Rebel Rebel

Astronomy tower, Hogwarts, March  3, 1978 

Dorcas and Marlene decided to skip dinner and hide in the Astronomy Tower. What had transpired in the common room that day was sure to have already made the rounds at Hogwarts; wizards loved good gossip, and the pseudo love triangle between Marlene and the two boys was bound to captivate the castle for days. Dorcas sat quietly as Marlene took a few swigs from a bottle of rum, a muggle drink that she had successfully snuck into her luggage at the start of the school year and saved for a great occasion. 

“I don’t understand how Muggles can drink this rubbish,” Marlene gagged before passing the bottle to Dorcas. She looked dreadful; she'd been crying for most of the afternoon.

“Well, that’s all we’ve got, Marls,” Dorcas laughed. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Has James always been such an arse?” Marlene asked suddenly, already knowing the answer. 

“James? The boy who thinks he’s Merlin on this bloody green earth? The one who spent four years mocking Snape’s greasy hair? The one who’s led on half of Hogwarts just to get Lily to notice him? It was classic Potter, really.”

“Never mind,” Marlene rolled her eyes. “Of course, you’re right.”

“He should’ve known better. He should’ve never shagged you in the first place,” Dorcas said, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve never been able to refuse him…”

“Dorcas…” Marlene pleaded as her friend scolded her.

“I don’t think I can ever go back to the common room again,” She added dramatically, earning an eye roll from Dorcas.

“Don’t be so dramatic. You’re starting to sound like Mary.”

“It’s true! Everything’s blown up in my face, just as you predicted,” Marlene said, on edge. “I know what you’re going to say—I told you so!”

“First of all, I’m not enjoying being right. Second, you’re not to blame for everything; it takes two—or, in your case, three—to tango.”

Before Marlene could respond, footsteps echoed up the staircase. She turned, her heart sinking slightly, expecting one of the Head boys or girls on patrol—but instead, one familiar figure appeared at the top of the stairs, as if summoned: Mary Macdonald, looking concerned.

“Oh, Merlin,” Marlene gasped, looking horrified. “Mary… Have you seen Lily? She must hate me.”

Mary gave her a sympathetic look before walking over and sitting beside her. “If I’m being honest, I’m not sure how you’re going to explain it to her. Maybe just say, ‘Oops, sorry, I shagged your enemy turned not-so-secret crush.’ That should do the trick.”

Marlene blinked at her, and despite herself, a small laugh bubbled up. “You’re mad. To be perfectly clear, James and I slept together when Lily still hated him. I haven’t even looked at the bloke since she’s been off on late-night patrols with him.”

“I do wonder what they’re getting up to on those patrols,” Mary mused. “She always comes back giggling…” She tilted her head thoughtfully, then added, “I won’t ask about Sirius Black… that’s fairly obvious.”

“What do you mean?” Marlene asked, a bit affronted.

“Come on, you two have been bickering like cat and dog since first year. It was always there,” Mary said with a smirk, her eyes gleaming as if recalling an image. “And, let’s be honest—both Sirius and James are ridiculously fit. Sirius with his whole ‘my-parents-disowned-me’ routine, and James with his Quidditch arms…” She fanned herself dramatically.

Dorcas laughed. “Well, don’t let me stop you, Mary. Tell us how you really feel.”

After a quiet moment of laughter, Mary turned back to Marlene. “But seriously—why did you tell me? I would’ve listened.”

Marlene sighed. “I—I don’t know. I only told Dorcas because it was such a mess, and I didn’t know what to do,” she whispered. “I thought it would just… go away if I ignored it, buried it. Clearly, James had other plans.”

 “He should’ve had the decency to keep his gob shut,” Dorcas muttered, shaking her head in exasperation.

“You do realise you’re going to have to talk to Lily about it, right?” Mary said quietly after a moment of silence. 

Marlene sighed. “Since when did you become the voice of reason, Mary Macdonald?”

Mary raised an eyebrow, her expression turning sly. “Oh, me? I’m just filling in until Lily clocks in again. Then I’ll be back to peddling gossip, don’t worry” she said with a wink, leaning back as if she were preparing to sit back and watch the drama unfold.

Marlene’s shoulders sagged as she let out a long breath. “It’s such a mess. Why do I seem to have a knack for making bad decisions?” she muttered. 

“Or for terrible men,” Dorcas interjected, raising an eyebrow at the thought.

Mary shot her a quick glance before turning back to Marlene with a knowing smile. “You’re not the only one. Remember when I got bangs in fifth year? Now that was a terrible decision.”

At the mention of Mary’s ill-fated curly bangs, the three of them erupted into laughter, the sound ringing out in the quiet of the Astronomy Tower. 

**

Professor Mcgonagall droned on about how the N.E.W.T.S were fast approaching, the words blending into a monotonous hum. Peter was being… well, Peter. Leaning lazily over the edge of his desk, Peter was clearly not concerned about the class, completely oblivious to the fact that they were supposed to be working. Peter was always extra chatty with him, more than any of the Marauders.  

“So, Prongs” Peter said, his voice dripping with feigned innocence, “are we going to talk about how you and Sirius both shagged Marlene?”

“Pete, don’t,” James sighed, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration, his voice low enough to avoid attracting the professor’s attention.

“I don’t get it,” Peter continued, unfazed. “I’ve got a thing for Marlene, alright? I’ve tried to deny it, I know but—well, she’s fit as a fiddle, the best-looking girl in our year,” Peter said with a cheeky grin, raising an eyebrow. “But you’ve been secretly shagging Marlene. The same Marlene you used to call your sister, by the way.” He paused, clearly torn between teasing and something deeper, then added, “Guess I’m a little jealous, if I’m honest.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” James grimaced, making a face as if he’d just bitten into something foul, trying to block out Peter’s voice. He just wanted to focus, to get through this class without thinking about the mess his life had become.

“Right. And you’re in love with Lily Evans. Supposedly. Who’s dating Marlene’s brother, by the way. Meanwhile, Marlene’s got her eye on Sirius, who’s—let’s face it—completely daft when it comes to knowing what he actually wants. He couldn’t catch a Snitch if it flew into his pocket. Which we both know Marls deserves better than that…”

James muttered something under his breath, but Peter was too wrapped up in his rambling to notice. His gaze flicked over to Sirius, who was sitting a few desks away, staring back at them. The tension between them was palpable, and Sirius’s eyes flashed with guilt before he quickly looked away.

James groaned, rubbing his temples, trying to block out the noise of the class and focus on anything but the chaos of his thoughts. The constant jabbering from Peter was doing nothing to help, only making the knot in his stomach tighten.

“I suppose the big question is where does that leave Remus?” Peter pressed, his voice unbothered by the fact they were in class. “Moony won’t tell us anything, but we all know he’s probably… what? Gay?” Peter shrugged, as if it were just another fact of life.

James sighed inwardly, feeling the weight of everything else pressing on him. He definitely did not have the energy to speculate about Remus’ sexuality, although ever a mystery.

Peter finally glanced at James, noticing the defeated look in his eyes. “You alright, mate? You know I’ve got your back, yeah?”

James didn’t answer right away. He just stared at his untouched parchment, lost in the web of confusion, frustration, and tangled emotions. He didn’t know how to untangle any of it. 

**

Marlene stood near the window of her dormitory, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She had been waiting for what felt like forever, pacing in anxious circles as the quiet pressed in around her. The dormitory was still, bathed in the faint glow of the castle lights outside, and every creak of the floorboard made her flinch. Dorcas and Mary had given her the heads-up—Lily would be back from patrol soon. And this conversation, as much as she dreaded it, had to happen.

Finally, she heard the familiar creak of the door.

Lily stepped inside, looking slightly disheveled from the long day. She didn’t notice Marlene at first, too lost in thought as she dropped her bag on the bed and rummaged through it for something.

Marlene took a deep breath, steadying herself.

“Lily,” she said, voice low but clear, breaking the silence like a crack of thunder.

Lily froze. Her shoulders tensed, and she turned slowly, one brow arching in surprise. “Marlene? What are you doing here?”

Marlene stepped forward, her heart pounding hard enough to hear. “Please. Just—listen to me.”

Lily hesitated. For a moment, she looked toward the door, like she was weighing the option of escape. But then she sighed, running a hand through her hair. Her green eyes narrowed slightly. “Fine. But I’m not sure what there’s left to say.”

Marlene winced but didn’t retreat. “I’m sorry. I never meant for it to get like this.”

Lily blinked, confusion flickering across her face. “Sorry? For what exactly?”

Marlene bit her lip. “I know whatever happened with James has made everything... weird. And I hate it. I hate that it’s made things tense between us. But you have to believe me—there’s nothing going on between me and him. Not in the way you think.”

Lily’s eyes darkened with something between disbelief and hurt. “Oh, right. So what he said in the common room? That didn’t happen? The way he was looking at you—dancing with you the other day? That was just… nothing?”

Her voice dropped at the end, almost like it hurt to say it.

Marlene hesitated, that familiar tight knot forming in her chest.

She loved her friends—Lily, Dorcas, and Mary. The Gryffindor girls. Their laughter-filled nights, the whispered gossip beneath enchanted candlelight, the fierce way they defended each other when the world outside their dorm walls turned cold.

But it hadn’t always been this way. There had been a time when she and Lily barely spoke—when Lily had been attached at the hip to Snape, and Marlene had dismissed her as too serious, too stubborn. Mary had been caught in the middle of it all back then, always trying to smooth the edges between them.

Now, they had something real. Or they did—until this.

Marlene finally spoke, softer this time. “Lily, it wasn’t like that. James and I... whatever it was—it was casual. Stupid. It was months ago. And it didn’t mean anything.”

But even as the words left her mouth, she felt the weight of them. A lie. A white lie. Because the truth was messier than that.

She had loved James since they were kids. Tried to push it down, to ignore the way he lit up every room, the way he made everyone feel like the center of the universe—even her. He was all grins and reckless charm, a labrador retriever in human form: loyal, loud, annoyingly persistent. And so easy to love.

So she buried it—because burying things was something Marlene McKinnon knew how to do.

But they’d grown up. The lines between friendship and something more had blurred, and suddenly she wasn’t just his shadow, he saw her. Really saw her. And before she knew it, they weren’t just sharing Quidditch tactics—they were sharing beds.

And she regretted it. Merlin, did she regret it.  Not because it hadn’t meant something, but because it had. But not enough. Not the right kind of something. Not something that could ever justify standing in the way of this…of Lily, now looking at her with wounded green eyes and a heart full of questions.

Lily’s jaw clenched slightly. “But the way he acts around you sometimes—”

Marlene let out a short, humourless laugh. “Trust me. He’s not interested in me. Not like that. He’s a prat with a big mouth and an even bigger ego, yeah—but he doesn’t fancy me. I swear on everything.”

Lily’s gaze softened, though doubt still lingered around the edges. “I don’t know, Marlene. It just seems so... complicated.”

Marlene’s voice dropped, quieter, more vulnerable. “Listen... I know we’ve never been the closest. Not always. But you matter to me, Lils. A whole lot. I’d be lucky to call you my sister-in-law someday. But I can’t keep quiet about this.”

Lily blinked, visibly thrown by the shift in tone. “What do you mean?”

“You,” Marlene said gently. “You care about James. More than you want to admit. And I know it’s terrifying. I know it eats at you. But you’ve got to stop lying to yourself.”

Lily looked away, her arms folding protectively across her chest. “I don’t care about him like that,” she muttered. But the words rang hollow.

“You do,” Marlene pressed. “And it’s okay to admit it. Really. I know what it’s like to be tangled up in something messy. But pretending? It just hurts everyone. And you can’t string my brother along because you’re scared.”

Lily turned sharply. “You’ve twisted everything.”

“Have I?” Marlene asked quietly.

Silence fell between them.

Lily’s gaze dropped to the floor. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I... I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all of this.”

Marlene didn’t answer. She simply stepped forward, and without asking, pulled Lily into a hug.

Lily didn’t resist.

**

Later that night, Lily found him hesitating at the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower, his shoulders stiff, his hand frozen mid-reach toward the portrait. Her stomach dropped when their eyes met, his expression a mixture of guilt and uncertainty. Another person he had let down.

“Forgot the password?” she asked, her tone light but her eyes sharp, searching his face for answers he didn’t seem ready to give.

James shrugged, his attempt at nonchalance betrayed by the tension in his posture. “Just wondering if I should go in or pitch a tent out here for the next few weeks,” he said. After a pause, he added, more softly, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Lily folded her arms, tilting her head as she studied him. “Tell me, James,” she said slowly. “I’m confused. Did you even really fancy me? All these years?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “I fancied you. I’ve always fancied you,” he said simply, his voice steady but tinged with something raw. “But you made it clear you weren’t interested, and… well, Marlene and I—” He broke off, raking a hand through his perpetually messy hair. “We were both lonely.”

Her expression shifted, the vulnerability behind her question briefly exposed before she pushed it back down. “Was that all it was?” she asked quietly, then shook her head, correcting herself. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter,” she added with a shrug, though the words rang hollow.

They both knew it wasn’t true.

Since the holiday break, something between them had shifted. It lingered in the way their conversations seemed heavier, the way their eyes locked too often, the way silence between them wasn’t simple anymore. It was unspoken but impossible to ignore, even during their patrols.

James sighed, the weight of his regret clear in his expression. “Listen. I really messed up, Evans. You have no idea how much,” he admitted, his voice low and heavy with sincerity.

Lily hesitated, her arms falling to her sides as she searched his face. Whatever she was looking for, she seemed to find it. “Do you want to go somewhere else?” she asked, her concern breaking through.

James nodded, caught off guard by her offer, but grateful.

They snuck into the Hogwarts kitchen—her idea. It had been a place of quiet rebellion once, back when she and Severus would sneak down in the middle of the night. She didn’t tell James that.

The house-elves gave them disapproving looks but didn’t stop them. James retrieved a tub of ice cream from the freezer while Lily rummaged through the drawers for spoons. The clinking of silverware echoed in the silence until she found what she was looking for.

They settled on the cold stone floor, the tub of vanilla ice cream between them.

“Well, tell me what it is,” Lily urged, her tone impatient. “Come on, spit it out.”

James hesitated, staring at the spoon in his hand. “Months ago, I told Sirius to stay away from Marlene. I made him promise,” he confessed, his voice low. The shame in his tone was unmistakable. “I thought I was helping, but… I didn’t want them together. I convinced Sirius it was for everyone’s good.”

“Oh, Potter,” Lily sighed, shaking her head.

“I had to keep them apart,” he said defensively, though his voice wavered.

“Why?” she challenged, her expression skeptical.

James hesitated, struggling to justify himself. “Because they’d destroy each other!” he exclaimed finally, his frustration bubbling over. “They could never work. That's why I got so angry in the common room. I was protecting them—”

“Rubbish,” Lily interrupted sharply. “That’s not the real reason, and we both know it.”

James stared at her, stunned into silence.

“You know what I think?” she continued, her voice calm but unyielding. “I think you were scared. Scared they’d leave you behind. That’s why you told Sirius to stay away and why you revealed you and Marlene’s secret. You couldn’t handle not being at the center of it all.”

James opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out.

“But here’s the thing, James,” she said, leaning closer. “Sirius and Marlene are their own people. By trying to keep them apart, all you’ve done is hurt them. You might think you were saving them from a disaster, but it’s not your choice to make.”

“And if they get back together and break up?” James asked quietly after a long silence. “I can’t choose between them.”

“If they’re really your friends, they won’t ask you to.”

“And if they don’t need me anymore?” His voice faltered, the vulnerability cutting through his usual bravado.

“Stop being so thick!” Lily snapped. “They love you, James. Marlene adores you, and Sirius—he was willing to set aside everything for you.”

James pressed his palms against his eyes, exhaling shakily. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted.

“You do,” Lily replied firmly. “You need to tell them the truth—both of them. It’s the only way.”

James nodded faintly, lost in thought. After a moment, Lily spoke again.

“You know,” she said, her voice softer now, “I never told you, but I saw Severus during the holiday break.”

James tensed but said nothing, waiting.

“He looked the same,” she continued, her tone even. “He tried to apologize again, asked if I’d talked to Mary. I let him speak, but I walked away. After all this time, he still makes excuses. He can’t see it’s not just about the word. It’s everything.”

“Did you want to forgive him?” James asked cautiously.

Lily hesitated, staring at the tub of ice cream. “Part of me always will,” she admitted. “He’s my oldest friend. But it’s not enough. He blames everyone else—you, Sirius, Mulciber. Even if you were awful, James, he still said it. And he’s still friends with the people who torment Mary.”

“So, ‘mea culpa’? That’ll do it?” James asked.

“No,” Lily said firmly. “It has to be real. And it has to come with change. No quick fixes.”

“You know, Evans, you don’t have to forgive him, even if he says all the right things. You don’t owe anyone forgiveness” 

“I know that now, Potter,” she said, her voice steady. “You know you’re smarter than you look,” she added with a grin. 

James snorted, taking a spoon of ice cream in his mouth.  For the first time in days—days that had felt like being caught in the middle of a tornado—her words brought him a surprising, grounding calm. It settled over him gently, like the first quiet after a storm. 

And if this—sharing ice cream, trading secrets, sitting side by side—was all he’d ever get, if friendship was the only piece of her he was allowed to have, then he could live with that. Despite the restless yearning that stirred just beneath the surface, always there when she smiled at him like that, friendship was enough. Because having her in his life, in any way at all, was everything.

**

The Great Hall was unusually subdued that afternoon, at least at the Gryffindor table. The clatter of cutlery and low chatter filled the space, but something was missing — or rather, two someones. James and Sirius’s usual spots sat empty.

Remus pushed mashed potatoes around his plate, appetite nowhere to be found, the smell of roast chicken and treacle tart doing little to change that. He had a book open next to his lunch, more for the sake of appearing occupied than anything else.

“Hey,” Peter said, sliding into the seat across from him with a tray full of food. He dropped it onto the table with a clatter and flopped down gracelessly. The bench creaked in protest.

Remus didn’t look up immediately. He marked his page — pointlessly — then met Peter’s eyes. “Alright?”

Peter let out a sigh like the question was too big. “Not really.”

Remus hummed but didn’t press. If Peter was talking to him , he must’ve already run out of other options.

After a moment, Peter stabbed a roast potato and said, “James is still being weird.”

Remus glanced up. “Still?”

Peter huffed. “Yeah. I tried to talk to him earlier and he was just… gone. Didn't say much. Sort of nodded and wandered off.”

Remus leaned back slightly, arms crossed. “He’s mad. At Sirius, mostly. Himself, too. Probably Marlene, while he’s at it.”

“Yeah, well,” Peter muttered, chewing on a bit of bread, “who isn’t mad at Sirius right now?”

Remus arched an eyebrow. “You say that like you aren’t.”

Peter gave a quick shrug, trying to play it casual. “I’m just saying. He sort of brings it on himself.”

Remus’s tone stayed mild. “You’re not exactly neutral in all this either, Pete.”

Peter looked up, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Remus toyed with his fork. “You like to stir things up.”

Peter flushed slightly, shifting uncomfortably. “That’s not fair.”

There was a pause — not sharp, but heavy enough.

A pause stretched between them — not uncomfortable, but not exactly easy either.

“All this over Marlene McKinnon,” Remus said, more to himself than to Peter, and more tired than annoyed.

Peter huffed. “You never liked her anyway.”

Remus didn’t answer right away. No, he thought. I didn’t. 

He’d never been especially charmed by her the way the others had been — not like James, who worshiped her or Sirius, who pretended to hate her but as it turned out also secretly liked to shag her. Even Pete had clearly fallen under her spell. But Remus? He found her loud, sometimes obnoxiously so, and a little too desperate. She’d been like that even in first year — clinging to whoever had the most attention, always talking over people like silence made her nervous.

“She says whatever she thinks,” Remus muttered, trying to keep his tone neutral. “Whether anyone asked or not.”

Peter’s eyes sparkled with a hint of defensiveness. “So does Sirius. So does James, half the time.”

Remus couldn’t stop himself from giving a faint smile at that. “True. Doesn’t make it any more bearable, though.”

“She’s real,” Peter muttered, eyes on his plate. “Unlike some people.”

The “you” was of course silent. He sometimes forgot that Peter had known Marlene for maybe as long as James although they were not as close. The Pettigrew’s just lived down the road from the Potter’s cottage in Godric’s Hollow. 

Remus didn’t rise to it. He just let the words hang, studied Peter for a moment, then said softly, “You’ve got it bad.”

Peter’s jaw shifted, like he wanted to deny it, but knew he couldn’t. “She’s brilliant,” he said instead.

“She’s not interested,” Remus said gently. “She’s already had Sirius. James, too. She likes the chaos. You… you don’t give her that.”

Peter glanced down at his plate, and for a moment, Remus wondered if he’d overstepped. But then Peter’s face tightened in something almost like frustration.

“So I’m invisible, then,” Peter muttered, his voice small but raw.

Remus didn’t deny it. He just gave a soft exhale and leaned back, staring at the far wall of the Great Hall, his mind a swirl of thoughts he wasn’t sure how to untangle. The Marauders weren’t just unraveling — he was unraveling too. They all were.

Remus didn’t respond immediately. His eyes flicked to the empty seats. “That’s not true,” he said quietly. He wished he could make Peter believe it. 

Another moment passed before Remus sighed again, quieter this time. “You deserve someone who sees you, Pete. Not someone who’s already looking for the next person to shine her light on.”

Peter didn’t say anything. He just looked down at his plate again, poking at his food as if it could fill the emptiness between them. 

**

The revelation in the common room had shaken Sirius, leaving him unable to think straight. He liked to believe that if they had told him, it wouldn’t have mattered. But it was the lie that enraged him—the betrayal cut deeper than he had expected. The conversation he’d had with James before the Solstice now held an entirely new meaning. 

He was looking at the relationship between the two in a different light. James and Marlene both obsessed over Quidditch, laughed at the same silly jokes, and often reading each other’s thoughts without speaking. When Whitehorne had left her in sixth year, James had threatened to break his nose. At the time, Sirius had been baffled by James’s rage. But Sirius had let it slide, just as he had brushed aside the numerous times Marlene and he had stood a bit too close for comfort or exchanged lingering glances or slow danced in front of all. He had thought he was doing the right thing by ending things, standing by his brother, while Marlene and James had likely laughed at him behind his back last semester.

Sirius was about to leave his Defense Against the Dark Arts class when James approached him, calmer than he had been in weeks. “Can we talk?”

James led him to the Quidditch field, where no team was practicing for another hour. He had checked the schedules.

“I’m sorry,” James said first.

“For what?” Sirius shot back, frustration bubbling to the surface. For punching me? Getting involved with Marlene and lying about it?

“All of it. The whole mess. I was furious about the Slyntherin prank, the Marlene stuff and I just blew up.”

Sirius fell silent for a moment.

“I’m sorry too—I truly am. I don’t know how many times I have to say it. I was angry and daft.”

“...I suppose we’re both daft,” James replied, his tone subdued.

“...James, were you two involved the whole time? Was this some sort of ridiculous game you were both playing? Because if so, please leave me out of it.”

“No, we didn’t plan any of this, alright? It was far from planned, actually. Marlene and I haven’t done anything in over a year.”

“So this happened in sixth year?” Sirius pressed.

“Yeah, after her breakup with Whitehorne, we got drunk, and it just… happened.”

“So it happened once?”

“Not… not exactly,” James shifted uncomfortably, reluctant to get into the details. Truth was it had happened a couple of times, ever since fifth year in that damn cabin on the Mckinnon estate where they had lost each other's virginities.

“You told me to break things off with her… Is it because you love her?” The question lingered in the air, and Sirius tensed as the words escaped his mouth.

James lowered his gaze, lost in his own thoughts. Marlene had been by his side for as long as he could remember. She accepted him despite all his flaws. When he felt down or hopeless, her laugh and crooked teeth could brighten his day. Since their falling out, he had struggled to sleep, eat, or think clearly. There weren’t enough words to describe what Marlene meant to him. She had been  all his firsts: first friend, first kiss, and first lover. Their lives were forever intertwined.

But what he felt for Marlene was nothing like what he felt for Lily. Lily was different. From the very first moment he’d seen her, there had been something about her—something that had challenged him, pushed him in ways no one else had. She wasn’t afraid to question him, to make him think. Lily made him see the world through a different lens, and the more she spoke, the more he found himself wanting to change—not to win her affection, but because he truly wanted to be better, for himself .

“I love her,” he finally admitted. “I’ll always love her… but I don’t think I’m in love with her, Padfoot.”

Sirius sighed loudly, confusion etched across his face.

James had expected Sirius to say more. He owed him an explanation for the lies and the mess he had created. But instead, the two boys sat in silence for a moment.

“You said you fancied her… Do you still?” James asked nervously, the question lingering in the back of his mind. The two boys had always talked about everything, including girls, but he felt awkward—almost afraid.

Marlene was probably the closest thing he had to fancying a girl, Sirius taught.

“She lied to me,” Sirius said instead.

“We both did.” Guilt surged back to the forefront of James's mind. 

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?” Sirius asked, his voice tight. “I thought I was your best friend.”

James exhaled sharply. “I don’t know, Padfoot. I just... didn’t know how.” He rubbed the back of his neck, frustration and regret flickering across his face. Those nights with Marlene had been confusing, even for him. How could he explain something he hadn’t fully understood himself? Pretending it had never happened had been easier than facing whatever the hell it actually was. 

“If I’d known what a mess this would cause, I would have told you,” James admitted. “I think—I think I thought I was protecting you. Protecting Marlene. That’s all I’ve been trying to do, mate, ever since this summer.”

Sirius scoffed. “And how did that work out for you?”

James let out a humorless chuckle. “Brilliantly.”

Sirius shifted, running a hand through his hair. “...You’ve been overbearing lately, mate. Trying to control everything. Maybe that’s why I even got close to McKinnon in the first place—because she wasn’t trying to fix me. She called me out on my sulking, yeah, but she actually listened.”

He paused, jaw tightening. “My parents kicked me out, James. There is no fixing that.” His voice wavered slightly before he steadied himself. “I was a mess because of it. What else was I supposed to do? Sit around and think about how they almost killed me? I needed a distraction. I needed to prove—to them, to myself—that I didn’t need them. That I was free.” He swallowed hard. “And I guess... I never stopped acting like I had something to prove.”

James looked at him, eyes heavy with guilt. “I’m sorry for everything,” he murmured, quieter this time. "I shouldn't have told you to break up with her, I had no right"

"I'm sorry too,” Sirius shruggred.

A silence stretched between them before James pressed, “And you? Why didn’t you tell me about Marlene?”

Sirius hesitated, then shrugged. “Mate, you made it pretty clear over the years that she was off-limits. You practically told everyone in the house to steer clear of her back in fourth grade when she got tits.”

James let out a dry laugh. “I did, didn’t I?” 

**

Later that evening, Sirius found Remus in the Astronomy Tower, perched on the stone ledge, a book resting in his lap. The night was cool, the stars stretched endlessly above them, and the moon—a sliver in the sky—cast a faint glow over the castle. It was quiet here, far from the common room, far from anyone else. Just them.

Sirius hesitated in the doorway, watching him. Remus always seemed at peace when he was alone like this, as if the weight he carried disappeared when he had space to breathe. But tonight, his shoulders were tense, his fingers gripping the edge of the book too tightly.

Taking a steadying breath, Sirius walked forward, his usual confidence feeling fragile. He had made up with James, and now, he was determined to fix things with Remus.

Remus looked up, his expression immediately hardening. With a sigh, he snapped the book shut. “What do you want, Sirius?”

Sirius knew Remus was still furious about his prank and the lessons he did not learn. But beneath the anger, there was something else in his gaze—frustration, concern, something Sirius had never been brave enough to name.

“I don’t know how many times I can say I’m sorry,” Sirius started, voice softer than usual.

Remus’s jaw tightened. “So, you just don’t tell me things anymore?”

Sirius winced. He knew exactly what Remus meant. The things he had kept from him—about his parents kicking him out, about him and Marlene.

“I’m… scared of disappointing you,” Sirius admitted, the words feeling too raw, too vulnerable.

Remus scoffed. “Please.”

“I am!” Sirius insisted, voice rising before he forced himself to lower it. “What you think of me, Moony—it matters.”

Remus shook his head. “None of what you do is clear, Sirius.”

Sirius stepped closer, heart pounding. “Then let me make it clear.” His voice wavered, but he didn’t stop. “When I disappoint James or Peter, I feel bad. But when I disappoint you…” He swallowed hard. “When I disappoint you, I feel like I’ll never recover.”

Remus looked away, fingers curling around the sleeve of his sweater. “You don’t think about consequences. You never do. And you don’t see how that affects people. How it affects me.”

Sirius let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “You think I don’t regret what happened? With Marlene? With James? With Snape ? With you? I—I mess up, yeah, but it’s not because I don’t care.”

“Then why?” Remus asked, voice quieter now, but no less sharp.

Sirius hesitated. Then, barely above a whisper, he said, “Because I feel like I’m always running from something. And when I stop, it catches up.”

Remus replied “You think you’re the one running? That you’re the one scared of losing control?” His hands trembled slightly at his sides. “You’re not.” He looked away, voice quieter now, but no less raw. “I’m the one at your mercy, Sirius.”

Sirius froze.

“I’m the one who’s scared,” Remus continued, like every word was being dragged out of him. “I’m the one who’s always on the edge of saying something I shouldn’t. The one who’s too afraid to believe you when you say things you don’t mean.”

Sirius’s breath caught, something tight twisting in his chest. “What if I do mean it?”

Remus’s gaze snapped to his, sharp and searching. 

Sirius took a step closer. “What if I want you to lose control?”

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then, in one sharp, breathless motion, Remus grabbed Sirius by the collar and kissed him.

It was desperate, fierce—Sirius barely had time to react before he was kissing back, his hands tangling in Remus’s hair, pulling him closer, closer. There was no hesitation now, no second-guessing. Just the press of lips, the heat between them, the feeling of finally giving in.

And in that moment, Sirius knew—nothing would ever compare. This was water, and he was a man drowning, gasping, starving for it.