Author's Note:  The idea for this fic originated before the release of OotP.  After reading the book, I did think about changing it, but decided to stick to the original version - which makes this an AU I suppose.

 

One for sorrow
Two for mirth
Three for death
Four for birth
Five for silver
Six for gold
Seven for a secret
Never to be told

-Variation on a counting rhyme

The hex moves slowly through his system.  Hampered by the were-strength in his blood, it leaves Sirius enough time to take him to a little cottage in the north of England, one of Dumbledore’s safehouses.

In the first few days, he can still walk, still move around.  More importantly, he can still make sense of the news that comes, through exhausted owls and whispers in the night.

They learn that Harry lies still in a coma, and that Voldemort is strangely quiescent.  They learn that the Dementors are loose in the world, and that the Order is stretched almost to its breaking point trying to protect the innocents, Muggle and wizarding both, from them.

Sirius looks worried, but he stays.  Remus doesn’t know whether to feel selfish or grateful.  He thinks that Sirius is hoping for a miracle.  Remus knows better, of course.  The hex is an Incurable.  It’s only a matter of time.

He tries to be calm.  Fatalistic, even.  Remus knows it wouldn't change anything for him to break down.  It would just hurt Sirius more.  But he can't help the bone-shaking fear that takes him over at odd moments, and makes him curl up tightly in bed like a child.

The next day, he gets dizzy and falls against the wall, bumping his head.  Sirius helps him up, practically carrying him to bed.  He falls asleep, mumbling apologies, hating the helplessness.

In the morning, he wakes up and can’t remember where he is.  Panicking, he jumps out of bed – but his legs cave in and he crumples to the floor, crying.  Sirius is there almost immediately.  He picks Remus up, washes his face and tells him where he is.  Remus clings to him and Sirius doesn’t let go, even when the shaking begins.

After that, lucidity is something that comes and goes.  When he is in his right mind, Remus is glad that he will die before the next full moon.  Merlin knows how the hex would affect Moony.  And – no more transformations, ever.  But more often, he sleeps close to the warm body in the bed and is always amazed when it turns into a huge black dog instead.

One time, there is salt water running down that other face and he licks it off, gently and slowly.  It tastes sour, and it doesn’t stop for a long, long while.

At night, he dreams of black crows flocking over a heather field.  Their wings flap in the wind as they dive close to the heather and back again.  But it is the sky that holds his attention; it seems to hold all the colours in the world.  It’s beautiful.  He tries to reach up, tries to touch it, and always fails.  And always wakes.

He cries out for the warmth beside him, grabs for it and touches it frantically.  Every time, he is held and kissed in return, with the same kind of desperation.  Sometimes, he even remembers Sirius’s name.

On the last day, he doesn’t go to sleep.  He can barely move, but the sheets feel warm against his back.  He closes his eyes.

A few of the crows circle over the heather field.  There’s three…no, four.  He pushes through the heather again, racing to the horizon, to where the sky, tinged with light, meets the field.  Faster and faster, until it feels like flying.  

And then he touches it, and the sky falls.