Eclipsed

James emerged from the fireplace in his parents' cozy living room, the familiar scent of simmering spices and sandalwood incense greeted him, a welcome balm after the uncomfortable Floo journey.

"James?" his mother's voice called out, a hint of breathlessness in its usual melody. "Is that you, darling?"

James navigated the room with practiced ease, hand only slightly outstretched as he walked towards the source of the sound. A gentle hand enveloped his, and his mother's familiar scent – a mix of jasmine oil and clean soap – filled his senses.

"Mum," he greeted, a smile spreading across his face. He squeezed her hand, surprised by the fragility he felt in her touch. She seemed thinner, her once vibrant energy tinged with a subtle weariness.

"My love, you're here at last," she said, her voice laced with a hint of relief. "We were starting to worry you might’ve gotten lost in that new school of yours."

James chuckled. "Lost, but never forgotten, Mum.” He brushed off her concern, a familiar pang of guilt twisting in his stomach. He knew his parents worried about him, his blindness a constant source of anxiety for them. “How about you? How are you holding up?"

Effie chuckled, a touch strained at the edges. "Just a bit tired these days, that's all. All this housecleaning keeps me on my toes. Don't you worry about your old mum."

He released his mother from the hug and turned towards the sound of his father's labored breathing coming from the study.

“Is that James, Effie?” Fleamont called from the study. The familiarity of his father's voice, though weaker than usual, brought a wave of relief washing over James.

“It’s me, Dad.” James replied, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and apprehension. He took a step towards his father, his arms outstretched, meeting his father’s. Fleamont’s hand, usually strong and calloused, felt surprisingly frail in his grasp.

"Dad, are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

His father let out a hearty laugh, the sound a little strained around the edges. "Just a touch of rheumatism, James. Nothing a good dose of Pepperup Potion won't fix."

Effie, sensing James's worry, interjected. "Don't worry, darling. He's perfectly fine. But come on now, you must be famished. Let's get you settled in and then you can tell us all about Broomhaven."

James allowed himself to be ushered into the familiar warmth of the kitchen. The worn wooden chairs that held so many memories of childhood stories and whispered secrets felt a little smaller beneath him. As Effie bustled about, the rhythmic clinking of spoons against china a soothing counterpoint to the crackling fire, James couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss.

James launched into a detailed account of his life at Broomhaven, his voice tinged with a forced cheerfulness. He spoke of his classes, his friendship with Dorcas, his growing confidence in navigating the wizarding world. He carefully omitted the more challenging aspects – the microaggressions, the subtle prejudice, the constant feeling of being an outsider. He didn't want to burden his parents with his worries.

As the evening wore on, James found himself slipping back into the familiar rhythm of his childhood home. He helped his mother clean up the table, his fingers brushing against the cool porcelain of their heirloom dinnerware. He engaged in a lively debate with his father about the merits of self-study versus structured learning in mastering complex spells. The comfortable routine, the familiar banter, created an illusion of normalcy, a temporary shield against the tide of unspoken concerns.

Later that night, lying in London bedroom, the silence pressed in on him. Memories of his childhood flooded back – boisterous games of Quidditch in the backyard, his father patiently teaching him the intricacies of wand movement, his mother reading him bedtime stories in her lilting voice.

A lump formed in his throat. For the first time, James truly understood the weight of time, the inevitability of change. His parents, the unwavering pillars of his world, were no longer invincible. A wave of protectiveness washed over him, a fierce determination to cherish every moment, to repay their unwavering love and support in any way he could.

As sleep finally claimed him, a silent vow echoed in the stillness of the room. He would make them proud. He would excel in his studies, become the best damn lawyer the wizarding world had ever seen, a testament to their unwavering belief in him. 

The crisp October air carried the scent of burning leaves and distant bonfires, a harbinger of the approaching Halloween festivities. James and Sirius, in costume, of course, took their time as they walked over to the girls’ flat. The party, hosted by Lily, Mary, and Marlene, was more than just a Halloween celebration; it was a reunion, a chance to reconnect with classmates they hadn’t seen since June, or even those who had graduated in years prior. 

The thought of reuniting with old friends filled James with a sense of warmth and belonging, especially since Broomhaven had turned out to be a bunch of classist, racist pricks.

As they approached the flat, the sound of laughter and music spilled out onto the street. The door swung open to reveal a whirlwind of activity. Lily, dressed as a particularly convincing witch, her fiery red hair accentuated by a pointed hat, greeted them with a boisterous hug. Mary, transformed into a mischievous pixie, and Marlene, channeling her inner vampire with an exaggerated pale complexion and flowing black robes, completed the trio of magical revelers.

"Fashionably late, as usual, Black," Lily declared, her laughter echoing through the flat. "Come in, come in! The party's just getting started."

Sirius, ever the social butterfly, had already disappeared into the crowd, his booming laughter echoing through the flat. James, taking a moment to adjust to the sudden influx of stimuli, let Lily guide him towards the main living room.

The room was a kaleidoscope of colors and sound. Students from Broomhaven, the Auror Academy, and former Hogwarts classmates were gathered, their laughter and animated conversations creating a vibrant tapestry of noise. James, struggling to pick out individual voices, focused on the familiar warmth of Lily's hand, her presence a steady anchor in the chaotic sea of color and shadow blurred in front of him.

"James, Lily, there you are," Dorcas called, her voice warm and welcoming. "This is Christopher, my boyfriend," Dorcas introduced. “Chris- this is my classmate, James. We are the only two Hogwarts alumni in the Magical Law studies this term.” 

James extended his hand, his fingers finding the man's. Christopher's handshake was firm, his grip warm. "It's a pleasure to meet you, James," he said, his voice deep and melodic. 

James, impressed by the man's confident demeanor, returned the greeting with a smile. "Likewise, Christopher. Dorcas speaks very highly of you."

They made small talk for another minute before Dorcas dragged him off to another corner of the room, and Sirius reappeared at James’ side, whispering loudly in his ear. “James, I wish you could see it- Dorcas’ boyfriend looks just like Marvin Gaye, you know, the American singer? Bloody handsome…” 

“Better not let Moony hear you, Pads,” James teased, quietly. 

“What am I not supposed to hear?” Remus snuck up on James’ other side, causing the two men to jump, and Sirius to shriek, and slosh half his drink out of the glass. 

“Nothing, Moony, but bloody hell, I forget how sneaky you can be!” Sirius moaned, drawing Mary’s attention to the group. 

“Oi, Black, you better clean that up; no fuckin’ house elves cleaning’ up around here,” she joked, and the group burst into laughter, the party continuing on. 

It was in full swing when Peter finally arrived. 

"Wormy!" Sirius bellowed, already tipsy, a grin spreading across his face. "You made it!"

Peter offered him a sheepish smile. "Sorry I'm late," he stammered, his eyes darting around the room.

A chorus of teasing comments erupted from the assembled crowd. "Where have you been, Peter?" Marlene teased. “It’s been ages!” 

“I dunno… work?” Peter answered, not intending it as a joke, but everyone laughing. 

“Pete’s been disappearing a lot lately… What do you have to say for yourself, Worm?” 

Peter, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink, offered a sheepish grin. "Just got caught up with a… friend," he stammered, his voice barely audible over the din.

A chorus of "oohs" and "ahhs" greeted his announcement, followed by a barrage of questions about his mysterious friend. Peter, ever the master of evasion, managed to deflect the queries with vague answers and promises of introductions at a later date.

"So, Wormy," Sirius teased, a mischievous glint in his eye, "who's this friend?"

Peter, his face turning an even deeper shade of crimson, spluttered incoherently before launching into a detailed account of his friend's supposed culinary skills and her ability to make him laugh. 

"Who is she? A muggle?" Mary asked, her eyebrows raised in mock surprise. “No witch I know really cooks, no offense, anyone.”

“You haven’t met our sister, then,” called out one of the twins, Fabian or Gideon, in an aside. “Molly's cooking? The best.” 

Peter nodded, his voice barely audible. "Uh... Yeah… Yeah, sure, I mean, it's early days, but we're really hitting it off."

The group exchanged glances, their laughter tinged with a hint of disbelief. "Peter, you and a Muggle?" Sirius teased."Who would have thought?"

James, ever the supportive friend, chuckled. "Don't be too hard on him, Sirius. Love knows no bounds, as they say."

Peter, relieved by James's understanding, relaxed slightly. "Yeah, well, I'm not ready to introduce her to the magical world just yet," he explained... lied. "I want to make sure things are serious first."

The group nodded in understanding. "Fair enough," Lily said, quickly. “You’ll be ready when you’re ready.” The conversation shifted, the focus moving away from Peter's nonexistent Muggle girlfriend and back to the music, the dancing, and the drinks. 

As the night wore on, the party reached a crescendo of noise and revelry. The once orderly living room was transformed into a chaotic dance floor, bodies swaying to the rhythm of an eclectic mix of muggle and wizarding music. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, laughter, and the lingering magic of a dozen different spells.

The party was in full swing when Remus decided it was time to intervene. Sirius, as was his dangerous habit, was already three sheets to the wind, his laughter echoing through the flat like a boisterous banshee. Remus, ever the pragmatist, knew that a sober chaperone was needed to prevent his boyfriend from truly embarrassing himself, or worse, doing something truly awful.

Despite being beyond sore, as the moon was tomorrow, he moved through the crowd, weaving his way through a maze of limbs and discarded party favors. Spotting Sirius in animated conversation with a particularly enthusiastic Auror candidate, Remus made a beeline for his boyfriend.

“Sirius, darling” he began, his voice low, “I think it’s time for you to slow down a bit.”

Sirius, however, was in no mood for reason. “Slow down? Remus, my love, this is a party! We’re supposed to have fun!”

Remus, typically the sober voice of reason, found himself inexplicably drawn into the vortex of the party. Sirius, with his infectious enthusiasm and a seemingly endless supply of Firewhisky, was determined to loosen his boyfriend's inhibitions.

"Come on, Moony," Sirius slurred, his arm draped around Remus's shoulders. "Live a little! Let loose!"

“I shouldn’t, Sirius, I don’t know if with my potions if I-” Sirius rolled his eyes. 

"Come on, Moony," Sirius coaxed, his voice slurred with drink. "Live a little! One drink won't kill you. Just one… Please? For me?” 

Remus, usually immune to Sirius's antics, and usually more careful with himself around the moon, found himself weakening under the influence of the festive atmosphere, and poured himself a glass of the spiked punch. 

“Here you are, Pads. Happy?” He drank it quickly, showing off the empty cup to Sirius. 

“Extremely happy, love,” Sirius smirked, and Remus was a goner. Inexplicably, he drank four more. 

The next few hours were a blur of laughter, music, and increasingly nonsensical conversations. 

As the night wore on, the effects of the punch began to take their toll. Remus's inhibitions, his guarded nature, usually as sturdy as a castle wall, crumbled. His pain? Non-existent. He found himself drawn to back to Sirius, their bodies swaying in rhythm to the music. The electric tension between them, always present, intensified in the hazy glow of the party lights.

As they danced, their bodies swaying in rhythm to the music, a sense of euphoria washed over Remus. He felt light, unburdened, and utterly carefree. At that moment, the weight of the world, his secrets, everything… it all seemed inconsequential.

Then, without warning, Remus leaned in, his lips brushing against Sirius's. The room seemed to freeze, the music fading into a distant hum. For a few intoxicating moments, the world existed only between the two of them.

A stunned silence fell over the room, and was swiftly broken by Mary, a smug expression on her face. "I knew there was something going on between you two… Marlene, you owe me a galleon!"

Remus woke with a start, the morning sun streaming through the uncurtained window. His head throbbed, a dull ache that pulsed in time with his heartbeat, not only related to the upcoming moon, but from the unreasonable amount of alcohol he’d consumed the night before. Beside him, Sirius was already stirring, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest a gentle counterpoint to the chaos of the previous night.

As Remus sat up, the events of the previous evening flooded back – the party, the alcohol, and the kiss... a wave of anxiety washed over him.

Sirius, too, was awake now, his eyes still heavy with sleep. "Morning," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

"Morning," Remus replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

They lay in silence for a few moments, the aftermath of the previous night hanging heavy in the air. Then, Sirius sat up, stretching his arms above his head.

"I've got to get going," he said, reluctantly beginning to push himself up into a seated position. "Early shift at St. Mungo's."

Remus nodded. "Of course," he replied, his voice flat.

Sirius flicked on the lamp and quickly turned to look closely at Remus. "You sure you're okay, love?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. "You look a bit… pale."

Remus managed a weak smile. "Just the combo of the moon, and the hangover, I think," he replied nonchalantly.

Sirius reached out, his hand finding Remus's. "Alright," he said, his voice gentle, "get some rest."

With that, Sirius swung his legs over the side of the bed and began to dress in his lime-green trainee robes. Remus watched him, a pang of loneliness washing over him.

As Sirius was pulling on his shirt, Remus blurted out, "Wait."

Sirius turned, a questioning look in his eyes.

"Can you… stay for a bit?" Remus asked, his voice barely audible. "Just until I feel a bit more… human."

Sirius chuckled sadly. "Sorry, love," he said, ruffling Remus's hair. "I've got patients waiting. But I'll make you breakfast, if you’re up to it."

Remus sighed, resigned to the inevitable. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded to the bathroom, the cold tile a shock to his still-sleepy senses.

As he washed his face, his mind drifted back to the previous night. The revelation of their relationship had been a whirlwind, a mixture of exhilaration and trepidation. But now, as the first rays of sunlight streamed through the window, casting long shadows across the room, he felt a sense of peace. They were out in the open, their relationship no longer a secret to be guarded.

He found Sirius in the kitchen, the tantalizing aroma of bacon and eggs filling the air. The sight of Sirius humming softly to himself as he flitted around the kitchen filled Remus with a warmth that spread through his body.

"Smells good," Remus said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation.

Sirius grinned. "I thought I'd treat my boyfriend to a proper breakfast."

They ate in silence, the only noise coming from the cars outside and the sounds of James starting to get up and ready for the day. Sirius watched as Remus, who was already more reserved around this time of the month, seemed more withdrawn than usual, idly picking at his breakfast. 

"Are you sure everything’s alright?" Sirius asked again. “You know you can tell me if you’re–” 

Remus hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Yeah, just feeling a bit moonsick, a bit sore you know… and it's just… a lot to take in," he said, his eyes downcast. "I mean, people knowing about us… Everyone was nice about it, but I mean, you never know how they really feel…"

Sirius reached across the table, taking Remus’ hand in his. "We'll get through it," he said, his voice firm. "If someone has a problem with us, fuck them, because we, Moony, are absolutely golden."

With that, he pulled Remus into a tight hug, the warmth of their bodies a comforting contrast to the cold morning air. As he pulled away, he kissed Remus gently on the forehead. “I’d better get going,” he said, dropping another kiss on the top of Remus’ head. “I’ll see you tonight? We’ll leave around 5:30 for the moon.”

As Remus locked the door behind his boyfriend, he couldn’t help but hope that everything would be okay.