Moon Dust and Simple Magic
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in relation to Harry Potter.
Music Inspiration: Requiem for a Romance (Lady Gaga vs Yinon Yahel vs Clint Mansell) – Robin Skouteris
A/n: This is a random ending sort of fic. When the 6th book happened, I came up with many crack endings to ease my troubled soul. Here's one of the endings. Perhaps I'll upload another! Enjoy! (p.s – sortest A/n EVER! :D)
The most favoured thing to do for Remus had to be to watch the rain. Its drizzling serenity and simple magic interested him so, it was hard to turn away. But he would never join it on the outside, only watch it from behind closed windows and locked doors, tracing his fingers along the see-through glass and following the trails of tear like rain. How he longed to join the rain on the outside, beyond closed windows and locked doors. To spin around like a child, embracing the thunder and kissing the lighting. How he longed to catch the tiny tear like droplets on his tongue, letting them run through his hair, soaking his clothing until his bones. To him, this had to be one of the most amazing feelings in the world. But he would not embrace the thunder or kiss the lightning, no. He would not be allowed to join the others on the outside. Never.
Everyday it seemed to rain. Remus continued to trace the droplets, unconsciously spelling the letters. S. I. R. I. U. S. Remus took in a slow breath, breathing out, the heat of his breath making the letters show up from storms before, always the same thing. There was a flash of lightening, like the sparkle in his eyes, how Remus missed that sparkle. That sparkle that always cheered Remus up. But just like the lightning, the sparkle only lasted a moment and now it was gone. There was a roll of thunder, like the bark in his laugh, and how Remus missed that laugh. That laugh that never left him alone and was always with him. How Remus longed to hear it. Just once more. But it had been too long and he couldn't recall that laugh. He would never recall it. And just like that roll of thunder, it faded from his mind, leaving him desperate to hear it again.
Remus hardly ever left the window seat beside the handwritten glass and the old battered cane. But tonight would be different. Much different. Remus waited until the night patrols had passed and then, with the sharpened end of the old battered cane, pried the sealed window open, crawled out the opening and lowered his self onto the mud. Gripping his cane, he began to drag his feet through the slick ground and into the midnight black. Midnight black. Just as his hair was. How he longed to smell it, linger in its soft scent.
It was then, in that beautiful moment that Remus' battered old cane snapped between his grasping hands. He cursed, threw the top aside and continued limping on through the woods. There was a sudden sound, and Remus spun to see what had created it. His leg gave out. He dropped into the mud. He reached out to grab something, lacing his fingers into the bark of a tree, peeling it as he slipped down. His clothing was soaked completely, mud splattered and destroyed. And without hesitation, he began to cry; from the unbelievable pain in his legs, from the unbelievable pain in his heart.