The Last Time

by 1D_marauders

Summary:

Remus feels like his world just broke apart. Like he’s been living behind this thin glass wall, precariously assembled around him to only show what’s safe without letting anyone get too close. A barrier to protect both himself and everyone on the other side, and now one small crack took the whole thing down. He’s left exposed, open and raw for everyone to see with nothing but glass shards lying at his feet. If anyone gets too close, they’ll cut themselves and bleed out. And the wolf will watch. Where is Sirius? His brain keeps demanding an answer.

 

OR

 

A post-prank fic about what may have happened after Remus found out what Sirius did.

Notes:

Hi everyone! This is my first multi-chapter fic so lmk if you like it :) This is not exactly based on "The Last Time" by Taylor Swift but I just felt like that song applied so well to post-prank wolfstar. This is not as bad as it sounds in the tags, I promise. Most of the s/h, drugs, etc. are barely referenced, I just figured I'd add the tags. This is what I think may have happened in the weeks following the prank. Enjoy!!

Chapter 1: Waking Up

Remus wakes up in his usual bed in the infirmary. The room is quiet, the only sounds he can hear are the steady drip of an IV, the rustling of bed sheets, and quiet murmuring on the other side of the curtain. Despite the calm atmosphere, he knows something is wrong. As he lays in bed and slowly blinks his eyes open, Remus can feel his heart pounding and a heavy pit sitting in the base of his stomach. Something in his head, no, in his gut, is screaming. The wolf is screaming. The wolf knows something is wrong. Remus feels ill.

“Hey Moons…” He turns his head to see James sitting in a chair pulled up next to the bed. He’s smiling, of course he is, but it almost looks broken. Even if there weren't tear tracks on his cheeks and dried blood on his forehead, James’ eyes give him away. They’re dulled, like they’ve lost whatever spirit always burns behind them. That’s the first thing Remus notices. The second, is that Sirius is nowhere to be seen.

“What…” Remus clears his throat, “What happened?” he asks, eyes darting between James on his left and Peter on his right. His stare lands on James, who holds himself together for all of three seconds before he breaks. His face just cracks wide open as his eyebrows screw together and new tears brew in his eyes. Where is Sirius?

 “I—um….” he swallows and presses his lips into a thin line, looking like he can’t form any words. He sends a glance to Peter, who, based on James’ expression, provides no help.

“James, you’re kind of freaking me out right now,” Remus warns, panic rising by the second. James has clearly been crying and despite his best efforts to hold his tears back, he’s about to start again. He looks pale and clammy, bags hang under his eyes and the way he holds his features makes it look like he’s aged about ten years since Remus saw him yesterday. Something is definitely wrong. Where is Sirius? The question bangs against the back of Remus’ teeth.

“I—I’m sorry—I—okay.” James closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Peter grabs onto Remus’ shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. Remus feels like he’s being braced for impact.

“James,” Peter prompts, like he doesn’t want to be the one to explain but he knows someone has to. When James’ gaze meet’s Remus again, his tears are gone and his expression is calm. 

“Last night, Snape got past the tree and into the shack. He, well I, went in and I got him out, but not before he saw you, and the…the wolf” James explains with a shaky breath. “But he’s okay, we both are. It’s alright,” he finishes by grabbing onto Remus’ hand.

“What? What do you mean? Did the, did I hurt you?” Remus’ eyes widen three sizes as he scans James from head to toe. When he sees the blood on his forehead and shirt, his stomach falls through the floor. He whips his head around to Peter, who looks alright except for the clear exhaustion and distress on his features.

“No Moons, it’s alright. We’re both fine” James says firmly.

“You’re bleeding” he responds in a small voice.

“I’m fine. Tip-top shape, promise. Nothing a quidditch match hasn’t done before. Honestly, you’re a puppy,” James tries to joke, but his laugh rings hollow. Peter echoes it like a fragile shadow, too soft to reach the light, too unsure to comfort with anything but his presence.

“Fuck, he…he saw? He knows? Snape knows?” Remus questions. Nothing is making sense. He doesn’t understand how this could happen. This can’t happen.

“Yeah, Severus knows. He knew how to get past the whomping willow last night and he saw you turn,” James reiterates in a clear, calm voice, like he’s talking to a mix between a child and a spooked animal. He’s looking at Remus like he wishes with every fiber of his being that this wasn’t true. That last night didn’t happen and that he could take it all away. Protect Remus like he does all his friends. Remus wishes that too. But no one would come up with this cruel of a joke, especially not James, so it has to be true. And Remus has to deal with it. Snape knows. Soon everyone will know, if they don’t already. Remus can’t stay here. He was never supposed to be here in the first place. He hurt James. He could have killed Snape. Another student . He’s a danger. A monster. He shouldn’t be here. Sirius should be here.

“Okay, so, okay,” he tries to pull his thoughts in order. “Okay so I have to go. That’s fine. I—I can get a muggle job. And just, get some silver restraints. Or—Or go to the middle of the woods.” A few tears fall down his cheeks, expelled from his eyes like the pieces of himself that he tries to keep hidden. The ones people keep ripping out and exposing from where he so carefully hides them away. “Yeah, yeah that’ll work. I can—”

“Moons stop,” James interrupts, squeezing his hand. “You’re not leaving.”

“Yeah Remus, enough of that” Peter adds.

“I never should have been here—” his voice breaks, betraying him just like his tear ducts. “He’ll tell everyone.”

“No, stop. Snape isn’t going to tell anyone. Dumbledore will make sure of it. After five years they’re not going to let one night get you expelled, there’s no way. You belong here just as much as everyone else.” Peter assures him with the most confidence he’s mustered since Remus woke up.

“You know I don’t. And now everyone else will know too.” Remus feels like his world just broke apart. Like he’s been living behind this thin glass wall, precariously assembled around him to only show what’s safe without letting anyone get too close. A barrier to protect both himself and everyone on the other side, and now one small crack took the whole thing down. He’s left exposed, open and raw for everyone to see with nothing but glass shards lying at his feet. If anyone gets too close, they’ll cut themselves and bleed out. And the wolf will watch. Where is Sirius? His brain keeps demanding an answer.

“You do belong here Remus. It’s the one thing I know for sure. And I promise no one’s going to find out about your condition, Dumbledore said so himself” James declares.

“You’re sure?” Remus is still skeptical.

“Yes. And McGonagall will say the same, she should be here in a few minutes. I asked if she and Poppy would wait until we explained everything to you. Thought it might be better coming from friends,” James tries to smile again, but it’s still weak. There’s more he’s not saying.

“But I…I don’t understand how Snape knew where to find me. And where is Sirius? Is he okay?” Remus’s mind is reeling. He understands the words James is saying, but nothing about them makes sense. He can barely remember last night, but something was definitely off. His pack wasn’t there, or they were, but something was wrong? Maybe Snape was the only one there? It’s all blurring together now. But how could Snape know about the shack? Who told him? Where is Sirius?

James’ smile drops as Peter sucks in a sharp breath. James swallows thickly before opening and closing his mouth a few times. “They’re fine. I promise, no one’s hurt…” he trails off.

“Someone told Snape though, right?” there’s an edge to Remus’ voice. A warning. Dread is creeping up his spine. “Peter?” he presses when he gets no response.

“Yeah…yes. Someone told him” Peter and James both look like they might be sick.

“Who? I don’t—who?” he demands. Who would do that? Why would they do that? Where was his pack? What’s going on? Where. Is. Sirius?

“He said he wasn’t thinking, Moony. And I know, I know that’s not an excuse, but he didn’t mean to hurt you. He would never—and I, well, I really don’t think he wanted to hurt you. I don’t know what he wanted—but—and I just—he—”

“Who James!?” Remus snaps, the overwhelming fear causing him to lose his temper.

“Sirius. Sirius told Snape.” James forces out.

In the end, Remus is the one who turns and throws up all over the floor.

Chapter 2: Devestation

Summary:

Remus is devastated. James and Peter are at a loss but they are there for their friend anyway.

He can feel Peter’s hand on his back trying to soothe him, but he can’t really focus on it. James is still talking, but his words are lost to the blood rushing through Remus’ ears. He feels like someone just grabbed onto both his lungs and ripped them out of his chest. Leaving him broken and empty with no way of breathing. His vision is blurred by tears that fill in the gaps between black fuzzy edges. Sirius. Sirius Black. Sirius told Snape. My Sirius. Why? WhyWhyWhy? If he thought the glass wall shattered before, this is like the universe just swallowed him whole.

“Why?” is all he manages to get out between jagged breaths. The air feels like fire in his throat, suffocating him from the inside out. Which makes sense, this pain is inside him. He let it inside, allowed it to fill his veins and consume him. He knew this would happen, he should never have let something so precious inside where a monster lives. But he couldn’t help it, and now it’s killing him from the inside out.

“I don’t know Moons, just breathe” One of Peter’s hands is still rubbing his back while James uses his wand to clean the mess on the floor. “Try to breathe” Peter repeats, gently guiding Remus back onto the pillows.

Remus tries to listen, but it’s really hard to breathe when someone just tore out his lungs. “Sir—ius…w—why?” he chokes out. Remus simultaneously wants to know more and to go back in time to before he knew any of this at all. Why? Why would Sirius do this to me? Sirius wouldn’t do this to me. He cares about me. We’re friends . He’s my…he’s mine. The one who brings me tea after every full moon. The one who reads The History of Magic out loud when he knows I’m too tired. The one who smiles too big and laughs too loud but saves a specific kind of quiet just for me. Who possessed Sirius Black and forced him to shatter the life of one of his best friends? His Remus. No.

No.

No.

No.

Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me this is something he’s capable of. Don’t tell me that something else was, is, more important to Sirius Black than my life. Remus might throw up again.

“I don’t know, I wish I did,” James says quietly. “I’m so sorry Remus.”

“I don’t—I can’t—it’s” Remus chokes out, the air still feels like fire. Get it together he thinks, embarrassed that he’s having such a visceral reaction to this…this…what? Shock? Betrayal? Heartbreak? Yeah.

“Alright, I know Remus, I know. Just follow my breaths, okay” James starts to coach him through his pathetic attempt at breathing. “In for one, two, three,” he pauses, “And out…two, three. Good, again. In…” They continue like that until Remus has stopped hyperventilating and is just lying against his pillows, staring at the curtain across from him. He feels hollow. No lungs, those were ripped out. No heart, he’s pretty sure it’s life source just got cut off and now it’s lying limp and dead in his chest. He’s just…hollow. Well, except for the monster.

Once James has calmed him down, the three boys are left sitting in quiet tension.

“M’sorry,” Remus mumbles, running his hands over his face.

“No need to be,” James replies just as McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey open the curtain. “Mr. Lupin, I assume Mr. Potter and Mr. Pettigrew have filled you in by now,” McGonagall says in a not unkind tone as she enters. Madam Pomfrey doesn’t say anything, instead rushing over to check Remus’ injuries. 

“Yeah,” Remus answers even though it wasn’t really a question. He lifts his arm so Pomfrey can better inspect a gash he has by his shoulder.

“I know this must be very difficult for you, but I want to assure you that Mr. Snape has been spoken to by Professor Dumbledore and Professor Slughorn and he will not be telling anyone about your condition” she states, straight to business.

“Okay,” is all he can think to respond.

“ Also ,” Madam Pomfry speaks up disapprovingly as she glares at McGonagall before turning towards Remus, “How are you feeling dear?” she asks. “This wound on your arm should heal up well enough and I mended any broken bones while you were asleep. I know last night was a rough one,” understatement of the century , Remus thinks, “so you may take as long as you need to recover here. Do you need anything more for pain?” she finishes.

“No, I’m fine,” he answers, because what else is he supposed to say? Well, a werewolf  just clawed its way out of my body so I feel like I’m being held together by torn flesh and shattered nerves. Also, that was the first time in years that I’ve turned without my pack so the wolf was furious and ripped me to shreds. But none of that hurts as much as the fact that the person I trusted most just turned me into the monster I’ve always feared I was. Do you have anything for that? Yeah, not a person in this room thinks he’s fine, but he’s not going to say that.

“Alright,” Pomfrey concedes, “But take this pepper up potion in ten minutes and you can take this sleeping drought if you need it” she places two potion bottles on his bedside table.

“Thanks,” he mutters.

“As soon as you are cleared by Madam Pomfrey, you can go back to your regularly scheduled classes. No one besides the people involved will know about the events of last night. Do you have any questions for me?” McGonagall finishes.

What’s happening to Sirius? His mind screams, but he can’t get himself to ask.

“What about Sirius?” James blurts out. Remus would think he was reading his mind if he didn’t already know that James can’t help but ask about his best friend. Peter grabs onto his hand in solidarity.

“Mr. Black has been spoken to and his repercussions are being decided now by Dumbledore” McGonagall supplies. Remus expects James to protest, to defend Sirius and explain that he wasn’t thinking. To try to save his best friend. What he doesn’t expect are the words that come out of James’ mouth in the darkest tone Remus has ever heard from him.

“Well I know it’s not up to me Professor, but Sirius just endangered the lives of two students, three if you count me. He should be punished. He should be forced to think about this everyday and he should understand what it means to betray the only people who have always been there for him. He can not be let off the hook for this. He just can’t” His hands are shaking, but his voice remains steady and harsh. “And he should move dorms. I don’t want to see him, and Remus shouldn’t have to either.” Remus just stares at James, shocked to hear him choose Remus over his best friend, his brother. James turns to look at him, eyes full of apology and sincerity, “You’re my brother too, Moons” he whispers, squeezing his arm. This time, Remus isn't sure that James Potter didn’t just read his mind.

McGonnagal is quiet for a moment, looking surprised and a little saddened by the fury behind James’ words. When she speaks again, it’s resigned, “Mr. Potter, I know that you’re very upset about what happened with your friends last night, and I commend your bravery in how you handled it. But you’re right, it’s not up to you. We know this was a serious mistake and Mr. Black will be punished how we see fit. A call will be made home for each of you and—”

“No!”

“No!” James and Remus both interrupt at the same time. Remus spoke without thinking—the notion of contacting Warburga Black pulled a knee-jerk reaction out of him—but now he can’t bring himself to explain. Thankfully, James jumps in so he doesn’t have to, “Don’t call the Blacks, okay? Call my parents for both me and Sirius, he lives with us now anyway.” James and Peter share a look Remus can’t read. “Please,” he adds at the end.

McGonagall seems to understand immediately because she doesn’t ask any further questions before speaking soothingly, “It’s alright boys, I’ll call Mr. and Mrs. Potter first and if they are willing to take responsibility for Mr. Black, then I won’t phone Grimmauld Place.”

“Thank you,” James signs in relief before sending a cautionary glance towards Remus.

“As for your dormitory,” McGonagall continues, “I’m sorry, but without reason I can not remove another student from his room so that he can switch with Mr. Black. And we can’t exactly explain the reasoning to anyone else, now can we?” She glances above her glasses at James.

“No, but…is there really nothing we can do?” traces of anger are creeping back into James’ voice.

“No Mr. Potter, I’m sorry but there is nothing to be done about the sleeping arrangements” she turns to look Remus in the eye, “I am truly sorry this happened, Remus” she says, and something about hearing her use his first name makes Remus’s stomach churn.

“Yeah,” he mumbles in response, afraid that if he raises his voice any louder it will break. “Yeah, me too,” he fights to swallow the lump in his throat.

“Is there anything else I can answer for you boys?” she asks. 

James looks about as lost as Remus feels, so Peter answers for all three of them, “I don’t think so Professor, at least for now.”

“Alright, well let me know if there's anything I can do for you” she responds honestly and then she’s gone. Remus just stares at the curtains from which she left, trying to hold himself together. He puts his efforts into focusing on Peter’s hand in his, allowing it to ground him. He’s probably squeezing it too tight, but Peter isn’t complaining.

“Remus,” Madam Pomfrey speaks up, drawing his attention from the curtains, “I can head off too so you can get some rest, but are you sure I can’t do anything else for the pain?” she asks, looking at him like he’s made of glass that’s at risk of shattering if it’s not treated with enough care. He almost feels like that, except that accepting her look of pity would make him ten different shades of violently uncomfortable.

“No, thanks,” he replies.

“Alright dear,” she gently pushes the hair off of his forehead and cups his cheek before pulling away. “I’ll check on you in a bit” she says and heads into her office. Usually she’d tell James and Peter to leave, but today she doesn’t bother. Her caring, almost motherly touch makes more tears spring to Remus’ eyes, but James and Peter are still here and he will not cry over this. It was different when he cried earlier, a few tears escaped when he thought he was being kicked out of school and everyone knew he was a werewolf. Plus, he was in shock. But now? Now he refuses to cry about this. Refuses to let him make him cry.

“Moons, you know I meant that, right?” James says after a moment, “You’re my brother too and I’m here for you. Sirius is…well, I’m here for you.”

Remus doesn’t know what to do with that, no one is more important to James than Sirius. But he knows last night changed things. Sirius changed things by—no.

No.

No.

No.

He wants his friends to leave. He doesn’t want anyone to see him because he’s pretty sure he’s about to lose it if James keeps talking like this. He wants to be left alone to take the sleeping drought Poppy gave him and spare himself any more embarrassment. He also wants to not have to think, preferring to fall into the welcome unconsciousness of sleep. Go away he thinks, but what comes out instead is “Sirius wouldn’t do this to me.” It sounds so unsure it’s almost a question, clawing its way out in a horse voice. He can’t meet either of their eyes.

“Remus,” James’ voice is so gentle as he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls his friend into a hug. “I’m so sorry.” Remus leans into the strong embrace because suddenly it feels impossible to hold himself up. Peter is right there too, supporting Remus from the other side.

“He—he was…” Remus isn’t even sure what Sirius was, but he never thought he’d do something like this.

“I know,” James says, and Remus doesn’t need to wonder what he’s talking about.

“Yeah,” Peter adds gently, “We know Moony.”

“Oh,” and that’s about all Remus can take. He can’t be stripped bare any more. He can’t possibly lose any more pieces of himself that he’s tried so hard to hide. His structural integrity is compromised and he’s left exhausted and exposed. The only thing holding up his thin frame now is his two best friends on either side, ready to catch his crumbling fragments. He hides his face as much as he can by turning into James’ shoulder before he breaks. Silent sobs shake his entire body as he bites his lip so hard it draws blood. The external pain is a welcome relief from the agony inside his chest.

Peter rubs his back while James stays almost creepily still, as if his body is trying to say I’m here . Remus wonders if it’s because he’s fighting the urge to run to Sirius. No one says anything because there’s really nothing to say. They never saw this coming, any of them, and in the aftermath there’s no verbal comfort to offer.

They stay like that for a while until Remus’s breaths even out and he’s only suppressing sniffles. He pulls away first, removing his head from where it was smushed against James and scrubbing his hands down his face. Peter and James untangle their arms and sit back in the chairs on either side of the bed, looking like they have nowhere to be.

“Sorry,” Remus grumbles from behind his hands, “Aren’t you guys going to lessons?” he asks after he sees their positions.

“Nah,” James says lazily, waving a hand in front of him.

“Think we’ll stay here if that’s alright,” Peter says, kicking his feet up on the nightstand.

“You know you don’t have to,” Remus tells them.

“If you want to be alone then we can leave, but if you don’t then we want to be here,” James tells him earnestly.

Remus doesn't respond, they can stay if they want, or they can go. He doesn’t care. He’s exhausted and he doesn’t want to think or feel anything right now. He’s already doing too much of both. He’s furious and hurt and angry and heartbroken. He can’t think clearly so he doesn’t bother trying. He just sits back against his pillows, resignation taking root with two conclusions echoing in his brain:

(1) He will never forgive Sirius Black.

(2) As much as he wants to, he will never be able to hate him either.

Chapter 3: Back Home

Summary:

Remus has to go back to the dorm.

When he wakes up around dinner time James and Peter are gone. He doesn’t know how long they stayed, probably all day, but the last thing he remembers is drifting off to the cavernous sounds of betrayal and ambivalence reverberating through his skull. He sits up in bed and reaches an aching arm out to grab the glass of water on his bedside table. His tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth.

Just then, Poppy peaks around the curtain and approaches the bed. “Hello Dear, your friends went to dinner,” she informs him with a warm smile. “Would you like something to eat?” She inquires as she starts checking his bandages.

Remus is usually starving after the moon, but right now he can’t stomach the thought of any food. “No, I’m not hungry,” he tells her.

“Are you sure? You have to eat to keep your strength up and heal after last night,” she tries to convince him, gently adjusting the blankets around his chest.

“I really don’t feel like eating right now” he states, grimacing at the thought.

“Very well, maybe you’ll feel more like yourself in a bit,” she concedes. “Would you like to head back to your dorm for the night? I know you hate staying here,” she asks, about as subtle as a cage of pixies. She is right though, Remus is usually begging to leave and attend lessons or sleep in his own bed as soon as he wakes up. But right now he’d rather be anywhere else than his bed. The bed next to Sirius. The bed that he and Sirius laid in. The bed that they’ve— no.

No.

No.

No.

“ I don’t feel well, I think I should stay here tonight,” he rushes out, looking at Madam Pomfrey with almost pleading eyes.

“Remus darling, you know you have to go back to your friends sometime” she says gently.

“Yeah well not right now. I feel sick and I’m in a lot of pain.” At least he’s not totally lying, he thinks. He definitely feels sick and he’s undoubtedly in pain. It’s just that most of it isn’t physical.

“Will you at least eat something?” she tries again, “growing boys need their fuel.”

“Yeah well werewolves need their prey,” he spits back, feeling a tinge of regret at the way the nurse flinches in shock, “so I’m not hungry.”

“Remus, you know you are not your condition. And you are not a monster” she states with certainty. Can everyone just stay out of his head?

  “Are you going to make me leave or not?” is the only response he gives, pain bubbling into anger.

Madam Pomfrey, being the saint that she is, isn’t deterred by his rude comments and simply squeezes his hand saying, “No dear, I’m not going to make you leave. You can stay here tonight and we’ll talk in the morning. Do you need a sleeping drought?”

“Thanks,” he answers, reaching out for the bottle. He probably doesn’t need it, but he doesn’t want to risk the dreams.

***

When Remus wakes up for the third time since the full moon, he feels even worse than the first two times. He’s still on edge, but now he knows why, and he still doesn’t want to go back to his dorm, but now he has to. Madam Pomfrey comes in with a look of regret on her face and basically, but gently, kicks him out. “You’ll be alright dear, it’s time to use that Gryffindor bravery and face your friends” she tells him.

“Yeah well I don’t exactly agree with all the traits of a Gryffindor anymore” he mutters, making no moves to get up.

“I am sorry Remus,” she says, softly touching his arm. As much as Remus doesn’t want to go back to the dorm, it’s the look of pity in her eyes that prompts him to get out of the bed and gather his things. He doesn’t want to stay here if she’s going to keep looking at him like he’s a wounded child. He doesn’t want to feel like one.

“Yeah, whatever, I’ll see you in a month Poppy” he says in one breath, quickly putting on his robes and heading towards the exit. Just before reaching the door he feels a twinge of guilt and turns around. “Thank you” he looks earnestly at the sweet nurse “For…you know.” He really doesn’t mean to be rude to her, he knows she cares.

“You don’t need to thank me, Remus. I’ll see you in a month dear,” she smiles back at him. 

“Yeah, alright,” he responds before heading out into the hallway.

Once he reaches the portrait hole to the Gryffindor common room, he allows himself one steadying breath before announcing “scorching star” to the Fat Lady. As he steps through, his mind flashes back to when Sirius found out about the password a few weeks ago.

“Hah! Classic,” James had said, clapping him on the back. 

Sirius beamed, “Well, well, well, I wonder what that could mean.”

“I don’t know Pads, I’ve never heard of a star so bright it’s scorching .”

“A light so beautiful and brilliant you dare not look directly at it.”

“The brightest star in the sky they say.”

“So beautiful the entire house just has to know about it.” James and Sirius went back and forth while Remus sent a bemused look towards Peter.

“Sirius is the brightest star visible from Earth. The name comes from the Greek term Seirios, meaning ‘scorching’ or ‘glowing,’” Peter whispered helpfully.

“Ah, and of course he thinks they picked the password just for him,” Remus mused, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sure it's just a coincidence, but you know there’s no stopping these two once they start putting on a show,” Peter replied.

“Yeah…” Remus trailed off, getting lost in the glow that was Sirius’ excitement. He was putting up the usual, confident facade only an aire like himself could muster, but Remus knew he was thrilled by the password because it made him feel like a true Gryffindor. He was always a little unsure, insecure about the fact that he was “supposed to be in Slytherin”. For the last few weeks, Remus has felt a familiar warmth in his chest watching Sirius’ small smile every time he announced it to the portrait hole. 

When Remus has to say it today, he’s pretty sure the universe is just mocking him.

With a sick feeling he climbs the stairs to his dorm, carefully avoiding a very specific step he spent a little too much time on during his sixteenth birthday. He wouldn’t even be going to his room right now but he needs to get his books before heading to the library, so alas here he is, slowly approaching the oak door that used to signify home. Now it makes his knees wobble and his hands shake.

For a brief moment, he considers turning back and just sitting in a corner of the library until dinner, but then he realizes he’s being ridiculous. This is his dorm and he’s not sad to lose it or scared to enter it. He’s angry. Furious even. He’s going inside and if Sirius is there, he’s the one that should stay away. He’s the one who fucked everything up. He’s the one who— no.

No.

No.

No.

Remus exhales harshly and pushes inside. And, just his luck, he immediately comes face to face with Sirius.

“Remus—” he blurts out and then abruptly stops, eyes wide like he surprised himself by speaking. Remus doesn’t even bother stopping, he brushes right past Sirius and stalks over to his trunk. Picking up his books swiftly, he loads his bag and is back at the door within minutes. Peter and James remain silent, staring at him from their perspective beds, a book in Peter’s lap and a Quidditch magazine in James’. One hand on the doorknob, he turns to them, eyes carefully ignoring Sirius’ guilt ridden face that’s still planted motionless in the middle of the room.

“No need to stare, I’m not gonna wolf-out in the middle of the fucking day” he announces stiffly.

“We weren’t—” Remus slams the door before James can finish.

As he rushes down the stairs, he curses his wolf hearing for picking up the tearful “I’m sorry” that drifts after him in a voice he’s all too familiar with. I don’t fucking care, he thinks. But when a few tears escape on his walk through the corridors, he knows that will never be true.

Chapter 4: Crossing Lines

Summary:

Sirius tries to get Remus to forgive him.

The next few weeks are full of silence. Remus barely speaks a word to anyone, especially Sirius, and he stays out of the dorm as much as possible. He hides in the library, or the prefect bathroom, or sneaks off to Hogsmead, always with the map so no one can find him. His appetite is less than it ever was before and his school work is better than it’s ever been. Without wasting time on pranks, chess, or anything Marauders related, he has plenty of time for his studies.

On occasion he sees Lily, and they review together in the library or the Great Hall (never in the common room or the dorm). She knows something is wrong, basically everyone does, but after Remus lost control and exploded an entire shelf in the history section the first time she asked him about it, she hasn’t mentioned it again.

James and Peter try, because of course they do, but Remus isn’t receptive. Peter tries to coax him into chess or charms practice, but Remus politely declines every time. James proposes pranks and attempts to get Remus to sneak to the kitchens, but Remus never accepts.

It’s not that he’s mad at his friends—James literally saved his life (which he did thank him for, by the way)—it’s just that he can’t handle their looks of pity or attempts at normalcy. He doesn’t miss the way James’ hands tremble sometimes when he approaches Remus’ bed, or the way Peter tears up watching him limp across the room. They’re afraid of him. They feel bad for him. And most of all, they want more from him. They want things like his thoughts, his time, his help, and his feelings, but Remus doesn’t have any more to give. The few pieces of himself that he was able to maintain since that wretched night are barely hanging on, and he’s not giving them away anymore. He’s felt like an exposed nerve for weeks and can’t bear to be dissected again. He’s been careless since he got to Hogwarts, letting the Marauders pull him apart and hold onto the threads that keep him together. The threads that are so carefully and intricately woven throughout his soul in order to keep his fragments from falling apart. James, Peter, Lily, Mary, Marlene, S— No. He looked at their open hands and placed an end of each thread in their individual palms, trusting that they would hold him up. And then all at once everyone yanked on their thread until the pieces of Remus were no longer his own. Now he’s a shell, floating through his days trying to collect the bits of himself scattered throughout his life. But he gave them away and they’ve strayed so far at this point that he doesn’t think he’ll ever get them back. This is the last time he’ll let himself feel like this.

He won’t—no, he can’t —let it happen again. So he stays away. 

Despite the protests of his friends, Remus knows it’s for the best. James and Peter are right. They should be afraid of him and he is pathetic. Remus is somehow both a monster able to kill them all, and a pitiful excuse for a man unable to hold himself together. He should never have let his friends get so close to a vicious beast like himself. If they catch him on a bad night, they’re one misstep away from death. Every other night of the month, he’s a weak imposter, pretending to be an educated wizard when he’s really an unskilled animal who should be locked up in the Ministry. He doesn’t belong here and he certainly doesn’t deserve to be a Marauder. The “Marauders,” what a cruel joke that was.

To make matters worse, Remus spends his days with a front row seat to the fall of the golden brothers of Gryfinndor. James and Sirius don’t speak anymore, they merely dance around each other in uncomfortable silence. Everyday he sees Sirius’ teary eyes meet James’ with a look of shame, and James sends daggers in response. Then when Sirius’ back is turned, James gazes at him with a longing look so heart wrenching that Remus feels like he personally broke James Potter. They never study together anymore, or loiter outside McGonnagal’s office looking for biscuits, or set dung bombs loose in the hall. Sirius has been kicked off the quidditch team, so they never fly together, and when Sirius wakes up with nightmares, James bites his nails down to the quick resisting the urge to go check on him. It’s a brutal downfall to witness.

In addition to being barred from quidditch, Sirius’ punishment consists of detentions, tutoring, 150 points from Gryffindor, and some other stuff Remus didn’t care to listen to. As far as he’s concerned, the damage has been done and no amount of Hogwarts detentions can redeem the young Black.

Sirius tries though, whispering “I’m sorry’s” in the dorm, in the corridors, and in the back of classrooms. He tries to get Remus to forgive him, to talk to him, to listen to him, to just be near him, but it’s futile. 

“I’m so sorry Remus. I wasn’t thinking and I didn’t want to hurt you, I—I know I fucked up and I’ll forever be sorry for that. I’m just, I’m just so sorry,” he cries on their first night back. Remus closes his curtains without a word.

“Remus please, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” he pleads when they end up alone in the hallway. Remus turns his back and gets on a moving staircase.

“I’m so sorry, I miss you,” he whispers when the only place he can get close to Remus is in class. Remus moves his seat to the other side of the room.

“I’m sorry, Remus.” 

“I’m sorry, Remus.” 

“I’m sorry,  Remus.”

“Remus please, I’m—”

“What?! You’re what?! You’re sorry? Yeah, I know!” Remus finally snaps one day in the common room, unable to listen to Sirius’ desperate attempts any longer.

The shorter man blinks, appearingly shocked to get a response, but he quickly recovers. “Please just talk to me,” he all but begs. 

Regaining control, Remus walks away, harshly brushing their shoulders as he stomps past. 

Sirius, however, isn’t going to waste the only reaction he’s gotten in weeks. He lightly jogs after him, catching up to Remus on the stairs.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” Remus sighs.

“You’re right. I’m pathetic and I’m a fuck up and I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t mean it, I never wanted to—” 

“To what?” Remus whips around, dark eyes bearing down from a few steps higher on the staircase. “To kill Snape? To get me killed? To ruin my life? I don’t fucking care what you wanted Sirius.”

“I…”

“I don’t care what you thought, and I don’t care how you feel.”

“Remus, please, you’re my—” 

“Stop.” Remus warns, looking away.

“ Please I…we…at least we were…” Sirius tries, stuttering like a man grasping for words that won’t come.

“Sirius don’t. I mean it” Remus knows what he’s talking about, what they ‘were’. Of course he felt it too, probably felt it more than the other boy did.

“But we were Remus, we were, and—and I meant everything I said to you” Sirius is persistent, stepping closer up the stairs, tone getting lower.

“Sirius…” Remus chokes out in a horse voice, forcefully swallowing. His eyes stare down at Sirius’ face. His cheekbones, his eyelashes, his silver eyes. They almost look like the moon when you get close. Remus used to love that. 

“Cmon’, this means something. You know that,” Sirius whispers, eyes dancing across Remus’ features. Remus can’t help but remember what happened the last time they were this close in the stairwell. “I know I fucked up,” Sirius continues, “but I’m so incredibly sorry” he inches even closer. Remus can feel his breath on his cheek. It would be so easy to lean forward into him and just let it all go. The hurt, the anger, the heartbreak. He could just give in and let himself fall into those gray eyes and pink lips. Let himself be caught by the leather-clad arms offering him a warm embrace. But the problem is, Remus knows he would fall. Maybe not right away, but eventually Sirius would let go and Remus would go crashing down the stairs, leaving his frame irreparably broken on the concrete. 

Sirius can pretend like he’s always going to be there and like he’s never going to let Remus fall. He can put on a show that draws you in and holds you captive. He’s pretty fucking good at it, actually. But it’s all a lie. A fake, deceptive, illusion wrapped in soft touches and whispered confessions. A careful collection of gray eyes, burnt cigarettes, selective truths, and secret affection. Because Sirius Black wasn’t crafted to be anyone’s safety net—he’s the star that burns when you touch it, the river that quietly pulls you under while pretending to keep you afloat. And Remus? He’s left to burn and drown in the pieces of himself he never thought Sirius would break.

He refuses to get lost in the fire again, to get swept up in Sirius’ storm. He can even see it now in the way Sirius strangles himself trying to find the words to describe what they had. In the scared look behind Sirius’ eyes and the panic across his features. Sirius tries to hold himself together enough to keep up the illusion, but his cracks are already showing. He may not even know it himself, but this is his destruction at work again. Remus is done with it.

“Look at you, you can’t even say it out loud,” his face hardens and he channels all his willpower into backing up the stairs. He tries to focus on the anger. The betrayal. “The only thing we “were” is nothing.” That’s not true. “I hate you.” I love you. “I never want to see you again.” Please don’t leave. “So leave me the fuck alone.” I’ll never be able to stay away if you don’t.

“Remus…I…” Sirius looks like a lost puppy, which only makes Remus angrier.

“Are you dense, Sirius? I said leave.” He turns and continues storming up the stairs.

“You just started talking to me, I’m not gonna leave now” Sirius follows him with determination.

“Why not, you left your brother” Remus spits back, shoving open the door to their dorm and whipping around just in time to see Sirius suck in a sharp breath and stop short in the doorway.

The thing is, Remus knows there’s a line. Life is full of lines, actually, and Remus has been known to cross more than a few. He never thought he’d cross this one, but the anger and hurt are burning in his chest and getting all mixed up on their way out of his throat. It’s like a reflex to lash out and lean into anger. A cruel, simple reflex.

“Remus…” James warns from where he’s starting to sit up on his bed. He hasn’t spoken to Sirius in weeks, but apparently his instinct to protect hasn’t waned. Remus ignores him. 

“You’re not listening to me, you never listen to anyone. I don’t want to talk to you, I never want to look at you again. It’s too—and I can’t—” The hurt is starting to win on its way up and it’s making Remus’ eyes sting. He has to stop and take a deep breath, bowing his head and squeezing his eyes shut. Anger. Betrayal. Once he’s pulled himself together enough he lifts his head and meets Sirius’ eyes, ignoring the welling tears in them as his voice turns lethal. “‘This’ was never going to work,” he gestures between them, “There was nothing here before and there’s nothing here now. Look at us, we're monsters. I’m a werewolf—”

“You’re not a—” Sirius starts to protest, voice small.

“And you’re a Black.”

Sirius’ mouth snaps shut. He physically recoils a bit into the hallway and his knuckles turn white where he’s gripping the doorframe.

James is fully standing now, walking over to stand between the two men, slightly closer to Sirius. He looks like he wants to speak but his mouth just hangs slightly open and no words come out.

“I should have known to stay away, and so should you” Remus finishes before storming out of the room, unable to stay in it a second longer. At this point he can’t remember why he was going to the dorm in the first place, but now he knows he’ll suffocate if he stays in it. The guilt is about to set in and, maybe this makes him weaker than he already was, but he knows can’t watch Sirius’ reaction.

Chapter 5: Too Much

Summary:

Sirius' reaction to the fight.

Notes:

I know this is a Remus POV fic but I couldn't help it, I had to include a Sirius chapter. Prongsfoot my beloveds <3

Sirius

As far back as Sirius can remember, he’s always been too much of something. He was too disgraceful to be the aire to the noble and most ancient House of Black. He was too young to be a proper parent for Reggie and too cowardly to stay behind to protect him. He was too uptight to make friends and too verbose to bring honor to his family. He was too smart to get bad marks but too reckless to care. He was too closed off to get close to but too weak to stay away. Too passionate, too arrogant, too loud, too prim, too difficult and too much. And yet, somehow never enough.

Then came James Potter. A boy who has somehow never made Sirius feel anything less than enough. Even now, after Sirius has irreparably broken the bond they had, James is there for him. He thought he’d lost his brother forever, but of course honorable, loyal James Potter is at Sirius’ side in an instant as soon as Remus storms out.

“Pads..?” James squeezes Sirius’ shoulder as his eyes scan his face. “Are you okay?”

You’re a Black. The words ring through Sirius’ head, slamming against his skull, pulsating behind his eyes. You left your brother. You’re a Black. His mind reels—his brother, his father, Grimmauld Place—all drenched in the shrill echo of his mother’s voice. 

He’s setting the table and he’s just dropped a fork—starving . 

Reggie’s crying and Sirius can’t calm him down—strike.  

He’s sorted into Gryffindor—Furnunculus.

He’s caught holding a picture of the Marauders—Reducto.

He’s refusing to watch Bellatrix torture a muggle born—Imperio. 

He’s asked to take the Dark Mark—Crucio. 

Regulus is asking him to stay. He leaves. 

It’s not as if Sirius didn’t already know these things. He just didn’t know Remus thought them too.

“Sirius!” James’ worried gaze brings him to his senses, or maybe it’s the strong hand physically shaking his shoulder. Either way, his best friend's eyes come into focus and he can hear his name being called. “Can you hear me?”

“Y—Yeah, sorry” he mumbles, eyes falling towards the floor.

“Cmon’ mate” James directs as he puts one arm under Sirius’ and uses his other hand to gently pry Sirius’ fingers from the doorframe.

“James, you don’t have to—”

“Shh Sirius, stop” James guides him across the room. Sirius lets himself be eased back to sit on the edge of his bed—strategically not facing Remus’—and he feels the mattress dip as James sits beside him.

“Sirius…” James says, looking at him with those big, compassionate eyes that have always been able to read Sirius like a book.

“It’s fine,” Sirius shrugs, pointedly looking away from his friend.

“Sirius,” James just says again, placing a warm hand on his back.

That’s all it takes for Sirius to break, one word from his best friend, his only family. His face crumples and he digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, as if that alone can stop his chest from caving in.

“I’m fine” he says again, but his voice betrays him, breaking on the second word. He presses his lips together and and tries to swallow down the rising sob in his throat. Of course, James knows he’s lying. He knows everything about Sirius, including his deepest regret—leaving Regulus—and one of his deepest fears: that he really is just like his family. They both know he’s not fine, but then again, he hasn’t been fine for weeks. James doesn’t say anything, he just patiently stays with Sirius, a steady, reassuring presence. Sirius tries to ignore the comforting hand between his shoulder blades encouraging him to break down, but it’s impossible. The crushing guilt, the encompassing loneliness, and the glimpse he just got of himself through Remus’ eyes are all too much. His chest tightens, his breath catches, and before he can stop it he’s letting out a sob.

James pulls him into his chest, turning so he can get both arms around Sirius while rubbing his back. Sirius, the weak man he is, goes willingly. He presses his face into James’ shoulder and grabs onto the back of his T-shirt, holding on like a lifeline.

“You’re not your family Sirius” James whispers. Sirius only cries harder.

He soaks James’s shirt, trying to quiet the awful sobs ripping through his throat. He’s been crying for weeks, but this is the first time he hasn’t done it alone and he hates to admit how good it feels. How much better it is when James is just there.

“You had to leave to survive” James says into his hair, prompting another round of sobs. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be leaning on James right now after what he’s done. What he’s ruined. James Potter shouldn’t be consoling Sirius Black after he ruined Moony’s life. But James is perfect and Sirius is pathetic, so that’s what’s happening.

“I’m sorry” is all Sirius can think to say when he can finally speak between cries. “I’m sorry, James. I’m so sorry”.

James stiffens slightly at the confession but he doesn’t move away, instead he presses his face into the top of Sirius’ head and murmurs, “I know, Pads. I know.”

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, Sirius hiding in James’ strong embrace, but eventually his sobs calm to uneven breaths and his tears stop. He moves first, forcing himself to shift out of James’ arms and release his grip on his best friend’s shirt, unable to help the feeling that letting go means he’ll drift away again. When he sits up, it almost looks like James has been crying too. It’s entirely possible that Sirius could have missed it, too wrapped up in his own meltdown to notice, but now he’s face to face with red-rimmed, watery eyes staring back at him and he knows.

“Oh James…” he starts, but James just shakes his head.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Er…yeah,” Sirius answers because he honestly doesn’t know what to say.

“Those things I said are true, Sirius. You’re not your family and you know you had to leave. Remus is just angry.”

“Right,” Sirius mumbles, nodding slightly as he looks down at his hands in his lap.

“Hey, what he said isn’t true Pads. Okay?” James leans down to make eye contact.

“Yeah, thanks Prongs” Sirius does his best to conjure a smile, although it probably looks more like a grimace.

It seems to be enough for James though, because he scans Sirius’ face one more time before slowly standing up. He runs a hand through his hair and turns towards Sirius, who’s still sitting on the bed.

“You should get some rest” James tells him, eyes still warm except for hints of a resentful look returning. For the first time, Sirius notices how tired he looks.

“You’re still mad.” It’s not a question.

“Yeah, I am,” James sighs.

“But…” Sirius starts. He knew this didn’t change everything and that James wouldn’t just forgive him, but a foolish part of himself thought this would at least be a start. He knows James must have felt at least part of the relief Sirius did being close to him again. Didn’t he?

“You needed me, so I’m here,” James explains, looking like he aches with it—tired, resentful, but incapable of not caring. “But this doesn’t change what you did.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You look exhausted, you should get some sleep,” James repeats before turning towards the door. Sirius wants to jump up and launch himself across the room. He wants to scream at James and explain to him that that wasn’t enough, he still needs him. He wants to beg for forgiveness and plead that James stay because doesn’t he know they’re soulmates? Doesn’t he know that they breathe together and without him Sirius can’t catch his breath? Doesn’t he know that without Remus he has no heart but without James he has no pulse? He wants to tackle him and shout that he can’t leave because Sirius will never not need him.

But he knows he can’t do that. He knows that he should just let James leave without saying anything at all because he’s already done more than enough. However, just before James reaches the door Sirius can’t help himself.

“I miss you,” he speaks into the thick silence, stopping James in his tracks.

He turns around, his expression a mix of devastation and resignation, and murmurs, “Yeah, me too.” Then he’s gone.

Sirius can’t help but feel disappointed, though he knows he's the one at fault. James Potter is the best person Sirius has ever known, but even he has limits.

And of course, leave it to Sirius Black to cross one.

Chapter 6: Bad Person

Summary:

Now here's what Remus did after the fight.

Remus all but runs down the stairs and out of the common room. He has no real direction in mind, but he lets his legs carry him as fast as they’ll go, which, albeit, isn’t very fast. Eventually he finds himself out by the lake. His joints are burning so he settles down against a tree facing the still water. It’s rather warm for November, but despite the sun on his skin he vaguely regrets not grabbing a jacket. His mind (and his muscles) are screaming. Guilt, anger, heartbreak, regret, and despair are all at war inside his head. Combine that with his intense desire not to think too hard about any of them for fear of a complete breakdown, and Remus is left sitting with a howling mind, unable to decipher the exact words ricocheting through his skull.

After who knows how long, he's broken out of his deafening trance by movement to his left.

"Remus? What are you doing out here? It’s cold, " Bright red hair and sparkling green eyes emerge from behind a nearby tree with a brow furrowed in concern.

"Could ask you the same thing," Remus quips, trying his best at a half smile as Lily approaches.

"Oh, I just needed some air," Lily continues, "I do my best thinking outside." Her gaze moves towards the lake, making her look a little lost for a moment before she turns back to Remus with tired features. Remus suspects he knows the nature of the confusing questions she's out here asking herself.

"And what would require such deep thinking in the middle of the day?" Remus can't help himself, "Monsters maybe?" he's feeling bitter.

Lily looks taken aback, "What? No! No, of course not. I was just, I was thinking that—" she stutters, confirming Remus' assumptions.

"You don’t have to lie to me Lily," he looks up at her, feeling wrung out and exhausted. He doesn't mean to be rude to Lily, he's just tired of her walking on eggshells around him for these last few weeks. Even though it's his own fault for getting angry every time she pries, he's sick of everyone's pity and hesitation. He knows how intelligent she is, noting every time he disappears or "gets sick". And even if she hasn't deduced it by herself, Remus is pretty positive that Snape wouldn't keep his secret from the girl he's so obviously in love with, especially since she happens to be one of Remus' closest friends. At this point, he doesn't care if she knows, he's just done with the pretenses. Besides, apparently today is the day his mouth moves before his brain can catch up and he voices every regrettable thought out loud.

"Oh really? Now we’re gonna talk about lying to each other?" She shoots back, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. Say what you want about Lily Evans, but she doesn't take anyone's shit.

"Fair enough," Remus sighs, "I knew that if the three idiots in my dorm could do it then the brightest witch of our year would have no problem figuring me out."

"I just—I wasn’t sure what—and maybe I suspected... and then Snape said—but he’s—and you’re—so I—" Lily struggles to find her words.

"Oh I’m sure Snape had plenty to say" Remus interrupts, anger bubbling up.

At that, Lily sighs and tilts her head, looking at Remus in an almost inspecting nature. She must see something different than before because her tone softens and she all but drops the previous conversation to ask, "Remus, are you okay?"

"That’s not really what you want to ask me right now." Remus responds, ignoring the resounding No that tries to crawl up his throat.

"Cmon', yes it is" Lily looks at him with sad eyes. Pity he thinks. "l don’t care that you’re a…" she trails off.

"A level XXXXX creature?" He might as well just come right out and say it.

"I care if you’re okay" is all Lily replies.

Remus doesn’t really know what to do with that. He’s definitely not okay, but even if he wanted to tell Lily what’s wrong he doesn’t think he could force the words out. He’s trying really hard right now to lean into denial and not process the horrible things he just shouted at Sirius. He’s actively pushing away the picture of Sirius’ shocked, devastated expression that keeps flashing in his mind and he’s intent on ignoring the way he felt in the stairwell inches away from that same face. When he tries to voice any of this to the overly kind friend standing above him, he feels his throat start to close up and he has to go back to his task of determinedly not thinking.

After some time, Lily must conclude that he’s not going to answer, because she squats down next to him and asks, “Can I sit here with you?”

“It’s cold,” is all he says because he doesn’t want to be alone, but the longer Lily’s here, the harder it is for Remus to repress his thoughts.

“Well, do you want to go inside?”

“Not really, no.” He’d rather move to the shack then go back to his dorm right now.

"Then neither do I," Lily tells him, as if it's the most obvious conclusion in the world. She brushes her robes under her legs and sits directly next to Remus, leaning her back against the tree. Once she's settled—much to Remus’s surprise—she weaves her arm under his, entwines the fingers of his left hand with hers, and rests her head on his shoulder. Her soft red hair brushes against the scar below his ear and he feels immediately warmer than he did a minute ago.

Lily doesn’t say anything else after that, instead she just hums quietly as they both stare out over the sunlit lake. Every few minutes, a collection of bubbles rises up when the giant squid moves down below. Between the gentle sound of Lily’s humming, the serenity of the lake, and the comforting hand grounding him, Remus feels his resolve start to crumble. His thoughts of Sirius and feelings of guilt persist, forcing him to confront today’s events. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually he can’t help himself. 

“Lily?” he speaks in an almost whisper.

“Hm?”

“Do you think I’m a good person?” he asks, trying not to sound too pathetic.

“Hey, I just told you that I don’t care—” she starts, tightening her grip on his hand.

“I’m not talking about the wolf thing,” he clarifies.

“Oh.”

“Just…I’m not so sure I’m a good person” he confesses, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Lily doesn’t speak for a long moment, but just as Remus is starting to think that she’s just not going to answer she starts, “Second year, about three weeks into first term, we were walking back from charms and Mulciber called me a mudblood in the corridor. I started to cry—because I was young, and he was mean, and I still let those comments get to me—so you wrapped your arm around me and squeezed my shoulder. You walked me back to the common room tucked away in your side so no one could see my tears, and you didn’t let go until I was safely sobbing in Mary’s arms. The next day, Mulciber had a black eye at breakfast and you were in detention. That night in the great hall, you whispered to James and asked him what a mudblood was.” She pauses and Remus holds his breath. 

“To be loved by you, Remus, is to be fiercely protected and unconditionally comforted. Public displays of affection make you uncomfortable, you didn’t know any charms yet so you had to fist fight a kid twice your size, you didn’t even know what the word he called me meant, and you never made me talk about it or explain. I was upset, and that was all that mattered to you. Being your friend is a great privilege because you don’t demand anything that someone isn’t willing to give, and you prioritize the people you care about over everything else, including your own comfort. Being loved by you is precious and something few people are lucky enough to get. That is the kind of person you are. Okay?” She finishes, still looking at the lake with her head firmly in place.

“Okay” Remus chokes out in a horse voice. He silently hopes Lily can’t feel the few tears that fall down his cheeks. If she can, she doesn’t mention it.

“I think I hurt Sirius,” he tells her once he feels like he can speak.

“I think he hurt you too.”

“Yeah.” He signs, unwilling to give anymore details right now.

“Yeah,” she says like she understands. Remus thinks she probably does.

They sit in silence after that, watching the sunset on the lake. The air around them grows colder, making Remus’ joints stiff despite the warmth provided by Lily’s close proximity. They cast a few warming charms, but other than that they don’t speak.

Remus’ mind feels like it’s been going in circles for days. He tries to outrun his own thoughts, but to no avail. The anger, self-doubt, heartbreak, betrayal, guilt, and love chase him down in the form of one Sirius Black. It’s exhausting. He wants to just stop fleeing and let himself fall into it, but that only ends in heartbreak or regret and he knows it. The fight today is a prime example. Remus can’t be calm about this. He can’t sort his feelings about Sirius into something normal or rational. Letting himself feel it means losing control and lashing out, or letting Sirius pull him back in—falling into his arms, into his bed, into the same cycle of whispered apologies and reckless touches, only to wake up raw and aching when it inevitably falls apart again. There is no middle ground. There is no casual. Not for Remus. Not with this. The whirlwind of feelings that make him want to scream and cry and go catatonic all at once mean he can’t stop running. He can’t succumb to the reckless emotions chasing him down, or he’ll regret the decision he makes, no matter what it is.

So for now, he lets his brain wrap itself in circles and allows Lily’s hand to ground him while he breathes by the lake.

Chapter 7: Disappearance

Summary:

After the fight, something's shifted.

Remus stalks into the dorm that night as late as possible. After they walked back inside and Lily went to bed, Remus—because he’s masochistic—read his The Monster Book of Monsters textbook in the library until curfew. Even after the librarian’s warning glance, he lingered, flipping pages without really absorbing a word. Then he crept up the stairs and into their dorm as quietly as possible. When he finally makes it through the creaking door, he turns around to find Sirius’ bed empty. James and Peter are both sound asleep behind their perspective curtains, but the one person Remus is avoiding is nowhere to be seen. He should be relieved, but instead, his stomach knots. 

Swallowing against the dryness in his throat, he starts rummaging through every designated hiding place for the map, only to come up empty. Guilt and dread drip through his veins, slow and painful, but there’s nothing he can do if Sirius doesn’t want to be found. Clenching his jaw, he exhales sharply, brushes his teeth, and crawls into bed for a fitful night of limited sleep.

When he wakes up, the room is filled with the sound of Peter snoring. Glancing at the clock, Remus rolls out of bed to get some studying in and grab breakfast before the Great Hall fills up. He doesn’t usually eat with Peter or James anymore anyway.

Scrubbing his eyes and stretching out his stiff back muscles, Remus surveys the room. He can hear Peter and he knows James has already left for an early quidditch practice, so his eyes snag on the untouched bed in the corner. The sheets are exactly as they were last night. Forcefully, he drags his gaze away. It’s not like Remus cares, but clearly, Sirius didn’t sleep here last night. He shoves down the uneasy feeling taking root in his gut, and with his thoughts very much not wondering where Sirius may have been last night, Remus changes into his robes, grabs his bag, and swiftly and silently leaves the dorm room.

Sirius doesn’t come back that night.

Or the next.

“Okay, I know we’re mad at him…but I’m officially worried’” James announces hesitantly Monday morning as they’re all getting ready for lessons.

“Me too,” Peter chimes in, words slightly muffled by the sweater he’s struggling to pull over his head. “He hasn’t been in the Great Hall or Gryffindor tower in three days. No one’s seen him since…” he stops, nervously glancing at Remus.

“I know,” James continues, “I don’t like not knowing where he is. I mean, I don’t even know where he’s been sleeping” Another apprehensive look in Remus’ direction. 

Pretending not to notice, Remus keeps his head steady as he ties his shoes. Of course, he’s noticed Sirius’ absence. Of course, he can feel the gaping hole in their dorm, the cold, empty seat in the Great Hall, and the deafening silence that lingers where Sirius' laughter used to be. But Remus doesn’t want to notice. He doesn’t want to care. He never asked for this unbearable, instinctive pull inside of himself that automatically searches for Sirius the moment he enters a room. He never asked for this hollow ache in every space where Sirius isn't.

He never asked the universe to inexplicably tie his being to the reckless, infuriating, painfully unforgettable person that is Sirius Black. Because now, he’s left to go about his days as half a man—like a compass spun astray, its needle broken, always searching for something it can no longer find.

But none of that matters. Because even if Sirius were here, Remus would still be in pain. Looking into those gray eyes elicits a type of pain that radiates through his whole body. Every muscle burns with the desire to reach out, but his mind and gut hold him back with sharp claws rooted in betrayal and anger. It's a type of pain that’s all-consuming, that aches in a way that almost feels like longing—like pressing on a bruise just to remind himself it's still there.

So Remus stays silent, ties his shoes, and refuses to acknowledge the hollow ache inside him or the emptiness that lingers around him. Channeling his disappointment, Remus reminds himself that doesn’t want Sirius here.

Because he’s mad—no furious— at him.

Remus told Sirius to leave him alone and he meant it. 

Didn’t he?

“Without the map I don’t know” Peter sighs.

“I really don’t like this.”

“Maybe we’ll see him in class? I mean, he’s not going to skip lessons…is he?” Peter’s words lack any and all confidence.

“Honestly, I have no idea. I feel like I don’t even know him anymore,” James sounds like he might cry. And isn’t that just a punch to Remus’ gut?

“It’ll be okay Prongs, I’m sure he’ll come back,” Peter walks over and squeezes James’ shoulder. “You know he could never stay away from you for too long,” Peter does his best to reassure his friend. 

Remus doesn’t know anything anymore. He thought he knew Sirius, but obviously he was wrong, so who knows if he’ll come back anytime soon. Still, Peter’s words spark a hope inside him that he immediately attempts to smother. Piling guilt and rage over the faith that Sirius might be in their morning lesson, Remus decides he has to leave. The nervous glances, pain in James’ features, and the unspoken fact that Remus is the reason Sirius is gone are all too much.

Standing, he picks up his wand and heads towards the door. He walks through the common room, fighting the urge to scan it for his former best friend, and doesn’t stop until he’s at transfiguration.

Since he hurried out of the dorm without Peter and James, the only other people here are a Ravenclaw girl with sleek blonde hair and Professor McGonagall, who’s sitting in cat-form reading a textbook on top of her desk. Dragging his feet, Remus heads over to take his seat at one of the dark oak desks towards the back of the room. He has time to spare so he pulls out the potions essay he’s been working on and starts scribbling notes on the parchment. Over the next twenty minutes, the classroom fills with chatting students who sit at the desks surrounding Remus until James and Peter stroll in and join him. Usually, they come in laughing, wrestling, or still shoving the remains of a breakfast pastry into their mouths. Today, they simply walk towards Remus’ desk in silence and sit next to him in thick, apprehensive tension.

As the minutes pass, the three boys stare up at the clock with unblinking eyes. Every time the door opens, their gazes flash over to see who’s entering, but every time it’s not who they’re hoping for.

With one minute left before the bell, Remus sees Peter squeeze James’ shoulder and his heart starts to sink. If Sirius is really in trouble, Remus knows it’s his fault. The disappearance of Sirius Black will be yet another failure Remus can add to his list of regrets.

But, just as McGonagall is turning back into her human form, the door creaks open a final time and a long haired, pale-skinned, disheveled, beautiful boy strides in. Remus’ gut shoots up to his throat.

Sirius looks like he hasn’t showered in days (even if Remus didn’t know that to be true, you can tell) and his eyes are glazed and unfocused. His robes are clean, but blood is leaking out of a split on his lower lip and purple circles hang beneath his eyes.

None of the other students pay much mind to him since McGonagall has just instructed them all to turn to page 268 of their Intermediate Transfiguration textbook, but James, Peter, and Remus can’t tear their eyes away. Without a word, or even a glance in their direction, Sirius takes a seat at the broken desk in the back corner. 

James moves immediately, bumping his knee against the desk and screeching his chair across the floor as he frantically tries to stand. A few students look over at the commotion only for James to be yanked back into his seat by Peter’s grip on the back of his robe. Shocked, James stares down at the blond boy with fury behind his eyes.

“Let go” he growls, flaring his nostrils like Prongs does when he’s protecting his pack in the forest.

“Don’t do this now,” Peter urges, looking at James with both understanding and determination.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?” McGonagall pears down at them from where she has approached their desk.

“No, Professor,” Peter responds, not releasing his grip on James. Remus shrinks down in his seat.

“No,” James grits out, shrugging Peter off with his gaze fixed on Sirius, who hasn’t looked up since he walked in.

“Good, then you should have no problem turning to page two-hundred and sixty eight,” she says before sweeping back up to the front of the room to continue her lecture.

“Merlin, look at him” James whispers, concern written all over his face as he pulls out his book. I can’t, Remus thinks. James doesn’t seem surprised by the lack of response.

For the next hour, McGonagall dives into a passionate explanation on vanishment, but Remus doesn’t think he retains a single word she says. He’s too preoccupied by the anxiety radiating off of his two friends and the wrecked boy in the back of the room.

James’ leg doesn’t stop bouncing the entire class and Peter’s quill taps against the oak tabletop at a steady rhythm as the seconds tick by. As soon as they’re dismissed with a homework assignment of a 12-inch essay on the principles of Switching Spells, James bolts up. He makes it halfway across the room before he stops and turns around, guilt-ridden eyes meeting Remus’ with a question. Surprised, Remus clenches his jaw and swallows thickly. He knows James is furious with Sirius, and he’s dedicated to proving his solidarity to Remus, but he can see how much this is killing James not to run to his brother. So, setting aside his pride and accepting that James can’t stay away from his soulmate forever, Remus gives a curt nod. At this, James exhales a breath Remus didn’t know he was holding and whips back into action. The only problem, Sirius is gone.

Abandoning his bookbag and wand, James runs out the door after his best mate with Peter on his heels. Remus is left in the emptying classroom with only one way out. If he goes out the way his friends did, he’ll have to confront Sirius in the corridor. Since transfiguration is at the end of the hall, there’s no other way out. If he doesn’t want to see Sirius or watch James’ pleading,  he’ll have to stay in the classroom like the coward he is.

Accepting his fate, Remus busies himself with gathering James’ materials while he waits for his roommates to get far enough away that he won’t run into them when he leaves.

This idea is quickly crushed when he hears James’ shaking voice from right outside the door.

“Are—are you okay?” he asks.

“Fine,” Sirius sounds cold.

“Cmon’ Sirius, what happened? Where have you been?” That's Peter.

“It’s not like you guys care…” Sirius growls. Oh please, Remus thinks, He’s so full of it . It’s so obvious they care that it’s eating away at Remus’ insides.

“You know that’s not true,” Remus can hear the compassion in James’ voice.

“Yeah well…” Sirius’ resolve is faltering, “I said I'm fine.”

“That’s obviously not true either,” Peter states.

“Just let it go, okay? I don’t deserve anything from you…” Sirius’ voice is barely audible. Remus feels sick. 

“Sirius!” James calls. Remus can imagine Sirius brushing past them and walking away.

There’s no answer.

James and Peter come back to the now empty classroom with their shoulders slumped. Wordlessly, Remus hands James his bag and they disperse for their perspective lessons.

Late that night, while James is scrambling to finish an essay, Peter’s half asleep, and Remus is wide awake for the fourth night in a row, Sirius returns. He walks back into the dorm with his eyes on the floor and makes a beeline for his bed. Upon reaching it, he crawls in and draws the curtain for the rest of the night.

No one says anything.

For the past few weeks, Sirius has been unrelenting in his attempts to earn Remus’ forgiveness—begging, pleading, cornering him at every opportunity. He hasn’t stopped, not once. But tonight, when he walks in without even sparing Remus a glance, something shifts. A thick, cold silence settles over the room, seeping into every corner and coiling tightly around Remus’ chest. 

And in the suffocating stillness, Remus realizes that he wasn’t the only one permanently changed by that night.

Chapter 8: Moon

Summary:

First full moon after the prank.

Notes:

This chapter is lowkey longer but I realized that we were reaching the 4 week mark and that meant another full moon. I def couldn't ignore that, so here's what happened on the first post-prank full moon.

“You most definitely are not.”

“Of course we are, you’re being ridiculous!” James, Peter, and Remus are at a stand off in the middle of the dorm. Remus is leaning against a bed post, trying to appear more like he’s leisurely reclining and less like it’s the only thing keeping him from keeling over, while James and Peter are determinedly stationed in the middle of the room. 

Sirius lingers in the hallway, shoulders drawn tight and gaze darting between the stairwell and the boys in front of him. He walked up a minute ago, froze in the doorframe, and has been awkwardly standing out there ever since. He probably thought Remus would already be gone when he came back.

“I’ve done it alone plenty of times before.” It’s two hours to the full moon and Remus’ skin is burning. He’s exhausted, irritable, and his bones are cramping in preparation for the transformation. He really doesn’t have the patience for this.

“Sure you did, but that was before . Now we’re here and you’re not going alone” Peter stands with arms crossed, trying to look intimidating but his eyes are nothing but compassionate.

“What are you gonna do, barricade the door until I turn? Brilliant idea, that way the rest of the castle can know my secrets too,” Remus pushes off the bedpost and takes a few strides towards his friends, sarcasm laced with venom. His muscles protest, but he’s too fired up right now to care. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sirius recoil like it stings. Remus hopes it does.

“Remus” James steps forward, refusing to be intimidated by the taller man. “You’re not going to hurt us,” he says quietly, his expression softening.

“You don’t know that,” Remus croaks, wishing he sounded firmer, but the quiver in his voice betrays him. He’s terrified—of them, for them, and of himself. The wolf is already clawing at the edges of his mind, and the last thing he wants to be responsible for is hurting his friends.

James shoulders relax as he steps closer, “Moons, we’re not leaving you.” Remus doesn’t miss the way James’ eyes flicker over his shoulder to where Sirius is hovering just outside the doorway, looking like he’s been physically struck. Remus refuses to look at him. If James and Peter had just let him leave when he tried, he could have avoided Sirius altogether.

“Cmon’ Remus, we’ll be fine” Peter tries.

“You’ve never hurt us on any other moon,” James shrugs, trying to sound casual, like it’s no big deal. But that’s the problem—they don’t understand. This is a big deal. This is Remus’ life, his future. He could seriously hurt them. Worse, he could bite them, condemning them to the same bleak fate he’s been dealt.

“Yeah, well, I almost killed Snape,” he snaps, his jaw clenched. He hears a sharp intake of breath to his left, but he ignores it. “So I don’t want any of you there.”

“Buy we’re animagi,” Peter says with a hesitant smile.

“It’s safe for us,” James agrees.

“Can you just forget it? No one is coming!” Remus finally shouts, his voice cracking. “Not after I almost killed you last month, James. I could have bitten you—do you get that? Do you understand what that would mean? You’re lucky you only got a few scratches, I’m not risking this again!” James takes a step back, stunned. Remus can feel himself unraveling, his heart pounding in his chest. He probably looks like a caged animal—he certainly feels like one.

“Remus,” Sirius’ voice cuts through the room, effortlessly silencing the three boys mid-argument. Remus stiffens, his stomach dropping to his feet. He hates the way his name sounds coming from Sirius’ lips—like it’s made of glass, like it hurts to say. Hates the way it makes his eyes sting, how just hearing it sparks an overwhelming urge to forgive. 

“Don’t,” Remus swallows with difficulty, his voice suddenly no more than a whisper. He doesn’t turn to look at him. He can’t.

“You know they’re right,” Sirius continues, his voice rougher now, but still coated in that softness that makes Remus’ stomach curl. He steps closer, his words hesitant, like they’re scraping against the inside of his throat. “You know Moony’s going to be…angry,” Sirius clears his throat, “And he’ll probably lash out” His tone quickens, like he’s afraid Remus will interrupt, but the uncertainty in his voice is unmistakable. “James and Peter can help, Remus, you know they can. I won’t—I’ll stay away, I promise. But they, we, just don’t want you to get hurt. Please,” he finishes with the slightest graze of his fingers on the back of Remus’ wrist.

Sirius is right, of course, but even if he weren’t, Remus knows he’d still fold. Hearing Sirius' soft pleas and feeling the gentle brush of his fingertips is more than enough to make Remus give in. He hates that it takes so little, but so much of him just wants Sirius back. 

With the moon only a few hours away, Remus doesn’t have the strength to fight his instincts, not when all he wants is to hear Sirius say something that could make it stop hurting.

“Fine,” he breathes out, squeezing his eyes shut and willing them to stay dry. His breath comes shaky as he turns to face James and Peter, who have stepped back, a quiet gesture to give him and Sirius space. Although it feels more like they’re giving him room in case he lashes out like the animal he is.

“James and Peter, you can come to the shack, but only as animagi” he states, fixing them with a harsh stare.

“But we can help you before—” James starts.

“No. These are my conditions, or you’re not coming at all. Even though some people think of me as a circus act, this is still my life” Remus leans into his agitation to give him the strength to move away from Sirius and towards the door. He may miss him, but Remus still can’t forgive what Sirius did. Hell, he can barely look at him for more than a few seconds without red creeping in and tainting his vision. Whether that’s a reflection of pain or anger…well, Remus chooses to believe it's the latter.

 He turns around and faces his friends, doing his best to ignore Sirius’ guilt ridden face, and repeats one last time, “don’t get there early and don’t show up in human form, got it?”

“Yeah,” James responds at the same time Peter says “Got it.”

Just as he’s closing the door, James calls out “Hey Moons, wait up a sec,” and jogs out of the dorm after him.

“Yeah?” Remus turns, eyebrows raised in questioning.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay,” he says, squeezing Remus’ arm as both comfort and support as they begin descending the stairs.

Remus exhales slowly, “Not really, no.” He's not sure what else to say.

James gives him a small, understanding smile. “I’m here for you, you know that right? I know it’s not the same—not even close—but you don’t have to carry this alone” James tells him, wide earnest eyes piercing through Remus’ defenses.

Remus swallows hard, looking down at the floor as they walk. “I’m going to be upset, you know? Tonight. Because he’s not…” His voice trails off, and he bites the inside of his cheek to keep the words from spilling out.

“Yeah Moons, I know. We can handle it,” James tries to assure him as they crawl through the portrait hole. Apparently he’s walking Remus all the way to the infirmary.

“Just, be careful, okay?” Remus hates that he sounds like a scared little boy.

James squeezes his shoulder as they turn the corner. “We will be, I promise. But, you know…it's okay if the wolf side of you isn’t the only one who’s upset.” Damn James Potter and his uncanny ability to strike right where it hurts. Remus swallows down the lump in his throat, painfully grateful for James’s quiet understanding.

Rubbing at his eyes with his hands, Remus takes a slow deep breath. “At times…I don’t even care that he did it” he admits in a quiet voice. “I know it sounds crazy, but I think I’d let him do whatever he wanted as long as he got to be mine sometimes”.

“Remus…” James sounds almost as heart broken as Remus feels. He pulls Remus into a hug and holds him tightly, supporting most of his weight. Remus sinks into it, burying his face in James’s shoulder. For a moment, he lets himself feel it—the longing, the betrayal, the twisted hope that somehow, despite everything, Sirius might still be his.

“I miss him,” he whispers into James’ T-shirt, “but I don’t think the person I miss is there anymore.” He presses his lips into a thin line and breathes in through his nose.

“Yeah,” James sighs, sounding defeated, “I know what you mean.”

They stay like that for another minute, holding each other as they mourn the same loss from opposite sides of a shattered promise. 

Eventually, Remus pulls back, clears his throat, and gives a slight nod. “Thanks for…er that” he mumbles.

“Anytime Moons, I mean it,” he looks at Remus with those soft, unwavering eyes. They see through him, making Remus feel raw and exposed. It’s uncomfortable, the way James’s gaze strips him down, but somehow, Remus doesn’t feel judged. Probably because he knows James understands. With all the emotions raging inside him, there’s little space for anything else. Yet, Remus knows the bond between James and Sirius, and in James’s eyes, he recognizes a trace of the betrayal he himself feels.

“Right, well” Remus sniffs, “I better go,” he says, nodding towards the infirmary door that they’re now standing in front of. He’s already cutting it close and Madam Pomfrey will be worried soon, but, strangely enough, his feet don’t move. He stares down the wooden doors with determination, willing his aching legs to start moving, but he just can’t bring himself to move from this spot. Almost as if staying here and refusing to go to the shack can stop what’s about to happen tonight. But turning in the middle of this corridor is definitely not an option, so Remus knows he has to go. Even so, he stays firmly planted in his spot.

“Moons…?” James prompts after a minute, “Are you, er, going in?”

“Y—yeah” Remus snaps out of his daze and reaches a shaky hand towards the ornate curved door handle. He pushes it open to reveal a flurrying Madam Pomfrey on the other side. She doesn’t see him right away, too focused on stacking a collection of potions onto a crooked closet shelf.

James squeezes his shoulder, “Pete and I will be there soon, okay?”

Remus doesn’t turn around, just gives a small nod of acknowledgement. He steps inside, away from James’ warm grip on his shoulder, and heads towards Madam Pomfrey. 

 The soft click of the door is enough to grab her attention and she immediately whips around, just nearly avoiding the entire shelf collapsing behind her with a quick flick of her wand to cast an imperturbable charm. 

“Remus, dear!” she shuffles over to him, “Just in time, are you ready to head over?” She smiles at him kindly.

“S’pose,” he mumbles, eyes cast downwards. He used to be better at this—treating the full moon like a necessary evil to endure before going back to his regularly scheduled life. After the marauders became animagi, there was less fear and dread. Sometimes he’d even look forward to the rare kind of freedom brought on by racing through the Forbidden Forest in the cool night air. Unburdened and alive.

Not anymore.

Madam Pomfrey notices his apprehension, probably expecting it after watching what happened last month, and softens her eyes. “You’re strong, Remus,” she murmurs as they make their way towards the back door, “It’ll be alright.”

If I were strong, I wouldn’t feel like I needed him tonight, he thinks bitterly, but instead, he just mutters, “Yeah, thanks,” trailing after her out into the darkening grounds.

The walk to the shack feels shorter than usual. Before Remus can process any more of his self-pity, he’s standing in the stale, damp room littered with shards of furniture he’s torn apart over the years. Letting his muscle memory take over, he moves over to the mattress and sits down, a rusty squeak ringing out as the stained fabric dips beneath him.

Looking out into the cramped room, Remus is immediately struck with a deep, suffocating sense of WrongWrongWrong. 

He remembers sitting in this same spot, waiting for his friends to arrive before his body tore itself apart. Wrong. He remembers the pain and confusion echoing through his brain, wondering why his friends weren’t there . And he remembers hearing footsteps running towards him but being unable to look as his bones snapped and his muscles ripped. Wrong.  

He remembers waking up on the dirt-covered stairs, fingers torn raw, head pounding, blood pouring from gashes in his torso. WrongWrongWrong. He remembers waiting—desperately—for Sirius or James or anyone to pull him off the floor and help put him back together. He remembers the tormented look on James’ face as he spoke that one word: Sirius.

Sirius told Snape.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

“I’ll be here as soon as the moon’s down, okay love?” Poppy looks at him from the doorway, compassionate eyes scanning him for signs of distress. Remus thinks it’s a reflex she must be unable to turn off.

“Thanks Poppy,” he says, trying to snap himself out of the haunting memories and doing his best to conjure up some sort of smile. With one last nod, the kind nurse heads out the door and Remus hears her mutter a sealing charm from the other side.

As soon as she’s gone, Peter and James immediately pop out from behind the invisibility cloak, “Hiya Moony!” they whisper, smiles that don’t quite reach their eyes plastered on their faces. However fake they may be, Remus can appreciate the effort.

“Hey guys, ready to change?” he prompts. He wasn’t joking earlier.

Peter frowns slightly, eyebrows stitched together, “Cmon’ we still have some time, you don’t have to be alone yet. How are you feeling?” he asks. James doesn’t look nearly as defeated as Peter, mostly he just looks sad.

Peter’s probably right, Remus would feel better if they stayed with him a little while before changing, but he’s not taking any risks. “I’m fine,” he growls, “now turn.”

“Alright Moons, whatever you want,” James nods solemnly before his jeans and glasses are replaced by the amber fur and dark eyes of a regal stag. Peter follows suit, sending one more look of protest at Remus before shrinking into a rat and scurrying up onto Prongs’ antlers.

“Now, wait over there,” Remus demands, nodding towards the corner farthest from the cot. Prongs exhales sharply, making a sound between a snort and a wheeze as he tosses his head to the side and Peter emits an indignant squeak. Neither of them move an inch.

Remus groans with annoyance, “Guys, I’m not kidding, being near me isn’t sa—agh!” He throws his head back as a sharp pain shoots through his spine, his fingers digging into the thin mattress of the cot. His body tenses, and a ragged breath escapes his lips as he rides out the wave of agony, shoulders hunched awkwardly.

Prongs moves forward, depositing Wormtail onto Remus’ lap as he lowers his head to nudge his shoulder, warm breath fanning across his face.

“It’s fine…” Remus grits out. Prongs snorts, moving his body so Remus can lean against the warm fur of his chest, chin gently resting on top of Remus’ head. It feels nice, having the extra support and warmth against his tensing muscles. But, because he’s hopeless, it makes him think of Padfoot—the way he always seemed to know, without a word, how to ease the pain. He’d lay across Remus’ lap, warm and solid, and lick his burning scars with a care that felt like instinct, as if comforting Remus was something he’d always known how to do.

Pathetic, he thinks. How incredibly weak does it make him that the person who betrayed him, the person who caused him all this suffering, is the one person he wants right now? Tired, broken, and in pain, Remus’ body aches for him. Pathetic.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by another wave of pain rippling through his bones. Unconsciously grabbing onto Prongs’ leg to steady himself, Remus breathes through his nose and bites his lip to stop from screaming.

“Okay,” he exhales, “It’s time.” He grunts, laying back on the mattress and turning towards the wall while James and Peter back up. The last thought in his mind is an echo of WrongWrongWrong as he lets the pain consume him and leans into the dark instincts of the wolf.

***

His head hurts. That’s the first thing Remus notices. The second, is the warm hand gripping his shoulder. Sirius’ hands are always cold.

“Remus?” he feels someone shake him gently, “Remus?” the voice repeats.

“Mmph” he grunts. Fuck his head hurts.

“Remus, can you hear me?” James . “Can you open your eyes?” No.

“ Oh Merlin…” Peter.

“ He’s fine Pete, Poppy will be here soon.” No I’m not. Nothing is fine, everything is wrong. His head is pounding like someone is currently berating him with a bat, and his stomach is nauseous enough that even thinking about opening his eyes makes bile rise in his throat.

“He doesn’t look too good” Thanks Pete.

“Cmon Remus, say something,” James pleads.

He wills himself to speak, just so his friends don’t think he’s dead, managing to croak, “Ouch…”

“Remus, can you open your eyes?” Peter asks this time, words lined with anxiety.

It feels like someone took a nail gun to his skull, but hearing the distress in his friends’ voices is just enough motivation for Remus to crack one eye open. Immediately, the pain intensifies at the slightest intake of sunlight creeping in the windows. Squinting, the terrified faces of James and Peter slowly come into focus. He must really look terrible.

“Oh thank Merlin,” James lets out a breath, “Remus, you hit your head,” he starts to explain. Yeah, no shit. “Peter managed to stop the bleeding, but it was still pretty bad.”

“I know it hurts, but do you want to try to sit up?” Peter asks from where he’s kneeling on Remus’ left.

Going to nod his head and immediately realizing that is an absolutely terrible idea, Remus voices a quiet “okay”.

“Okay,” James repeats, securing his hold on Remus’ arm, “On three. One, two…” the last thing Remus sees before passing out is James’ wide, worried eyes.

***

Remus opens his eyes for the second time in the infirmary, headache dulled to a low soreness. Upon his waking, Madam Pomfrey checks his wounds, gives him a pain potion, and explains to him that last night’s moon was bad. Really bad. The wolf tore itself, tore Remus , apart. His hands were ripped raw, fingernails replaced by bleeding nail beds, blood vessels burst in both eyeballs, and scratches lining his limbs, deep enough in some places to require spellwork just to stop the bleeding. His spine was swollen, black and blue skin covering each vertebrae, his ankle was twice its usual size, his ligaments torn, and his head had a gash from eyebrow to crown, deep enough that his skull chipped just beneath it.

Madam Pomfrey did her best work, leaving him with just a slight ache behind his eyes, a stiff ankle, and his usual scars. Honestly, she’s a miracle worker. Even so, she still demands that he stay in the infirmary until at least supper to ensure his skull heals properly.

James and Peter come in after Poppy’s explanation, looking simultaneously nervous and relieved.

“Hey,” Peter says, approaching the bedside like Remus is made of glass. James trails behind him.

“Hi guys,” Remus gives a small smile.

“How are you Moons?” James prompts, giving a much more convincing smile than Remus’.

“I”m alright,” he tells them, adding “really, I’m fine” after their brows deepen with concern.

“Good, I’m—that’s good,” Peter nods to himself, eyes fixed slightly above Remus’ right shoulder.

“Was it…I mean, I know it was bad, yeah?” Remus looks to James, eyes asking for the truth he knows James probably doesn’t want to reveal.

“It was…yeah, bad” James starts, looking at Remus with reluctance and pity coating his gaze. Remus raises his eyebrows, prompting him to continue. “You were really upset and we tried to keep you from hurting yourself, but you were just so angry . At first you were pacing, smelling every inch of the shack, but that quickly turned aggressive when you started howling and clawing and stuff. We tried to lead you out to the forest, but you kind of…wouldn’t? Like, you wouldn’t even look at us to notice that we’d opened the door. You just sort of ripped yourself apart, scratching at the walls and thrashing around…that’s how you hit your head.” James looks like he’s willing himself not to cry.

“Oh.” Remus stares at him. Peter looks at his feet, rocking back and forth slightly.

“Yeah,” James answers, looking like he’s in a sort of daze.

Peter and James sit down after that, silence thick in their isolated corner of the infirmary. Remus drifts in and out of sleep, eating the dinner they bring him and not saying much. There’s nothing he could say right now that wouldn’t feel like swallowing needles.

He convinces Poppy to let him attend potions that night after dinner, promising to come back tomorrow to have his head checked. She allows it, reluctantly, and the boys head to the dungeons in the same strained silence they’ve been existing in all day.

When they enter the room, taking their seats behind their respective cauldrons, Remus spots Sirius in the back corner. Purple circles under his eyes, a vacant expression, and a poorly concealed tremor in his hands, he almost looks like he was the one who got ripped apart last night.

Chapter 9: Problem

Summary:

They're basically just spiraling and its obvious.

Notes:

HI!! I'm sorry this one is short, I've been super busy, but I still have a lot in the works. And we'll be dipping more into "The Last Time" title eventually, don't worry.

For the rest of the term, whenever Remus sees him, Sirius looks…well, awful. His eyes are constantly bloodshot and rimmed red, hair greasy and matted, pale skin sunken in, and breath wreaking of cigarettes or alcohol. Or both. If he’s in Gryffindor tower, he chainsmokes by the common room window before going to bed in the early hours of the morning. Unable to crawl in with James, he uses silencing charms on his bed, but that doesn’t stop Remus from smelling his tears or seeing the thrashing behind the curtains brought on by nightmares he used to tell Remus about. He drags himself to lessons drunk or high, but never causes a disturbance that’s enough to get him kicked out. He sits in the back, silently doing whatever minimum work is required, and is out the door before everyone else. Some days, he’ll lock himself in the bathroom for an hour or more, then emerge with puffy eyes and walk straight out of the dorm without saying a word. Remus doesn’t know what he does in there, but when he tried to think about the possibilities, he got so nauseous he almost threw up in the sink.

Sirius doesn’t try to talk to him, or apologize, or even look at him anymore. He spends as little time in the dorm as possible, creeping in during the early morning or not coming back at night at all. Remus tries, and subsequently fails, not to notice the hickeys on Sirius’ pale neck or the lipstick stains on his collar. He wills his eyes to look away from the wrinkled shirts and messy, unmade bed that indicate Sirius has been there, however briefly. Remus tells himself it doesn’t matter—Sirius can do whatever he wants—but the knot in his chest tightens and the wolf in his bones protests every time he catches a glimpse of those marks.

Sirius’ apparent downward spiral does nothing for James’ heart rate or Peter’s anxiety. The two boys watch him—and Remus—with wide eyes every time they’re in the dorm. Remus can tell James is trying his best to strike a balance between his anger at Sirius and his unrelenting loyalty and concern. He’s even gone as far as to approach Sirius’ curtain a few times, only to retreat with shaking hands before he reaches the bedside. If he weren’t so preoccupied with his own torment, Remus would feel bad that his roommates are dancing around a minefield in their own dorm.

On the other hand, Sirius shows no hint of remorse. He brushes off James’ attempts to check on him and ignores Peter’s careful questioning with a harsh quip or persistent silence. His days are spent in and out of detention for who-knows-what and if there’s any sort of party in one of the houses—except Slytherin of course—he’s there with a joint between his fingers and a girl on his lips. Needless to say, Remus doesn’t attend.

After such parties, Remus often comes downstairs to find Sirius asleep on the common room couch with a new girl on top of him and a bottle of fire whiskey on the floor beside them. On those days, Remus doesn’t come back through the portrait hole until curfew.

Avoiding Sirius, and thus avoiding his dorm, makes it easier for Remus to avoid James and Peter too. He’s getting tired of turning down their constant invitations to hang out and ignoring their looks of pity every time he’s in the same room as Sirius. He doesn’t want to be rude, but he really doesn’t feel like socializing and their attempts at normalcy are futile. There’s nothing normal about a monster living among the student body. And there’s certainly nothing normal about him and Sirius. Not that there is a him and Sirius.

Coming back to the dorm as late as possible means he’s sleeping less, but it doesn’t really matter. When he is in bed, he’s either wide awake staring at empty sheets or sitting up watching thrashing curtains, smelling the salt of tears on skin, and sensing waves of distress that hit him from across the room. On one of the first nights that it got bad, James crept across the cold floor and slipped into Sirius’ bed, hoping to calm the nightmares that were clearly tormenting him, only to emerge no more than three minutes later with a defeated look and teary eyes. Because of the silencing charm, Remus couldn’t hear what was spoken, but within an hour the dreams continued and James hasn’t gone back since. Thus, Remus suspects he’s lying in unspoken solidarity with James as they both watch Sirius’ curtains flail, channeling every cell in their bodies into staying put. 

The tension seeps into every part of his day. He doesn’t eat with his friends very often, much to Lily’s dismay, but he can barely stomach the scent of food when his senses are already overwhelmed by the perfume and alcohol that cling to Sirius' skin every time Remus is near him. He sits in an empty classroom or the back of the library during most mealtimes, either feeling sorry for himself or throwing his mind into schoolwork. It works as a great distraction, when his brain is full of herbology terms there’s barely any room for heartbroken eyes or pale skin.

When he really can’t shake the sound of Sirius’ voice or the cool of his touch from his mind, Remus finds himself sitting in the Hogsmeade tunnel—legs aching on the cold concrete, back stiff against the unforgiving wall, and a bottle of red currant rum clutched in his hands. The tunnel is silent, save for the occasional drip of water echoing off the stone, and the bitter taste burns his throat as he takes a swig. He chokes down a whole bottle, allowing the hot liquor to fill his veins. The intoxicating pain doesn’t do much to dull the ache in his chest, but it quiets his mind enough that he can at least get some sleep after he drags himself back to the dorm in a drunk stupor, trying his best to hide how wrecked he really is.

There’s a low buzzing in his head all the time, like static alerting him that a connection’s been lost. It’s there when he sleeps, when he’s in class, when he studies, and when he walks through the corridors. A constant, incessant, buzzing that can never quite drown out the thoughts plaguing his mind. An irritating, sometimes deafening—

“Remus!” he’s pulled from his thoughts when someone calls his name from behind. He turns around to see Mary and Marlene approaching him and James as they walk back to the common room after charms class.

“Wait up,” Marlene has Mary’s hand in hers as they jog to catch up to the two boys.

“Hey guys,” James greets them, smiling as usual. “What’s up?”

The girls share a quick glance, seemingly deciding who will speak before Mary lowers her voice. “Have you guys…seen Sirius today?”

Remus feels the color drain from his face as James noticeably stiffens beside him.

“Not today…why?” James speaks cautiously. 

“It’s just—well, we were at the Hufflepuff party last night and he looked a little…I don’t know, unwell?” Marlene attempts to explain.

“And it’s not the first time. I mean, he’s been kind of out of control recently,” Mary adds.

Remus’ mouth has never been more dry.

“Oh, I think he’s just blowing off a little steam, you know?” James waves his hand in front of him, feigning nonchalance, “Living it up at the end of the term and whatnot.”

“Really?” Mary raises an eyebrow, “Alone? Without you guys and Peter?”

“Yeah, we're just…busier than he is,” James sounds increasingly unsure.

“Busier because he’s been kicked off the quidditch team and he’s stopped doing his coursework” Marlene states bluntly. Remus’ and James’ eyebrows simultaneously fly up to their hairlines.

“Of course we noticed,” Mary answers the question nobody asked, “It’s not like we’re stupid,” she rolls her eyes.

“But we are concerned, obviously something’s going on” Marlene’s gaze softens. “Is he alright?”

“I don’t…um” James looks lost. “We’re…he’s just,” he turns to Remus with pleading eyes. 

Remus swallows hard. The air suddenly too thick, the hallway too narrow. James is looking at him like he’s out of his depth—like somehow Remus has the answers when it comes to Sirius—but James is Sirius’ brother, his soul-tie, and Remus is just the man who mistook a black hole for a star.

“I haven’t talked to him,” he says finally. It’s true. It’s been weeks.

Mary and Marlene frown, clearly expecting more, but what else can he say? That Sirius hasn’t spoken more than three words to him since the last moon? That every time their eyes meet Remus feels so scared he might be sick? That he saw Sirius this morning, passed out by the window covered in lipstick and ash, and he just walked by with a stomach full of guilt?

“Well, maybe someone should,” Marlene says gently, “Before it gets worse.”

Remus doesn’t respond. He knows it already is worse.

James shifts uncomfortably, “We’re not really…talking” he admits.

Mary’s expression darkens slightly, prompting an anger in Remus that he fights to keep down. “We figured. You’ve been avoiding each other like the bloody plague.”

“Yeah well, we have our reasons,” Remus grits out. He can’t help himself.

Marlene frowns, “He looks like hell, Remus.”

Good , he thinks bitterly, before shame creeps in to smother it. He forces himself to shrug. “Not my problem.”

“Isn’t it?” Mary asks quietly. And it cuts.

James lets out a breath, “It’s—I’ll go find him, okay? Make sure he’s alright.” James Potter the honorable.

Mary nods, eyes moving from Remus to James “Alright. I know we don’t know the whole story, but we were just…worried, that’s all.”

Marlene looks like she might say something, eyes squinting slightly at Remus, but her mouth stays closed. Remus looks away.

“I know,” James nods.

“Well…we’ll see you guys later then,” Mary says before they head off in the opposite direction, their whispers fading behind them.

James runs a hand through his hair, “Remus—”

“It’s fine, James,” Remus cuts him off, turning the corner and walking away. He heads straight for the Hogsmeade tunnel, head ringing with static and the sound of his own voice.

You left your brother.

We’re monsters.

You’re a Black.

He didn’t mean it.

And he did.

And that’s the part that’s killing them both.

He grabs a bottle of firewhiskey and doesn’t look back.

Chapter 10: Patronus

Summary:

Remus is down and he can't get back up alone.

Fuck. Just…fuck. Remus is completely, one hundred percent, fucked. Why? Because he’s sitting at the bottom of the common room stairs in the middle of the day and he physically can not get up.

He came back after breakfast to grab his wand—he’d forgotten it, and he has Defense Against the Dark Arts in 10 minutes. But the moons have been wearing him down more recently (with the not sleeping, barely eating, and all the other shit) and he was rushing, so he wasn’t paying attention when he missed the first step. The fall thoroughly wrenched his wonky hip and busted up his knee, so even if his aching muscles could pull himself up, he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to walk. Not to mention, he can no longer deny the fever he’s obviously been running for at least a day—which is probably why his headache-ridden mind was cloudy enough to forget his damn wand in the first place. Fuck.

It’s the middle of the morning, so everyone is either at breakfast or lessons, and thus not in the common room. A fact Remus isn’t sure if he’s grateful for or not. As embarrassing as it would be to have to ask for help, he can’t exactly sit here all day with a high temperature and searing pain down his leg. If only James, Peter, or Lily would walk through that portrait hole right now and save him from his mortification. But of course—because the universe sees Remus as a bitter joke—they don’t.

Twenty-three minutes go by and Remus has managed to make it up two stairs. He’s dripping sweat, biting his lip to hold back a groan, and his muscles protest every movement, barely able to drag themselves up the seven inch steps. Just as he’s about to tackle the third stair, he hears the portrait hole swing open and the scent of leather, smoke, and pine drifts into the room. Remus doesn’t have to turn his head to know it’s the last person he’d want to walk in here right now and see him like this. As he said before: Fuck.

Sirius walks into the room with determination, brushing by the maroon couches and heading straight for the window when he comes to an abrupt stop, eyes pinned on Remus, hand falling limp at his side with his fingers wrapped around a pack of cigarettes.

“Remus?” he says questioningly, squinting his eyes at the site before him. 

“Hey,” Remus says, keeping his voice flat but failing to hide the discomfort behind it.

Sirius stands there for another second before he’s clambering to Remus’ side, tripping over his own feet and squatting down at the base of the stairwell. “Godrick, what happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” he rushes out.

“I—mph—yeah, I’m fine,” Remus responds, adjusting his position against the wall. He’s lying straight through his teeth and he’s not even sure why.

“No you’re not. Come here, let me help you.” Sirius sees right through his pathetic attempt at a lie, reaching his arms out to help pull Remus up.

He should be relieved, because finally someone is here to help haul him back to his dorm where his much-desired bed is waiting. He should be taking this opportunity to reach back toward the man in front of him and allow his burning limbs to take a break. But the problem is, the only emotions he can feel are mortification and rage. Because of all the people who could’ve found him like this, it had to be Sirius—after everything, after the shouting and the silence and the things that never should’ve been said. And now here he is, acting like he still gets to care. Like he still has the right.

And it hurts—Merlin, it hurts—somewhere deep in his chest, where an ache has been festering for almost two months. It hurts like an open wound held together by tape and glue. Well… tape, glue, and distance from the pale boy crouched before him.

So, in a typical moment of lashing out, he instantly replies, “Back the fuck off,” recoiling away from the other boy’s touch like it burns. Because it probably would.

Sirius’ previously concerned eyes darken at the response. “Are you kidding me right now? You obviously can’t get up,” he spits.

“I—” Remus starts, “I fell. But it’s fine, I’ll make my own way back.” He won’t actually make it back for hours, and if Sirius stays in the common room or goes back to their dorm he’ll quickly find that out. But Remus never said his plan was sound.

“That’s clearly going well for you so far,” Sirius scoffs.

“I’ll figure it out.”

Sirius heaves a sigh, standing up so he’s towering above Remus in a totally unfair role reversal. “Well James and Peter are in class, and I don’t see anyone else around. So I can fucking leave you here or you can stop acting like a child,” he snaps, his voice tight with something that sounds suspiciously like worry, buried beneath the anger.

“I don’t want your help,” Remus tells him, not missing the way Sirius’ shoulders slump almost imperceptibly.

“Yeah well, it sucks for both of us that you need it then,” he grits out, patience clearly hanging on by a thread.

Remus opens his mouth to protest again, to come up with another transparent attempt at convincing Sirius he’s fine, but instead he finds himself asking, “Why aren’t you in class?” The question comes out before his brain even processes the realization.

If Sirius is surprised by the inquiry he doesn’t show it, instead, he fixes the boy below him with a knowing look. “You’re stalling.”

Remus raises an eyebrow, stubborn to a fault.

Sighing for what must be the hundredth time, Sirius explains, “I came to smoke.”

“You’re skipping class to smoke?” That’s not usually Sirius’ style. Even recently, when he’s operating at a baseline level of intoxication, he’s still been showing up to class. Despite his rapid downward spiral, the ingrained standards of the House of Black and the desire to please Mr. and Mrs. Potter have kept him at least minimally engaged in his courses. All recreational activities for Sirius take place between periods or in the evenings. Or at least they used to.

“Obviously,” he drawls, rolling his eyes.

“Why?” Remus isn’t sure why it matters to him, but it does.

“Because I felt like it,” he replies, narrowing his eyes.

“Sirius.” An uncontrollable softness creeps into Remus’ voice—which irritates him, because he’s trying to be angry—but the concern beneath it is enough to pry an answer out of the stubborn man.

“We’re learning Patronus Charms,” Sirius mutters, staring at the wall above Remus’ head. “Which is a useless charm anyway, so I left.”

“Patronus? Like animals?”

“That's the one,” he grimaces.

“So…what? you’re afraid yours will come out barking like Padfoot? I’m pretty sure I’m the one who has something to worry about there,” Remus deadpans. He can tell something more is bothering Sirius, and if they were talking then maybe he would care. But they’re not. So he doesn’t. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he can’t stop himself from wondering.

“No, I don’t care if it’s a dog,” Sirius looks appalled at the accusation. 

“Then, what?”

Sirius opens his mouth, but he must rethink whatever he was going to say because it snaps shut before he starts again. “Stop. The point is I’m here, so am I leaving your arse on this stair or not?” he demands, fists clenched at his sides.

Remus stares at him for a long moment, jaw tensed so tight it aches. His body is screaming, every inch of him burning with a fever and the sharp pull of pain radiating from his leg. Not to mention the clawing in his chest reaching out for something it can’t hold. But Sirius is here. Not James. Not Peter. Not Lily. Sirius.

And Merlin help him, he doesn’t have it in him to keep fighting. Not right now. Not like this.

“Fine,” he breathes out finally, voice rough. “But only because I’ll pass out if I sit here any longer.”

Sirius doesn’t say anything, just crouches down again and reaches out gently—so gently it almost undoes something in Remus’ insides. His fingers brush against Remus’ arm, pausing for a moment like he’s afraid Remus will snap again. When he doesn’t, Sirius places Remus’ arm over his shoulders and loops one of his own behind Remus’ back. “Ready?” he mutters.

Remus nods, bracing himself for the amount that this is going to hurt. Sirius takes that as his que to stand, supporting basically all of Remus’ weight, and Remus bites back a whimper, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to make the room stop spinning. “Okay?” Sirius  checks.

“Mhm…” Remus blinks his eyes open, nodding again jerkily. Behind the pain at the forefront of his mind, a nagging thought notices that Sirius seems bonier than usual in his embrace. He tucks the idea away to gnaw at him later.

“Alright, lets go,” Sirius says as a warning before he starts walking, basically dragging Remus along up the stairs.

By the time they make it to the top, Remus is shaking, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. Sirius guides him over to his bed and attempts to place him down gently, but gravity and Remus’ dead weight work against them. Falling back onto the bed, Remus’ leg gets stuck behind Sirius’ knee and in an attempt to hold on for stability he accidentally pulls Sirius down with him.

“Shit!” Sirius swears, trying to catch himself as they both crash onto the mattress, Remus groaning in pain at the impact. Sirius ends up directly over him, arms braced on either side of his head, their faces inches apart. Remus feels his breath hitch, his stomach plummeting straight through the floor. Strands of Sirius’ hair fall in front of his face, but Remus can still see the silver irises that bear into his soul, igniting every nerve ending in his entire body.

For a second, Remus can't feel the pain anymore, swallowed by the overwhelming rush of SiriusSiriusSirius. Every point of contact between them crackles with electricity—where their chests press together, where their tangled legs are hooked tight, even where Remus’ fingertips grip onto Sirius’ robes.

Neither of them moves. Neither of them breathes. Remus can feel Sirius’ heartbeat hammering in his chest, wild and irregular—or maybe it’s just his own trying to break through his rib cage. His eyes flicker, helplessly, down to Sirius’ lips—those pink, devastating lips—before dragging back up to his eyes. 

Sirius swallows, and something inside Remus splinters. 

Please don’t, he thinks, raw and aching . Because if you do, I’ll let you. And when we’re done, there'll be nothing left of me.

Almost as if he can hear Remus’ thoughts, Sirius suddenly jerks backwards. Clearing his throat and straightening his robes, he pushes himself up to stand next to the bed.

“I’ll…er… get you some water,” he mumbles, already turning around.

Remus exhales, eyes sinking shut and pain seeping back into his bones. Shifting, he situates himself properly against the pillows and tries to steady his heart rate.

He opens his eyes just in time to catch his wand flying at him from where Sirius has just tossed it.

“Thanks…” Remus mutters, furrowing his eyebrows. Did he tell Sirius he needed his wand?

“Drink this,” Sirius walks back across the room and shoves a glass of cool water into his empty hand. Remus gulps down half of it without complaint before using his wand to complete a healing spell on his leg. Immediately, the pain level in his knee and hip go from unbearable to uncomfortably manageable. It’s nowhere near perfect—-he’s only just started working with Madam Pomfrey on healing spells he can do for himself once he graduates—but it does the trick for now.

Once he’s completed the charm, he looks up to see Sirius staring at him with his eyebrows pinched together, a harsh line of concern drawn between them. Slowly, like he’s approaching a wild animal, he reaches a tentative hand out towards Remus, wordlessly brushing the back of his fingers against his forehead. It’s so soft that Remus can barely feel it, but he can’t help but remember that he is a wild animal. That Sirius made him one. 

But right now, Sirius isn't looking at him like he’s dangerous. He’s looking at him like he’s fragile, like he needs to be handled with care. Like he matters.

Remus would probably prefer the former.

Sirius eyes widen at the contact, “Merlin, you’re burning up!” he exclaims, his awkwardness forgotten in a rush of alarm.

“M’fine,” Remus shifts uncomfortably under the concerned gaze.

Sirius doesn’t look convinced. “Sure you are,” he says, voice laced with sarcasm.

He doesn’t wait for a response before turning around and heading towards the bathroom, returning a moment later with a damp, cool cloth. “This will cool you off” he says rather obviously, gesturing to Remus’ forehead.

Remus wants to throw it across the room and push Sirius away. He wants to kick him out and keep Srius from seeing him like this. But he’s exhausted, and feverish, so the words catch in his throat. Instead, he presses his lips together and looks away, avoiding the weight of Sirius’ gaze.

Sirius steps closer, his hand hovering over Remus but not quite touching. “You’re not fine,” he speaks softly. “Just…let me help.”

With no strength left to argue, Remus nods weakly, allowing Sirius to place the cloth on his sweat-soaked forehead. He pulls a blanket up over Remus’ shaking body and takes the water glass out of Remus’ hand, placing it on the nightstand and charming it to stay full. Then he gets Remus’ small collection of healing potions out from the closet and puts them down next to the water class. All while neither of them speak.

“Alright, well…” he steps back, the awkwardness of the situation returning with full force. He clears his throat, “Are you—do you need anything else?”

Remus wants him to go. He really does. But the question clings to the back of his mind, stubborn and persistent. He should let it go, should let Sirius walk away and leave him in peace—but he just can't help himself.

“Why did you leave Defence Against the Dark Arts today?" he blurts out before he can stop himself.

“What?” Sirius raises an eyebrow, a hint of indignation in his tone.

“Why did you leave?” Remus repeats, now fixated on getting an answer; determined to pick the scab. 

“It doesn’t matter” Sirius shrugs, crossing his arms and muttering, “Not your problem” as he turns towards the door. Isn’t it? Marlene's words ring in Remus’ ears.

“Well, I wanna know” he basically demands. Honestly, he really is a masochist.

Sirius stays facing the wall, huffing in irritation as he rushes out, “Because I couldn’t fucking cast one, alright?”

Remus furrows his brow “You’re just learning…” he starts to explain, not understanding what all the fuss is about. Everyone struggles to learn new spells.

“Merlin Remus!” Sirius whips around, arms flying out to the sides, “For all that reading you do you’d think you’d know this one bloody spell. A patronus requires your happiest memory. And I—all of mine are—I couldn’t—” he exhales in frustration, “I just couldn’t cast one. So drop it, okay?” 

Ouch. “Sirius…”

“Do you need anything or not?” His eyes turn cold, the open concern that’s been there since he found Remus on the stairs is now nowhere to be seen.

Remus falls back on instinct, armor sliding into place without a second thought. “No,” he responds, tone harsh and walls up. As he’s pulling his curtain closed, he sees Sirius turn on his heel and storm out.

Chest tight and stomach gutted, he falls into a fitful, feverish sleep.

***

After a few hours, Remus rolls over and cracks an eye open. His body still aches at the movement but his headache has significantly lessened and his fever seems to have gone down. Blindly reaching for his water glass, his hand is met with something else.

Confused, he sits up, blinking at the object he can now see is a mug. His mug—the chipped blue one he always uses, the one Sirius always threatened to toss out “because it’s tragic, Moons,” but secretly washed and kept safe every time. The one that feels like home in Remus’ hands.

The tea is perfect. Warm, light, not too sweet—exactly how Remus likes it. He takes a careful sip, feeling the liquid chase away his chills, and sinks back into the pillows. Closing his eyes, the interaction with Sirius replays behind his eyelids: the arguing, the hurt, the way Sirius practically carried him up the stairs, knowing exactly where to place his hands to avoid causing more pain. The feeling of Sirius’ thin frame pressed up against him. The hammering in his chest when their faces were so close he could feel Sirius’ breath. The heart-wrenching confession that all of Sirius’ memories are irreparably tainted.

And after all that, he still left Remus his favorite tea. He must have made it after Remus fell asleep—meaning he stayed, waiting for him to. And it’s hot, so he must have charmed it warm. 

It tastes like so many times before, when the full moons would leave Remus wrecked and Sirius would be there, tea in hand. He would read to Remus when he had to miss class, sit with him just to distract him from the mess in his own mind, and sometimes—when it was bad enough—he would even lay with him. They usually only shared a bed when it was late, when no one else was around and they could convince themselves it didn’t mean anything. But if Remus was especially ill or hurting, Sirius would crawl in next to him and let Remus drift off to the steady sound of his heartbeat.

That’s what the tea tastes like—memories and comfort. But it feels like a gaping hole in his chest, and in the bed beside him.

Chapter 11: Broken

Summary:

They couldn't stay away from each other forever. Warning: there is some adult behavior in this chapter.

Remus drags himself up the cold stone stairs to the dorm room with his robes drenched in freezing rain and a chill settled deep in his bones. It’s hailing outside. And snowing. And raining. It’s basically just shit. That’s why he’s in a bad mood as he takes a hot shower and settles back on his bed, trying to get rid of the cold ache in his legs.

Darkness looms over the room, the only light source being a soft orange glow from the boys’ bedside table lamps. While rain and sleet slam against the tower windows and wind rattles the frames, the air inside is warm and smells faintly of earl gray tea wafting from the cup clutched between Remus’ hands. Sirius’ record player softly turns in the background, allowing David Bowie to sing as Remus reads his Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms book.

After his warm shower, he pulled on one of his softest jumpers and settled down under a throw blanket on his bed with a cup of tea and a textbook, internally cursing his body for acting like it’s 80 years old. 

He’s halfway through chapter three: “Sacred Scripts and Spellbinding Symbols” when the door slams open. Startled, Remus looks up to see Sirius barging in, soaked from head to toe, water dripping from his clothes, black hair plastered to his silk skin. He peels off his robe and flings it across the room before troughing over to his trunk, boots squelching on the wood with every step. Cursing under his breath, he kicks off his muddy shoes and flips his head upside down, shaking it from side to side and sending water flying in all directions. Clearly unaware of his presence, Sirius has no regard for Remus as he sheds his wet, muddy belongings and shakes his head like a bloody dog.

Remus gets splashed square in the face by ice cold water.

“Ugh, what the fuck” he growls, wiping a hand down is face and flicking the water to the side. He fixes Sirius with a rageful glare.

The other man stiffens immediately and whips around, clearly startled.

“Remus!”

“Obviously,” Remus rolls his eyes with disgust.

“I—I didn’t see you,” Sirius sputters helplessly.

“Well I hope not, seeing as you sprayed me with icy water.” Remus sits up on the edge of his bed, using his wand to bring a towel over and drying himself off.

“I didn’t think anyone was in here.”

“Yeah, we covered that,” Remus says flatly, the same annoyed expression fixed on his face. Between the dark hair clinging to Sirius’ face and the room’s shadows, Remus can’t quite make out his face. It bothers him that he can’t see what Sirius’ expression is doing. That he can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“I’m—It’s raining.” Sirius states the obvious for the third time. He doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t even attempt to explain. It’s like his brain has short circuited and he’s no longer capable of critical thought. Like his only ability is to state what’s happening in a monotone voice. Remus wishes he could see his face.

“Again, I’m aware” Remus responds, still waiting for Sirius to talk. Instead, all he does is stare, mouth slightly ajar, eyebrows pinched together, shadows concealing his eyes. The sound of wind smacking against the windows and rain landing on the roof fills the dorm. It makes the room feel too small and too hot. It makes Remus feel stuck, trapped in this tense space with the only one who can make his world feel so small; make him feel so confined to one person. It causes the hair to stand up on his skin. And Sirius isn’t speaking . “You’re a fucking menace,” Remus hisses, irritation spiraling into anger.

Sirius seems to snap back into his body at that. “I didn’t mean to—” he starts, but Remus doesn’t care for an excuse right now.

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t,” he cuts in, throwing his hands up in frustration. “You never do,” he mutters, looking down with a tense jaw.

Sirius inhales sharply before clearing his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you” he breathes out.

There it is again: I’m sorry. The phrase stirs something in Remus—something angry and ugly and hurt. He feels it curl in his stomach and fight its way up to his lungs, where it steals his air before clawing out of his throat. It’s harsh when it comes out, and it leaves a burning behind in his chest.

“You know what? I’m so tired of your ‘I’m sorrys.’” he spits, standing from the bed and taking a step towards Sirius. “How about you stop fucking up in the first place?” he snarls.

Finally able to see his face now that Remus has joined him in the shadows, he watches as guilt and shock ripple across Sirius’ expression before it lands squarely on anger. “If you’re so sick of me apologizing, how about you stop walking around here like a pitiful victim” he shouts back, standing his ground as Remus approaches.

“I am not acting like a victim. Maybe you only think that because you’re the one who keeps hurting people,” Remus yells.

“Oh please,” Sirius rolls his eyes, “you practically wear your misery like a badge.”

“You know that’s not true,” Remus responds instantly. “All I’m trying to do is stay away from you, and you keep getting in the way.”

“Well, my bad for existing in my own room,” Sirius says, sarcasm thick enough to drown in. “I didn’t realize I needed permission.”

“You don’t need permission, Sirius. You just need to give a shit.”

“I do give a shit.”

“Right,” Remus says, words dark with venom, “that’s why you used me as your own personal weapon.”

The statement sits between them, hanging in the air like a noose. Remus wants to take it back. And he doesn’t. That appears to be a theme for him recently. Everything he says mixes honesty with pain and comes out as some twisted half-truth that he simultaneously wants to unsay and lean into. It’s exhausting.

Sirius gulps, staring into Remus’ eyes like he’s searching for a way to respond. “I’m sorry about that, too.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m…I never wanted to hurt you and I’m really sorry.” It almost sounds like autopilot by now.

“Stop. Just, stop,” Remus interrupts what he anticipates to be another long winded apology. He’s heard enough already. “Sorry isn’t enough. You used me, Sirius. You took the worst part of me, the thing I fight to control every single month, and you weaponized it for your own amusement.” His voice is too loud, too raw, but he can’t stop now.

“Do you know what it’s like to live in fear of myself? To know that every time I lose control, someone could die? That people only see me as a risk, a beast in waiting?” He swallows hard. “And then to find out that you, you, see it too.” You, Sirius. My Sirius. The person who made me feel seen and wanted like no one else ever has. “See me as a joke. A warning. Something to aim at your enemy.”

His voice is starting to shake but his expression is firm. “You, of all people—” he cuts himself off. Blinking fast and restarting, “You’re not cruel because you’re a Black, Sirius. I didn’t mean that. I know I said it but—” Merlin, I wish I could take it back. And I don’t. And I do. “But you chose revenge over my life, and you made that decision all on your own.”

His voice gets quieter, but only slightly. “You can’t carry this for me. So an apology isn’t going to cut it.”

He means to stop there. He really does. But Sirius is standing there in a soaking wet T-shirt looking like he’s just been gutted. And Remus is a weak man. Sirius is looking at him with something like grief and something like guilt and something that hurts— and Remus is so tired of hurting alone. 

So he steps forward. Sirius does too.

And they crash.

It’s not a kiss. It’s punishment. It’s what happens when violence meets yearning in a collision of unsaid words and unshed tears. Their mouths meet in a reckless clash that sends fire through Remus’ veins. He should stop, but once he gets a taste of Sirius he craves more.

He shoves Sirius against the wall and it’s all teeth and fingernails and gasps ripped from throats too sore to speak. Their mouths move like they’re trying to drown each other. Remus parts his lips and slips his tongue in Sirius’ mouth before dragging his teeth across his bottom lip. He kisses him like he can take back the things he’s said, like he can draw out the secrets Sirius no longer deserves to know. 

Sirius digs his fingers into Remus’ hips like he’s anchoring himself and Remus moves his mouth down Sirius’ throat in response. He bites down on his collar bone, an echo of mine mine mine ringing in his head. Sirius moans in response and it’s the most beautiful, broken sound Remus had ever heard.

Clothes fall away. Every inch of skin is a battleground. Remus is furious. Sirius is desperate. Their bodies move in a synchronized practice their minds have forgotten. Sirius gives himself up entirely, a surrender soaked in regret that only makes Remus angrier.

When it’s over, they lie in the dark, chests heaving, limbs tangled. Remus stares at the ceiling, the taste of Sirius lingers on his tongue and it makes him feel sick.

Remus can feel Sirius’ stare bearing into the side of his head. “Moony, I—” he starts.

“Don’t. It’s not enough.”

He turns his head to meet Sirius’ gaze, his own eyes locking with shining gray. Sirius looks like the wind has been knocked out of him. Maybe he thought this would fix things. That sex would be a way back in. Maybe Remus did too.

“I feel—” Remus’ eyes are burning. He squeezes them shut and turns his head back towards the ceiling. He can feel Sirius’s legs tangled with his own. He can feel Sirius’ cold fingers on his forearm, tracing his scars like a mindless habit. He can feel thunder shaking the tower. He can feel his heart cracking.

“It’s like I’m bleeding out all the time,” he starts again, eyes still shut. He doesn’t know why he’s explaining this to Sirius, why he even wants him to know. But it feels too big and too heavy to not say.

 “Like I’m exposed and everyone can see the worst parts of me. But it’s not everyone. I mean yeah it’s Snape, but it’s really just you.” His voice falls away on the last word, a tear escaping and falling down towards his ear. “I remember waiting for you guys that night. I was…I was scared.” He swallows, voice quiet. “I was scared to transform alone. To be alone. And that feeling hasn’t gone away since. I know I have James and Peter and Lily, but it’s you . You know that it’s you.” He feels Sirius stop tracing his scars and tighten his grip on his arm.

“Did you forget there was a person inside that wolf? That I was inside that wolf? Or did you mean to use me as a threat?” His voice cracks, and he doesn’t bother hiding it. “Did you want to scare him? Or did you want to scare me?”

The silence that follows is suffocating. Remus can hear the rain slicing against the windows and the thrum of Sirius’ heartbeat where their skin touches. He wants to pull away, to curl into himself, but he’s too tired. Too fucking tired.

He forces himself to continue. “Because I’m sure Snape was frightened, but that night didn’t strip him bare like it did me. You might as well have handed him a silver knife and told him where to cut.”

Sirius doesn’t try to say anything this time. Instead, he shifts on the mattress until his forehead is touching Remus’ temple. He’s crying, silent and shaking. His breath ghosts across Remus’ face like a string of broken apologies that will never repair themselves. He moves his hand down Remus’ arm from where it's been holding on until their fingers interlock.

Remus lets him. Even worse, he leans into it, turning his head so his forehead is against Sirius’, noses almost touching. Sirius’ free hand comes up gently to brush against his cheek, wiping away the tears there before resting on the side of his neck.

Remus breathes deep, letting the moment settle him. 

And then he gets up.

He pulls away and sits on the edge of the bed, his back to Sirius. Wordlessly, he finds his clothes and gets dressed, avoiding Sirius’ gaze as he walks out of the room.

Chapter 12: Honeydukes

Summary:

Remus and Sirius are...yeah. Remus hangs out with Peter :))
Warning: adult behavior references

Never again. 

Remus will never fuck Sirius Black again. 

Because the cool feeling of his skin and the longing sound of his cries and the smoky taste of his mouth were all too much—and not enough. It left Remus wrecked, walking around like a hollowed out shell with nothing but memories clinging to his frame.

Now he’s drifting around feeling guilty, and lost, and frankly...sad. Just like he knew he would.

Just like he did last time. 

And the eight times before that.

So it will never   happen again. 

That’s what Remus tells himself each night. Until Sirius comes back fuming after seeing Mulciber in the hallway and it’s infuriatingly hot. Or he smokes a joint and crawls over to Remus’ bed with a mouth that tastes intoxicatingly good. Or Remus feels worn out after a long day of avoiding Snape and dodging questions about why he missed class again and he just wants to feel better. And Sirius makes him feel better. His hands, his voice, the way he touches Remus like he’s something to be cherished—all of it makes Remus forget the promises he’s made to himself.

Because Sirius is beautiful and magnetic and maddening. He lays himself out for Remus to take, wearing his apology like it’s a second skin—thin, clinging, impossible to give away. He makes Remus feel powerful in an infuriating way, like breaking something already half-shattered and pretending it was strength. He’s supplicant and demanding, allowing Remus to take whatever he wants and then forcing him to take more. To get closer. To lose more of himself. 

And Remus? Remus is weak. Or maybe he's just tired of pretending he doesn’t want to be ruined. Because when Sirius looks at him like that, like he’s the only thing worth breaking for, everything feels better.

It also doesn’t help that since they’ve started fucking, the stray hickeys and unfamiliar perfume scents littering Sirius’ neck have vanished. And Remus likes being the only one who leaves marks on Sirius, the only one who gets to have him close enough to bruise and bite and claim as his own. It quiets the snarling thing in his bones just enough that it feels worth it to sink back into his bed. Plus, with their nights otherwise occupied, Sirius hasn’t been seen at as many parties, and Remus isn’t reaching for the rum as often, either. 

Well...at least not for the same reasons.

They don’t speak during the day, still dancing around each other in tense silence that stretches between them so tight Remus thinks one day it will snap and recoil right in his face. Every time he stares into those deep silver eyes and tries to speak, anger coils around his throat, and sorrow rises up to choke him. No words can escape. Besides, there’s nothing he can think to say that would even begin to patch the chasm that lies between them.

So instead, they fall into a battle of tangled limbs and reckless kisses. Clinging to each other until that last moment when everything runs cold and there’s nothing left to give or take. Just the two of them. Breaking apart at the hands of the other.

Then they do it again. And again.

But it ends now. Remus has decided that when he goes back to the dorm tonight he will get in his bed and stay there. Alone. Yesterday was the last time. 

Even though the only thing on his mind as he walks towards Gryffindor Tower is a vision of a shirtless Sirius sprawled out on his bed, legs tangled in his sheets and mouth waiting for Remus to taste. He looks devastatingly lovely, made of glass skin and silk hair that splays across his pillow like a dark halo. Remus can feel himself being drawn in like a string tied to his chest is being tugged mercilessly.

Fuck, he’s hopeless.

“Hey Remus!” a voice from behind shocks him out of his fantasizing.

He turns around to see Peter jogging up to him, his robes hanging off his shoulder and his school bag jostling beside him. “Hey Pete, what’s up?” Remus greets him once they’re walking side by side

“Not much, I just had divination and it was so boring,” he sighs, following Remus up the steps to the common room. “I thought crystal gazing would be cool or, I don’t know, at least a little interesting. But all Professor Storanis does is stare at my hands for like, ten minutes and say all the wrinkles mean that ‘my choices will cut me loose and sink me with compunction’”. He rolls his eyes and makes air quotes with his fingers. “Whatever that means. Honestly, that woman gives me the creeps. I’m pretty sure my hands are wrinkled because Mum won’t let me use magic to do the dishes.” 

Remus snorts. “Yeah, she freaks me out too. That's why I dropped divination as soon as she saw claw marks in my tea leaves. I don’t need anyone else looking into what that might mean.” Remus shakes his head, slowing a little on the stairs as he starts to lose his balance. Peter puts a hand on his shoulder from behind, stabilizing him as they continue walking.

“Okay Moons?” he checks.

“Yeah fine, thanks” Remus grits out, but he doesn’t shake Peter’s hand off.

“You know Remus,” Peter clears his throat as they reach the common room and climb through the portrait hole. “I know you’re having…I know you’re going through a lot. And if you wanted to talk, or, not talk, about anything, I would, you know…talk. Or listen. If you want.” He offers messily, sending a sympathetic smile up at Remus.

He looks earnest, but there’s a flicker of nerves too—like he’s worried Remus might get angry, but not like he regrets asking. That’s the thing about Peter. He’s a little odd sometimes, often unsure of himself, and he jokes his way through most situations. But he’s always there when you need him, steady and solid in a quiet way. He doesn’t judge, not even when he probably should. He’s the kind of person you don’t think to look for—until you do, and realize you don’t have to look far at all.

The question catches Remus off guard—not because Peter’s asking (he and James have been on his case for months), but because it’s so blunt, so careless in its timing. It feels wrong, like there’s something obvious that he’s missing, something everyone else can see. Like someone put a ‘kick me’ sign on his back and he has no idea. It makes something deep in his gut uncoil, ready to strike. Worse still, the question threatens to crack him open. To let all the memories, the hollow grief, the regrettable choices, pour out before he can stop it.

But it’s Peter, and he cares, so Remus tries to take the offer for what it is: a kind—yet very much unwanted—sentiment.

“Thanks Pete, I’m good though,” he lies in response. Well, partially lies. He’s definitely not good, but he definitely does not want to talk about it. It’s too humiliating now anyway.

Peter nods, twisting his mouth in a way that indicates he knew that Remus would decline his offer. “Okay, no worries,” he shrugs easily, “My offer stands whenever you’re ready.”

“Yeah, thanks…” Remus responds, but honestly he’s not really listening anymore. They’ve reached the common room now and they’re standing at the bottom of the boys dormitory stairs. To Peter, it probably seems like they just stopped to chat, but Remus is in deep contemplation. Sirius is upstairs, Remus can smell him, and if he goes up there…well he may break a few promises he’s made to himself. 

But if he doesn’t go up there, he’ll spend the rest of the night crawling out of his skin, thinking about the curve of Sirius’ mouth and the way his voice goes soft when he whispers “ Moony ” against his neck, sending a sharp pain through Remus’ chest with each use of the haunted nickname. He’ll sit on his bed, staring blankly at his coursework, too distracted by the thrumming of something like guilt and hunger in his chest that he doesn’t know how to name anymore. Not quite hate. Not quite love. Something deeper. Something worse.

“Are you going to the dorm?” Peter asks, regarding him with a raised eyebrow. The look in his eyes makes Remus feel uneasy.

“I’m, er…”

“Because I was gonna take the tunnel to Honeydukes and get some sweets. Do you wanna come with me?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know Pete.” Remus bites his lower lip, his eyes trailing back over to the staircase. Going with Peter would solve his current dilemma, but he’d still carry Sirius with him all the way down the tunnel. He’d still feel the anger, the hurt, and the exasperating gravitational pull towards Sirius Black. Not to mention Peter might try to make him talk about his feelings again. But then again, that’s not really Peter’s style. 

“Oh come on,” he smiles, “It’ll be fun.” He swivels his neck around to get in front of Remus’ gaze, nodding his head comically and alternating his eyebrows up and down.

Remus lets out a small laugh, shaking his head at his friend. Maybe he should go to Hogsmeade, it would keep him from making the same painful mistake he can’t seem to stop torturing himself with.

So, forcing himself to keep his resolution, Remus resigns himself to an evening of sugary sweets and butterbeer with Peter. This will be good for him…he hopes.

“Fine, but only if you stop suggestively wiggling your eyebrows at me.” 

“Stop, you know you love it,” Peter does the worm with his eyebrows and sends Remus a wink before stepping back from between him and the staircase.

“Trust me Pete, no one loves that.”

Peter tilts his head and glares at Remus from beneath his eyebrows. “Harsh,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Stop being so mean to me or I swear I’m gonna fall in love with you,” he laughs.

“Oh Merlin,” Remus huffs, rolling his eyes. Peter’s funny but his jokes hit close to the bone.

“I know, then we’d really have problems,” he deadpans, fixing Remus with a knowing look.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” Remus narrows his eyes, “I’m going to go grab some galleons and then we can go.”

“Okay, I’ll wait here,” Peter says before Remus takes off up the stairs. He makes it halfway up before he hears his evil little friend call after him, “Just make sure you don’t trip and fall into Pad’s bed on your way back!” 

It’s not super loud, Remus only hears it so clearly because of the wolf thing, but it shocks and infuriates him nonetheless.

“Pettigrew!” he growls, turning on his heel and heading back down the stairs at double the pace. Remus is going to kill this kid. 

Peter holds his hands up in surrender, eyes wide and a laugh bubbling up between his lips. He scurries backwards from the bottom of the stairs and shakes his head. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I know nothing!” he cries as he scrambles behind one of the armchairs like Remus might chuck something at him—which, honestly, is a possibility.

Remus comes to a stop next to the sofa and glares down at Peter, arms crossed and fists clenched. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m sorry , I just couldn’t help myself.” He looks up at Remus sheepishly, but he’s still smiling.

Remus rubs a hand over his face, anger and shock slowly fading, “You weren’t supposed to notice,” he mutters. He thought they’d been careful—stealthy, even. But clearly, he’d been wrong. This is mortifying.

“Not notice? I live five feet away from you. And besides, he looks at you like you hung the moon…and then bit him,” Peter grimaces.

Remus blinks, the image striking him sharper than he expects. The way Sirius looks at him like he can do no wrong, only for pain to cloud his expression a moment later. The perfect depiction of their endless cycle.

It’s not funny. The misery, the sex, the horrific yet extremely accurate choice of analogy. It’s really not funny. 

And yet, Remus feels an unfamiliar lump of laughter crawling up his throat. It starts in his chest and bubbles up until his face is split by a wide grin. He can’t help it, and before he can prevent it he bursts out laughing. It’s loud, uncontrolled, and slightly psychotic, but once he starts he can’t seem to stop. Bending over and grabbing onto the back of the couch, he laughs so hard tears spring to his eyes.

“Remus…?” Peter asks, chuckling nervously at the sight before him.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Remus chokes out, “It’s not funny.” But even as he says it, the ridiculousness of it all hits him full force. “It’s just… I’m a werewolf,” he chuckles again, “and—and Sirius told Snivelus. He told him I’m a monster and I haven’t spoken to Sirius in months.”

“And that’s…not funny?” Peter checks, clearly confused by Remus’ continued sniggering.

“No, no it’s not. But—but now I’m sleeping with him. I hate him and I can’t forget him and—and you know about it !” Another fit of laughter shakes him until he’s gasping for air.

“Yeah…I do,” Peter breathes out, his smile spreading as he lets out a loud, genuine laugh. Soon, the two of them are doubled over, cackling alongside one another. “And James and Sirius aren’t speaking!” he adds, making Remus crack up all over again.

“Our room is like a warzone” Remus is clutching at his side.

The two boys fall to the floor, laughter spilling between them. “We—we lost Sirius! For like five days!” Peter cries out and they dissolve into hysterics.

They laugh until it fades into quiet breaths, and Remus feels something warm in his chest—a fragile relief, like the weight of everything might lift for just a moment. He looks over at Peter, who’s still smiling, eyes bright with mischief and something softer beneath it.

Bringing his eyes back up to the ceiling, Remus lets out a long sigh. He actually feels a bit better after having that borderline manic episode. He feels lighter, like he can breathe for a few seconds before it all inevitably comes crashing back down.

Peter probably thinks he’s insane. Whatever just happened should elicit some sort of explanation. Remus just broke down in the middle of the common room laughing about the worst aspects of his life. He should at least attempt to explain to Peter why he shouldn’t admit him to the psych ward at Mungo’s. If it were James, he’d have already made Remus confess his darkest feelings and professed his undying support for his friend. But honestly, Remus doesn’t have an explanation for whatever the fuck that was. He just kind of…exploded?

“Well…” Peter sighs, finally breaking the silence as he sits up against the back of the sofa.

“Yeah,” Remus nods, mentally preparing for questioning.

“Honeydukes?” Peter looks over at him with a smile. There’s no judgement or demand in his expression. If he’s confused about what just happened, he doesn’t show it. All he does is stand up slowly, ignoring Remus’ bewildered silence, and offer out his hand.

“Okay…yeah,” Remus answers after a moment too long of staring up at his friend. He takes Peter’s hand and allows himself to be pulled to his feet.

“I’ll just go grab my coins then,” he says. 

Peter nods, sitting back on the side of the sofa while Remus turns around and heads for the stairs. This time, he makes it all the way up to the dorm. 

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he pushes the door open and waltzes in like he doesn’t know Sirius is inside waiting. He sees him immediately of course, sitting on his bed leaning over some parchment and textbooks, scribbling words on a scroll. The hand holding his quill stops the second Remus walks in but he doesn't say anything. Neither of them do.

The air feels hot and thick when he enters, like he let all the air out when he opened the door. ‘Wild Horses’ by the Rolling Stones fills the room with a slow melody, and the sunset outside floods the room with a purple glow. He can feel Sirius’ eyes on him the entire time as he drops his books and grabs his tattered bag of galleons. The heated gaze stabs into Remus’ back, sneaking up to the nape of his neck and burning into his skull. It makes him want to duck behind his trunk and crawl under the bed where it’s dark and cool. Where, even if he snuck over and tried to slip into Remus’ sheets, Sirius wouldn’t be able to find him. Where it would be quiet and firm, lying on the stable wooden floor and staring up at the slats of the mattress above—safe in the stillness, the nothingness. Where he could curl in on himself and do his best to hold together his fracturing parts so no one could see.

 But he doesn’t do that. He sets his shoulders and exhales slowly, focusing his energy on not glancing across the room.

Once he’s tugged on a jumper and shoved some change in his pocket, Remus heads for the door. He’s almost got his hand on the knob when his traitorous eyes drag across the room to Sirius’ bed. 

They lock eyes instantly.

Remus goes stiff, tension radiating between them like a rope tied too tight, taught and fraying. The Rolling Stones echo through the room, taunting him.

I watched you suffer a dull aching pain, now you decide to show me the same. 

If he wasn’t stuck motionless in a tug of war between his gut and Sirius’ soul right now, he might laugh.

Wild, wild horses couldn’t drag me away.

He probably would laugh.

But they just stare. Both of them are eerily still, breath caught in their lungs, until Remus finds it in himself to tear his eyes away. He always looks away first.

He wrenches the door open with more force than necessary. Pauses. Just long enough to feel the thread between them strain. Then he steps out into the hallway, feeling the thread snap as he walks away from his room. 

Sirius, of course, doesn’t say a word. 

Remus tries not to be disappointed.

***

Peter’s waiting for him when he reaches the bottom of the stairs and they head to Hogsmeade together in comfortable silence. It seems like Peter can sense that something’s wrong, but he doesn’t ask Remus about what happened while he was upstairs.

They start to chat more once they reach Honeydukes, consulting one another about which pixie puffs to buy and how many fizzing whizbees they should get. In the end, they have two bags overflowing with chocolate frogs, Bertie Bott’s Beans, jelly slugs, fizzing whizbees, sugar quills, pixie puffs, and treacle fudge.

“If I’m gonna make myself sick with all this, I’m gonna need to eat some real dinner first,” Peter says as they walk away from the cash register.

Remus nods towards the door, “Pasties and butterbear?” he proposes. He’s not in the mood to dine in the Great Hall tonight.

Peter smiles eagerly, already sauntering down the street. “Perfect!” he nods.

They grab a corner booth at the Three Broomsticks and sit down to dinner over a heated discussion about which would be worse: a curse that makes your socks turn into slugs everytime you try to sneak past Filch, or playing a quidditch match with a broom made of bundimuns. Remus would take slugs socks over having to play even normal quidditch, but especially over sitting on a broom full of writhing, foul smelling creatures. Peter, however, firmly believes that getting caught by Filch with no ability to run away is far worse than an uncomfortable quidditch match.

When they finish their meals, they go back to Honeydukes and sneak into the cellar with bags of candy on each arm. Careful not to make too much noise, they find their way back to Hogwarts and crawl through the secret passage on the third floor. 

“Well, where should we eat all of this?” Peter asks once they’ve successfully made it back to the castle.

Remus glances around, hoping his eyes will find a peaceful place where they can stuff their faces. “I don’t know,” he mutters, shrugging. “Somewhere quiet.” 

Somewhere Sirius-free , he adds silently .

Peter nods thoughtfully, “What about the Astronomy Tower?”

Remus pulls a face. “Nah, people just go there to get drunk and snog until the sun rises and touches them enough that they finally stop touching each other.”

Peter chuckles. “Fair.”

A pause.

“What about one of the seventh-floor alcoves?” he suggests.

Remus brightens slightly. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

He turns as the stairs shift into place ahead of them, already moving. Somewhere calm—and preferably free of snogging sixth-years—sounds exactly right.

They settle into a hidden nook under a stone arch near the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. The quiet wraps around them like a shield. Slowly, they unwrap their sweets and eat in silence, the soft rustle of wrappers the only sound between them.

After a while, Remus breaks the silence, voice low and determined. “I’m not in love with him.”

Peter’s eyes widen with surprise before something unspoken flickers through them. A sad understanding. “I know” he squints at his friend, nodding slowly.  

Remus leans back against the stone wall, staring down at the Chocolate Frog Card in his hand. “I can’t be in love with someone who so obviously doesn’t give a fuck about me.”

Peter puts down his sugar quill.  “Moons,” he starts after a moment, “What Sirius did…it was awful. And I wouldn’t blame you if you were never able to forgive him. Or even if you never spoke to him again.” He searches Remus’s face with earnest eyes. “But you’re still one of the few things that matter to him. And I think you know that.”

Remus’s voice drops to a whisper. “I don’t want to want him. It’s exhausting.”

Peter exhales, a long, soft sigh. “Yeah,” he breathes out, eyes trained on the ground.

“I don’t know what—” Remus cuts himself off, looking up at Peter with a guarded vulnerability, “What if I am in love with him?”

Peter shrugs, but there’s no easy answer in his eyes. He stares at Remus almost like he’s looking right through him, like there’s someone else standing on the wall behind him.

“It’ll pass,” he says eventually. A quiet promise made to no one in particular.

***

That night, after Remus and Peter have eaten so much sugar that even James would get a stomach ache, they retire to their dorm. Peter passes out quickly, easily becoming one with a snoring pile of blankets, but Remus lies awake. He stares at the ceiling, ears peeled.

The second Sirius pulls back his curtain, Remus knows. The ruffling of red fabric is a sound he’s all too familiar with, and Remus can feel the scent of Sirius’ shampoo hit his nostrils before he's halfway across the room. So when a slender, pale hand curls around Remus’ own curtain, he doesn’t even bother to put up a fight.

Sirius crawls into his bed the same way he does every night, with determination and apology dripping off of him like rain off a stray dog. And Remus lets him. He shifts on his side and pulls Sirius in without a word, like muscle memory, like surrender.

Because the last time is a lie he tells himself to survive the daylight. 

But night has always belonged to Sirius.

Chapter 13: Abandonment

Summary:

It wouldn't be a marauders fic without some Black brothers angst, so here you go. An argument and a breakdown because I couldn't resist putting Regulus in this.

Remus is halfway to the library when a voice he’d recognize anywhere stops him dead in his tracks. It carries from up ahead, shouting loud enough to echo around the corridor even without his heightened hearing.

“Fuck you, you pretentious prick. I asked you–no I begged you—to come with me!” Remus slowly turns the corner to reveal Sirius yelling at what looks like a mini version of himself.

“Yeah well I didn’t,” Regulus states matter-of-factly as he lifts his chin. Despite their similar looks, Regulus is Sirius’ opposite in every way. He’s calm and pretentious, voice steady and posture sharp with a level of composure that radiates arrogance, as if nothing could touch him.

Sirius is disheveled and loud, gesturing with his arms and nearly vibrating with emotion. Even from behind, Remus can tell his expression is twisted with anger.

He lifts a finger and shoves it towards Regulus, who glares down his nose at it. “Because you’re just like them, you never cared about me,” Sirius hisses.

“Is that what you think?” Regulus shows the first hint of reaction, raising his eyebrows in slight disbelief, his voice gaining an edge. Remus backs up out of view, just peeking around the stone wall.

“That’s the truth. Why else would you have stayed in that hell hole to become a fucking blood purist snake?” Sirius’ voice is gaining volume and fury as he frantically flails his arms by his sides.

Regulus too is losing his composure, albeit minutely. His response starts to come out like a loud growl, “That is not what—”

“I hope you’re happy there, growing into the perfect little Death Eater,” Sirius cuts his little brother off, spitting out the last words like they burn his mouth.

“Happy? Are you kidding me right now?” Regulus steps closer, rage flaming behind his eyes. The gray irises look like Sirius’, only darker, like they’ve been clouded over by years of bitterness.

“All you had to do was come with me. I would have protected you, you know that. But of course you said no.” He’s still angry, but now his voice trembles with pain, cracking under the weight of each word.

“Protect—” Regulus interrupts himself with a scoff, “Yeah, I said no. I stayed to take my rightful place in the bloodline.”

“You’re such a self-important snob” Sirius sneers, “Of course the only thing that’s important to you is your title.” 

“You don’t know what’s important to me,” Regulus bites back, more serious than Remus has seen the entire argument.

“Oh, I think it’s pretty fucking obvious!” Sirius is fully shaking now, yelling with raw frustration and anguish.

“Please Sirius, control yourself. This is unbecoming.” Regulus’ spine straightens even more as a look of disgust settles on his face. Although, if you ask Remus, it looks more like a cold mask—empty and practiced, barely hiding everything simmering beneath.

Sirius blinks, “Wow. You really are the embodiment of a Black” he snarls. Regulus flinches slightly at the observation, but his mask doesn’t fall. If anything, he hardens his expression of self-righteous disdain.

“And what if I am? Should I be more like you? A reckless, thoughtless disappointment?” he bites. Remus feels something inside him rise up with the desire to hit Regulus clean across the face.

But rather than hurt or weaken him, the insult seems to fuel Sirius’ wrath. “Fuck you,” he spits, “You couldn’t be anything like me if you tried. At least I have morals!”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” Regulus snaps, stepping forward before he seems to catch himself. He closes his eyes with a long exhale that sounds like an exasperated sigh and sets his shoulders. Gathering himself, he starts again in a flat tone, “You know what, I’m done entertaining this.” He waves Sirius off like an annoyance, already turning away.

But Sirius clearly isn’t done. “Oh sure, just ignore me! Silence is what you do best!” he’s now shouting at Regulus’ back. 

The younger man doesn’t even turn around. 

“Seems like she’s got you right in her pocket,” Sirius continues, furious and broken, “Why else would you abandon the only person who ever gave a fuck about you!? Why e—"

Suddenly Regulus whips around, eyes blazing and voice hard, “Someone has to be the heir!” he roars down the corridor, shocking them both, “So don’t you dare fucking talk to me about abandonment!” His words echo through the walls, making the silence that follows feel heavy. Remus watches as the words settle between them. He can practically see the weight of them slam down on Sirius’ shoulders, layering themselves on top of years of guilt and regret, right next to the words he hurled at Sirius just a few weeks ago.

Regulus holds his gaze, daring him to scream back. 

Instead, all Sirius can manage is a quiet, stunned, “...What?”

“Just forget it, Sirius” Regulus sighs, “I’d rather be there than anywhere near you.” He spares his brother one last look before turning on his heel and disappearing down the dimly lit corridor.

Sirius stands frozen in Regulus’s wake, his shoulders trembling ever so slightly. His back starts to rise and fall quicker, the sound of his breathing short and uneven. A sudden shift in Sirius’s stance is the only warning before his legs wobble, and a hand shoots out, bracing against the wall for balance.

Remus is moving before he realizes it.

He travels down the hallway to Sirius’ side in record time, approaching him with his hands out. He speaks a soft “Padfoot” to warn him of his presence before squeezing Sirius’ shoulders and guiding him around the corner to an empty classroom. Gray eyes look up at him, but they’re too panicked and unfocused to look surprised.

Once they’re inside an unoccupied room, Remus lowers himself onto the ground, back against the wall. Sirius has a hand on his chest now, eyes brimmed with tears as he fights to take in air. Remus reaches a hand out and grasps onto Sirius’s elbow, pulling him down and positioning him between his knees. “C'mere,” he murmurs as Sirius falls back against him willingly, allowing Remus to wrap him in his arms and hold him close.

Remus knows he’s supposed to be mad, that after everything Sirius has put him through, he shouldn’t give a fuck what happens to him. But none of that registers right now. The argument he just overheard—and whatever came before it—rings with a deep cutting chaos. He knows Sirius well enough to recognize the spiral: the way words like that don’t just sting, they fester, burrow into him, and tear him apart from the inside.

Sirius looks so scared, so impossibly young, that the only thing in Remus’ head, in his entire body, is the instinct to pull him close and not let go.

Remus lays a steady hand over Sirius’s on his chest and takes a slow, deliberate breath. Sirius shifts—just barely—with the movement, mirroring the rise and fall of Remus’ chest. Remus breathes again, directly next to Sirius’ ear, wordlessly instructing him to copy. Bit by bit, Sirius begins to follow Remus’ silent instruction. His breathing evens out, his body softens, and with each shaky inhale, he folds a little further into the safety of Remus’s arms.

Once he’s finally able to breathe, Sirius turns his head into the curve of Remus’ neck, inhaling deeply. Remus adjusts slightly to match him, securing one arm around Sirius’ middle and bringing his other hand up to gently cup the back of Sirius’ head. At the touch, Sirius exhales, and the breath breaks into a quiet, broken sob that sounds like it was torn from somewhere deep inside him. 

He starts to cry. It’s silent, almost imperceptible, except for the hot tears Remus can feel dripping onto his collar. Remus doesn’t say anything, he only holds on and pulls Sirius closer to his aching chest, gently running his fingers through his long black hair.

Making sure to keep up his deep breathing so Sirius remembers to inhale with him, Remus lets his head fall back against the wall and his eyes drift shut. He knows Sirius is in a bad place right now, and as soon as he comes back to himself he’ll be mortified, so Remus tries to let himself enjoy this while it lasts. Not Sirius’ pain—Remus doesn’t want that, not really—but rather his closeness. As much as he despises Sirius right now, he can’t deny the desperate need to have him near. To press against his soft skin, to take in the scent of cigarettes, leather, and something unmistakably Sirius .

It’s different like this—holding each other in quiet vulnerability—than it is colliding in desperate, frantic kisses and bruising touches. When Remus lets himself sink into it, even just for a minute, a rare sense of peace settles through his entire body.

Sirius stays like that, face pressed into Remus’ skin, one hand grasping onto his forearm, the other wrapped around his own torso like he needs to keep himself anchored.

When he finally moves, it’s all at once, like he’s been shocked back into his own body. Every muscle in him stiffens and his eyes snap open, jerking away from Remus’ hold. In one swift motion, he’s standing, scrubbing at his face with his hands. He takes a minute to scan the room before he clears his throat, turns around, and heads towards the door with one final sniff.

“Hey, wait,” Remus scrambles to stand up, reaching out and placing his hand on the back of Sirius’ elbow—less of a grab, more of a careful brush of his fingers. 

Sirius goes still. 

“Are you…?” Remus starts to ask a question he’s not sure how to phrase. Sirius obviously isn’t okay, but what else is Remus supposed to ask?

“Fine. I’m fine, Remus” Sirius answers in a rush, still facing the door. “You don’t owe me anything” he says, but he doesn't move away.

“Sirius,” the word leaves Remus steeped with concern. Sirius turns to look at him over his shoulder, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, breath wreaking of cigarettes. He’s so beautiful Remus has to fight not to look away.

“Just forget it,” Sirius’ voice sounds wrecked, “You shouldn’t even be here.” He pulls his arm away and keeps walking.

“Pads,” Remus calls after him.

Sirius stops. Turns slowly, like it costs him something.

“I’m…you’re not like your family, okay?” Remus grimaces, “And I don’t think you abandoned your brother.” He meets Sirius’ eyes with certainty. There’s too much between them to name, too many fractures and things left unsaid, but this? This, Remus is certain of.

Sirius’ expression tightens like he might cry again before he gives a small nod—not agreement, but not quite denial either.

Remus is left standing in the empty room, shirt damp with tears, as he watches Sirius leave.

Chapter 14: Something Deeper

Summary:

James is worried. Sirius is sorry. Something' s different.

“Remus!” James waves his fingers in front of Remus’ face, drawing his attention away from the book in front of him. He’s not really reading it anyway—he’s been staring at the same page for twenty minutes. “I know you can hear me.” James glares at him from the opposite side of the table they’ve settled at.

“Sorry,” Remus rubs a hand down his face, “What?” 

He sounds dazed, even to himself. The truth is he can hear James. Has been hearing him for the past several minutes. But he hasn’t been listening. He doesn’t want to listen. Doesn’t want to hear how worried James is, or how broken Sirius looks, or what James plans to do about it. Doesn’t want to think about how bad it’s gotten.

Because Remus is already well aware of all of these things. And he knows it’s his fault.

He’s the reason Sirius doesn’t come home. The reason he drinks himself into oblivion and replaces his meals with cigarettes. He’s the reason Sirius is destroying himself.

And it’s causing James to fall apart, too. He’s crumbling right here in the library, opposite Remus on a wooden chair. Cracking under the weight of everyone’s mistakes and stuck in between two collapsing sides of a friendship. A friendship Remus himself can’t seem to hold onto. It's dissolving James into something smaller. Something strained.

Remus is too weak to face it. It’s right here, in the tired pinch of his friend’s eyes and in the slump of his shoulders. In the way his leg anxiously bounces under the table and the way he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. It’s staring Remus down in the form of James Potter, unraveling, threat by thread, right before his eyes. And Remus can’t even bring himself to reach across the table.

Because what would he even say?

Sorry I broke our best friend? Sorry I can’t stop being angry long enough to fix this? Sorry I keep making you the middleman in a war that shouldn’t even exist?

James keeps talking, voice low but urgent, listing off things Sirius said—or didn’t say. The fact that he hasn’t eaten. The way he didn’t come back last night.

Remus flinches at that, just slightly. He hadn’t meant to, but the ache in his chest tightens painfully. He keeps seeing it— yesterday , Sirius in the hallway with Regulus. Sirius losing control, falling apart in Remus’ arms, clinging to him like a lifeline.

He’s been trying not to think about it, but he can’t stop replaying it in his head. Can’t stop wondering where Sirius is now—if he’s okay, if he’s even safe. There's this constant, gnawing urge under his skin to go looking for him, even if he doesn’t know what he’d say.

Each word out of James’s mouth only makes it worse. Louder. The list of worries keeps growing, but so does the static in Remus’s mind. His thoughts are screaming now, overlapping, tangling—guilt and fear and anger all crashing together in a way that makes it hard to breathe, let alone focus.

“Remus,” James says again, quieter this time. “He’s destroying himself. And I…” he blinks fast, clears his throat. “He won’t talk to me. He won’t even get close to me.” James looks down, choking out the last words like they knock the wind out of him.

“James,” Remus breathes.

“He’s never shut me out like this…But you ,” James raises his eyes full of unshed tears to look at Remus. “He’ll listen to you.”

Remus brings a hand up to his mouth, thumb braced against one cheek, fingers curled around the other, his nose pressed into the crook of his knuckle. He stares at the table, unmoving, like the dark wood will answer the questions banging around in his brain. He knows Sirius is falling apart.

So is he.

“I’m trying James,” he says finally, barely audible.

James sighs and leans forward, reaching out and holding onto Remus’ forearm. “I know. I know you are, mate. And I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. I wish it could be me. I wish I could help him. But we both know you’re the only one who can.” James looks at him like it’s a fact—not a hope, not a plea, but something etched into the foundation of who they all are. Like the universe just works that way: Sirius falls, and Remus is the only one who can catch him. 

Remus wants to deny it. He wants to shake his head and say no , to tell James that Sirius won’t listen, that he can’t listen, not anymore. That whatever they used to be—solid and sure and inevitable—has twisted into something too sharp to hold without bleeding. 

But he doesn’t say any of that. Because deep down, he knows James is right.

Sirius won’t let James pull him back from this.

But he might let Remus .

And still, the anger flickers inside him like a dying flame, stubborn and bitter. Because Sirius did this to himself. He broke what they had and now Remus has to be the one to salvage it. He has to save Sirius from the edge.

But who’s going to save him?

“I don’t know how to talk to him,” Remus admits, voice low and shaking, “Every time I try, it just…it turns into something else. It makes everything worse.”

James nods, “I’m not asking you to forgive him. I’m not even asking you to talk to him. I can’t ask that of you. But I don’t know how much more of this he can take. How much either of you can.”

Remus looks at his friend, sad and tired in a way that he never should be, and sighs. “Yeah, I don’t know either.”

***

Remus lays in bed later that evening, bracing for another night of restless sleep. He tosses around his rumpled sheets, trying—and failing—to get comfortable. But the silence radiating from Sirius’ bed keeps him wide awake. 

The empty, motionless silence.

It taunts him. A stark reminder that something in Sirius is slipping further than Remus knows how to reach.

He plays with a loose thread on his blanket, twisting it anxiously between his fingers. He’s far too stressed to sleep, so when the door creaks open well after curfew, he hears it immediately.

Instantly, he’s on his feet.

Nervous energy runs through him as he steps off the bed and stops in the center of the room—directly across from Sirius. He stares, breath caught, as relief crashes into him in fast, jumbled waves—relief and anger and something urgent he doesn’t want to name. 

He was really starting to worry. Thought something might’ve happened—Regulus, maybe. Or worse. Maybe Sirius had done something reckless. Something dangerous.

But he’s here.

He’s okay .

Well. Mostly.

He looks wrecked. His hair is a mess, eyes bloodshot like he’s been crying. Or smoking. Or both.

As he walks into the room, Remus’ heart speeds up. It’s practically hammering out of his chest by the time Sirius gets close to him, toes mere inches apart. He smells familiar. Being near Sirius just feels like coming home. He can’t help it.

But, somehow, it also hurts.

Because Remus is still angry. It sits in his gut and simmers in his chest—low, persistent, and painful. And it’s not just for what Sirius did. But for showing up like this, looking like hell and expecting nothing, like Remus isn’t already drowning in it.

Sirius steps even closer, breath slightly labored. He doesn’t speak, but he parts his lips like he wants to before furrowing his brow and closing them again. Remus reaches out slowly, like moving too fast would shatter this moment—because for some reason, it feels too important to break. 

His fingers curl around Sirius’ wrist, drawing him in effortlessly. Remus closes the distance between them like a wave creeping up the shoreline, making sure not to damage anything in its path. When their lips finally meet, Sirius melts. He collapses into Remus like a deflating balloon, tension and sharpness seeping out of a structure that can no longer hold itself up.

Remus keeps him steady, one hand at his wrist, the other finding the back of his neck.

The kiss is soft. Softer than it’s ever been between them. No fire, no urgency, no bruising need to prove something. Just quiet contact. Like something has shifted. Something neither of them can name.

Sirius brings a hand up to cup Remus’ cheek, the other clutching at his side, like he’s afraid Remus might run away.

And Remus—of course—lets himself lean in. He presses into Sirius until they back up into his bed. Sirius responds accordingly, pulling Remus down and lowering them both onto the mattress.

They spare one second for a silencing charm before everything falls away. It’s just the two of them, moving with careful fluidity. They relax into one another, meticulous and unhurried, as if savoring the moment means they can preserve it forever.

When it’s over, they don’t speak.

Remus rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, his breath still shallow. Sirius lies beside him, close but not touching now, his hand curled into the sheets like he doesn’t know what else to do with it. He keeps shifting in place, adjusting his legs and scooching up on the pillow. He can’t seem to stay still.

Several minutes pass. Remus feels the overwhelming urge to get up and start running—like, literally bolting through the dorm—as fast as he can until he finds someplace to hide. But at the same time, he’s never felt more glued to his spot.

So he stays put. And tries not to think about anything. He focuses on the sound of Sirius breathing next to him. It’s rhythmic. Calming. That is, until it stutters, cutting itself off with a sharp inhale that makes Remus immediately dread the exhale. Sirius tips his head in Remus’ direction, parts his lips, and whispers into the darkness.

“I miss you.”

Remus closes his eyes, like if he can’t see it then maybe he can pretend he didn’t hear it either. But it reverberates through his skull nonetheless.

I miss you.

I miss you.

I miss you.

Right.

Remus swallows thickly. “I know,” he says, voice barely audible.

He blinks up at the ceiling, listening to the sound of his own heartbeat keeping a steady rhythm in his chest. It sounds kind of like a clock, marking each passing second that he lays here next to Sirius, exposed in more ways than he can name.

“I can’t forgive you,” he continues softly, “But I think…I think I want to.”

Sirius goes so still that for a moment, it feels like time steps back to make room for the silence. And then he turns, propping himself up on his elbow so his entire body is facing Remus. He takes a deep breath, looking Remus in the eye like he’s afraid of breaking something fragile.

“I know, Remus” he starts with nervous certainty, “I know you can’t. I know what I did to you, and I know how much it hurt.” Even in the darkness Remus can see his eyes shining. As he stares up at them, he’s reminded of the moon’s reflection rippling on the surface of a dark lake. 

Sirius keeps going, speaking like the words are heavier than he can afford to drop. “I know that I did the one thing that could very well break us beyond repair. I know it because I know you . I know you drink your tea with one and a half sugars, and you only get angry when you’re frightened, and you hum when you read, and you hate the smell of lilac because it reminds you of the hospital wing,” he leans closer, making Remus feel slightly dizzy, “and I know you sleep curled up tight during the full moon week, like you’re bracing yourself even in your dreams. I know that what I did made you feel like the monster you’ve always been afraid that you are. And believe it or not, I know how that feels too. Because you are not the monster, I am.” His voice cracks on the last word, pools of water welling up in his eyes. 

“So I will carry this for you,” he presses on, his words unsteady, “Because what I did that night came from a place of darkness that you would never fall into. And the truth is I wasn’t thinking about you. At that moment, on that night, I didn’t know all these things about you. I didn’t know them because they were tucked away in some safe part of my mind behind all the numbness and hatred.” He slowly, carefully, brings a hand up to brush a stray hair off of Remus’s forehead. 

“And I know that hurts too. But I have thought about you every moment since. And I can’t imagine ever forgiving someone for what I did.” He's fully crying now, refusing to be stopped by the tears attempting to choke him. “But you’ve always been a better person than me. So if you can somehow, possibly, attempt to forgive me, I promise to never hurt you again,” he finishes, the words trembling at the edges.

Remus stares at him.

At the flushed cheeks, the wet eyes, the unkempt hair. He looks like he just lost the last of whatever was holding him together.

Part of Remus wants to reach for him. To pull him in and tell him that everything is going to be okay. To say yes even if it cuts and do whatever it takes to wipe that grief-stricken look off of his face.

But another part—the louder part—still feels like he's holding cracked glass in his chest. He wants to believe Sirius, he does. He really does. But belief is dangerous. It makes you soft. It leaves you broken.

Still, when Sirius exhales like he’s emptied everything he has into that apology, Remus knows it’s real. He knows because it hurts. Because it lands . Everything Sirius just said, it makes sense. Not only that, it’s true.

Remus can’t reconcile it. Can’t make sense of how someone who knows him that intimately—who’s memorized the smallest pieces of him with years of quiet attention—could still use him like that. Could still point him toward destruction and call it nothing. 

But maybe that’s the thing: he’ll never understand. So, if he ever wants to get past this, it’s going to have to come from something deeper than understanding.

He turns onto his side and looks at Sirius—not with softness, not yet, but with something like recognition.

And then, quietly, firmly:

“Then stop destroying yourself.”

Sirius blinks.

“What?”

“The not sleeping. The skipping meals. Whatever the hell else you’ve been doing to punish yourself—it doesn’t help me. It doesn’t help you. ” He pauses, then adds, “And it’s going to kill James if he has to keep watching it.”

Sirius doesn’t say anything. He stares down at Remus, eyes skipping between his features, and winces almost imperceptibly—like it hurts to look. Sighing, he lays back against the mattress and turns his gaze to the ceiling. Remus can feel the distance widen between them. Can practically hear the chasm cracking as it grows.

Maybe neither of them can understand the other. Maybe they’re living on separate wave lengths that twist, and intertwine, and entangle themselves within one another, but will never be the same. Maybe they’re destined to live on opposite sides of a coin, so that every time it lands, someone’s left on top. And someone’s buried beneath the weight of it.

But maybe Remus is willing to lie still under the weight tonight—just this once.

He turns on his side and pulls up the blanket, face brushing against Sirius’ shoulder. He breathes in, deep and slow, and closes his eyes.

He knows Sirius was listening. That he understands. He would have already kicked Remus out of bed if he didn’t.

He relaxes more with each passing minute. Warm and comfortable in the space next to Sirius. His mind is a warzone, battling itself into exhaustion, but his body has already surrendered.

He’s almost asleep when Sirius finally moves, turning towards Remus and lowering himself so that their foreheads could touch. Remus can feel gray eyes burning into him from just inches away, but he keeps his own safely shut. Sirius swallows—Remus hears it—and speaks below a whisper, “I do know. I know what we were, and I’m sorry I couldn’t say it before.” He pauses.

“We were in love.”