Eclipsed

The droning sound of his textbook reading itself out loud was shattered by the sharp clash of voices, and James, buried deep in a mountain of law books, was startled from his concentration. The familiar rhythm of Remus’s soft spoken nature was replaced by a rising crescendo of urgency, while Sirius's voice, usually laced with a playful banter, was edged with a sharp, accusatory tone .Curiosity piqued, James marked the page and closed the book, stepping towards the entrance of the bedroom and easing open his door, careful not to make a sound.

"It's not what you think, Sirius," Remus insisted, his voice rising in pitch. "It's research, I told you."

"Research that has you looking like you've just fought a three-headed dragon?" Sirius retorted, his voice laced with disbelief. "I think you’ve got me and James mixed up, Remus, because you can’t hide this from me. I can see it, even if you refuse to. You've lost too much weight, you're pale and to be honest I am on the verge of taking you into the hospital myself because you look fucking awful."

“Thanks a lot, Sirius, that makes me feel really good about myself,” Remus retorted sharply. "It's the stress," he continued, his voice cracking slightly. "The work is demanding, and the hours are long."

"Or," Sirius countered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "maybe it's because Dumbledore is using you as a guinea pig for some fucked up experiment."

"Don't be ridiculous," Remus snapped, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and fear. “Paranoid, aren’t we?” 

"Am I though?" Sirius challenged, his voice low and dangerous. "Because that's starting to look like the most plausible explanation."

The argument raged on, a tempest of accusations and denials. 

Remus, his voice rising in pitch, insisted on the nature of his work. "It's research, Sirius," he pleaded. "Important research. Dumbledore wouldn't ask me to do anything that could put me at risk. There are confidentiality clauses involved, I can't tell you everything, but trust me, it's for the greater good."

"Don't be naive, Remus," Sirius countered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Dumbledore's playing you. He knows you're loyal, that you wouldn't question his motives. He's exploiting your vulnerability, using the fact that you're a werewolf and knowing you wouldn't have other options, especially after almost failing your 7th year. You think anyone else would hire you, knowing your condition? Dumbledore's the only one who gave you a chance, and now he's stringing you along."

"Fuck you," Remus shouted, his voice trembling at Sirius’ dredging up his every insecurity. "I'm fine, okay? I can handle it."

"Can you?" Sirius retorted, his voice laced with doubt. “I don’t think you’re doing as well as you think you are.” 

A long, tense silence followed. Then, with a suddenness that startled them both, Sirius stormed out of his bedroom, out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed through the flat, a stark punctuation to their heated exchange.

James's heart pounded in his chest. He had heard Sirius speak with such intensity, such raw anger, but never directed towards Remus, his boyfriend. This escalation was something else entirely. A cold dread settled in his stomach as he realized that the truth behind Remus’s mysterious work was far darker than he had ever imagined.

He retreated back into his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him and walking back to his desk. The weight of their argument hung heavy in the air, a silent pressure that seemed to fill the entire flat. Then a knock on James' bedroom door.

"James?" he called out, his voice barely a whisper. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," James replied,  "Come in, Moony."

James listened to the soft click of the door as Remus entered the room, the familiar energy filling the space and coming towards the bed, sitting with a loud creak. For Remus’ comfort James clicked on the lamp perched on the desk, the swirl of colors he knew to be his friend coming into the middle of James’ field of vision as he turned to face him from his chair. 

"I'm sorry about the noise," Remus apologized, his voice hoarse and low, both from the fight and the migraine James knew was brewing.  

"You okay?" James asked, his voice soft.

"Not really," Remus admitted, his voice barely a whisper. James could hear the exhaustion in his tone, the weight of his unspoken worries pressing down on him.

"You sound awful, Moony," James said frankly. "Can I get you anything? Some water, maybe? Or a hot chocolate?"

Remus shook his head. "No, I'm fine," he replied meekly. There was a long pause, then Remus continued, his voice barely audible, "I don't think I can go home tonight, I’m getting kind of nauseous... But I can’t face him again tonight, James, I just–"

"Of course you can stay here," James interrupted him, voice warm and low. "Sleep in my bed.” 

Remus hesitated, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and guilt. "I don't want to impose," he answered, his voice barely a whisper.

"Nonsense," James replied, his tone firm. "You're family, Re. My bed is your bed."

Remus nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Thank you," he breathed.

Knowing Remus would spend the night filled James with a sense of relief. He’d been worrying about him for months now, and having him in the apartment and in his bed was one weight lifted from the many stones that had been sitting heavily on his heart. 

"Come on," James said, standing up from his chair. "Let's get you settled then."

As Remus stood, James reached out, his hand finding Remus's arm to pull him into a hug. His fingers traced the thin line of Remus's forearm, feeling the edges of his bones beneath the layers of wiry muscle. His friend was thinner than he remembered, and the too-warm touch of his skin sent a shiver down James's spine. 

They moved through the familiar layout of the bedroom, James handing Remus a spare pajama bottom and old quidditch t-shirt. As he changed, James sat back at his desk, pulling out his headphones so that he could continue to study once Remus was settled. Hearing the other boy’s painful cough, though, he paused, and swiveled the chair around again. 

“You okay?” James asked, his voice filled with a gentle concern.

Remus paused, taking a deep breath. “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice a mere whisper. But James could hear the strain in his voice, the forced calmness that masked the turmoil within.

“You don’t sound fine, love,” James countered softly. 

Remus hesitated, his silence stretching into an uncomfortable silence. “It’s just stress,” he finally said, his voice barely audible. “The work, it’s been... demanding.”

"Did you eat anything today?" James asked, and he felt Remus freeze. 

Remus shook his head, before remembering to verbalize his answer. "I haven't had much of an appetite," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

There was more to it than that, he could feel it. “Remus,” he began, his voice gentle but firm. “You know you can talk to me, right? We’ve been through a lot together, you and me.”

Remus turned to face him, his eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and desperation. “I know,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “But I can’t talk about it, James. I can’t.”

“Why not?” James pressed, his voice gentle. “Is it because of Sirius? Because he’s worried about you?”

Remus froze, his body tensing. "Sirius shouldn't worry about me," he said, his voice rising slightly. "He has his own problems."

"I know," James replied, his voice soothing. "But he cares about you, Remus. And I care about you."

Remus sighed and shook his head, his shoulders releasing. “No, it’s not Sirius,” he said, his voice barely audible. “It’s… it’s just the stuff I’m doing for Dumbledore…”

A wave of unease washed over James. He knew that Dumbledore was a powerful and influential figure, but he had never imagined that the headmaster would put Remus through anything unreasonable.

“What does Dumbledore want?” James asked, his voice filled with a quiet determination. “You can tell me, Remus, I promise I can keep it to myself.”

Remus shifted away from him, his eyes wide with fear. “I can’t,” he pleaded. “I just can’t.”

“Why not?” James persisted, his voice rising slightly. “Is it because you’re afraid of what I might think? Or is it because you’re afraid of what Dumbledore might do if he finds out that you’ve told me?”

Remus was silent for a long moment, his breathing ragged. Then, with a suddenness that startled James, he broke down, the springs on the mattress creaking as he sat, or more accurately, collapsed onto the bed. “I don’t know,” he sobbed, his voice filled with despair. “I don’t know what to do. I’m tired, James, so tired. I just want to sleep.”

James’s heart broke a little bit, and he suddenly felt angry at the world, at Sirius, and at Dumbledore, at Greyback, and a little bit at Lyall too, for doing this to his friend in the first place.

“It’s okay, Remus, I’m sorry,” he quickly said, crossing the room and sitting beside him and pulling Remus into a hug, letting the man’s head land heavily on his shoulders. “You don’t have to tell me anything. Just sleep. It’s okay.”

Remus's body was trembling, his skin hot and clammy. James could feel the fever burning through him, the physical manifestation of the upcoming moon intensified by the drama of the argument, the anxiety… everything. 

He held Remus for what felt like forever, but was probably only a half-hour or so,and slowly, Remus's breathing began to slow, the tension in his body easing. With a gentle hand, James lowered Remus onto the pillows, tucking the covers around him, although he made a mental note to ask Sirius about the fever when he returned. 

James got up, and returned to his desk. There was more studying to be done, and checking his watch, he could probably stay up for another couple of hours and still get enough sleep to function the next day. 

With one headphone over his ear and one off, just in case, James quietly dictated notes to his quill, hoping that some of the information would stick.

Suddenly, the sound of stumbling footsteps echoed through the flat, followed by a muffled curse. James closed his book and popped off his headphones, a sense of dread washing over him. He knew that sound all too well. He stood, and reaching out a hand, headed for the hall, closing the bedroom door behind him.

"Padfoot?" he called out.

There was a moment of silence, then the sound of the front door closing. Footsteps shuffled across the living room floor, and then Sirius collapsed onto the couch with a heavy thud.

"You drunk?" James asked from the entrance to the living room. 

Sirius grunted in response, his words slurred as he chucked his boots across the room. "It's my life," he mumbled, his voice thick with a mix of self-pity and defiance.

James sighed. He had seen this pattern before, the downward spiral that followed periods of stress. "You know how this ends, Sirius," he said, his voice steady. 

Sirius waved a dismissive hand. "Fuck you," he slurred, his voice rising in pitch. "I’m fine."

James could sense the anger simmering beneath Sirius's bravado. It was a familiar pattern, the displaced aggression directed towards anyone in his way, when Sirius was feeling overwhelmed.

"It's not just about you though," James replied, his voice steadily rising. "You've been picking fights with me, with Remus, and you know he's never feeling well around the moon. You used to get on us for even speaking in the dorms too loudly, and now you’re shouting at him? What is with you?"

Sirius froze, his anger momentarily replaced by a look of shame. "I know," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "I'm sorry."

James could hear the sincerity in Sirius's voice, but it was too late. 

"I can't stand seeing him like this," he admitted, his voice softening. "He's a mess, and he won’t let me help him."

"I know it's tough," James said, his voice gentle. "But you can't take it out this way."

Sirius was silent for a moment, then let out a sob. "I'm sorry," he whispered, the words catching in the back of his throat. "I don't know what to do."

"You need to stop going out to the pubs every time you fuck up," James said, his voice gentle but firm. "You can't keep using alcohol to feel better."

Sirius let out a sob. "I'm scared he’s gonna die and it would’ve been all my fault."

“Listen,” James said, crossing the room and putting his hands out, finding Sirius’ shoulders. “There’s only one thing you can do right now.” Sirius sniffed, and James squeezed tighter. “Padfoot, are you listening?” 

“Mmhm,” he whimpers pathetically, and James feels a pang in his heart for his brother, but knowing coddling him wouldn’t help. This was a pattern that needed to be broken.

“Sirius, you need to pull yourself together,” James told him, his voice firm. “Crying isn’t going to solve anything right now.”

There was a long moment of silence, broken only by Sirius’s ragged breathing. Then, slowly, the sobbing began to subside. 

"I'm sorry," Sirius mumbled, his voice thick with regret. "I’m such a mess."

James pulled Sirius into a tight hug, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the cold despair he sensed in Sirius. He held him for a long moment, letting the silence speak volumes.

After a few minutes, Sirius pulled away, his face flushed and his eyes red and swollen. "I'm sorry," he mumbled again, his voice barely audible. "I shouldn't have taken it out on you… either of you."

James squeezed his hand, offering silent reassurance. "I know," he replied, his voice filled with understanding. "But you need to take care of yourself too, Sirius."

There was a long silence, broken only by the soft ticking of the clock. Finally, Sirius spoke. "Is he... is he okay?"

James hesitated, unsure of how to break the news gently. "He's not well," he said, his voice filled with concern. "He's got a fever- he came into my room when you left earlier and pretty much passed out on me. I didn't want to wake him up."

Sirius's head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. "What? Why your bed?" he demanded, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance.

James sighed. "He didn't want to see you after the way you two were fighting," he explained. "He seems pretty low, Pads."

Sirius's expression softened, a look of guilt and remorse crossing his face. "I shouldn't have been such a dick," he mumbled, his voice thick with regret. “God, I said some pretty horrible things to him, James.” 

"We all have our moments," James said evenly, his voice heavy with tiredness and understanding. 

“Listen, Padfoot, I know you’re in a fight but I’m a bit worried about his fever, actually… I probably would’ve called Mum if you hadn’t come back soon enough.” James told him, and Sirius sat up. 

Sirius's tone changed, a hint of sobriety creeping into his voice. "Did you give him anything?" he asked, wiping his eyes.

James shook his head. "I wasn't sure what to give him. Your medicine cabinet is a bit of a mystery to me, Pads… nothing is labelled for me.”

Sirius swung his legs over the side of the couch, his movements slow and deliberate. "I'll take care of it," he mumbled, still a little drunk, his voice hoarse.

As Sirius disappeared down the hall, James was left alone with his thoughts. He was worried about Remus, his friend's health seemingly deteriorating at an alarming rate. And then there was Sirius, struggling with his own demons, which wasn’t new, but there was nobody else around to bear the brunt of it with James. 

He sat on the couch, his mind racing. The hours passed slowly, the ticking of the clock the only sound in the otherwise silent apartment. James tried to focus on his breathing, to find a sense of calm amidst the chaos. But his mind was restless, his thoughts jumping from one worry to the next as he kept thinking of all the ways things were falling apart around him, and how he couldn’t seem to do anything to keep all the pieces together.

All of a sudden, the city came alive outside his window, pigeons squawking and car horns beeping, and he realized it was morning. He hadn't slept at all, but James couldn’t afford to miss a day of school, especially when all his professors and half his classmates expected him to fail. 

He stood up, his legs feeling like jelly. He needed to check on Remus, to make sure he was okay, then get his clothes together, take a shower, and then see if he could study for a little longer before Lily swung by to get him for their weekly Wednes-date morning. A coffee and a scone. 

He could do it. It would all be okay.