a taste of salvation
“Mr. Lupin, will you play?” James asked politely, not seeming to mind his intrusion into Netherfield in the least. It was typical James, of course; no matter the occasion, the more, the merrier. Not that Sirius was exactly complaining.
“No, thank you,” Mr. Lupin replied. “I’d rather go visit Netherfield’s library if that’s alright with you? I’ve heard so much about it, and now that I’m here, I thought—”
Dorcas laughed, gesturing for James to give her a hand of cards. “So it’s just as Miss Evans said! You really do take pleasure in reading above all else!”
Mr. Lupin smiled self-consciously, tugging at the hem of his sleeve. “You remember that, do you? Yes, I suppose it’s true…”
James beamed at him. “Then of course you shall see Netherfield’s library! Just down the hall to the left, Mr. Lupin,” he declared grandly. “Why don’t you find something to read and then join us back here? We would still greatly enjoy the pleasure of your company.”
Mr. Lupin quickly voiced his thanks and set off down the corridor, eyes wide in anticipation. He had rather fine eyes, Sirius noticed. They were dark, mysterious, and clever; they perfectly exemplified what he’d seen so far of Mr. Lupin’s wit and intelligence. Sirius had felt drawn to him since their very first meeting at the ball, only he’d been in such poor spirits then that he was sure he'd made a terrible impression. The trouble had not quite passed if he was honest; there still sat a thick knot in Sirius’s stomach that never seemed to go away no matter what he was doing or who he was with.
He’d only agreed to the countryside holiday with James and Dorcas after a blazing row with his mother on a reluctant visit back to Pemberley, the Black’s home in Derbyshire, when he discovered Regulus had been shipped off to France to find some miracle cure for his illness in the time Sirius’d been in London, and not a soul had bothered to tell him of his brother’s departure. Regulus had always been naturally frail, a few months prematurely born, and their parents were convinced he’d be “fixed” by the Grace of some miracle cure or experimental treatment, as if Regulus were some broken toy that just needed a fresh coat of paint and not a living, breathing, autonomous being. It was enough to make Sirius sick just thinking about it. Regulus was perfectly bloody fine the way he was, Sirius thought. He was smarter and kinder than most people Sirius knew, anyway. That was his baby brother. Smart, kind, and rotting in an unknown location somewhere in the country of France all alone. It would’ve put anyone off the idea of a party.
Sirius had left for London a few months prior after another row with his mother; James had been acting strangely for some time and Sirius had decided it was best to leave Derbyshire entirely, leaving Regulus behind. He felt guilty about it — of course he did. But he had to get away and Regulus had always been too meek to stand up to their mother. Sirius had told himself it was alright, that Regulus was nineteen now, not a child, and what was the worst that could happen? It would only be for a few months, just until their mother calmed down and James worked through whatever was bothering him. It was the only practical choice.
Sirius felt swept under a sea of self-loathing that threatened to drown him entirely every time he thought about how selfish he’d been. It was deplorable, the way he’d left Regulus to fend for himself. Even after twenty years under her thumb, Sirius was never prepared for the depths of his mother’s cruelty. He’d done absolutely everything he could that last week in Pemberley — threatened his mother, pleaded with his father, scoured every drawer for clues and interrogated every member of the Black’s hired staff — but they refused to bring Regulus home. There was no record of his brother’s location, and nothing left he could do. James suggested a change of scenery and Sirius listlessly agreed. All they could do now was wait, and it was driving Sirius positively out of his mind.
Still, Sirius wanted to be pleasant around Mr. Lupin this morning. Wanted to be liked by him. The ball was somewhat of a maudlin blur for Sirius, miserable and drunken in stuffy formal-wear, but their conversation stood out from his memories in razor-sharp focus, like a stark silhouette against the night. They’d talked since then, loads actually, but it was never like that first night again. They were never fully alone and it was never very personal again, though Sirius still felt the same electrifying tingle of nerves and pleasure fizzle through his body each time they spoke. Sirius attributed this feeling to two distinct factors: Mr. Lupin being by far the most interesting person he’d met in Hertfordshire, and Sirius’s own proclivity for behaving like an absolute fool in front of him. He could never tell if Mr. Lupin actually enjoyed his company or only found his buffoonery entertaining, like watching a well-meaning puppy make a mess on someone else’s carpet.
Sirius banged his head repeatedly on the breakfast table. “Urrgh!”
Dorcas and James exchanged looks. They were well used to Sirius’s dramatics by now.
“What is it this time, Sirius, love?” Dorcas asked as patiently as she could, sighing a little. Sirius let his curtain of hair fall pitifully across his face.
“It’s only I act like such a tosser when he’s around, I don’t know why I can’t—”
“You’re always a tosser, mate,” James interrupted at the same time Dorcas was asking, “Who are we talking about?”
Sirius stood and slumped over to the settee, flinging himself down on the cushion and fixing each with an expression of extreme vexation. “Good mates you two are.”
Dorcas laughed. “I was only kidding! He likes you just fine.”
James flicked a bread crust in Sirius’s direction. “I thought you told me you don’t care what other people think about you?”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “I don’t care what you think about me, James. I care what actually interesting people—”
“Interesting! I’ll have you know, I’m plenty interesting—”
“James, come on—”
“What, I’m not good enough for you?!”
“We’re not having this conversation again!”
“I’m hurt, Sirius, I really am. Sorry I’m no Remus Lupin—”
“Too bloody right you’re not!”
“So what am I—”
They both snapped their mouths shut as Mr. Lupin shuffled back into the room. Dorcas was shaking her head, tired of their antics.
Mr. Lupin sat down on the settee next to Sirius — right next to, in fact, their knees were brushing a little — and offered him a brief smile before reverently opening the yellowed pages of the giant, dusty tome he was carrying. Sirius was immediately intrigued. What could he have found interesting about it?
Before he could inquire, Dorcas piped in. “Do any of your sisters play the piano, Mr. Lupin?” she asked, shuffling her cards. “Do you?”
Mr. Lupin looked up at her slowly, still distracted by the book in his lap. “Hm? Oh, Lily and Marlene do. I’m afraid Mary hasn’t got the patience for it, and neither have I. Do any of you happen to play?”
Mr. Potter shook his head, smiling. “It’s amazing to me how a young lady like Miss Evans could have the time and patience to be as accomplished as she is.”
Dorcas laughed, pinching James’s cheek good-naturedly. “Just because you can’t sit still for more than five minutes doesn’t mean it’s impossible, Jamie.” Her gaze shifted to Mr. Lupin and her eyes widened, quickly adding, “Not that Miss Evans isn’t exceptionally patient. That much has been proven by her being able to put up with this bum as much as she has recently.”
James swatted her hand away, grinning. “But so many of them are! I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time without being magnificently impressed with all her accomplishments.”
“That’s just you being a bleeding heart, James,” Sirius remarked on instinct. He was always contrary this early in the day — it was, after all, before noon — but the comment came off harsher than he intended. Mr. Lupin saw an opportunity to tease him and took it instantly.
“Oh really?” he replied, clearly plotting something. “You disagree?”
Please Heavenly Father, don’t let me say anything stupid, Sirius thought to himself. “Of course. I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen, in my whole range of acquaintances, that are really accomplished.”
Sirius had to resist the urge to punch his own face. Why had he said such a thing? He hardly believed it himself.
Mr. Lupin’s eyes were glittering with mischief. “Is that so? Then you must have quite an image of a truly accomplished woman in your mind. I’d be delighted to hear what accomplishments you acknowledge.”
Sirius blinked frantically, cursing his mouth for always moving faster than his mind. “Er—”
Dorcas laid down her hand of cards, suddenly invested in the conversation. “I believe I have a bit of an idea of it, if I may.”
Mr. Lupin smirked at her. “Do go on.”
“In Sirius’s mind, I am sure, is the following: ‘No one can really be esteemed accomplished who does not greatly exceed what one is usually met with,’” she began, doing an exaggerated impression of Sirius’s aristocratic accent. Sirius cringed at the imitation, horrified by the idea that this was how Mr. Lupin must’ve seen him as well. “‘A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, cooking, dancing, and the modern languages to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, and her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved.’” Dorcas ticked off each on her fingers.
James joined in then, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “‘And to all this, she must yet add something more substantial: she must improve her mind daily by extensive reading.’ Isn’t that so, Sirius?” Mr. Lupin shut his book, smirking at Sirius and addressing him as if he were the one to utter all that nonsense.
“I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women, Mr. Black. I rather wonder at your knowing any.”
“Are you so severe upon our sex as to entirely doubt the mere possibility of such a woman, Mr. Lupin?” Dorcas asked dramatically, with the air of an actress following through with a predetermined script. Sirius could feel embarrassed heat creeping into his neck and ears.
Mr. Lupin smiled devilishly. “I express nothing of the sort; I sincerely doubt the existence of such a person at all, male or female.”
“Well put, Mr. Lupin,” Dorcas replied, winking at him.
“Oh, don’t go on befriending Mr. Lupin so dearly already,” James cried out, “for I fear you’ll abandon your current friends for the combined delights of Mr. Lupin and Miss McKinnon! How could one resist such company?” he exclaimed, theatrically throwing an arm over his face and pretending to faint, as if the idea was simply too awful to bear.
Mr. Lupin laughed sincerely at that, informing Dorcas that she’d be welcome at Longbourn any time.
“I shall be taking you up on that offer, Mr. Lupin,” Dorcas replied warmly, turning her attention back to the game. (James was losing badly.)
In the companionable silence, Mr. Lupin perused the dusty volume in his hands just as before, and Sirius returned to his quiet observation of the man himself: the way the sunshine streaming through the windows cast rays of shifting light and shadow over his face, the thoughtful manner in which he studied the pages, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He was a lovely sort of person to simply watch.
With the peaceful combination of Mr. Lupin’s reading and Dorcas and James’s quiet murmuring chit-chat, Sirius barely noticed the time pass. Soon early evening fell upon Netherfield, and James was offering Mr. Lupin a room for the night.
“It’s much too dark out to return home now, Mr. Lupin!” he declared graciously. “And please know you’re free to stay here for as long as you wish, to keep your sister company. We all hope for a swift recovery, of course, but we’re very pleased to have you here.”
Mr. Lupin looked uneasy. “I’d love to stay, if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble,” he said. “Although…”
James passed his playing cards across the table for Dorcas to file away. “Hm?”
“Is it alright if I may invite my mother here to visit Lily tomorrow? She’ll be brief, it’s just she gets so awful worried, and I just thought—”
“Say no more!” James said, waving his hands as if the idea Mr. Lupin should have to ask at all was preposterous. “Of course, Mrs. Lupin, Miss McKinnon, whoever. Please feel free.”
James stood then and yawned, which Sirius thought was a bit ridiculous for a man of James’s youth and vigour at such an early hour, but secretly found a little endearing, the same way he found everything about that bastard endearing. James was quite fond of the phrase ‘the early bird gets the worm,’ a sentence that still had the power to drive Sirius absolutely barmy.
“I’ll send a formal invitation to Longbourn posthaste,” James promised. “And with that, I must bid you all adieu.” He visited Miss Evans’s bedside once more before retiring to bed, and Dorcas followed not long behind him, kissing Sirius on the cheek as she always did and offering Mr. Lupin a polite curtsy before exiting.
Mr. Lupin bowed too, saying his goodnights. Then he turned back to Sirius.
“Will you be heading off to bed as well soon, Mr—”
“Would you like some liquor?” Sirius asked, unable to stop himself. Mr. Lupin paused, raising his eyebrows.
“Pardon?”
“Come on,” Sirius said, doubling down. “Just for a little. I’m not tired yet, we could just… I suppose I thought we could talk a little more, is all.” He tried to project confidence and ease he did not feel, but he knew he was mucking everything up all over again.
Shockingly, a smirk crept onto Mr. Lupin’s face. “Okay,” he said, sitting back down. “Just for a drink or two.”
Sirius and Mr. Lupin ended up staying awake talking for quite a bit longer than that, probably each drinking a good deal more than strictly necessary. Mr. Lupin had removed his tie at one point or another, flinging it over the back of a chair, but his unkempt hair and rumpled clothes somehow added to his charm. He and Sirius talked about every matter under the sun, and Mr. Lupin was even persuaded to perform a few songs on the pianoforte, despite insisting that he wasn’t very good. Sirius could hardly focus on the music, too distracted by the sight of Mr. Lupin’s long, pale fingers gracefully dancing over the keys. It was mesmerising.
Mr. Lupin told him all about his siblings and which sorts of stories he loved and which he hated; he detailed his duties on his parents’ small farm and how he wished to go back to school; he told Sirius about getting thrown off the back of a horse when he was little and injuring his hip and how his joints still sometimes ached from the accident.
Sirius talked of Regulus and the games they used to play in the back garden when they were little when mother was abroad, the precious days they were free to run amuck without her careful and constant supervision; he spoke of how greatly he detested dancing from his many years of excruciating classical training; he admitted to sometimes loving James so much he felt agonised that they were not one being, and he admitted to sometimes loving James so much he felt sick with jealousy and could hardly stand to look at his own best friend.
“And why is that?” Mr. Lupin asked when he said as much.
“He’s so…” Sirius began, unable to describe a person like James with something as limiting as the English language.
“Bright? Happy?” Mr. Lupin supplied helpfully, resting his head on the settee cushion behind him but still listening attentively.
“Yes, sort of,” Sirius said. “But it’s more than that. He’s genuinely kind and good-natured, nearly always in an agreeable mood, makes friends so easily, and loves so much. Nothing’s ever really stood in his way.”
Mr. Lupin contemplated this for a few moments. “And that’s not the same for you?”
Sirius shrugged, uncomfortable with his own confession. It was suddenly far too stuffy in the room. “No. I mean, you saw me at the ball.” Mr. Lupin let out a snort, cracking one eye open. “You weren’t that bad.”
Sirius buried his head in his hands. “Yes I was. I was in a foul mood about something else beforehand, and I took it out on everyone there. I’ve never been skilled at holding my temper, I’m afraid.”
Mr. Lupin closed his eye again, face relaxing. “That’s alright. Neither am I.”
They both were quiet for a few moments after that. When Sirius drew his hands away, he noticed that their faces were so close he could see each and every freckle splashed across Mr. Lupin’s cheeks, and his delirious mind began to count them all. Finally, Mr. Lupin said, “I know what you mean about the jealousy thing, too.”
This caught Sirius’s attention. “Oh really?”
Mr. Lupin nodded. “I feel that way too. It’s my sister Mary. I love her so dearly, I really do, and I know things aren’t perfect for her either, but it’s just—” He paused.
“Go on,” Sirius said.
“There are just some things that she’s allowed to do that I’m not. I didn’t choose the things I want in life, and yet I’ve always had an idea of what they are and I’ve never felt…” He rubbed a tired hand over his face. “Well, I suppose I’ve never exactly felt forgiven for wanting the things I want. Though I know it may be wrong, I can’t help the way I am, can I?”
It made Sirius terribly glum to know Mr. Lupin thought that way about himself. Sirius got the feeling he’d still feel the same way about him no matter what his secret was. Sirius understood secrets all too well.
“You could tell me, you know. If you wanted to,” he said quietly. “I’d like to know what you want in life.”
Mr. Lupin smiled faintly. “Alright, Mr. Black. I’ll tell you a secret,” he said at last. “I don’t find you nearly as unpleasant as you seem to find yourself. In fact—” he lowered his voice to a loud, drunken whisper, “—I quite like you. But don’t tell. Your reputation as the rich, brooding mystery man from London is at stake. What would the townspeople gossip about then?”
Sirius grinned at him, closing his eyes as well. “You’re entirely right, Mr. Lupin. Forget this ever happened. You can tell the ladies in town that I ruthlessly insulted you until you were driven from the estate or perhaps poisoned your wine or something. Cast a spell on you. Banished you from the land.”
Mr. Lupin laughed drowsily, reaching up a clumsy hand to pat Sirius’s cheek, eyes still closed. “You remind me of a boy I once knew,” he said, the words slurring together. “I used to think he was a dream. Maybe he was. Maybe I dreamed you up, Mr. Black.”
By this time, Sirius had already fallen asleep. A pity he missed Remus’s final words, perhaps just that would've been enough to jog his memory— But, alas, it was not to be. Sirius had once thought it a dream as well. Thus was the wonder of youth. One in adulthood could never fully remember the magic.
And so they slept, side by side. Remus was whisked away to the world he always inhabited in sleep: a summer in the Scottish countryside spent playing in the forest. By the time he awoke, he had forgotten it all once more.
All for the best, perhaps. Life had a way of reminding you.
—
As exceedingly enjoyable as the evening was, the effects wore heavily on Sirius the following morning. His mouth was terribly dry, his head was pounding, and he had fallen asleep resting on Mr. Lupin’s shoulder. Mortified, he sprang away, succeeding only in awakening the bleary-eyed Mr. Lupin. He knew he should feel embarrassed, but how could he possibly when Mr. Lupin sat there, hair rumpled and clothes dishevelled, as comfortable as if he’d been there all his life?
“What? What time is it?” he murmured, carding a hand through his hair. Judging by the light leaking into the room from underneath the many curtains, it was well into the day. Sirius ignored that, preferring to mischievously remark: “I must say, Mr. Lupin, you look terribly domestic right now.”
Mr. Lupin laughed at that, burying his face in his hands. “Drank too much,” was his only, muffled, reply.
“As did I,” Sirius returned, “Although I can’t remember having that much fun getting drunk with a stranger before. You’re certainly some company, Mr. Lupin.”
Mr. Lupin lifted his face from his hands, grinning coyly at him. “I’d hardly call us strangers, Mr. Black. If I do recall correctly, you were waxing poetic about all your hopes and dreams and the inner workings of your mind only hours ago…”
Sirius laughed, taking a swig from a glass of water balanced precariously on the edge of the nearby card table. He frowned at the filmy taste of dust covering the surface of the liquid, but nevertheless drained the glass. “Ah, yes, I’ve been known to do that when intoxicated. My most sincere apologies, Mr. Lupin. And we are friends, or at least I’d like to believe so.”
Mr. Lupin smirked, stretching his arms over his head and yawning. Sirius politely averted his gaze when the bottom of his shirt rode up to reveal a sliver of skin. “Alright, mate,” Mr. Lupin was saying. “If we’re such good friends, would you consider making breakfast?”
“Ordering me around already, are you?” Sirius replied, arching a brow. “I hope you know it’s a lost cause trying to turn me into an honest man.”
Mr. Lupin lounged back more comfortably on the settee. “Yes, I think so. It’s only gentlemanly, Mr. Black, didn’t you know?”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Indeed it is. For the pleasure of the company of someone such as I, you, ever the gentleman, must make breakfast in the morning so that I, the lady, mustn't trouble myself.”
“You’re a lady now, are you?”
“In this scenario, yes.”
“In what scenario?”
“In the scenario that I have effortlessly charmed you with my feminine wiles, and you have just woken up beside me and are obliged to cook me breakfast.”
That shocked a laugh out of Sirius. He hummed thoughtfully, trying to ignore the sudden heat in his cheeks. “I don’t know. I just can’t imagine it.”
“Try.”
Sirius smiled at him. “No, I much prefer the scenario in which you play a gentleman I just met in the countryside who happens to be staying at the same estate that I, a hapless young man from out of town, am also staying in. And then we drink ourselves into oblivion one night and stay up talking, eventually falling asleep as drunks often do. Therefore, you are the gentleman in control of the situation, and my obligation to cook you breakfast is nullified.”
Mr. Lupin thought it over, nodding his head. “I see. It truly is my duty to secure your comfort.” At this he stood up, grinning, and walked over to Sirius. There was something incredibly thrilling about talking to Remus Lupin, Sirius was discovering. There was always danger lurking underneath the surface, an extra level to the conversation that seemed to sail right over Sirius’s head but still made his stomach bubble with anticipation for what was to happen next.
Mr. Lupin stopped just in front of him, reaching up to loosen the tie that Sirius had not had the forethought to remove last night before his mind turned to mush. Mr. Lupin’s eyes were twinkling with good humour. “After such a wonderful night, it’s the least I can do to ease your burden.” Carefully, he tugged the loop in the tie wider and slipped it off his head. Sirius felt almost paralyzed then, because Mr. Lupin was laughing under his breath and he was so close and his hands were so warm and Sirius didn’t know what to do with himself.
“There you go. I’m a regular knight in shining armour,” Mr. Lupin said, not yet pulling away. “Now, back to the matter of breakfast—”
It was at this moment that James chose to burst into the room, spoiling whatever brilliant thing Sirius was going to say next, which he hadn’t exactly thought of yet but was sure would come across as charming anyway, and not betray a single fraction of the odd inner turmoil he was currently experiencing.
“Good Heavens, are you two not dressed yet?” James cried, appalled. “What are you doing out here?”
Mr. Lupin snatched his hands away and quickly turned himself towards James, body language guilty as if they’d been doing something wrong. We haven’t been doing anything wrong, Sirius thought to himself, but still his body was hot with shame at James’s interruption and he felt compelled to wipe his sweaty hands on his trousers as if doing away with evidence.
James eyed the empty bottles lying around the parlour. His eyebrows shot to the sky. “Did you sleep out here?”
Mr. Lupin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, all the swagger from the previous moment gone. “Sorry, Mr. Potter. I guess we forgot how late it was getting, and Mr. Black said it was alright if he drank the—”
James flapped his hands in the air agitatedly, silencing Mr. Lupin. “No, nevermind that. What I’m worried about is that your mother sent a message a few hours ago stating that they’d be over soon, and I don’t want her to think that this is the kind of thing we get up to. I need to look respectable! Go make yourselves decent!”
Sirius smiled, grateful at James's inherent ability to ease the tension in a room. He quickly busied himself collecting the discarded bottles and the various items of clothing he’d shed during the night. Mr. Lupin soon followed his example, scrambling to gather his things.
“Right away, Mr. James Potter, sir,” Sirius announced, saluting him. “We can’t have Miss Evans’s mother thinking you’re some kind of miscreant, can we?”
Mr. Lupin smiled coquettishly, shuffling out of the room. Just before he left, he casually threw over his shoulder the words: “Don’t you worry, Mr. Potter. Mr. Black and I won’t let our deviancy corrupt you.” Then he was gone, off to change into new clothes and freshen up before his family’s arrival. Sirius grinned idiotically at the sight of him hurrying up the stairs, all embarrassment driven from his mind.
“He’s something, isn’t he?” he commented dopily, receiving no reply.
When he turned back around to address the mess once more, he found James giving him a very odd look.
“What?” he asked, smoothing out a wrinkle in the rug with his foot. “We really will get this all cleaned up before her mother gets here, it’s nothing to make a fuss about.”
James said nothing, still staring at him with perplexity.
“What?” Sirius said again, this time far more self-consciously. “Merlin, mate, you’re scaring me.”
James scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “It’s only that, no offence, twelve hours ago Mr. Lupin seemed to only barely tolerate your presence, and suddenly I feel as though I’m intruding upon a private matter.” James’s face suddenly broke into his normal cheery grin, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Ah, I see what’s going on here, you sly old dog! When’s the wedding?” He was obviously teasing, but Sirius took a panicky step back.
“What the Hell are you talking about?” he retorted on instinct, and then suddenly it was like there was no air in his lungs. “I— It’s not— Why would you— I mean, I wouldn’t—”
James’s face quickly slipped into concern. “Sirius? I was only joking, mate, I didn’t mean anything by—”
“What’s so fucking funny about it?” Sirius spat out. He knew his anger at James was misplaced but there was blood rushing in his ears and he was terrified and confused and he had nowhere else to direct the rush of emotion. “Not everyone gets your perfect bloody fairytale romance, Potter, just because I’ve made a friend other than you doesn’t mean that I’m— I mean, you know that I’m not—” He took another step back. The room suddenly felt deathly cold. “How is it any of your business?!”
James looked at him like a kicked puppy on the side of the road. One could not wound James Potter without wounding themselves just as much.
“It’s none of my business?” James repeated quietly, not accusatory, not angry, just hurt. Sirius could almost hear his fragile, beautiful heart shattering like glass. “You think it’s none of my business? What you do, what makes you happy?”
Sirius said nothing, glaring stonily at the floor.
“Sirius, I was kidding before, I really was, but I mean… You’re my best friend, do you think I don’t notice things about you? I don’t see how you look at him? I can’t read between the lines?”
Sirius shook his head frantically. “But you’re wrong this time. He’s just nice, that’s all.” His own voice sounded very small and very far away. “It doesn’t mean anything, I swear it doesn’t.” James’s eyes grew even wider, and he seemed so full of sympathy and understanding Sirius couldn’t even look at him. He was wrong this time. There was nothing to understand.
“You know that there's nothing on Earth that could change the way I feel about you, right?” James asked slowly. Sirius hated this; he hated that James felt that he had to walk on eggshells around him. "I..." James glanced down at his feet. "I would hope that you would say the same to me. I mean, it's fine if you don't want to get married. Or if you don't feel that way for anyone. But it's also fine if..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say next. Sirius could feel his heart slamming against his ribcage. They’d never talked about it before.
James put a hand on his shoulder, and Sirius leaned into it instinctively. James's fingers were warm and gentle against him. Sirius thought numbly that James was sometimes the only thing keeping him from crumbling to pieces. "Why should one kind of love be treated different than another?"
Sirius suddenly felt like crying. “I don’t—” His voice broke. He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”
James looked disappointed, but he nodded anyway and turned to go. “Okay.”
“But thank you,” Sirius blurted out just before James reached the stairs. “I’m sure that would be really meaningful. For someone in that situation. I guess. It was a nice thought.” He flexed his hands nervously at his sides. "Let's not discuss it any more."
James just offered him a brief, sad sort of smile, and then he was gone. Sirius collapsed onto the settee like a dead man, blinking pathetically up at the ceiling. He had no idea how to feel.
It wasn’t as if Sirius hadn’t thought of it. Everyone did. It was only natural to be curious, wasn’t it? And yes, being around Mr. Lupin was thrilling. He sometimes made Sirius’s stomach do backflips and Sirius could never take his eyes off him once they were in the same room. It was just Mr. Lupin’s nature. He was charming and agreeable, funny and intriguing and different and kind and thoughtful and clever and fun. Sirius couldn’t imagine a single person on Earth not being interested in Mr. Lupin, not wanting to speak to him more. There was nothing unusual about it.
And Sirius knew he was to be married one day. It was his duty as the first-born son to carry on the legacy of the Black family. It was something he’d always known, so he’d never deluded himself with fancies of romance much. He’d only hoped to meet a nice, plain girl who he liked well enough to live with but who mostly left him alone. That was what he wanted. James was too kind, too loving for his own good, but he didn’t know what he was talking about. Who cared if the sight of Mr. Lupin’s crooked half-grin made Sirius’s mouth go dry and his heart stutter a little? You’d have to be mad not to think Mr. Lupin was handsome, to not wonder what he smelled like or what his skin would feel like under your hands. Mr. Lupin was the kind of person who could make someone shiver just by looking at them, the perfect mix of clever wit and self-conscious charm to leave one wanting more. Anyone would think so. Sirius was just complimenting a friend.
He had to put the matter to rest. James only said he was fine with it because he cared so dearly about Sirius and thought him inclined in that area, but surely deep down he was disgusted and merely fighting through it. Sirius personally didn’t mind what people got up to in their private lives, but of course he wasn’t like that and it did no good to dwell on. Sirius was a Black, after all. There was nothing to do but wait it out.
—
Not long after Sirius donned the proper attire and returned to the parlour where James was anxiously pacing back-and-forth and checking his watch every few seconds, Mrs. Lupin, Miss McKinnon, and Miss Macdonald arrived. Sirius decided instantly to put the unpleasantness of the morning’s thoughts behind him, choosing instead to focus on impressing upon the family a proper and gentlemanly image of him. He bowed deeply and kissed each of the women on the hand graciously, leading them to the sitting area. James raised his eyebrows at him behind Mrs. Lupin’s back, impressed.
After sitting by Lily’s bedside and discerning for themselves her well-being, the family was obliged to accept Dorcas’s request for their company in the breakfast parlour. Dorcas gently clasped Miss McKinnon’s hand and pulled her down on the settee beside her, the two conversing quietly as the others exchanged pleasantries with James. Dorcas and Miss McKinnon were both beaming as they spoke to one another in hushed voices, McKinnon reaching out to brush a stray piece of hair out of Dorcas’s eyes and carefully tucking behind her ear. It was such an intimate moment that Sirius almost felt guilty watching it, turning his gaze to Mrs. Lupin instead and leaving the pair to their privacy.
“I am sure,” Mrs. Lupin was saying, “if it were not for such good friends, I do not know what would become of Lily, for she is very ill indeed…”
James smiled kindly at her, replying, “And she handles it all with the greatest patience in the world, I must say. She has, without exception, the sweetest temper I’ve ever met with.”
Miss Macdonald downright laughed at that, offering James a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure you think so now, Mr. Potter, but just wait until you’ve crossed her. I never encountered such a fearsome beast.” She folded her hands in front of her, expression totally innocent. “But I’m sure you have no problem with a fiery personality, Mr. Potter? A woman who can stand up for herself?”
James pinked in the cheeks considerably and meekly nodded. Sirius knew for a fact that that was his greatest pleasure in life, to be challenged. To be bantered with. It seemed Miss Evans was nearly perfect for him after all.
“Have you been enjoying Hertfordshire, Mr. Potter?” Mrs. Lupin inquired.
James nodded eagerly, easily replying: “When I am in the country, I never wish to leave it.”
Sirius frowned. He was the reason James had moved to London in the first place. “Of course, when he’s in town, it’s nearly the same," Sirius interjected. "I believe James could be equally happy most anywhere.”
“It’s just his natural disposition,” Dorcas agreed, finally looking up from her conversation with Miss McKinnon. “Not to say that the country isn’t lovely, which it is, of course.” James heartily agreed.
Miss Macdonald gracefully stood at this moment, tapping her mother gently on the arm. “It has been such a pleasure to meet with you here, and to see Lily, of course, but we ought to be going. We’ll trouble you no longer,” she said politely, her mother reluctantly standing as well.
An expression of panic crossed over Miss McKinnon’s face at the idea, prompting her to say, “Shouldn’t at least one of us stay for a bit? Just until the evening, just until Lily’s alright?”
Before Sirius even knew what was coming out of his mouth, he said, “Mr. Lupin, why don’t you?” Mr. Lupin blinked at him, surprised. “Stay with us. Just for a little longer, I mean,” Sirius continued, unhelpfully.
Mr. Lupin sat down again. “Alright. If you insist.”
Defeated, Miss McKinnon stood, fingertips lingering against Dorcas’s arm. “Alright then, I suppose,” she said.
“It’s been lovely to see Netherfield. I’ll write you,” she promised Dorcas.
Before the group left, Miss McKinnon asked one final question, directed at James. “Oh yes, Mr. Potter, before I forget: Is it true you plan on hosting a ball here?”
“Oh, do hold a ball!” Miss Macdonald chimed in happily, dimples appearing at the edges of her smile.
James stood and bowed graciously before them. “When your sister recovers her health, just name the day!”
The group departed not long after that, Mrs. Lupin declaring her gratitude for James’s hospitality once more before they left.
The day passed in much the same way the previous one had, the four merely idling around the sitting room and making small talk. Just before dinnertime, Sirius set about writing Regulus a letter. He wasn’t sure he could trust his father to pass the letter along properly, so he had to be careful what he wrote. It turned out to be actually quite the challenge.
“How delighted Regulus shall be to receive such a letter!” James commented cheerfully when he noticed Sirius’s activity. “I’m sure he’s bored out of his skull in France and missing us dreadfully…”
Sirius nodded distractedly, scratching the bottom of his chin with the quill. “Indeed.” James understood the basics of the situation, but not the true gravity of it. He’d never lived with Walburga and Orion Black, he didn’t understand what it felt like to be cut off from the world with them as your only contact. He didn’t know what it’d been like before he showed up, when Sirius was still too young to defend himself or his brother. He didn’t comprehend that pleading with them was like pleading with a brick wall. It was the Black brothers’ cross to bear alone. Bringing others into it never helped anything.
“Pray tell your brother that I long to see him?” James said hopefully. Sirius briefly included his wishes in the letter.
“Tell him I am delighted to hear of his new treatment in France, though I’m hoping he’ll be able to get away soon enough to visit us at Netherfield. And that I met a woman, a Miss Evans, that I think he would greatly enjoy the company of, they're really very much similar. And please tell him, too, that—”
“James,” Sirius interrupted, annoyed. Things were still strange between them after their altercation that morning. “Write him your own letter if you have so very much to say.”
James flashed him a hurt look, making Sirius immediately regret the harsh way he spoke. He took a deep breath. “I only meant that he would love to hear from you,” he amended.
James said nothing, still looking put-out.
“Do you always write such long, charming letters to your brother, Mr. Black?” Mr. Lupin inquired cheekily.
Sirius made a face. “They are generally long, but whether always charming I cannot say,” he answered lamely.
Mr. Lupin smirked at him. “I see.”
“Better than James’s letters, anyway,” commented Dorcas. “He writes in the most careless way imaginable, Mr. Lupin, you could never imagine! He leaves out half the words he means to say, and blots out the rest with the cuff off his coat..."
James laughed at himself unselfconsciously, turning away from Sirius. “It’s only that my ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them— By which means my letters sometimes convey nothing comprehensive to my correspondents at all.”
“No matter,” Mr. Lupin reassured. “My own handwriting is so atrocious it’s a wonder I can read it myself.”
Sirius smiled but declined to respond, still writing. Not long after, Mr. Lupin ventured upstairs to check on his sister and returned with her company, Miss Evans having apparently recovered enough to safely leave her bedroom. James was a ball of joy and nerves at her health, piling more wood onto the fire so she wouldn’t be cold and ushering her over to sit beside him and converse in the corner of the room. Miss Evans was more beautiful than ever at this moment, fully rejuvenated from her sickness: her green eyes were bright and her cheeks rosy, fiery red hair framing her face prettily and making each of her features look delicate and dainty as glass. Sirius felt rather melancholy then, not that he wasn’t happy for them. It was just that everything always worked out so perfectly for James, and nearly everything in Sirius’s life felt like a struggle.
Sirius let his eyes wander, landing on Mr. Lupin as they always did. He was watching James and Miss Evans with evident delight, his lips twitching slightly in amusement at their chattering like old friends. He was unbearably handsome, Sirius thought not for the first time. It was a wonder every girl in Hertfordshire wasn’t after him. On the opposite end, Sirius absentmindedly wondered what Mr. Lupin might’ve been like as a lady. Beautiful, smart, witty, clever, and kind, to be sure. Someone to kiss? Perhaps. Someone to hold? Maybe so. Someone to pass the days with? Almost surely. Someone to love? He would never know. It could never come true.
Mr. Lupin caught his eye at that moment, grinning slyly and tapping Sirius’s forearm to get his attention. “With the way that’s going, I expect we’ll have a wedding before the season’s through, don’t you?”
Sirius’s skin tingled from Mr. Lupin’s touch. Distantly, he could feel his own head nodding. “Yes,” he heard his voice say. “I hope so.”