirius," he repeats, lifting up his hands to show that he means the dog animagus no harm. "It's ok. Really, just… listen to me. It's fine."

"Why do you keep saying that," Sirius asks, looking at this dream version of Remus, the closest he's gotten to seeing Remus in a long, long time. Because lately, the real Remus has been cold, and distant, and uncaring, so unlike his typical self. It seems surreal, that a dream version of the werewolf can seem more real than the actual thing.

"Because it is ok," dream Remus says, finally managing to cup Sirius' face with his this, long fingered hands. He smiles slightly. "Trust me Sirius, it is."

"You hate me," Sirius whimpered, looking at this dream version of the man that he loves. And Merlin, he looks so fucking real, just like the actual Remus, every single detail, that Sirius can almost forget that this Remus is just a dream, something created by his subconscious to both sooth and torture him.

"I don't hate you," dream Remus tells Sirius, stroking a hand down his cheek. "God Sirius, I could never, ever hate you. I just needed some time to be able to forgive you." He leans forward and kisses Sirius softly, and Sirius remains frozen, not because he doesn't want to return the kiss, because Merlin, he does, more than anything, but because it's been so long since he's been this close to Remus, both dream and real, and he doesn't know how to react. And also, he knows that this is just a dream version of Remus, and it seems wrong to be kissing him when the real Remus wants nothing to do with him. It seems like a betrayal, and Sirius doesn't want to ever betray Remus again.

Dream Remus pulls away, smiling softly. "It's ok Sirius. It's ok. You should wake up now, and see just how ok it is."

"What do you mean," Sirius asks, looking at dream Remus in confusion.

Dream Remus smiles brilliantly, and Sirius feels his breath catch in his throat again. "Just wake up," the werewolf whispers.

And so Sirius does.


Sirius lurches forward in his bed, waking from his dream, fragments of it still vibrantly clear in his mind, before he gazed over at Remus' bed, staring at the sleeping werewolf, who had left his curtains opened the night before.

What had his dream meant, Sirius thinks to himself, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them before he buries his head in them. What had it meant? Was it just some fantasy, set out to torture him on what could have been, on what can happen but never will? Damn it, had he honestly thought, for even a moment, that Remus was ready to forgive him?

He jumps slightly when he feels a cool hand on his arm, realizing that he has been lost in his own thoughts for longer than he thought, either that, or, as he looks up and his grey eyes clash with those brown ones that he loves so much, that the werewolf hadn't really been asleep when he had looked over at him when he had awakened.

Remus smiles at him hesitantly. "Sirius… Padfoot, we need to talk," he whispers, before climbing forward onto Sirius' bed.

Sirius' breath catches in his chest, and he's so afraid to hope…

But still… he does.

A/N: So, you guys may have noticed that I haven't been writing so much lately. Sorry for that. It's been… difficult lately. As much as I wanna say my trip to the hospital is long behind me, it's obviously not since they keep sending me back for blood work and what-not, and it's seriously putting me in a bitchy mood. And school starts in two weeks so I have summer reading to do (I finished reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy, and didn't like it much since it was majorly depressing) and have doctor's appointments lined up like crazy for the next three weeks. Just bear with me, ok? I'm trying. My chapter fics will be updated…. Eventually. *sigh* I'm so sorry.

So, anyways *goes back to being usual, bubbly self, which means I'm bouncing in my seat and smiling goofily* please review, because you know you love me lots and lots and lots. Thanks, lol.

But really, tell me what you thought of the fic. PLEASE :P