Push and Pull (Sirius Black X Reader)

I know that doesn't make him innocent—that we were together that night. I mean, he did leave. But he told me he was leaving because someone betrayed James and Lily. I tried to tell Remus, but he says that doesn't change anything and that he was trying to make sure I remembered him saying that. Remus says Sirius wanted an alibi.

Of course, one doesn't have any use for an alibi when he murders a man in front of a crowd of witnesses.

Remus told me all that was left of Peter was a finger. A single finger.

Sometimes I think back to when I was younger. I think about Sirius and how gentle he was. Not to everyone. But to his friends. I can't imagine him raising a hand against anyone. Especially not after we graduated. He was so much more mature then.

Maybe I just don't know him like I thought I did. That's what Remus says anyway—that we were all tricked by him into thinking he was one of us, and that he cared. But he was just trying to work his way closer to James and Lily and their son.

Remus told me that Sirius was the one who held the secret address of James and Lily's house, and that's just one more piece of evidence against him. I—I can't really remember much about the days surrounding Halloween, but there must have been something. I mean, I think I remember Sirius telling me something about being the secret keeper...

I don't know.

Things have been... jumbled up since then. Over a decade and sometimes I still feel like I'm mourning for what I lost that night, like I'm floating, suspended in time.

Sometimes, when I wake up beside Remus, I think it's Sirius' warm body pressed tightly against mine.

I can't stop thinking about the escape. Even though Remus tells me not to worry about it, I think he really might have escaped. Or else someone would have disputed it, like the minister.

I wonder if Sirius is going to come back for us. If he really did betray James and Lily and he killed Peter, why didn't he kill Remus and me too?

I wish he would have sometimes.

I miss my friends. I wish I could have traded places with any of them. I was never like them. I never had any significance in anyone else's life—not really, not in a way that truly mattered.

James and Lily had their son, and Peter was like a ray of light in the dark. If they were here instead of me, things would probably be different. They wouldn't still be lost like I am.

Remus says that sometimes I'm not here, that I get this empty look in my eyes. He says I've been like that lately. I don't want to tell him it's because Sirius might have escaped. I don't want him to worry. After all, he finally has a real, steady job lined up for him.

A professor at Hogwarts. Where we all met for the first time.

One night, when we were in bed, Remus had an arm wrapped around my shoulders and he whispered, "You're not the same as you were when we were in school."

I don't think I said anything. I just looked up at him, at that scar on the bottom of his chin, and he said, "It's not a bad thing. I just worry."

I guess I can understand what he meant. I'm not the same. That's what's so hard. Remus moved on and he's the same as he always was. But I'm not. I'm quieter and more reserved. Sullen, almost. It's not that I'm not happy. Remus is a good man. I just always have this pit in my stomach.

Rem always smells like coffee and cigarette smoke and warm skin. He's kind and he's introspective and he's good to me. He's a pretty man, with light brown hair and long eyelashes. But he's paranoid and protective, and he's hurt me before. Not him—not really. His other form. His werewolf form and, from that, I still carry scars. He doesn't like the scars he gave me. He shies away from them like the brush of his fingertips will split them open all over again.

But he's good for me. He has always been the best to me out of all the boys. When they doubted me or teased me, he was always the first to stick up for me. I will always love him for that.

It's just... I don't love him the way I think I should. Not in the way he loves me.

He's so considerate. He leaves me notes and surprises me with small gifts when we have a little wiggle room in our budget. He kisses my hairline and it's usually okay when we're intimate, but...

I shouldn't think like this. I never have before.

I don't know what's wrong with me, but recently, I've just wanted to be the girl I was before everything happened. There was a war going on then and I still managed to be happy and optimistic. I was sharp and witty. Now, I'm afraid of my own voice. Even though everything is okay now.

I want to be her so bad but I can't seem to find the will to change myself. There is an alternative, of course.

If I can't be her and I can't accept this version of myself... well, I could always just end things.