There Is No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin
When Remus was twelve years old, he had an epiphany.
It was a cloudy Sunday morning, the clouds hanging over Saint Dwynwen’s Church in a melancholy tone. Remus was tugging on his mother’s sleeve while she continuously conversed with Mrs. Longbottom, as his father poured himself a hot chocolate on the other side of the room. He was ignoring the Potter boy’s request to play tag in the parking lot with him and Mr. Pettigrew’s pudgy son.
Across the recreational room, Remus locked eyes with a boy whose black hair, curled right around his hair and flopped over his forehead every time his feet swayed. The boy winked, his lip curving into a smirk, as he slyly shook hands with a departing parish member, keeping his eye contact with Remus.
Remus didn’t know who the boy was, as he had just moved to their small town three weeks ago. It was their second Sunday mass in England, and Remus so deeply wanted to run back to Wales. He didn’t go to the local school and his eyes were almost identical to an argent moon. Remus looked at them curiously.
Pastor Orion’s hand slowly crept up the boy’s back, whispering something in the boy’s ear, forcing him to look away. But Remus never tore his eyes, wondering how the boy’s eyes could illuminate like they were hung in the moonlight. He didn’t look away until the Potter boy called his name, asking him if he wanted to come to his house after school tomorrow. Remus shrugged, a word balancing off his lips, one that not even Remus could hear fall from his mouth.
For some strange reason, after that Sunday, Remus hated the moon. He loathed every time the sky darkened as the moon filled the sky and how whenever he and Lily would stargaze at night he’d have to look at the moon because it outshone every other luminary. He closed his eyes as he walked to the bathroom late at night, just so he wouldn’t accidentally glance out the window. Because Remus Lupin hated the moon. And Remus Lupin hated the way every time he looked toward the front pews, and saw Sirius Black, he saw the moon.
゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜
“Do you think Mary would say yes if I asked her out?” Peter asked innocently, leaning into the bed of Remus’ truck.
“No,” James and Remus replied in unison.
Lily hit James's chest, scoffing. “You two are so cruel. I’m sure she’d say yes Pete, just be careful with her, Gid only broke her heart two months ago.”
Peter lifted his beer bottle to his lips, sighing. “I just feel so lonely. Frank has Alice. Fab has Emmeline. You two have each other. I’ll be the single friend forever!”
Remus scoffed. “What the fuck do you think of me then?”
“I– I– I didn’t mean it in that way, Remus. You… you– well, you should know that you're my–”
Remus cut the stammering boy off, snickering, and rolling his eyes. “I was joking you twit,”
Within five months of receiving his license, Remus began to work more hours at the grocery store until he had achieved his goal of buying the shitty truck Alice’s uncle had been selling for the past three years. James had enough money to buy the three of them matching BMWs and Peter’s dad made at least 6 figures a year, but the comfort of Remus’s truck was all they needed for a sense of ecstasy. Almost every night, the three teenagers (sometimes joined by James’s newly established girlfriend, Lily) found themselves driving through hidden fields and empty parking lots until the sun rose.
Presently, Remus was leaning against the back of his car, a cigarette dangling between his lips. James was sitting beside him, Lily pressed against his shoulder as he ran his fingers through her dark crimson hair. Peter was sprawled across the truck bed, resting his feet on Remus’s lengthy legs.
“Yeah, and how the fuck was I supposed to know that, huh?” Peter asked. “You always got so sensitive when I spoke to you when we were younger. I never know what kind of shite is going to pour out of your mouth next!”
“Alright, alright,” James said. “That’s enough. Pete, would you be a dear and get me a beer?”
Peter sighed, hopping off the truck and moving toward the shotgun seat where the drinks were stored. Remus laughed, glimpsing at him through the back window, earning a middle finger from the boy. He took an exhale of his fag, turning back and blowing the smoke in the sky.
“Those things will kill you,” James noted.
“Says the man who puked his guts out on Mrs. Lestrange's lawn last Friday,” Lily chuckled, burying her head deeper into James’s chest.
James groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I have to face her tomorrow at church, kill me.”
“Church kids,” Lily shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve gone to a Sunday mass since I was three– my parents gave up a long time ago.”
“Don’t worry Evans, when we’re married I won’t force you and our 12 children to get dressed up in their Sunday best once a week. We’ll just stay home and watch the footie games.”
Remus’s eyes widened. “Twelve? Christ, I can’t be the cool uncle if I have to cater to 12 children.”
“I'm actually going to be the cool uncle,” Peter hopped on the truck bed, tossing James the beer bottle. “Sorry to break it to you, Rem,”
“He’s being dramatic,” Lily scoffed. “Two at the most. If he wants that many damn kids he can pop them out himself.”
James whined, downing the beer, and resting his head on Remus’s shoulder. “Do you want a sip, Moony?”
Remus winced at the absurd nickname. When they were fourteen, James and Peter discovered Remus’s hate for the moon, and so they developed the name that soon grew to be as commonly used as his given name. They’d always giggle at the nickname and ask Remus, why the moon? Why had he chosen to detest the moon of all sacred things? Remus didn’t know the answer. Remus despised the nickname, but the two boys never let the name get lost in their tongues, always letting it slip with ease.
“Nah,” Remus said. “I’ve gotta drive you idiots home,”
“You can skip my house,” Lily smiled, “I’m staying over at James’s,”
“Gross!” Peter whined, earning a kick from James.
“Alright, let’s get out of here before Pete’s ribs collapse,” Remus said, pulling the keys out of his pocket. “I’ve got to get up early for church tomorrow,”
゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜
Jesus was pinned to the wall, crucified, and it was Remus could focus on while Pastor Orion’s homily echoed throughout the church. He was sitting between his mother and father, focusing on the way the crown fit around Jesus’s head and how blood dripped down his face. It was a wretched, helpless sight that Remus had to stare at for one hour every Sunday for the past five years.
Remus ripped his vision from the dreadful sculpture, attempting to find Peter picking at a loose thread in his blazer or James attempting to shift his slipping glasses upward. James, as Remus had predicted, had a hand on his glasses that were lying on the bridge of his nose. His blue dress shirt was rolled up to his elbows, and he had on a floral tie garnishing cockscombs and peonies. Peter and his father were in the pew in front of the Potters. Peter was wearing a revolting yellow blazer, thrown over a tight-fitted polo, and his habitual unkempt hair was now gelled back.
Remus sank into the pew, fumbling around in brown dress pants, and a white oxford shirt uncomfortably. His father tapped the side of his outstretched leg, both of their limbs taking up a majority of the space in their pew. Remus glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow.
“Back,” His father mouthed, tilting his head at Remus’s slouched position.
Remus rolled his eyes, receiving a warning glance from his father, and straightened his back. He reverted his eyes back to the sculpture of Jesus’s crucifixion, but then he felt another tap at his shoulder. His mother was standing up, as was the rest of the church, and she tilted her head, in the same manner, her husband had, widening her eyes.
The teenager straightened his legs, standing from the pew and smirking once he noticed Peter snickering at Remus’s actions. Remus slyly flipped him off and James slapped his back lightly, causing the boy to let out a choked cough into the silence of the church. Remus wrapped his fingers around his mouth, quietly giggling into the closed space, making eye contact with James, who connected his lips in an attempt to stop his bubbling laughter.
Standing in the first row of pews, stood Sirius, Regulus, and Walburga Black. Walburga and Regulus had their eyes closed, looking toward the tiled floor as Orion began to pray. Sirius, on the contrary, turned to face the three boys. He barely acknowledged James and Peter, scowling and glaring at them. But, he looked at Remus from the top to the bottom of his body, squinting his eyes, which Remus couldn’t help but furiously stare into. His cross necklace was repulsively shining brightly, gleaming off the sunlight from the stained glass window.
“What?” Mouthed Remus.
Sirius opened his mouth, but no air fell. He huffed, turned around, and bowed his head to join his family in the prayer. Remus and James both looked at the boy in curiosity, shrugging and forgetting the strange interaction once Mrs. Potter placed a hand on James’s neck, forcing Remus away from his perspective.
The mass seemed to vanish into time after that. Remus let the communion melt on his tongue, listening to Father Orion say one final prayer before walking off the alter, his head held high. The alter boys trailed after him, Mark Fortescue, Evan Rosier, and Sean Meadowes. Their parish soon headed toward the recreation room, and Remus had to bite his tongue so hard until it drew blood so he didn’t let out a groan.
He met James and Peter near the glass doors that led to the entrance of the recreation room. Remus threw an arm around Peter, smirking. “That was one hell of a hack, Petty,”
“Stop calling me that,” Peter whined. “I just want a brownie,”
James laughed. “I didn’t see McGonagall at all, so the chances of her brownies being here are very rare.”
“She isn’t here,” Remus confirmed. “She had to go to a funeral in Cardiff, left class early on Thursday,”
“Shit,” Peter huffed. “I’m starving. I slept through my alarm and skipped breakfast and threw on the first thing I found in my closet,”
James let out a deep breath, “Thank christ, I thought you purposefully combined that atrocity on purpose,”
“Fuck off, man,” Peter sighed.
“Language,” Walburga Black said in passing, eyeing Peter as she neared a bread basket where Mr. Crouch was standing.
James and Remus snickered, holding onto the embarrassed boy’s shoulder as he stared at the woman in horror. James shook his head, dropping it onto Peter’s chest, as Remus dried his watering eyes.
“What’s so funny over here?”
Sirius Black approached them, scoffing in his Sunday attire, which consisted of a black blazer, a black tie, and black dress pants. Remus smirked, placing his arms on his chest, and raising an eyebrow.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, Black?”
“It was a hypothetical question, Lupin. I’m sure they don’t teach you that in public schools,” Sirius scorned.
“And what do your million-dollar private tutors teach you, Black?” Remus asked. “How to be a bigot? How to continue a corrupt family life?”
Sirius stepped closer to Remus, and James placed a hand between them. “Alright, that’s enough you two.”
“Yeah, Moony, why don’t you tone it down a bit?” Sirius smirked.
“How do you even know about that?” Remus asked, loosening his twisted arms.
“Please, the three of you are louder than–”
“Sirius Orion!”
Pastor Orion’s voice boomed like a crack of lightning striking a patch of grass. His tall figure shadowed his son’s smaller frame as he approached, placing his hand on the back of Sirius’s neck. Beside him, Peter gulped, his fear for the pastor doubling once he got near.
The Pastor of Saint Dwynwen's Church was not an ordinary man. He had a jawbone as sharp as his personality, and hair darker than the stories he recapitulated from Leviticus. Ever since Remus had started attending Pastor Orion’s masses, he noticed something so deeply intimidating about the man. Over the years, he’d learned pieces of information from the pastor’s past. He was born into a wealthy family where they drank wine of freshly picked grenache and forced their children to play musical instruments until their fingerpads ached. He’d married his second cousin (Remus truly can’t comprehend that not one member of their parish seems to have an issue with this conundrum), with who he had two children with hair just as dark, and jawbones that could cut a knife itself.
Remus didn’t mind their youngest son, Regulus. He didn’t speak often and when he did it was nothing close to harmful or irritating. He always seemed too terrified to speak which sent an eerie chill down Remus’s spine, because his elder brother found a passion for being a pain in the arse when it came to the rhetoric of speech. Remus knew Regulus had won several awards for his violin playing skills, and his devoted Christian attitude. Unlike Sirius who, while having played the piano since before he could walk, hadn’t been granted an award for his skills once. Even if Remus truly despised the boy, he had to admit he found a sense of tranquility every time Sirius played for them in mass.
Sirius’s eyes looked to his feet once the man got close enough the place his hand on Sirius’s back. The man smiled, a smile so fake Remus wanted to light it on fire.
“Hello, gentlemen,” He said.
James, Remus, and Peter all grumbled out their own versions of a greeting, consisting only of hello, hi, and hey.
Pastor Orion cleared his throat. “Well, are any of you coming to the brunch event next Saturday?”
“Oh, I am,” James exclaimed. “My mum and dad signed up when we walked in, we’re very excited,”
Peter snickered at the sarcasm in James’s voice, and Sirius coughed, hiding something he had opened his lips to annunciate.
“I’m not sure,” Remus shrugged. “I’ll have to ask my mum, we may be busy,”
“Nothing is more important than getting to know your parish,” The pastor snarkily replied. “We’d love to have you. All three of you.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Peter said, trying to stifle a giggle.
“Well,” The man said, pushing Sirus’s back near the coffee station. “I’ll see you boys around, lovely to speak to you all,”
“Yeah, lovely,” Peter rolled his eyes once the man turned his back. “Fuck this place, I’m going home, I need to find my dad and get the hell out. Do you two want to join me?”
James shook his head. “I’ve got a date with Lils,”
Peter groaned. “Remus?”
“I need to finish writing the piece I started this morning,” Remus said.
Before Remus left Wales, he met a girl named Isla. They were neighbors, and Remus had spent almost every day with her. She had long blonde hair that complemented her pale skin and blue eyes. But, that wasn’t a feature of the girl Remus cared much for her, or truly even remembered. Isla used to force Remus to read. She would knock on his door every morning, a new book grasped between her dainty fingers and a grin across her face. Looking back on his time spent with the girl, he would sometimes wonder if he was in love with the girl, based on how highly he spoke of her. But, he didn’t love her, no, he loved the world Isla had brought him into.
Remus fell in love with reading. By the time he was eight, he’d already read every single Charles Dicken book and spent the entirety of his days entrapped in the words written on pages bound together. For his 11th birthday, he asked for a notebook, and soon that notebook filled itself, and he’d asked for more until they began to take up his desk and fill his entire mind. Not only did he fall in love with reading, but he fell in love with writing as well.
He loved the feeling of pressing his pencil against the piece of thin parchment. When he moved and befriended James, the boy bought Remus a typewriter to win over his love, claiming that Remus was his favourite person to be near and that he was worried Remus was mad at him. At first, Remus denied the gift, but he slowly fell for its beauty. Soon his stories written in scrawled handwriting grew to abstruse tales written in a tone that only a select few people could even comprehend. He had an aptitude for writing, as his mother and teachers had said, a natural-born ability.
He found himself writing about the moon more often than not, despite his hatred for the lunation.
゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜
“A brunch?” Hope, Remus’s mother asks later that night as he helps her make dinner. “Doesn’t that sound awfully…”
“Swanky?” Remus replies, laughing as his mother scoffed, hitting him with a tea towel.
“Oh, don’t be so coarse, Remus,” The woman tutted, reaching for the plates. “The Black family isn’t that…”
“Yes, they are,” Lyall, Remus’s father enters the room, grinning and pressing a delicate kiss to the corner of Hope’s mouth. “The entirety of his homily was about how much money they have, he just hid it by dragging Jesus Christ himself into it. What a load of bloody Christians are they, huh?”
Remus snorted. “So this means we’re not going to the brunch, yeah? I can deal without seeing Sirius Black’s face.”
Hope shook her head, setting the plates down at their table. “Well… It would be nice, wouldn’t it? It would be most of the town, with the exception of the Evans and Ms. Snape.”
Lyall pulled his chair out, plopping down on it. “Nice, is it? We both know you just want to speak town gossip with Euphemia,”
Hope blushed, sitting down across from her husband as Remus set the food down on the table. “Water?”
“Yes, thank you, sweetie,” Hope smiled, and Lyall gave a stern nod. “Oh, we raised him with such manners!”
Remus’s father shook his head. “Manners? He had detention last Tuesday for fighting with the Snape boy again.”
“He deserved it,” Remus said. “Called Lily names, and I wouldn’t let that slide,”
“It’s such a shame James is dating her,” Hope sighed. “I always thought the two of you would make an excellent couple!”
Remus snorted, setting the three water glasses on the table, earning silent thank yous from both his parents. “Yeah, fucking big no. She’s like my sister,”
“Watch your language,” Hope said. “You’ve truly never even thought of dating Lily?”
Remus hadn’t. His mother never liked the girls he brought home, always too rebellious or too rude, sneering in the woman’s face and rolling their eyes in front of Hope. But with boys? Remus never brought them home. It wasn’t known to anyone but Remus and the tissue box beside his bed, but for the past few months his attraction to Mick Jagger only grew stronger, and he found himself glancing at men’s bodies more thoroughly.
At first, Remus had denied it for as long as he could possibly attempt to distract himself from the feelings, but it never truly worked. His stomach grew so sick with the swarming thoughts of other men that one night, his stomach had emptied. He’d vomited, allowing all thoughts that had occupied his mind for months to be set free, and he allowed himself to know that it was a thing he fancied. Men, that was. He’s still confused as to the fact that he likes the way Bob Dylan’s hips move during a live performance and the way Missy Milltew had run her tongue along Remus’s lips.
Countless nights were spent with him flipping the side of his pillow, his tear ducts leaking onto the fabric every time he thought of a bloke he stared at for far too long during class. He despised himself for his fascination with men. Why did it have to be him? Why must he have to be the one to suffer the descending slip of same-sex attraction that his grandfather had warned him of for years? Why couldn’t it have been someone completely horrible, like Orion Black or Snape?
“No, mum, I haven’t,” Remus said, reaching for a potato. “James and Lily are disgustingly in love anyway,”
Lyall nudged Hope. “Remember when we were like that?”
“Gosh, don’t remind me,” Hope shook her head. “My parents thought you were trouble even when we’d met in bible study…”
“And I thought you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen,” Lyall smiled. “With your honey blond hair and perfect brown eyes, it was simply love at first sight, and I knew I had to make you mine forever. And now here we are,”
“And now here we are,” Hope returned the smile, reaching her hand out to Lyall who lifted it to his mouth, pressing a light kiss to her palm.
“Gross,” Remus groaned.
“One day you’ll love a girl like that, Remus,” His mother said lightly. “And you’ll understand.”
“Maybe,” Remus replied, filled with guilt.