E N C H A N T E D

Sirius' best Thanksgiving ever.

There was a gaping hole in Remus' chest; a physical manifestation of how severe his depression had become. It was powered by a desperation unlike anything else and it siphoned every ounce of contentment from his life.

Through his desperation, Remus craved hurt. He viscerally needed to be emotionally hurt enough that his heart would shatter and suck the black hole from his chest as it fell to pieces. He dreamed of physically being hit by a bus and imagined the smile on his face as he hit the pavement; as he fell to the ground, the black hole on his chest would be hurled up, painting the school bus' windshield in a galaxy purple hue. He wanted Sirius to push him around in bed, but he recoiled at each touch. He dreamed of the way Sirius' hand would feel around his throat; as breath became sparse, the black hole (being nothing but a parasite) would have no choice but to abandon him and search for a more suitable host. If that didn't scare the black hole off, maybe Sirius would be able to pass his arms though it and hold his insides together. He could enter the emotional ether and make some sense of it. He imagined the burn of Sirius' hands pushing under his skin; ripping away cartilage and connective tissue and he could hear the sloughing off of his skin.

He tried all of his typical coping methods, but he still felt like crawling out of his skin. The only thing that came close to touching it was the burn he felt in his stomach after all day waiting at home for Sirius, fantasizing about how Sirius could fuck him rough enough to bring him back to life, just to finally see him and realize that Sirius wasn't capable of that and that any physical touch he would offer made Remus' stomach churn.

Still, somehow in the middle of the night, he sought out comfort from Sirius. Days turned into weeks, turned into months, and almost without fail, he woke up each morning securely tucked against Sirius' body.

Much like he came to know what his morning would entail, Remus came to expect his days and nights to look the same.

The monotony fueled his depression like little else would. Every day, the stagnation of his life deepened and widened the hole in his chest.

He tried to smile for his siblings. He tried to keep up appearances for Liam. He tried to be helpful when the lawyers asked him question. He tried to put his best foot forward whenever the social worker visited. He tried for everyone who needed it most, knowing full well that he was neglecting one of the people he wanted to try the hardest to keep.

•

It wasn't that Sirius couldn't tell that Remus was becoming a shell of himself, it was that he didn't know how to stop it.

At first, Sirius let himself believe that this depressive spell would resolve itself, so he fully committed himself to making sure the day to day was covered. Then he focused a lot of his energy into trying to figure out what, if any, case Remus could make for custody of his siblings.

He was slowly mending his relationship with Liam and, admittedly, they were doing well as they tried to maintain some normalcy for the children.

Unfortunately, his business was booming with the holidays nearing, which made him incredibly busy at work. Had he known this would be what his life would become, he might have reconsidered launching 4 new departments to manage an entirely new product and online store. But he had, and now he had to manage them.

Living alongside Remus' depression was not easy. Sirius felt helpless in his ability to support his partner as the weeks crawled on. Eventually they had their first snowfall and frost and the landscape became a haunting reflection of the chill that permeated his relationship.

•

"I mashed'd 'tatoes!" Ash was kneeling on a stool, potato masher in hand, in front of a vat of boiled potatoes. Walburga was keeping a close eye on him as she sliced a stick of butter and plopped the pillows into the pan.