To Love and Lose
Rebellion came in many forms. Defying a law, defending a homeland, saving an innocent from condemnation.
In the case of Sirius Black, rebellion came in the form of punk rock, art school, and generally being as gay as possible.
He didn’t like thinking about his family. Too much violence, hate, and loss. No one knew much about them except James and his parents. And Uncle Alphard.
Alphard was the one who gave Sirius his old leather jacket (which was entirely too large for him at the time, but that didn’t stop him from wearing it), who showed him how to pierce his ear with a safety pin and paint his nails with highlighters. As it turned out, his uncle was a member of the English punk movement in the 70s, and was thrilled when Sirius started getting into the subculture himself.
He was as a historical art collector on paper, but was actually buying pieces from museums that had been stolen from their original cultures. Then, he donated them back to the countries they belonged to in the hands of nonprofit historical societies who respected their importance. All of this was done anonymously.
He’d been doing this work for almost forty years with his inheritance, and never sought recognition once. It wasn’t why he did it.
Painting came into Sirius’ life because of Alphard. He taught him how to match colors and work with oils. Whenever he was sent away to Alphard’s as a punishment, he would teach him how to paint and encouraged his creativity.
Alphard acted stoic and cold whenever Walburga or Orion came by to ensure they believed Sirius was getting properly reprimanded during his visits, but would stick his tongue out and flipped them off whenever they weren’t looking.
Sirius adored him.
Alphard showed his true colors to his sister and brother in law when Sirius wanted to go to an art school in the States. He was supposed to attend some hoity-toity academy for business and etiquette in France as everyone in their bloodline had, but Sirius would’ve rather shave his hair off before going there.
Uncle Alphard was more than happy to pay for Sirius’ tuition in support for his passions and a proverbial middle finger up his sister’s ass.
He was also the first person Sirius came out to. He’d been terrified, convinced his loving uncle would turn him away and his only lifeline in the family would be gone. But Alphard simply shrugged at him and nonchalantly asked if he needed condoms.
Sirius had been so shocked he was convinced his uncle hadn’t heard him properly.
“Kid,” Alphard grunted, leveling at him with an unimpressed look. “it ain’t any of my business where you stick your prick, but you damn well better be wearing a rubber while you do it.”
Sirius laughed so hard he cried.
Alphard was his first introduction to rebellion, who’s lessons and beliefs shaped him in ways his parents had never been able to.
At Hogwarts, he met James and Peter. James’ parents lived nearby and were apparently absolutely lovely people who supported his dreams and happily sent him to Hogwarts. Sirius was extremely envious of him for two weeks.
Peter was the youngest of three. His parents were both in engineering and his brothers were in law. Architecture was the only interest of his that his parents thought viable enough for their son, and allowed him to enroll.
They all befriended each other at orientation, and stuck like glue since.
Remus Lupin was a different story.
Sirius first spotted the boy during dinner in the mess hall. He sat alone in a second-hand uniform, head buried in a book on sculpture. He was devouring a rather large portion of spaghetti at a speed Sirius’ mother would have found appalling. Which meant Sirius liked him immediately.
He pointed him out to James and Peter, both of who’s faces lit up in similar interest. It was as if fate had decreed it. That boy was destined to be their friend.
Remus didn’t speak to them the first day, or the next. But the three of them must’ve talked his ear off all day, following him around, asking questions and continuing on when he didn’t answer.
In hindsight, Sirius knew they’d sort of freaked Remus out in the beginning and he had been debating whether or not they were lunatics. But persistence was key with a boy like Lupin and persist they did.
James insisted on showing him card tricks, and Peter kept wrangling him into games of chess. Sirius would randomly fling himself onto Remus’ lap and jabber on about his day while the boy fumed.
Around the second week, they started getting one word responses out of him. Then phrases like ‘leave me alone’ and ‘shut up, I’m busy’. It had none of the intended effect and only encouraged them further.
By the time Halloween came around, Remus had fully given up on getting them to leave him be, and condemned himself to their friendship.
Sirius, James and Peter were thrilled. With Remus fully indoctrinated into their group, he added a wonderful element of sarcasm and dry remarks that sent them all into fits of laughter.
It took Remus as few more weeks to realize they were serious about being his friend. Once he reached that obviously conclusion, they became inseparable.
And it would continue like that for nearly four years. They gave each other nicknames inspired by inside jokes they developed over time. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs became their aliases and artist signatures in their work.
By the time their senior year rolled around, Remus was the mastermind of several notorious pranks at Hogwarts, including the famous repainting of their former headmaster’s portrait, which included several men fornicating in the background and a very realistic dildo hidden in the folds of his scholar robes. The headmaster had been homophobic and openly condemned sodomy, and retired during their first year after a nasty scandal involving a dildo, his own ass, and a poor, now-traumatized sophomore who’d entered his office without knocking.
No one noticed the new additions to the painting for two months.
The vandalism had offended the painter (who was the headmaster’s friend with the same views) and refused to repaint it. The school threw the portrait away and hung up a small photograph of him instead.
There was a whole investigation, all of the painting department had been questioned, but no one got caught.
Remus only smiled lightly whenever the story recirculated the school.
That might have been when Sirius started falling for him. His uncle’s influence of using art as rebellion had become a core belief of his, and watching Remus do the same struck feelings in him he’d never felt before.
Remus was also so kind. He handed out chocolates to nervous freshmen on their first day, giving them directions to their classes. He was always available to teach someone a lesson they didn’t understand, even stayed past school hours to tutor people. He would talk to the kitchen staff and janitors like he’d known them all his life, would have tea or hang out with them between classes.
Once, Sirius and Remus accidentally discovered one of the cleaning ladies was bringing her young daughter to work because she couldn’t afford a babysitter. Employees weren’t allowed to bring their children to campus because of disruption issues. The poor woman, Mrs. Cattermole, was terrified that Remus and Sirius would tell and get her fired. But Remus said simply smiled, sat down on the floor with the little girl, and offered to show her how to make a pinch pot. He pulled out a small ball of clay and spoke to her like she was an adult, an equal.
Sirius assured Mrs. Cattermole they wouldn’t tell anyone, and they spent their free period making pinch pots with little Claire while her mother worked. Remus even smuggled her lumpy pot into the ceramic studio to get it glazed and fired.
The look of joy on Claire’s face and gratitude on Mrs. Cattermole’s was what secured Sirius’ love for Remus. He did such kind things like it was nothing at all, because he liked making people happy. He did things he knew would get him into trouble because it was the right thing to do, if it was a pot for a young girl or getting a bigoted hypocrite’s grand memento taken off the wall. He was like a walking wonder. An avenging angel.
For four years, Sirius Black loved Remus Lupin with his whole body and soul. He kept it close to his heart and loved him quietly. It was the only thing he kept quiet—it was something precious and delicate—he couldn’t just fling it out into the world as he’d done with the rest of him. The love he harbored deserved to be handled gently and reverently.
He had been gathering the courage to tell Remus right before it all went wrong. He’d tried leaving hints, pretending to fall asleep on his shoulder during movie nights, playing footsies with him in the mess hall (he always ended up getting kicked in the shin), and generally preening around him to get his attention.
Remus remained completely, utterly oblivious.
When the anonymous admirer’s notes started getting worrisome, Sirius tried to soothe his fears, suggesting he keep the house locked and the blinds drawn. He didn’t know if there was anything else he could do to help.
He’d written to Alphard that night asking for legal advice—he couldn’t think of anyone else to turn to. He told James that the notes were getting suspicious, and they started getting James’ parents involved.
Sirius didn’t want Remus to worry, so he didn’t tell him about the Potters or his uncle, but simply relayed all of the advice and safe measures they sent.
And then the notes stopped. For that time, Sirius felt like he could breathe again.
Then it happened.
Hearing the news still unreal, like a dream he’d forgotten about. Sirius was shake awake by James. Their dorm was dark—dawn was just beginning to rise.
“Whu—?”
“Sirius, wake up.” The urgency in James’ voice scared him. Peter was next to him, eyes wide and face pale.
“What’s wrong?”
“Remus is in the hospital.” He said, his voice laced with fear. “My parents just called. He’s…he’s been attacked.”
Sirius’ entire world fell into itself, imploding down to the singularity that was Remus Lupin.
“What?” He flew out of bed. “Is he okay? What happened? Is he hurt?”
James’ eyes were filled with tears. Peter was already crying.
“James,” Sirius croaked. Fear until anything he’d ever felt was creeping up the back of his throat like bile. “is he…he is alive?”
Peter was wiping his eyes with trembling hands. James’ lip quivered.
“We don’t know.”
——
James’ parents drove them to the hospital. They’d warned him that the staff weren’t going to let them see Remus because they weren’t family, but all three boys insisted they had to try.
Sirius was the first to burst into the emergency room and accost the closest nurse he could find.
As Fleamont and Euphemia said, the nurses refused to give them any information at all.
Sirius argued with several of them, almost getting them kicked out at one point.
“He’s our best friend, we just want to know he’s bloody alive!” He bellowed after arguing for twenty minutes.
“Padfoot—“ James was holding his arm, trying to stop him.
“He’s our—he’s—he’s my Moony, you have to tell me he’s okay—“
“Padfoot—“
“Please,” he begged one nurse, his voice cracking. “please just tell me I don’t have to mourn.”
The nurse only looked at him in sincere apology. “I’m sorry, young man.” She told him gently. “The best I can tell you is that we don’t know.”
Sirius collapsed into a chair and sobbed. James, his parents, and Peter sat with him and held him. They were all crying to some degree—Fleamont and Euphemia adored Remus just as much as the rest of them—but Sirius felt like his world was ending.
Remus had stepped quietly into his life without any intention at all and become the center of his being. He was his moon, and Sirius was the star that sat next to him in the night sky. Only now, he realized that star was actually millions of light years away and not anywhere near the moon at all.
The purgatory he found himself in was what he could only imagine to be true suffering. There was agony in not knowing, of clinging into desperate hope that Remus was alive while trying to fight the fear as more time passed, as the doubts of his survival crept in.
If this suffering was agonizing, Sirius didn’t want to think about the suffering Remus was enduring.
Had endured.
Will endure?
“Sirius,” It was James, holding a cup of tea out to him. At this point, it was late into the afternoon. The evening shift had relieved the day shift, and he was already planning who to bombard with questions next. He took the tea and swigged it, wrinkling his nose. Hot leaf water, that’s all that was. Not much of his posh upbringing stuck with him, but proper tea brewing had.
“Sirius, we should go home.” James tried gently.
“No.”
“You’re exhausted and you know these nurses can’t tell you anything. Look, my parents spoke to Hogwarts. We can take tomorrow off. You need to sleep.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I know he’s alive.” Sirius said stoutly. “You can’t make me.”
James sighed.
“Remus will be okay.” Peter spoke up. He’d joined them with a couple bagels to share. Sirius wasn’t hungry. “You couldn’t name a more stubborn bastard than Moony. I’ll bet he’s arguing with every god he can think of. Or beating the shit out of the white light.”
“He’s stronger than people give him credit for,” James agreed. “Remember that time he slammed Henry McLaggen up against the wall for calling Myrtle Warren a—“
Sirius shot out of his chair. Lyall Lupin had just emerged from the hospital doors. He looked pale and exhausted. His bloodshot eyes looked blank.
He was in front of him in a heartbeat, planted firmly and unmoving.
Lyall never said much around them whenever they visited. There was a thin line of tension between him and Remus that Sirius picked up on having come from a tense household himself. They clearly didn’t see eye to eye on things, but he rarely spoke when him, James, or Peter where around.
It was awkward enough now to face Lyall on his own as the older man blinked down at him.
“Is he okay?”
Lyall just glared at him. Having been up all night and day, worried sick out of his mind, Sirius was sure the last thing he wanted was being accosted by one of his son’s friends. But he had to know. No one but Lyall could tell him.
“Please, sir—“
“He’s alive.” Lyall grunted. “Please get out of my way.”
Sirius let him pass, an answer finally satisfying him. Lyall stalked away without looking back, and Sirius fell into another chair.
“He’s alive,” he repeated to himself, holding his head in his hands. “he’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.”
——
Sirius, James, and Peter stopped by the hospital after school every day for two weeks. They didn't crossed Mr. Lupin in that time, and the nurses still refused to tell them anything about Remus’ condition.
All they knew was that he was alive.
The stress took tolls on all of their studies. It hurt to look at his paint colors when Sirius tried to work on his projects. James was having a hard time memorizing his lines. Peter was supposed to build a model bridge out of spaghetti for a weight test and it snapped on the first try.
Fleamont, Euphemia, and Peter’s parents did their best to support them. Uncle Alphard even flew into the country for a week to bully Sirius into functioning.
“Your friend can take care of himself.” He told him sternly. “You’ve got to trust him and let him heal. You worrying isn’t going to speed up his recovery.”
He took Sirius out of town that weekend to get his mind off of Remus. They painted together in the park, and bought more patches for Sirius’ jacket. He then forced him to eat a healthy dinner and made him take shower.
“You’ve got your finals coming up and colleges to impress.” Alphard reminded him. “Take care of yourself so when your friend does come back, you don’t frighten him away with the state of your hair.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” Sirius mumbled, hair freshly cleaned and damp.
“It stuck straight up in the air this morning, kid. Hair ain’t supposed to go against gravity.”
When Alphard left, he gave him a tight hug, reminded him that Remus had to be okay or they would’ve had a funeral already, and swept out the door.
——
When they did see Lyall next, it had been four weeks since the attack. Sirius, James, and Peter still visited the hospital every day, mostly hoping for a chance encounter like this.
Someone must’ve told Lyall that they were back, because he appeared through the hospital doors and walked right over to them. All three boys scrambled to stand, wondering if they were finally allowed to see him—
“My son does not want to see you.” Lyall said flatly. “He wants to be left alone, and I ask that you respect his wishes and do not come back here.”
“Sir,” Sirius started. “we’re his best friends. He has to know that we don’t care—we won’t judge him if—“
Lyall held up a hand, and his defense died in his throat.
“He does not want to see you.” He repeated forcefully. There was something akin to anger under his words, like he was trying to make them understand a deeper meaning without being rude. “Do not come back.”
With that, he went back through the doors and vanished.
Sirius stood there, stunned. He does not want to see you. Did he mean ever? Did Remus never want to see them again? Why? He couldn’t seriously believe that any of them would judge him for what happened, or be scared of any wounds he had. Sirius grew up learning how to patch up his own gashes from his parents’ belts and letter openers. Surely Remus didn’t think whatever happened to him would make him abandon him? Would make any of them abandon him?
“Maybe we should listen to him.” Peter said after a while. “Remus’ll come to us when he’s ready. We should respect that.”
“What?” Sirius snapped his head around. “No! This is ridiculous! We don’t care what he looks like! He’s our friend! He’s always done this, he always thinks he’s not good enough for us, like if he has one flaw and we’ll leave him in the dust! That’s bullshit!” He spun around and yelled at the hospital doors, as if Remus could hear him. “That’s bullshit Remus! And you know it!”
“Padfoot, calm down.” James hissed, yanking him back around.
“It’s not fair,” he snapped, wrenching his arm out of the grip. “it’s not true. I’d burn the world before I turn my back on him. I’d rather drop the match and flame up first than leave him behind. I’m not doing it, Prongs. I won’t. I can’t.”
“I know, Sirius.” James said. “We know. But what we don’t know is what Remus went through—is still going through. He didn’t say forever. He’s just not ready. He doesn’t want us to see him like that.”
“It’s bullshit.” He hissed.
“It’s not our decision.” Peter reminded him. Sirius glared between them. They weren’t getting it.
“Fine.” He said after a moment. “We’ll go.”
James and Peter visibly relaxed and turned towards the door. That was when Sirius caught sight of a couple workers carrying a tall whiteboard between them, heading towards the hospital doors.
One impulsive, rebellious decision passed his mind, and Sirius was ducking behind the whiteboard, blocking him from the nurse’s station, and slipping through the hospital doors.
“Padfoot!” James and Peter hissed after him, but it was too late.
“Fuck.” Peter cursed. James' hands flew up to his head and pulled at his hair.
——
The hospital was full of long, manilla colored corridors. Nurses and doctors moved from left to right, barely glancing at him. Sirius quickly broke off from the workers and filled a cup from the water fountain, making himself look like a visitor out for a quick drink.
He wandered around, peeking through windows and acting nonchalant. He tried listening in to some conversations, hoping one might give him a clue to Remus’ room.
He walked down another hallway, glancing into rooms as he passed. Some were empty, others were filled with people around beds. He checked a few clipboards for names.
“—394, that nasty attack a few weeks ago? He’s still on the same morphine levels, yeah?” Two nurses passed him as they spoke in low murmurs, but Sirius had heard what he needed.
He rushed towards Room 394, practically running down the corridor. Room numbers passed him in a blur, his boots thudding against the tile until—
Sirius stopped outside Room 394. The clipboard hung next to it read,
Remus John Lupin
Age 18
Multiple lacerations
Torn ligaments in (L) arm and (R) knee
Possible optical injury
Week(s) of admittance: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Sirius looked through the window, half-covered by a curtain. Lyall Lupin sat with his back to him, reading a book beside the bed. For a moment, he couldn’t tell where the white sheets ended and Remus began.
He was covered head to toe in thick bandages, like a mummy. What parts of his skin that did show were yellowish or splotchy purple. Every part of his face except his right eye was wrapped up. Greasy tufts of his lovely auburn hair stuck out under the gauze. His head was angled away from Sirius, staring out the window. His chest rose and fell shallowly. He could hear the faint, steady beeping of the heart monitor. He was hooked up to two different IVs.
Sirius watched his chest move for a moment and listened to the steady beeping, cataloging this undeniable proof that Remus was living.
He had never seen injuries like his before, not even at the hands of his parents. He couldn’t imagine what the rest of him looked like under all the pristine white dressings. It scared him. He wasn’t scared of Remus—he was scared of the man who did this to him. He was scared that one wrong move and Remus would split open again, and he would lose him for good.
Seeing him in such a state was enough to shock him straight. Sirius stepped away from the window and went back to the waiting room. He allowed James and Peter to rush him out of the hospital before any of the nurses figured out what he’d done. He hollowly agreed to respect Remus’ wishes and wait for him to contact them.
When they asked if he’d see him, Sirius told them he hadn’t.
——
Summer came without a single word. Sirius watched the trial of his attacker—Fenrir Greyback, who was wanted in several midwestern states for similar attacks. All of which had been fatal before Remus.
Hogwarts had a special callout for him at graduation even though he wasn’t in attendance. Their headmaster announced that Remus was healthy and recovering, that he was a symbol of strength and resilience against such senseless evil.
Sirius knew Remus would hate every single word of it.
He, James, and Peter all got accepted to an arts university in England. He wasn’t thrilled at the idea of moving back closer to his parents, but he did want to visit Alphard more than he had been able to in America.
Sirius also wasn’t thrilled at the idea of leaving without saying goodbye to Remus—or saying something to him. He’d called, left voicemails and a million text messages, but he never got a response. Remus didn’t come back to school and no one in town really saw him at all. The press that used to buzz around trying to get a story had left after everyone who knew Remus and his kindness refused to speak a single word to any of them.
If Remus was silent, the whole town was going to stand with him in solidarity. Mrs. Cattermole, surprisingly, even led a gang of lunch ladies and janitors to chase journalists off Hogwarts’ campus, trying to interview students about Remus’ whereabouts.
After James and Peter’s attempts to reach out also failed, they had both resigned themselves to the fact that Remus didn’t want to talk to them anymore. They, like the rest of the town, respected his wishes.
Sirius couldn’t bring himself to accept that. After everything they’d been through together, everything they’d done, it wasn’t fair for Remus to just drop them without explanation. His love still burned brightly, but it was starting to scorch Sirius from the inside out. He wanted a straight answer from Remus. Not this vague, ‘wait for him to come around’ bullshit.
He tried one last time a few days before he was supposed to fly back to England. He’d sent increasingly desperately texts to Remus’ number, begging to talk to him, that he wanted to say goodbye, that he just wanted to see him one last time, that he still wanted to be his friend even though he was moving away…
He never saw him. Lyall answered the door when Sirius visited and shouted himself hoarse trying to get him to leave. Sirius argued, demanding to see Remus, and they nearly started a fist fight.
“He’s my best friend and I don’t bloodycare even if he’s got an extra arm growing out his skull! I want to see him!”
“Get the fuck off my property! My son doesn’t want to see you ever again!”
“Let him say that to my face!” Sirius bellowed. He shouted past Lyall into the quiet house. “Say that to my fucking face, Remus!”
“He does not want to be involved with the likes of you or your friends anymore!” Lyall screamed at him. “He’s damaged and broken and doesn’t need careless boys like you around him! He doesn’t want to see you! Leave him alone and in peace! Never speak to him again!”
Sirius’ heart was shattering. The flame inside was growing like wildfire, scorching him as he worried it would, boiling his blood and driving him mad.
“I love him!” He roared. “He’s not damaged! He’s not broken! He’s perfect and whole and beautiful! I love him! I still love him!”
Lyall’s face was purple with rage, but Sirius was looking past his shoulder into the house. Surely Remus had to of heard. Surely his declaration would be enough for him to show his face?
Surely he cared about Sirius enough not to let his confession go unanswered?
No one appeared.
And finally, after months of hoping against hope, that was proof enough for him.
Sirius deflated, shrunk in on himself. He left Lyall on the porch without another word, all the fight gone out of him.
James and Peter were devastated when Sirius told them what happened. They tried to deny it, tried to explain it away, but there was nothing that could excuse the truth. They lost their fourth man, their Moony, their rock.
Remus Lupin, his first love and heartbreak, would haunt Sirius in every waking moment. Like some pale, perfect ghost, he saw pieces of him in places he’d never step foot in. He followed Sirius around in college, speaking in memories of old jokes and past antics. He haunted Sirius at his parents’ funerals some years later, and when he took the mantle of Head Black.
He haunted him during the third loss shortly after that he couldn’t bring himself to think about. A loss that was just as great and terrible as Remus had been.
So it nearly shattered Sirius’ sanity to see his ghost standing before him on a cold afternoon in New York City, covered in soot and scars and older than he’d ever known him.