Sirius Black had decided he would kill the Moon. Cruel little thing in the sky. Did not know how much pain She caused. Or maybe She did. Sick and twisted, that he knew She was.
He had written down all of the nights throughout the whole year She would be looking down at them in Her wholeness. He sat at the window and watched Her, hoping she would understand how much Her presence was not welcomed by him, and go away. Just for a night.
But, he had to admit, She was the prettiest thing in the sky. And that infuriated him even more. How can you be that breathtaking yet forbid someone to admire you in your prime, he could not figure out. Maybe Remus' sacrifice was what let Her inspire poems and sonnets all around the Earth. It was all him.
Sirius thought he needed to know what the full Moon looked like. Remus was robbed the sight of Her so he would tell him about Her every month, after he woke up in the morning. The scars on his skin mirrored the craters on Hers. He had memorized both.
Sirius had an assigned seat in the infirmary by this point: a chair next to Remus' usual bed in the far corner of the room. The curtains were always drawn so that nobody would see. Sirius saw.
For months he had gotten into multiple fights with Madame Pomfrey, to allow him to visit Remus before the actual visiting hours, before he was even awake.
I promise I will let him rest, please let me stay.
After almost tossing him out the fifth time he snuck in without her permission, she gave in.
Sirius was there before the sun was up, dragging his limbs to his implicitly established seat next to the bed, where Remus' exhausted body lay, finally fast asleep. And so he slept too. He would lie with his head on the other boy's mattress (he sometimes held his hand, but it was never mentioned, even if he knew that he knew). It was an awkward position and his back and neck always resented him for it. Other times he would stay awake instead, watching his chest rise and fall as he breathed in and out. He knew he was awake when his lashes would flutter, or his fingers would twitch in Sirius' hands, and he would tell him about the Moon. He would whisper, as Remus often had headaches in the aftermaths. He wasn't even sure if he actually listened, because he kept his eyes closed, but the corners of his mouth occasionally turned slightly upwards, and that was enough for Sirius.
When the clock struck 8 o' clock he would reluctantly stand up from his chair (on the days he felt brave he left a kiss on Remus' forehead), greet Madame Pomfrey goodbye and go down for breakfast. He made sure to put some pastries in his pockets to bring to the infirmary after the lessons, when James and Peter would also join him to visit their friend.
They never asked him where he went before dawn, why his bed was always already empty when they both woke up in the mornings after full moons, why he kept cracking his back all day. They never commented on the scones he would wrap in napkins at breakfast, or on the dark rings under his eyes carrying pounds of love in them. They knew the answer. It was unspoken.
James was going to India on holiday the entirety of summer of fifth year, visiting his grandparents. He had been so excited that Sirius felt utterly guilty for being upset about it, because it meant that he wouldn't be able to spend summer with him, at the Potters. He would be stuck at home. He wondered if he could've survived that.
One night of late July it became too much. His mother and the shrieks of her voice and the scratches on his skin from her nails gripping his arm and his father slamming him on the wall and his brother silently sitting at the table while staring at his untouched dinner. He didn't even remember what it all was about, it just was. And without knowing where to escape he found himself on a train to Wales. It was late in the night and it was raining but he remembered Remus' address from the letters they sent each other, and luck might have been on his side just that once because somehow he found himself at the Lupins' doorstep, knocking at their door.
A beautiful woman with a blonde bob and a night gown opened it, confusion in her sleepy eyes. Remus definitely got his own from her.
He wasn't sure what to say. He settled on «Hello». Stupid. You do not appear on someone's doorstep in the middle of the night and say hello. He swallowed thickly. «I'm sorry for the late hour, I'm a friend of Remus, I just... I didn't—»
«Sirius?»
Remus was standing in the hallway, behind his mother, and he was rubbing his big eyes. His hair was a mess from having just woken up and he wasn't wearing his usual baggy pajama pants, but pajama shorts, his lanky legs full on display. He looked like Bambi. God, Sirius wanted to hug him.
«Dear, get inside! You're getting drenched under that rain, you'll be sick tomorrow!» Mrs Lupin ushered him inside, apprehensive the way only a mother could be. Should be.
Before he knew, he had a cup of tea in front of him and dry clothes on— Remus' clothes.
Hope didn't ask any questions, she just made sure he was alright. Remus didn't ask any questions, because he didn't need to.
An improvised bed was placed next to Remus' own, in his room, but nobody slept in it that night. They both lay in the bigger bed. Arms were wrapped around Sirius' body. He cried a bit, here and there during the night, but his face was never seen by the other boy, it was kept hidden in the crook of his neck— as if he didn't see the tears coming straight out of his eyes, he would've just thought it was the rain soaking up his t-shirt. Remus stroked his hair until the birds were chirping outside.
Just three days later was the full Moon. He was reminded that She still hung in the sky, even if they weren't at school. Remus did not catch a break.
Sirius watched as his friend kissed his mother goodnight and went to the cabin next to their cottage, going down the basement through the enchanted trapdoor until sunrise.
Sirius had cried all night hearing the wolf's painful howls underground. Had it been up to him, he would have let him out. He would've let him feast on him, tear his body apart and pull out his organs, devour him alive. He would've happily let him, as long as he wasn't down there, gashing at his own body and making his throat sore.
In the morning he helped Hope mend his wounds with his wand and he later lay close to him, just like he did at the school's infirmary.
He slept on his bed on the floor, Remus' arm was hanging loosely out of his own. Sirius held his hand.
Hope had opened the bedroom door a couple of times to check on his son and watched both of them sleep. She closed the door.
Sirius spent the entirety of August at the Lupins'. He got a taste of what his friend's summers were like: reading books under the shade of a tree, skipping rocks on the surface of the little lake not too far from home, picking the strawberries that his mother had planted in the garden, listening to vinyls on the floor.
He had thought about kissing Remus for the first time that year when the four of them were all together in the common room. He and Peter were playing chess while James was talking about what strategy he ought to use in the next quidditch match. Remus had been working on an essay and he looked unsure of what words to write next. He had been playing with his quill and there was ink smeared on his face. His brows furrowed and his lips pouted in thought. Something just clicked in Sirius' brain and he excused himself, going upstairs to their room to just sit on the cold tiled floor of the bathroom, after having locked the door. He wasn't able to look Remus in the eyes for two weeks.
Now they were sprawled on the grass, Sirius had his head turned to look at him. The sun caressed Remus' cheeks and tinted the tip of his nose red. Between them sat a chest of strawberries they had picked minutes ago. Remus had just taken a bite out of one and its juice was falling down his chin. He cleaned it off with his wrist and chuckled in embarrassment. It sounded like a stream of fresh water and Sirius had never been more thirsty. He wanted to kiss him and taste the strawberries on his tongue. He wondered if Remus would kiss him back. He didn't do anything to find out.
«I didn't want to ask, but I noticed your dad isn't here» They were sitting on the bed now, their backs to the headboard. Remus was reading and Sirius' head was on his shoulder as he pretended to read too. Remus had just gotten out of the shower and Sirius tried hard not to sniff his hair like a dog.
Remus stayed silent for a bit. «Mom left him», he said. Then he added, «She has been working as a cashier at the store in the village, but she's applied as a teacher at the local elementary school»
Sirius hummed. «She did a good job with you. Raised a nice little brain». Remus chuckled lightly at that.
Another moment of silence. «She's been talking about a friend lately. Agatha». He sounded thoughtful «I didn't realize I had never heard my mum talk about a friend». Sirius knew what he was thinking. That the reason his mother didn't make any friends was to take care of his sick son back home.
He intertwined their fingers and brought the back of his hand to his lips «She deserves it, she has a beautiful soul». He kissed the back of his hand again. You do too.
Hope was an upbeat tiny woman. She wore bright red lipstick everyday and at dinner she would tell them about her adventures from when she was their age. For example, the time she got stuck on a tree with her childhood best friend. They were following her crush down the street when he suddenly switched direction while walking, going now towards them. They didn't want to be seen by him so they thought it'd be a good idea to hide in the tree, but it backfired. He definitely saw them. He also called the firefighters, like they were cats.
Sirius had found the relationship between Remus and Hope the most fascinating bond he had ever seen. It was different from the one James and Euphemia had. The two of them were a team. Left arm and right arm. Looking at each other's backs.
After having finished eating, Hope would scrub the plates with soap, Remus would rinse them, and Sirius would carefully place them inside the countertops. He had learned which mug was Remus' favorite.
One night Sirius and Remus were sitting on the porch, looking at the crescent Moon.
«You know», Sirius broke the silence. «I hate Her»
«Who?»
«The Moon. I hate Her»
«Ah» he agreed. Sirius kept tracing the scars on his arm with his eyes. Had someone asked him to draw them by memory, he would've done it flawlessly.
«I'm gonna kill Her one day»
That amused Remus. «And how exactly do you plan to do that?». His accent was stronger when he was back in Wales. It made something turn in Sirius' stomach.
«I don't know». He gave it a thought «I might poke Her with a needle and make Her explode like a balloon»
Remus' body shook with a laughter. «I don't think that's a good idea, really. We wouldn't survive life without the moon».
Sirius slapped his chest as they both kept laughing. «You and your stupid useless logic»
Crickets could be heard in the distance. You didn't notice their chirping until you did, and then it would get harder to make it go back to being just background noise.
They kept staring at the night sky. Sirius knew it was all the same sky, but he preferred this one to the one back home, where the lights on the streets put all the stars to death. The welsh countryside felt like a different planet, from the air he breathed to the stars he could see to the boy by his side.
«That's you» Remus pointed at a light in the black sky. Sirius. The brightest star. He wondered how Regulus was doing.
«That's me»
He looked at the beautiful boy next to him, all delicate bones and freckles. He thought about how unfair it was that he couldn't ever love him back and how little he actually cared. In some ways he was relieved. He hoped Remus had never felt the way he did because he didn't want him to feel any more wrong than he already felt. He would've just kept this one secret for himself, content admiring from afar. He thought his battered heart could put up with an eternity of pining if it was for Remus' own good.
He watched him as he closed his eyes, the moonlight gave an ethereal glow to his skin that made him look sent from heaven. His long eyelashes casted shadows on his cheekbones and Sirius wanted to make a wish. The scar that split his face in two looked like a lighting (his heartbeats had gotten dangerously close to thunders, he wondered if he could hear them), or maybe a fiery orange stream of lava (he knew it could wipe civilizations out, yet he could not avert his eyes from that horrifying spectacle, having decided not to run away, because he was more than willing to get burnt or turned to ashes).
Sirius wondered how long eternity lasted.