Disclaimer: Not mine... yadayada... JK Rowling's... yadayada... Oh, yeah... I own the plot. And I came up with the writer!Remus idea on my own. But, er, not mine in any other way.

Missing Muse

Once the thoughts were never-ending, and it seemed once one was out another came. At times, Sirius would have to pry the quill away from him before he'd pay attention to his love.

That's the true devotion of a writer, Remus would remark with a smile, looking up from the new poem, song or story he'd written.

That's bull, and besides, you're ignoring me, Sirius would reply, usually followed by a long kiss.

Sirius was his muse. When there was nothing to write left, one thought of Sirius and the words would itch to get out. Remus was nothing without his muse.

Now his hand is still on top of the paper, and the quill is still in those pale ink-stained fingers. Sirius cannot pry it out, and no one else will. Tears drip down to destroy the paper, but there are no words there written in neat black ink.

And the only thought in Remus' head is, Why did you have to die?