Rule #13

The air is crisp, just a dash of pine and cedar amidst the morning wind. Remus sinks into the chill, pulling the sleeves of his camp sweatshirt over the heels of his hands. It’s a part of his routine now, these minutes on the stoop of the Nurse’s Cabin, warm mug in hand, exhaustion dissolving with every breath. 

He can’t recall the last time he had a morning routine; not even Ty’s love for organization was sufficient to tame his haphazard ways. Though maybe when Remus was younger he had his shit together. Hell, maybe he was a gym bro and had a strict workout regimen. If that were the case, Remus was glad he couldn’t remember. 

When Remus dared to be honest with himself, however, he longed to know the little things of his childhood. What kind of books he enjoyed, which teachers he wanted to punch, if he had any friends. But he couldn’t get those pieces without seeing the entire puzzle, stained with blood. 

Amnesia was a blessing, a second chance.

At least he thought as much when he married Ty. When he started a new family, unencumbered by his old one, and was…happy. 

Remus rests his chin on his mug, steam kissing his chin. The Gryffindor cabins to the left are still with sleep. On the right, a slope of woodchips leads to the ping-pong tables and dining area, where Evan’s giggles and Molly’s voice drift from the kitchens. And then there’s the beautiful sunrise: a passion fruit spray tan, as Sirius once called it. 

Remus finds himself grinning like a fool at the pink sky. 

It’s calm. The opposite of the hospital, the opposite of his quiet, chaotic apartment. Because while Hogwarts in the morning may be quiet, the silence isn’t suffocating. On the contrary, it makes him want to breathe. 

He can almost feel Ty beside him, his coarse hair rubbing Remus’s neck, cheek jabbing into his bony shoulder. “Kinda makes you want to scream,” Ty would say. 

Then he’d stand up and do it. 

A mix of a squeal and a battle cry, until his voice breaks from his own smile. 

Remus would laugh, grab his hand, and pull him back to his shoulder.

“You know, yesterday was not my best. One of my worst, actually.”

Remus drags his eyes down from the sunrise, finding Lily’s red hair piled in a bun, her green eyes alert. He shakes out all thoughts of Ty and focuses on his boss, his almost friend, and says:

“That so?” 

“Mmhm.” Lily comes forward and plops beside him on the steps. “But there was one thing that got me through it.”

Remus takes a sip from his mug. “Now I must know what.”

“You think I’m tolerable!” Lily’s voice is much too bright for so early. 

“You’ve no evidence.”

“I have Sirius’s word,” Lily says.

Remus smirks. “Sirius has made a career out of embellishment, how could I trust their word?” 

“I’m going to be real with you, Remus.” Lily wraps her arms around her legs tucked into her chest. “I need this win.”

Remus rolls his eyes at her dramatics. “Fine, fine, you’re tolerable.”

“Thank god.”

They fall into a silence then, Remus revering the last moments of camp without campers, and Lily likely resenting it. She’s a perfect fit for the Hogwarts staff, besotted with kids and wildly dedicated to a summer camp much too expensive.

Remus never went to summer camp—or if he did, he didn’t remember it—so he can’t comprehend all the counselors' dedication to the underpaid overwork. His job as the camp nurse, on the other hand, is unexpectedly nice. He sees the kids in small doses, makes their pain go away, and then spends the rest of his time reading books, walking trails, or hanging out with the staff. The staff that are, admittedly, decent. 

Especially Lily. And maybe a few others…

Lily leans over and sniffs his mug. “Peppermint tea?”

“I’ve already had some coffee with Molly,” he mumbles. 

“Ah yes, herbal tea to balance the caffeine.”

“Hey, I’m the nurse here.”

Lily pushes her shoulder against his, her eyes trailing to the Gryffindor cabins. 

“So yesterday was bad?” Remus starts. “Does that have to do with your little dance with Hypo?”

Lily’s face falls. “I was fine.”

“Peter was worried,” Remus says softly. 

“I’ve been a Diabetic my whole life, alright, I know what I’m doing.”

Remus is entirely used to stubborn patients, so her tone doesn’t faze him. “I’m here for you if you need me.”

Lily straightens. 

“Oh no.” Remus grimaces. “What did I just get into?”

“Well, you see…” Lily’s smile is all innocence. “Our incredible Camp Director gifted Mary and me with wonderful news last night.”

“Spit it out, Lily.”

“This weekend after next the campers’ parents will be invited to Hogwarts. It’s Dumbledore’s way of appeasing the donors.”

Remus blinks. “That’s going to be a disaster.”

Lily’s head drops, her back shaking with laughter. “That’s what Sirius said.”

“Mm.” Remus ignores the catch in his breath at the mention of him. “This time I don’t think Sirius is embellishing her words.”

“Yeah. That’s why I need you.” Lily lifts her head and looks at Remus with downright desperation. 

“James says—” She drags her hands down her face. “James says I need to learn to delegate and ask for help when I need it, instead of taking it all myself. I know from our check-in meeting that you said you could handle more responsibilities…” Lily’s face is so scrunched she looks like she had one of the warheads from Pandora’s secret candy stash. 

Remus isn’t sure when he started caring so much for Lily, for the entire staff. He’s not a caring person. 

Yet he doesn’t hesitate to say: “Tell me what you need.”

******

Unlike Ty, Remus didn’t decide to become a nurse for noble reasons. No, he wanted job stability and the awe of emergency, he wanted people to respect what he did and leave him alone. 

The whole bit where he saves lives and makes a meaningful impact? Not the point. 

That’s not to say it’s an easy job. Understaffing and overtime are much too normal in his world, and during the pandemic—well, a lot of lives changed for the worse thanks to Covid. Remus above all. 

Then there are the other shitty parts. Attending people in terrible pain with no way to help them. Watching people, kids die. Telling the family to say goodbye.

It guts a person, working in a place surrounded by pain and death. 

Remus didn’t realize just how gutted he was until Hogwarts, where playing nurse didn’t mean restarting hearts and sewing up gashes, but checking temperatures and applying bandaids. 

With very adorable kids. 

“Dr. Moony,” Harry says with a solemn face, holding his wrist still so Remus can wrap it. “I don’t think I should be a musician.”

Remus is sure to keep his face absolutely neutral. The accident, according to Draco, happened because Harry was “a fool trying to dance while playing the recorder which led to an entirely predictable fall.” 

Sirius brought Harry straight to the Nurse’s Cabin, which is conveniently right next door to where they were holding a beginner recorder class. 

If Remus never heard Hot Cross Buns again, he’d die a happy man. 

It’s been three weeks of amateur drummers and guitarists outside the Nurse’s Cabin, an unideal ambiance for reading and sitting on his ass and generally slacking off. Of course, the sensible solution would be to ask Sirius to pick a new spot for her classes. But Remus likes that he can look out the window and see them teaching the campers. He likes that he gets to hear the occasional demonstration from Sirius herself. He likes to watch Sirius. 

God, he’s a fucking stalker. 

He’s doing it even now, staring at Sirius’s braided hair, their tie-dye shorts, and the friendship bracelet they’re spinning lazily around his painted fingers. Only it’s not just Remus staring. 

No, it’s certainly not. 

Sirius watches Remus religiously. She has the kind of eyes that make you weak, a blue and grey hypnosis fit for a fortune teller’s crystal ball. The more you look, the more you want foolish things. Feel ridiculous things. 

Or maybe Remus needs to stop reading so much fantasy. 

But fuck if Sirius wasn’t enchanting. 

Finally, Sirius gives Remus a break and fixes their attention on Harry. “Of course you should be a musician, Harry! You’re going to be the next…um…” 

“What?” Harry turns to look at his counselor leaning against the wall.  

“I can’t think of anyone famous who plays the recorder.” Sirius turns back to Remus as if he knows the answer. 

Draco clears his throat, pushing away from the corner he was brooding in, and stepping toward the edge of the hospital bed. “Marion Verbruggen, John Turner, Giovanni Antonini—”

“Right,” Sirius interrupts. “Thanks.”

Remus smirks and finishes wrapping Harry’s wrist. Once the wrap is secure, he looks into Harry’s big, green eyes: “I think you could be anything you wanted to be.”

Harry’s eyes crinkle in the corners. “Really?” he whispers. 

“I for one do not think that he should be a recorder player.” Draco twirls his own recorder between his fingers like a drummer would their drumsticks. 

“No probably not but that’s okay because Draco’s reallyyyyyyyy good at it,” Harry tells Remus. “Draco you should play something for Dr. Moony!” 

Sirius and Remus share a glance, and shit it’s another long one, in fact, it seems endless; Remus should look away, but the flutter of Sirius’s lashes, her blue but grey eyes, their attention pinned on Remus? It’s breathless and breathtaking. 

Then Harry breaks the spell when he whispers, quite loudly, to Draco: “Play something romantic!”

“Why would—” Sirius breaks off as Draco begins his performance. 

Remus nearly laughs when he recognizes the melody: “Creep” by Radiohead. Harry doesn’t seem to notice just how unromantic the song choice is, because he bobs his head excitedly, eyes bouncing from Remus to Sirius suggestively. 

“Harry! Harry, are you okay sweetheart?” Lily comes bursting into the back room, James just behind. They both have grim expressions and Remus straightens on instinct, his mind thrusting him back to the ER in less than a heartbeat. 

Sirius, on the other hand, rolls their eyes. “Harry’s just fine. Dr. Moony patched him up.”

Remus doesn’t bother correcting the nickname. Half the camp uses it now, thanks to Sirius’s relentless charm. 

James kneels beside Harry, gently taking his injured wrist and inspecting it thoroughly, despite the fact that it’s wrapped. 

After Lily squeezes Harry’s shoulder, she turns to Draco. “What about you? Are you alright?”

“I’m not the idiot here.”

James’s shoulders tense, and he narrows his eyes at the bleach-blonde boy. “That’s not nice, Draco, you should apologize to Harry.”

“What? That’s what Regulus calls you and Sirius.”

James’s stern expression cracks a little at the mention of Regulus. Lily’s doesn’t. “Draco, I’m sure that hurt Harry’s feelings, maybe there’s something kind you can say about him instead?”

Draco turns his attention back to Harry. “Besides Hermione, you’re the only Gryffindor I can stand.”

Harry’s grin is blinding. 

It reminds Remus a little of James’s, the way it punches you in the chest, a little voice in the back of your head demanding you smile with him. 

“That’s—” Lily begins, then sighs. 

Draco's lips slide up victoriously. 

“Why don’t we take you both back to the dining area?” James offers, helping Harry off the bed. “Lunch is about to start.”

Remus watches the two counselors and two campers file out of the cabin and offers Harry one last smile. That smile falters when he sees Sirius leaning on the far wall, arms crossed, unmoving. 

Sirius knows she’s gorgeous. Talented beyond measure. Beloved by this entire camp. The confidence and ego shouldn’t work for them, but fuck it does. 

It really does. 

The air in Remus’s lungs grows thick. He clamps his mouth shut before he does something as ridiculous as coughing because Sirius makes his respiratory system that unfunctional. That weak.

They keep up their staring contest, Sirius’s expression smug, and Remus’s…he doesn’t want to know what he looks like right now. Eager, probably. 

Eager to close the distance between them, push Sirius against the wall, and bite his bottom lip until that smile becomes desperate, as wanting as Remus. 

It’s an…unusual urge. 

The first time he’s wanted someone like that since Ty. Never mind Rule #13, Lily’s warnings, and Remus’s own good sense. He doesn’t know what to do with himself around Sirius. 

“Harry and Draco are up to something,” Sirius breaks the silence. 

Remus blinks, his voice pathetic and hoarse: “What?”

“They’ve got the same look Prongs and I used to get when we schemed. I mean it’s kinda freaky how similar Harry and James and then me and Draco—” Sirius stops abruptly. “Anyways, I think they’re planning something. Maybe a prank?”

Thank god Remus is able to form thoughts, even words, despite the fact that Sirius is untangling their braid, fluffing their curled black hair like a fucking model. He probably is a model. A side gig when she’s not working with some of the most talented musicians in the world. 

“What else have Draco and Harry done?” Remus rasps. 

Sirius walks over to Remus on the other side of the room and drops onto the chair. They lean back, legs extending and crossing at the ankles, elbow boldly sliding onto Remus’s chair. “Reg was teaching yoga and Harry somehow convinced James’s ultimate frisbee class to attack them.”

“Attack them?” Remus repeats. 

“More like run around the Lodge and ruin the meditation.”

“You sound so proud.”

Sirius laughs. “I kinda am? I can imagine Reg’s scrunched-up face, god he looks just like he did when he was a kid when he gets pissed.” 

“He must have been a menace.”

“No.” Sirius’s lips twitch. “That was all me and the Marauders.”

Something dark flashes across Sirius’s face, but then she’s moving on. “I’ve got a question.” Their eyes widen. “I mean, you don’t have to answer it, of course. I’m not trying to be…pushy.”

“Ask me and I’ll decide if I want to answer.” Remus shrugs. 

“You chose a guitar pick for one of your three items during training.”

Remus thinks back on that strange, busy week of staff mingling and Lily’s PowerPoints. “Ah, the seance thing.”

Sirius nods. “But, um, you said you didn’t know how to play guitar. That when I made try you in class a few weeks ago…that was the first time you ever played.”

Remus waits for the question, and when it comes, it’s not the one he’s expecting. 

“Do you think maybe a part of you was remembering something from…before?”

“Oh,” Remus says softly. He almost reaches out and takes Sirius’s hand, they seem so hopeful. 

“Sirius, it’s sweet that you care about all that, but no I’m not remembering, and I’m glad I’m not. I don’t want to remember.” Remus has lost count of how many times he’s had to tell people that. 

“Can I ask—” Sirius swallows.

Remus really, really wishes she wouldn’t. He really, really wishes that they could move on and talk about everything but—

“Why don’t you want to remember?”

The file shimmers in Remus’s vision, replacing Sirius’s face and the cabin around them with printed text. The cold, hard truth of his life before, compiled by a mix of doctors: Signs of child abuse. Facial scarring. Suicidal Ideation. Depression. Suicide attempt (x3). Traumatic Brain Injury. Amnesia. 

“Whatever, whoever I was before the accident, I know I wasn’t happy.”

It takes a while for Remus to see Sirius again, and when he does, he finds their eyes blinking,  mouth twitching down. “How do you know though? That you weren’t happy?”

Remus grits his teeth. “I don’t think a kid trying to kill himself is happy.”

“What?” Sirius nearly hisses.

“Look it doesn’t fucking matter, and I don’t want to talk about what I can’t remember.” Remus focuses on the wood-paneled floor, warped with age and weather. “Just doesn’t make sense.”

Sirius is quiet for a long while, long enough that Remus begins to regret ever opening his mouth, regret sharing the only puzzle pieces he has. But then Sirius says:

“You’re right, it doesn’t matter. Not if you’re happy now, yeah?”

It was the same thing Lily asked the first night they met. In fact, Sirius has the exact expression that she did, terribly vulnerable eyes and a fragile voice. As if they were desperate for the answer to be yes. 

Remus takes in a breath. “Ty used to play guitar. That’s why I chose a pick.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry I pushed.”

“You mean well, I know,” Remus says.

“I really do.”

Sirius jumps up then, holding out a hand to help Remus to his feet. A dangerous, dangerous offer. 

“You go on to lunch,” Remus manages to say. “I’ve got to put away the wrap and ice.”

Sirius gives Remus a look like she knows exactly what Remus is avoiding. Like they know the thoughts and feelings that tangle his breath whenever he dares to meet Sirius’s blue-grey stare. Like he knows that one day Remus will crack, and when he does, holding hands will seem embarrassingly innocent.

“Alright, Dr. Moony.”

Sirius leaves and Remus only remembers to breathe when they’re far, far away. He can’t help but think what Ty would say if he were here. 

Probably something along the lines of: What the fuck, Remus?

******

It’s a nice distraction the following night when Remus gets to muse on someone else’s love life. Someone else’s uncontrollable…urges. 

“Honestly, I should be fired for the fantasies I indulge in my head around that man.” Regulus takes a long drag of Remus’s cigarette. “I can’t look at James without dying a little.” Another drag. “A very inappropriate death.”

Remus’s laugh is loud like a howl, surprising even himself. He takes the cigarette from Regulus’s fingers. “You’ve definitely improved, I mean now you can talk to him in full sentences.”

“Fuck off.”

They’re lounging on the dock by the Black Lake, far away from the sleeping campers, far away from their sleeping supervisors, sharing their nightly smoke. Regulus wasn’t a smoker before they met, which is further proof that Remus is a great fucking nurse.

But as Regulus explained it, he likes the control of the toxicity, that he can allow himself a bad habit amidst his obsessive tendencies for order, health, and perfection. It wasn’t clear if Regulus was talking about the cigarettes or Remus, but either way, Remus understood. 

“So what step are you on?”

Regulus turns his attention from the dark lake’s surface and glares at Remus. “I should never have told you about that.”

“It sounded like a solid plan, you’re thirteen steps. Get close to James as a friend, then make a move, ask him out…” Remus’s tone is perhaps too teasing. 

Regulus doesn’t respond, his silence answer enough. 

Remus’s hand falls, his eyes lifting from the moonlight on the water to the moon in the sky. Ty would call this moon phase the “Sideways Smile”, a crescent moon thin enough to look like glowing lips. 

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear—”

“I only want to hear the truth,” Regulus cuts in. “Pansy looked me in the eye tonight and told me that I looked terrible in red, and I should stick to black forever. Now I know the truth—I won’t commit the same error in the future.” 

Remus eyes the red long-sleeve Regulus has on. It’s the first time he’s seen the man in any color. “Well, truth can be subjective.”

“That’s your opinion,” Regulus counters. 

“Exactly.”

Regulus’s lips twitch. “Go on, finish your thought.”

“Right. Well, I suggest that maybe you try and move on.”

Regulus goes still, that brilliant mind of his malfunctioning. 

“Sorry,” Remus immediately apologizes. If someone told him to just “move on” he’d likely punch them in the face. It didn’t work like that. Love and grief weren’t obedient like that. 

“I’m not—” Regulus’s face twists. “I don’t think I’ll ever get to have James. A part of me has always known that.”

“Then why bother?”

Regulus turns to Remus and says simply, “I’ve watched him fall in love for years. There’s a clear pattern in his dating history: James puts himself out there, gives his whole heart and soul to the relationship, and then his partner breaks his heart. He deserves someone to try as hard as he does for once. He deserves…romance.” 

If Regulus’s voice were anything but dead serious, Remus would laugh. Regulus is pursuing James not for himself, not because he thinks his feelings will be reciprocated, but because he wants James to feel…what, loved? 

“How long have you liked James, Regulus?”

Regulus’s smile is dry. “You know too much already.”

“That long, huh?”

Regulus looks down at his hands in his lap. 

“That’s, fuck, that’s just tragic,” Remus breathes. 

“Perhaps. But it’s worth it.”

The resignation in Regulus’s voice haunts Remus all the next day. He finds himself watching James, wishing he’d return Regulus’s looks, wishing he’d show that he did, actually, feel the same way. 

Remus is not the kind of guy to get involved. Proud bystander. Practiced do-nothinger. But watching Regulus pine so pathetically, try and fail to flirt so consistently, makes Remus want to grab James’s shoulders and shout: “Regulus likes you, you dumbass!” 

It’s certainly something Ty would have done. 

“It’s hard to watch, isn’t it?” Mary says. 

Remus jolts from his spot on the side of the kitchen, which has the best vantage point of the dining area. Sometimes he forgets he’s not invisible, entirely easy to overlook. Then again, Mary’s not the kind of woman who overlooks anyone. 

She nods to Regulus eating dinner with his cabin. “He’s a certified genius and yet he can’t figure out how to tell James he’s interested.”

“He’s got a plan, alright? He’s just working up to it,” Remus says in Regulus’s defense. 

Mary chuckles. “Of course he does.”

Remus squints at the cardigan wrapped around Mary’s shoulders. “You need some more advil?”

“Yeah,” Mary sighs. “The headache won’t budge.”

Remus pulls out the bottle from his pocket and passes it to her. “You know, I’ve got something stronger if it’s a migraine?”

Remus is unsurprised when Mary shakes her head with a smile. This isn’t the first headache she’s had, and it’s not the first time she’s refused more serious meds. 

She looks at him for a second, almost evaluating his expression. Then she says casually, “I’m an addict. 

Remus dips his head. “Alright.”

No matter what all the records say about his father, Remus knows better than to shame an addict. He’s seen the depths of the struggles that come with substance abuse, and the damage all that stigma can do to someone trying to recover. 

Remus thought Mary was incredible before, but now? Now he’s starting to understand just how resilient she is. 

“How about a nap then?” 

“How about a walk?” Mary suggests instead.

“Lead the way.”

They start down the path through Gryffindor, past the South Lawn and staff cabins in Hufflepuff, and weave onto a trail in the Wayward Woods. Mary’s easy to talk to, easy to like. She’s seen half the world and is a walking library of film history, but she’s not intimidating or smug; she actually makes Remus want to talk, a feat for a man so obsessed with keeping to himself. 

“So what about Princess Bride?”

“Princess Bride is a classic!” Mary grins at the canopy of trees over them. 

“I’ve never read the book. I’m almost afraid to because I adore the movie.”

Mary laughs, the bright sound ricocheting off the treebark and the slopes of roots and rocks around them. “My brother always said that it was the only movie adaptation that outdid the book. The book ends on a total cliffhanger, whereas the movie’s got that classic fairytale ending.”

“Sam, right?” Remus asks. Mary’s mentioned her brother before. 

“Yeah.” Mary’s eyes pull down to the forest floor. “Yeah, that was his name.”

Remus doesn’t miss a beat: “I’m so sorry, Mary.”

She nudges Remus’s shoulder, her smile small. “I like talking about him.”

“I can understand that.”

“It might help, you know?” Mary prods. “Talking about whoever you lost.”

Remus chews on his lip. “Did Lily tell you?”

“No, Red doesn’t tell me shit. But I can see you’re grieving. I know the signs.”

Remus doesn’t know what to say to that, and he isn’t sure he can speak with the way his throat tightens. 

“If you want, you could tell me about them,” Mary offers. “I’d love to hear.”

Remus surprises himself when he opens his mouth and begins: “Ty was the exact opposite of me…” 

He talks about the love story of a homebody and an extrovert caught in an ER together. He talks about how Ty grew up in Colorado, a little town called Telluride filled with ski tourists, and occasionally a film festival. He talks about how Ty said he never wanted to abandon the jagged mountains, the impossible mesas and plains, sandstone cliffs, deserts, and snow. He talks about their plan to take a long trip across the state and see every inch of Colorado’s nature. Road tripping and hikes and an occasional hotel or two, for Remus’s sanity. 

They never got to do that. 

At least Ty got his wish. He’ll stay in Colorado forever. 

Remus talks and talks, and then Mary talks and talks, until Ty and Sam are right there with them, walking and smiling and breathing. When the sun turns dark orange, they return to camp, both a little less heavy than before. 

Mary hugs Remus tightly before she leaves to set up the Camp Game. 

It’s nice. 

In fact, Remus thinks the last time he was hugged like that was at Ty’s funeral. 

He takes his time walking back to the Nurse’s Cabin, and when he finally reaches the front door, he finds Sirius waiting on the couch, flipping through one of the old magazines the last nurse left behind. 

This time, Remus keeps his voice steady. “Are you injured?” 

Sirius looks up slowly. “Would it make you feel better if I say yes?”

The door smacks shut behind Remus and he jumps from the sound. He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at Sirius’s stare. Again with the goddamn staring. 

“I’ve got the night off,” Sirius says when Remus doesn’t respond. “And I wanted to see you.”

Remus remains by the doorway, not letting himself any closer. 

“Couldn’t think of a good excuse,” Sirius continues. 

“Yet here you are.”

“Do I need an excuse to see you, Dr. Moony?”

Remus’s hands flex in his pockets. “I guess not.”

“You guess not,” Sirius repeats. Their eyes don’t move from Remus’s, but something flickers across her face. Remus is too caught up in controlling his own expression, his own thoughts to figure out what.

“I know I can be…much, and I’ve tried to give you space and time.” Sirius’s body is loose and lazy, but his voice betrays something nervous. “It’s been a month, an entire moon cycle since we met.”

Remus swallows. “Has it?”

“Fuck, I wish I knew what you were thinking.” 

Remus takes in a long breath and admits: “I don’t know what I’m thinking.” Or feeling. 

What he knows is that it’s been years since he held Ty. What he knows is that he hasn’t looked at anyone since he watched Ty take his last breath. What he knows is that he’s not done grieving Ty, and never will be. 

But what Remus doesn’t know? Well, he doesn’t know if he can let Sirius in nonetheless. 

Sirius stands up slowly as if worried Remus might bolt out the door. It’s possible. Remus feels himself panic with every step Sirius takes, with every moment they look into each other’s eyes and see what can’t be unseen. 

“Look,” Remus blurts when Sirius is a couple of feet away. “I’m still trying to figure it all out.” The words sound like an excuse, but he means it. “I’m a fucking mess.”

“You know I’m a mess too.” 

Remus ducks his head. Yes, he’s heard Sirius’s entire life story, shit, he’s befriended their brother; he got all the nasty details about the foster care and the drugs and the rehab. 

But Sirius was a mess then. He’s doing just fine now. 

Remus is a selfish bastard, but even he won’t drag the brightest star out of the sky. 

“I’m asking you to give me a chance,” Sirius rushes out the words. 

All these weeks of flirting and staring and yet Remus never expected Sirius to do something about it. It’s overwhelming, the urgency in her face. Surely Remus doesn’t mean that much to Sirius?

“Please.” Sirius’s stare finally breaks, their gaze finding Remus’s lips instead. 

As the spell of Sirius’s eyes builds, Remus’s lungs expand. The moment he gulps down air, his resolution cracks, and he crashes their lips together. 

Kissing Sirius Black is as instinctual as breathing. 

His hands slide up Sirius’s face, thumbs brushing their cheekbones as his touch and tongue shift from tentative to demanding. Then Sirius’s lips are opening, letting him in, and Remus shudders from the warmth, from the grip Sirius has on his sweater, from the push of her body into his. 

“Moony,” Sirius moans, wrapping his fingers in Remus’s curls. 

“Just Moony, no Dr?” Remus whispers across Sirius’s jaw, down their neck. 

And just like that, the spell breaks. 

When Sirius stiffens, Remus pulls back and searches her face. “What? What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t what I—” For a songwriter with albums full of lyrics, Sirius can’t seem to find the words. “I’m not interested in—”

The frustration and desire in Sirius’s voice are unnerving. 

“It doesn’t have to be complicated.” Remus squeezes Sirius’s hand. “I do like you, Sirius, and we only have just over a month more together.”

“You want a summer fling?”

Remus nearly flinches from the sharpness in Sirius’s voice. “Yes?”

Sirius steps back, his hands dropping from Remus’s bunched-up sweater, leaving wrinkles in their wake. She doesn’t say another word before she walks out of the cabin. 

When the door slams shut, Remus doesn’t bother trying to breathe. 

Not until his traitorous lungs make him. 

******

It’s not until the weekend, when the campers and counselors leave for their cabin excursions, that Remus starts to piece it together. He eats Evan’s cinnamon oatmeal in the empty dining area, thinking of the day he found Lily and Sirius on the hot rocks. 

“Remember, you’ve had a lifetime to know and love him and he’s only had—”

Who had Lily been talking about? It doesn’t matter, of course. The point is that Sirius is interested in someone else. In love with someone else. 

He had even started to tell Remus after their kiss.

“I’m not interested in—”

All the unfinished sentences, the unspoken secrets, are starting to grate. There are too many puzzle pieces he doesn’t have, and this time, he wishes he did. 

He must have misread Sirius’s stares. Or maybe Sirius was trying to move on, like Remus, and got too caught up in the bit. 

A bit. It didn’t, doesn’t feel like a bit to Remus. No, the sting in his chest feels quite real. 

“Ah, Remus,” Dumbledore greets. He slides onto the bench across from Remus. 

Remus notes the layer of brown sugar on the top of Dumbledore’s oatmeal. “Sweet tooth?”

He smiles. “Unbearably.”

Remus nods, looking into his oatmeal and gauging whether or not leaving now would be rude. He’s heard enough about Dumbledore from Lily and Mary to be wary, especially after the shitshow that is the upcoming Parent’s Weekend. Then again, Dumbledore’s appearance is deceiving. He’s got that white old-man Santa look: seemingly generous, but really no more than a dressed-up burglar. 

“It’s lonely here without them.” Dumbledore gestures to the empty tables around them. 

“Definitely strange.” 

Remus gets up to leave, but before he steps out of the bench, Dumbledore pushes a book across the table. “Something to occupy you while your friends are away.”

It’s a copy of Princess Bride. 

The fuck?

“A camper left this in my office many, many years ago.” Dumbledore’s dimple pops. “I have a feeling you’ll like it.”

Remus flips open the first page, finding writing scrawled on the margins. The same way he writes in books now. 

“Thanks,” he says, though it sounds hesitant even to him. 

“Life isn't fair, it's just fairer than death, that's all.”

Remus blinks. “What?”

“A quote from the book,” Dumbledore explains. 

“Right.”

“There’s nothing quite like a happy ending, Remus, and Princess Bride does it best.”

Remus stares at the green cover and remembers what Mary’s brother said about the book. While the movie’s ending was happy, the book ended on a cliffhanger. 

“Have you read it?” Remus asks. 

Dumbledore sets his spoon in his bowl and smiles. “Only a few chapters. One doesn’t have to read the whole book to understand its message.”

Before Remus can object and say, actually, yes you fucking do, Dumbledore stands up and leaves.

“Well then.” Remus sighs.

Then he flips to the first page.