34 Candles.
“We don’t talk much, but I just gotta say
I miss you
And I hope that you’re okay.”
November 3rd, 1993. – Remus’ POV.
Breakfast in the Great Hall was always a very noisy ordeal. Not as noisy as lunch or dinner, but still noisy, nonetheless. Like right now. There were hundreds of students chattering away, their dishes clashing and utensils scraping.
Remus couldn’t hear any of it.
It was so quiet. Muffled. He felt like a ghost. Was this how Professor Binns felt?
Probably not. Remus doubted that Professor Binns had a broken heart.
Remus never did enjoy birthdays. His own, especially. He hated them, in fact.
You see, birthdays were just a reminder of the worst night of Remus’ life. Or it was the worst night of his life. Before Halloween, 1981.
It shouldn’t have happened. Remus was supposed to wake up and open his birthday presents, he was supposed to have chocolate cake for breakfast. It was his fifth birthday.
Instead of that, he got a werewolf bite and shunned by his father. Not just for the day, either. For his whole life. Birthdays reminded him of that. Maybe he was bitter, but it felt justified. Didn’t he earn the right to be bitter?
Things changed when he was at Hogwarts. His friends celebrated so loudly, so lovingly. If it was your birthday, you were the only person that mattered – Sirius Black, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew made sure of it.
It could be embarrassing – most of the time, it was. But it was special. Remus liked feeling special.
Birthdays no longer felt special. Not since... he went away.
He ruined a lot of things for Remus. November 3rd being one of them.
Oh, he used to love November 3rd. Who wouldn’t? It was his day. A day to celebrate him and only him. And Sirius Black was someone who deserved to be celebrated.
He basked in the attention. He soaked up all of the love. He took advantage of his birthday privilege.
“I can’t do the homework today, Professor. It’s my birthday, which means I won’t be doing anything but celebrating. You understand, don’t you?”
It shouldn’t have worked. It should never have worked. But it did. His charm was a talent. A weapon he knew how to wield so expertly that many fell victim to. Even Remus. Especially Remus.
So yes. Remus hated this day. It brought back too many memories. All good memories that turned sour, that left a bitter taste in Remus’ mouth.
As he stared down at the breakfast that he knew he would not eat, one specific memory came to mind that had him struggling to hold in a grief-ridden sob. It was their sixth year. James and Peter had long fallen asleep, leaving Remus and Sirius to their alone time.
“Moony?” Sirius asked, head resting against Remus’ shoulder. His fingers were gliding up and down Remus’ bare chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Remus hummed in reply. “I had a good day.”
Remus smiled, running his fingers through Sirius’ hair. “Yeah? Good. You should always have a good birthday.”
“It wouldn’t have been good without you.”
“Yeah it would. James wouldn’t allow anything else.”
Sirius snorted. “You’re right. But I’m glad you’re here anyway.”
“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Remus replied softly. “I love you.”
Sirius looked up at him, fingers pausing on his chest. “I love you, too,” Sirius told him, pulling Remus into a sweet kiss. When he pulled back, he looked directly into Remus’ eyes and just stared. “I love you so much that sometimes, I can hardly stand to look at you.”
Remus laughed, kissing his boyfriend once more. “I know the feeling. Do you know how beautiful you are?”
“Of course I do–” he began sarcastically, but Remus cut him off with a sharp jerk of his head.
“No. No, you don’t,” Remus told him decisively. “Let me tell you what I see.”
“Tell me,” Sirius whispered.
“I see your heart. Your big heart that you try so hard to protect. I see your eyes, your eyes that look at me with so much love. I see the wrinkle you get between your eyebrows when you have no idea what I’m talking about but you’re trying to understand anyway,” Remus paused to brush his fingers over the bridge of Sirius’ nose. “I see the dusting of barely-there freckles that only really come out when the sun is at its brightest. The scars that prove that you’re a fighter. A survivor. The chip in your tooth from when you face-planted in the passageway to Honeydukes last year. I see–”
“Shh,” Sirius hushed, a flaming coat of red over his cheeks.
“–the blush that you always deny. Because ‘Sirius Black does not blush’. But he does. You do. You’re doing it right now. You’re so beautiful, Pads. Beautiful like the sky,” Remus said, so in love that it was pathetic.
“Like the sky?” Sirius asked, equally in love.
“Like the sky,” Remus confirmed.
“Please be mine forever,” Sirius whispered.
“You asking me to marry you, sweetheart?” Remus teased.
“One day,” Sirius promised. Remus’ gasp caught in his throat. Sirius wanted to marry him? “One day when we’re old and ugly, we’ll get married. The world will allow it. They’ll just have to.”
“Yeah?” Remus asked. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
“I’d like that,” Remus sighed wistfully. “I’d like that a lot.”
“Me too,” said Sirius, resting his head back on Remus’ shoulder. He pressed a loving kiss to his collarbone. “You’re beautiful, too, Moony. Always have been.”
Remus sighed, so content that it could kill him. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
Tears brimmed Remus’ eyes. His breakfast now looked very blurry. It didn’t even matter. Nothing really did anymore.
But no. That wasn’t true.
Harry. James. Lily.
They made him happy. They mattered.
“Are you alright, Mr Lupin?” a voice to his left asked gently. It was Professor McGonagall.
Remus just looked at her, sniffling wetly before clearing his throat. “I’ll be fine,” he told her shakily. He didn’t know if it was a lie. It probably was. He would never be fine with this. Never.
“I understand that today is especially hard for you,” McGonagall said quietly. “I would like you to know, Remus, that my door is always open should you need to talk to someone.”
Remus tried his best to smile at her. It didn’t feel right on his face. “I appreciate it, Professor, but I don’t know if I can.”
“Would you like to try?” she asked, and. And.
“Yes. I think I would,” he told her honestly. It made her smile.
She took his hand in hers and cradled it like a mother would. Remus missed his mother so much. He was glad to have someone like Minerva McGonagall by his side – someone who was firm but knew when to be gentle. “I will arrange for dinner to be served in my office this evening so we can talk comfortably. How does that sound?”
“Good. It sounds good,” Remus answered. “Thank you. For all that you’ve done for me, thank you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
“You repay me every time I see you smile, Mr Lupin.”
“Oh,” he choked out. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything,” she told him, so very wise.
Their conversation came to a close when an owl swooped down and dropped a letter in front of him. The curve of Remus’ name on the envelope told him it was from Lily.
Remus,
I’m thinking of you today.
James isn’t doing very well. He never does when this day comes around. I can’t get him out of bed, Remus. He just keeps crying and falling back to sleep. The nightmares keep waking him up. I don’t know what to do.
I hope you’re doing okay. I could send you some of the biscuits I plan on making today? How does that sound?
I love you so much.
Yours,
Lily.
Oh, James. Poor fucking James.
James did not deserve to feel so defeated. He was too good for that. Too kind, too warm, too loving. James deserved nothing less than happiness and only happiness.
Remus’ heart ached for the best friend that he could not be there for.
Or rather, he could. Physically. But he couldn’t find the courage. Remus was a coward. Plain as day, he was a coward. He knew it, and he hated himself for it.
“Sir?” That was Harry. Oh, Harry, he thought. I’m so sorry.
Remus looked up there he was. Harry Potter, his beautiful, bright nephew. For the first time that morning, Remus smiled genuinely.
Taking a shaky breath, Remus greeted the miniature version of his best friend. “Good morning, Harry. What can I do for you?”
“Oh, I just–” Harry paused. “Hello, Professor McGonagall.” She nodded at him in way of greeting, a minuscule smile teasing her lips as she watched the two interact. “I was wondering if we could speak? In private,” he winced, eyes darting to McGonagall and right back to Remus again.
“Of course we can, kiddo. Would you like to meet me in my classroom in, shall we say – 30 minutes? I have a few things to take care of, and then you will have my full attention.”
“Perfect, I’ll meet you there. Thank you loads,” said Harry, unconsciously pulling at his fingers. He seemed very nervous about something, and Remus wanted nothing more than to set his own issues aside to soothe Harry.
“No, thank you, Harry. I’ll see you soon,” Remus told him, and with a final smile and a wave to McGonagall, Harry went back to his friends to finish his meal.
“You’re very fond of him,” McGonagall said like it was a fact. It was.
“I am,” Remus grinned shyly.
“He is fond of you, too. You’re his favourite professor,” she said. And Remus knew that already, he did, but hearing it from someone else – McGonagall of all people, who was only stating what she knew from observation – made his heart soar.
“Yes,” he agreed. “I am, aren’t I?”
McGonagall hummed happily, taking a sip from her teacup. “There’s that smile. It’s lovely to see that Harry can lure it out of you.”
Remus looked down, hiding that very same smile. “He’s like his dad in that regard. All he needs to do is be here to make me smile. I can’t even help it.”
“It’s nice to see you with Harry. It brings me back to when you were a child. So mischievous.”
Remus laughed at that. A real laugh. He would forever be grateful for Minerva McGonagall.
***
Remus made it to his classroom only seconds before Harry did. He hadn’t even taken a seat before Harry strolled through the door, looking as anxious as ever.
“Come on in, Harry,” he said, smiling sincerely. “Would you like a drink?”
“No thank you, Professor Lupin,” Harry replied, sitting down at the table closest to the front of the room. Instead of sitting behind his desk, Remus leaned back against the front of it, his arms folded comfortably but his expression open.
“Is everything okay, Harry? You seem a little on edge.”
Harry kept messing with his fingers, silently at war with himself. Remus couldn’t take it any longer, so he took off his wristwatch and transfigured it into a stretchy rubber ball for Harry to fidget with. “Here,” he handed the ball to Harry. “If you squeeze or stretch this while we talk, it will help to regulate your thoughts.”
Harry let out a little breath and squeezed the ball. “Thank you,” he said to Remus, looking up at him with a slight smile. “I didn’t know who else to talk to about this. Ron and Hermione... well, I would trust them with my life, but – well, I guess I know for sure you won’t judge me. Hate me. I don’t know. I don’t think they’d think of me any differently, but what if they do, you know?”
Harry looked at him with those big green eyes of his and Remus melted. He had no idea what Harry was talking about, but whatever it was – Remus would do whatever it took to help him.
“Yes, I think I understand. You care about their opinions so much that you need someone else’s opinion too, that way you can grasp an understanding before you speak to them?” Remus asked, trying and probably failing to sound wise.
Harry nodded slowly. “Yes, I think so,” he said. “I care about your opinion, too. I don’t want you to hate me, either.”
Remus could cry. Harry looked so scared. “Not possible. I could never hate you,” Remus said firmly.
“You might after this...”
“Try me,” Remus challenged easily. Harry could Crucio Remus in the middle of the Great Hall and Remus would probably think he deserved it. Never could he hate Harry Potter. Never.
“I just– do you think– it’s just–”
“Harry,” Remus cut in. “Breathe. Whatever you say in this room will stay in this room. You have my word,” Harry nodded, taking a deep breath in and closing his fist tightly around the stress ball. “Now, I want you to know that it is okay if you’ve changed your mind. If you’re not ready to talk about whatever this is, I’m free for you whenever you want. Are you sure you’re ready?”
“I’m ready,” Harry stuttered out. “It’s just...” Another pause. Remus gave him the time he needed. “Do you think I’m gay?” Harry blurted.
Remus’ eyes widened. He was not prepared for that. Blinking, Remus responded calmly: “I don’t know. Is that what you think?”
Harrys eyes were wide and frightened, but he – so courageously – met Remus’ gaze once more. “I– maybe?”
“Okay,” Remus nodded, smiling to express that it was okay. Of course it was okay. “And how do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know. The same as I did before, I guess... I’ve just never considered it. I feel a bit like an idiot, to be honest,” Harry said quietly, baring himself wholly to Remus who understood more than Harry would ever know.
He softened completely. “You’re not an idiot. Not at all, okay? If I can promise you anything; it’s that. It’s normal to feel frightened by things like this. These things tend to spring upon us out of nowhere, don’t they?”
“Do they?”
“Not for all of us, but for a lot of us; yes, they do.”
“And when you say ‘us’...” Harry trailed off, a question that Remus had been expecting. He made it obvious, because Harry needed to know truly that he was not alone.
Remus chuckled, tension leaking from his body as he watched the restless energy dissolve from Harry as he relaxed. “People like you. People like me.”
“You?” Harry asked, not looking very surprised after the initial shock. It made Remus laugh again.
“Yes, me. I didn’t know until my third year, just like you, but the first time I... had a crush,” he coughed, embarrassed all of a sudden, “on a boy, I was in my second year. I didn’t understand that it was a crush. I just thought that this person and I were really good friends, but well.”
“So... do my mum and dad know?”
“They do,” Remus confirmed. “They knew before I did, apparently.”
“And they were okay with it?” Harry asked, nibbling on his bottom lip nervously.
Remus gave him a closed lip smile and nodded. “Yes, Harry. Of course they were. You have nothing to worry about in that regard.”
Harry instantly deflated, letting go of the transfigured ball completely. “Okay. Okay, that’s good,” he said on an exhale. “Gods, I was so scared.”
“It’s okay to be scared, kiddo. If you ever need someone to talk to about this – about anything – I will always be a willing ear.”
“Thank you,” Harry said, looking worried all over again. “I think Ron is going to hate me,” he whispered, sounding so sad that Remus’ heart felt like it was being pierced by a scalding hot poker.
“Now why would you say that?” Remus asked. He felt fury rise within him at the idea that Harrys own best friend could hate him for being true to himself. Hopefully Harry was wrong, but with a subject as delicate as this one, you never know.
“It’s not... the gay thing. It's the person,” Harry told him warily, like he didn’t want Remus to ask about who it was. He wouldn’t. That wouldn’t help right now.
“Oh?” was all he said, prompting Harry to go on.
“He– well, truthfully, Ron and him; they don’t get along. I haven’t even told Ron and Hermione that I’m friends with him,” Harry said, flustered. “I just don’t want to lose Ron. He’s my best mate. I think Hermione would understand if I explained it to her, but I don’t think Ron would allow me to even do that. And I can’t even blame him! If it were the other way around, I’d be furious!”
“Let me ask you one thing, Harry,” Remus said. “This boy, is he important to you?”
“Yeah,” Harry replied shyly. “He’s become really important.”
“Then that’s all that Ron needs to know,” Remus told him simply. “He’s your friend. I feel certain that if you’re happy, he’ll be happy. Maybe it will take some time for him to come around – truthfully, it almost certainly will – but that’s okay. He will understand eventually.”
“He will?” Harry asked hopefully.
“I can’t tell you for sure, but I believe that he will.”
Harry stayed silent for a few moments, and Remus gave him that time to process everything that they had talked about. It’s a big thing, realising this about yourself.
He grinned shyly at Remus. “Thank you, Professor.”
Ouch, Remus thought. Professor. Professor, professor, professor. Now, but not for much longer.
“What for?”
“You’re always very kind to me. I don’t know why.”
“Oh, Harry,” Remus sighed fondly. “You’re very special. You deserve to have someone that will listen whenever you need to be heard.”
***
James’ POV.
I miss you, Pads, James thought as he stared lifelessly at the dark bedroom surrounding him. I’m sorry. You’re my brother, please come home.
He couldn’t find the strength to get out of bed this morning, so he didn’t. He stayed lying down with his tears soaking into the pillow below his head, drifting in and out of restless, nightmare ridden sleep.
Lily was there with him. Lily was always there. James loved his wife more than anything, but even she could not make this better.
She knew that, but it didn’t matter. She stayed curled up beside him, whispering words of comfort into his ear and placing feather-light kisses along his hairline. She wiped away the tears that just kept falling and soothed him without complaint every time he woke up shrieking into the silence, another dream of the past surfacing, haunting him.
Come home, his mind chanted, come home and I’ll keep you safe. Your bedroom is still here. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.
Lily had wandered down to the kitchen mere minutes ago to make some hot chocolate – James' staple beverage for ‘down days’ ever since he’d known Remus – and when she appeared back in their air-conditioned, darkened bedroom, he sat up for the first time that day and tried for a grateful smile. She brought biscuits too, oh so good at taking care of him.
She shouldn’t have to, his mind supplied. You’re a grown man. Not her responsibility.
His lower lip fell into a pout and wobbled furiously as he tried to keep the tears at bay once more. Lily set the tray of biscuits and cocoa down on their bedside table, the lamp in the corner of the room supplying the only hint of light.
When she was in arms reach, he pulled her towards his body and buried his face in her stomach, letting out rattling sounds of pure grief – attempt to stop crying futile. She cradled his head and carded her fingers softly through his messy hair, eyes squeezed shut tightly in attempt to keep her own emotions at bay. James knew it was hard for her to witness him in such states of despair.
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry,” Lily said from above him, and the emotion in her voice drew out a pathetic round of sniffles from James.
“I miss him so much,” he weeped into her jumper, body wracked with heaving sobs.
“I know,” whispered Lily. “I know, love. I’m sorry, I wish I could help.”
“I just–” James lifted his head, bringing their gazes together. Lily’s eyebrows drew together in sadness at the sight of his red-rimmed eyes and tears-stained cheeks. He likely had dark bruises under his eyes as well. “He’s all alone, Lily. He must be so scared.”
And then he broke into another round of sobs, his head falling heavily into his hands.
“He’s so brave, James. He’s always been brave.”
She sat beside him then, pulling his weight to rest on her shoulder as she drew light fingertips in shapes over his back. “Why wouldn’t he come to me?” he asked helplessly. “I’ll help him. He knows that. Why?”
Lily sighed. “Sometimes even the bravest of people struggle to ask for help,” she said, her tone hushed. “He thinks we believe that he betrayed us...”
“We don’t!” James protested instantly. “We would never!”
“Of course we wouldn’t,” she soothed, “but he doesn’t know that, James. Sirius is probably scared that we hate him. He should know that we don’t, but after so long in a place like Azkaban? I’m sorry, James, I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I could never hate him. Not even if he did betray us – he didn’t – but if he did, in another life; I wouldn’t hate him. Not even then.”
“He’s your brother,” Lily told him, easy as that. And it was true. They were brothers in everything but blood, and that was enough for James.
“I want my brother back,” James cried, head falling back down to her shoulder and crying in earnest again. His heart felt like it was being throttled. There was no other way to explain it. It was just that. Pure pain and suffering and longer than a decade’s worth of a broken heart. His heart would never be the same again, not until he had his Sirius again. The missing half of his soul. “I need him. I love him so much; I just need him to be okay.”
They stayed like that for a long time. Eventually, Lily got James calm enough to have a drink and a few biscuits, but she still could not coax him out of bed.
A tap-tap-tap sound on the window broke the couple from their fragile silence. With a quick glance to James, Lily got up and opened the curtains only slightly, light flooding the room, making James wince and close his tired eyes tightly.
“Hedwig?” Came Lily’s voice from where she was opening the window. It made James look up, squinting through the harsh light.
Harry. Harry, I miss you. My son, please stop growing up. Please stay my mini-me forever.
“Is Harry alright?” James croaked as he watched Lily read the letter.
A stunning smile grew on her face, eyes lighting up like just hearing from Harry made this the best day of her life. “Yeah, he’s alright,” she chuckled. “He’s Harry.”
James smiled, true and from the heart, and for the first time that day, he felt like he was going to be okay. “Can I see?” he asked, picking up his glasses from the nightstand and fitting them to his face.
Lily handed James the letter easily and left him to read it alone. She didn’t leave the room but turned her back to him while he read it.
Hello, parents.
I just wanted to write and say that I love you.
I spent some time with Professor Lupin today – he gives good advice and he’s always very nice to me, so sometimes it’s easier to talk to him about certain things rather than Ron and Hermione.
I couldn’t help but notice that he is very sad today. You should have seen him at breakfast. He was just staring at the table, looking so far away. McGonagall seemed to be comforting him, so I think he’ll be alright. I guess I helped... maybe? I don’t know, but when I was with him, he seemed to be better. Even if it was momentarily, I’m glad to have made him feel better.
Truthfully, I’m writing to check on you. I was thinking that maybe he could be sad about the war. Maybe an anniversary? It’s stupid, I know. It could be anything. But I just thought I should write in case you need a smile.
I miss you. I love you. I can’t wait to see you.
Your son forever,
Harry. x
P.S. I told Hedwig to stay with you guys for the day. She’ll return later tonight. I know you love her as much as I do.
It worked almost like magic, and James felt impossibly better. Not entirely, not even close – but better all the same.
Harry was such a sweet, caring boy. He always knew when something was wrong. Evidently, even from another country.
Truthfully, this day had affected James since 1981. But it had never been this bad before. At least then, James knew where Sirius was. But now? Now he had no idea where Sirius was, no idea why he wouldn’t come to James and ask for help. He felt utterly helpless and there was nothing that would make it better.
But then Hedwig showed up and at least half of the crushing weight on James’ chest had been lifted. Just like that. Harry tended to have that affect.
From the open window, another owl swooped in gracefully, also familiar.
Remus.
James sighed heavily, his head pounding because Remus. Gods, Remus... James wanted nothing more than to just grab onto him and never let go.
I’m so sorry, Moony. I wish I could tell you that he’s innocent.
“Lily,” James called to her. She was cooing over Hedwig in the corner of the room and hadn’t noticed Remus’ owl arrive.
“Oh,” she gasped happily at the sight of the bird. “It’s for you, love.”
James’ brows furrowed. “Not both of us?”
“Just you,” Lily smiled, stroking it’s feathers lightly.
James,
I love you so much, yeah? Forever, no matter what.
Please take care of yourself for me – or at least let Lils do it.
I’ve got Harry. He’s got me.
Your Remus.
Through his tears, James wrote out a note in reply and sent it off with Remus’ owl after giving him a few treats. He noted the way that Remus carefully avoided their silly nicknames, so that’s what James did, too. They didn’t need any more reminders. Not today.
Remus,
Thank you. I love you, too. You’ll never know how grateful I am that you and Harry have each other.
Lily has me. I'll be alright.
I miss you.
Your James.
***
Remus’ POV.
McGonagall's office was the picture of comfort. There was a plush sofa underneath the window and a matching armchair facing her mahogany desk, proud Gryffindor red. The staple tin of biscuits sat on the left side of the desk, the same as when Remus was a boy. It was a comforting sight, knowing that not everything had changed.
They had been sitting in a rather tense silence. Minerva was waiting with her thin lips pursed, not pushing him to speak, but rather allowing him the time to figure out what it is he needed to say.
Dinner had appeared just as it did in the Great Hall, though their plates were readily filled, rather than having the usual buffet-style meal. It was a nice roast: beef, roasties, carrots and parsnips, Yorkshire puddings and a sea of thick gravy. Remus’ mouth salivated, having not eaten more than a few pitiful bites since last night’s steak and kidney pie.
Taking a deep breath, Remus put down the silverware that he was fiddling with and looked to the Head of Gryffindor House. “Do you think it’s selfish?”
“What are you referring to, Mr Lupin?” she asked evenly, cutting her food with an elegant grace.
Remus sighed, shifting his words into order before speaking. “Is it selfish that I’ve spent the day sulking, knowing that James is a wreck back in Godric’s Hollow? That I feel like I’m mourning Sirius when P–” he choked, shaking his head and clearing his throat before continuing. “When Peter should be the one I’m mourning?”
Minerva stayed silent for a pause, assessing him with those sharp eyes of hers. “I believe that most acts, no matter the intention, have the possibility of being selfish,” she said, and Remus looked down at his dinner in shame. “But I do not believe that you are selfish for feeling the way you do about this situation.”
Remus’ stomach turned. “No?”
“Grief is a peculiar thing,” McGonagall mused. “The fact that Sirius Black is alive, and Peter Pettigrew is not... that complicates the mind. Mourning someone who is no longer with us is easier than mourning someone who still is. In fact, there seems to be nothing less painful than losing the people that aren’t really gone at all.”
“I just...” Remus started. His eyes glazed over with a fresh sheen of tears. Would he ever stop crying? “I don’t want to disappoint Pete. He was our best friend, and he was killed by– he... and I still struggle to cope with the fact that it was him who is to blame. It’s awful. Peter doesn’t deserve to be forgotten, but he’s not the one I still struggle to think about without completely losing it. He’s the one I can’t help but remember. Him, not Pete.”
“I regret to say that being betrayed by someone you loved so truly will always be something that sticks with you.”
“All I want is to ask him why. Why would he do this to James? Why would he do this to Pete? It just doesn’t make sense!” Remus grit, frustration rising and tears falling. He brushed them away, feeling weak and embarrassed. In a quieter voice, small, he whispered: “To me? How could he do this to me?”
Minerva’s eyes were cast downwards. It hurt her, too. She was very fond of Sirius. “It is natural to have questions, Remus, but you must not let them eat away at you. There are some things that you will never know, which is a tough potion to swallow, but you must,” she said forlornly. “I deeply apologise that I cannot offer you more optimistic words.”
“We were engaged, you know?” Remus said, his tone tremendously self-deprecating. “I guess we still are. And that’s not even the fucking worst part,” he laughed, but there wasn’t a single trace of humour in it.
McGonagall sat in wait, letting him find his own tempo. When he was ready, he spoke in a hushed voice.
“I still love him,” and it was the first time that Remus allowed himself to admit it. “I’m not in love with him, but I will always, always love him,” Remus’ eyes stung as the tears escaped him. “Isn’t that fucked up?”
He couldn’t care about his language right now. Usually, he wouldn’t dare to speak so foully in front of Minerva, but she seemed to acknowledge that he couldn’t really help it. “No. I don’t think it is. Love is not something so easily controlled.”
“Neither is anger apparently, because I’m not mad anymore, either. I’m just so confused,” he admitted, letting out all the words he had been too afraid to speak aloud. “I’m angry with myself, because even after all of this, after all that he has done – I just want him to be okay. Safe. Healthy. I need him to be, and it sickens me. Because he couldn’t care less about my health, my safety, especially not my feelings. But here I am, sitting with the knowledge that he killed our best friend, chose the fucking Death Eaters over the person he called his brother, his best friend and his fiancé, and I still care.”
“You shouldn’t blame yourself for feeling, Remus. It may be easier said than done, but feeling is what makes you human. The good ones, and the bad. Sometimes, there are no explanations for a person's actions and naturally, we are left wondering, we are left feeling. Love is known to be the most pleasant feeling one can find, but what isn’t talked about, is the pain that it causes. Love is a weapon,” said McGonagall apologetically.
All he could say, now tired out from his breakdown and ranting, was: “I feel like a coward.”
“You are many things, Mr Lupin, but a coward is not one of them.”
“You can’t possibly know that,” Remus argued, because he really did believe himself to be a coward.
“I know that you’ve lived 27 years going through an obscene amount of pain once a month, and I know that you have been terribly resilient and brave about it,” she began in a matter-of-fact tone. “I know that you fought on the front-line of a war that was not yours to fight. I know that you came back to a life that has proved time and time again to be harsh and unforgiving,” Minerva presented him with a soft smile. “If I may give you my opinion, you do not strike me as a coward in the slightest. In actuality, it seems to be quite the opposite.”
Touched, Remus could only stare at her in wonderment, not knowing what he could possibly say. “Thank you,” he told her.
She only smiled, eyes crinkling. “Eat your food,” she said, and he felt oddly scolded, yet nostalgic all the same. Images of his mother flashed behind his eyelids, beautiful and full of youth. He missed her. Now, before, forever. I wish you could tell me what to do, he thought, heart clenched.
Clearing the dried tear tracks on his cheeks with the sleeve of his cardigan, he complied. The meal – which had gone a little cold – was pleasant.
He felt lighter when he eventually stumbled out of Minerva’s office, his stomach sated and his heart less heavy. Instead of making his way to his own quarters for what was sure to be an awful night of sleep, he made his way to the Owlery. He wanted to check in with Lily and James, maybe even take Lily up on her offer to send a tin of her infamous shortbread biscuits.
The castle was eerie in its silence. Beautiful, but strangely still. It was just past curfew, so there was not a soul around, not even staff or prefects. Not a soul, not until he reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the Owlery.
The pair of boys were descending the stairs. Arguing, but not maliciously. No, they were bantering, a sight lost on Remus, who they hadn’t spotted yet.
For a moment, Remus couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing and hearing, because he had seen them spitting venom at each other countless times since the beginning of the year, but then a conversation from earlier in the day popped into his mind.
Ron and him; they don’t get along.
Oh. Oh, Merlin.
This was who Harry had feelings for? Lucius Malfoys spawn? Draco bloody Malfoy?
Remus nearly laughed. This was not what he expected, but if Harry was happy, that was enough for him.
It was that moment that Harry spotted him, freezing in place as an amused grin grew on Remus’ face. Draco stopped, too, not having spotted Remus yet as he was too busy giving Harry a questioning look. Oh, this was going to be fun.
“Hello, boys,” said Remus, voice wavering as he tried to conceal his amusement. At the sound of his voice, Draco spun around to face Remus, eyes going wide.
Harrys eyes narrowed at Remus, obviously seeing just how funny Remus found the situation. That made it funnier to Remus, who could no longer keep his grin from spreading. “Hi,” he replied sceptically.
Remus’ gaze then turned to Draco, who looked caught off guard. “Nice night, isn’t it?”
Draco looked to Harry, and then back to Remus. He said: “I suppose,” in a confused tone.
“Why are you being weird?” Harry asked Remus, which had Remus snorting and Draco’s eyes widening at the way Harry was speaking to Remus so casually.
Ignoring Harry’s question, Remus changed the subject. “It’s gone curfew, you know? Better hurry off to bed before you get caught.”
“Why? Need us gone so you can go and send a love letter to your old lover?” Harry quipped, a teasing smile twitching at his mouth.
Remus chuckled, feeling lighter than he had all day. “Still not a lover, kid. But speaking of lovers...” he trailed off, letting the end of his sentence drift away with the wind. He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows at Harry, who had gone beet red.
"This is who you’ve got a crush on?" Remus did not say. He didn’t need to; Harry knew what he was saying.
“Oh, you–” Harry said, flustered. He gave Remus a look that said shut the fuck up and Remus had to put his fist to his mouth and bite down hard to cover a cackle. He looked at Remus for a beat longer before all but running away. Draco looked at Remus with furrowed brows before hurrying after Harry.
Just because he was feeling comedic, he turned and shouted cheekily: “Goodnight, boys!”
“Yep! Night! Bye!” Harry called over his shoulder, and Remus cackled.
As Draco caught up to Harry, Remus heard his justified questioning. “What in Salazars name just happened?”
He smiled to himself, hearing their hushed conversation as they walked away. They made a good pair. Odd, but good.