I'm twisted up in you

“Where’ve you been?” Sirius was sitting on the sofa, seemingly watching the door for Remus’ arrival.
“I’ve been on a mission,” Remus replied. He couldn’t help the weariness from flooding into his voice, the dead look in his eyes. Sirius looked into his face carefully almost as if he was searching for some twitch of deceit. It got on Remus’ nerves.

“Where physically have you been though?” Sirius asked, frustration evident in his tone, in the regular tensing of his muscles, the way his cold, grey eyes bore into Remus’. The last time he’d seen him they’d seemed silver, the last time he’d liked him they'd been stormy. But that had been a long time ago.

“I’ve been where Dumbledore sent me,” Remus replied stonily, ignoring the tea that had been set out for him and beginning to walk to the bedroom. Annoyance and agitation twisted Sirius’ features uglily as he stood jerkily from the sofa. Remus turned to leave but was stopped by his voice.

“People are talking you know,” he said stiffly. His arms were limp but Remus could see from the poise of his hands that he was ready to pull out his wand. When did his boyfriend begin needing defence at home?
“Talking about what?” Remus asked, nothing showing on his face, the barest trace of pain in his voice.
“I’m not sure, you’re just gone a lot,” Sirius replied, leaving Remus to work out his implication. Remus felt cold and empty, he let his anger mount.

“Well I’m sure it must be very difficult to ignore strangers but maybe you should try trusting your boyfriend,” he spat. Sirius flinched slightly and Remus felt a hint of pleasure. When had he become so cruel? By now they were standing at opposing ends of the room, the sofa separating them. He felt like he was trapped behind a glass wall, seeing Sirius but unable to reach him. He clawed at the surface desperately, depraved and rabid, but he never got to Sirius. The evening sun streamed through the window behind Remus, illuminating Sirius in soft golden light. He felt far from the dark haired man, he felt far from his own limbs, his hands and feet just numb extensions of his useless body. He wasn’t even sure he could feel himself in the room, distant from all of reality.

“Maybe my boyfriend should actually tell me something,” Sirius spat back and he was right, but infuriating and Remus found the fury settling in his stomach like a steel ball, sharp as glass and cold as ice. It was freezing his insides, the blood in his veins, until he was no longer human. If he ever had been anyway.

It was fury at Voldemort, for this war and werewolves for making him a part of it and Dumbledore for making him keep secrets and Sirius. Gorgeous Sirius. Who hadn’t stayed his everything but who should have. Who Remus was eternally bitter at for giving up on him.

It had been two years since the end of the war and still Remus found himself knelt over the toilet, emptying his stomach into the bowl because of his memories. They’d fought, with tooth and nail they’d fought. Remus had fought with everything in him. Frank had fought, Alice had fought, Moody and Arthur and Mary and even Dumbledore had fought. James, Lily and Sirius, he had heard, had spent most of it in hiding. Sirius had had to hide as the couples secret keeper and of course the family were being concealed from the dark lord himself. He was glad they had been spared the horrors of the war. As much as he hated them. As much as he loved them.

Now though there was only him, no order to immerse himself in, no family, no love life. Even Mary had disappeared to America, trying to escape it all and Marlene and Dorcas had been dead even before everything else had happened. Peter had been the spy of the moment, Remus had been the one to find him, inspecting a glowing dark mark in a restricted section of the ministry late one evening. But there’d been more over the years. Benjy Fenwick, Emmeline Vance, Amelia Bones. They’d come as continuous blows to the order, revealing themselves every time. They’d eventually won when, low and behold, Regulus Black had informed Dumbledore of Voldemort's horcruxes. He’d disappeared afterwards, dying or running or something else, Remus wasn’t sure. However, many battles had come before and still, when Remus caught a quick glimpse of his own hands, he was certain they were stained crimson. They had been so many nights when he’d had to scrub the sticky liquid from the lines that coursed over his palms. It had always resembled the mornings at Hogwarts when he had had to wash his own blood from his hands. If anybody had read his palms then they would have known his future was drenched in red.

In truth there were very few people who had experienced the war as he had, at least very few that weren’t dead or in Azkaban. Most were passive, terrified but never part of the action. The order had been small, especially at the end. And those who had done what he’d done were older than him.
He’d first killed somebody at 19. He and Sirius had been patrolling Diagon alley, watching for any suspicious behaviour. The ministry had been in denial at the time and the order acted as the only army and police force.
Remus had only caught the movement just in time, the wand hidden under a cloak, still he’d recognised the little wave directed at Sirius. He’d copied the movement and soon the deatheater was nothing but a lifeless body in the street. Remus had, many times, reflected bitterly on the fact that of course his first kill had been for Sirius. Many times he had wondered if that was when they had started to deteriorate, if that was when Sirius could no longer see him as quite human. Usually though he dismissed it because that evening he’d been a mess and it had taken over two hours of Sirius’ whisperings of sweetness in his ear and his clutching him tightly to stop him from shaking.

From there he’d killed many more times, as had all of those in the order. He actually may have killed less than those like Frank and Alice as he spent the majority of the war in spying positions. Only at the end had he openly rejoined the light side and fought in any battles.

This all coursed through his mind as he lay stiffly on the bathroom floor, his skin prickling against the freezing tiles. The room was small, almost claustrophobically so and he could feel the presence of the walls around him. He stared at the tiny window, the only one in the room, but got no view. It was obscured glass and only opened a couple of inches, enough to let in the sickly, sweet smell of fumes and the sound of cars and people journeying below. Sometimes it felt as if the entire flat were being drained of fresh oxygen, leaving only stale, dry air in its place, recycled over and over.

Shakily Remus brought himself to his knees, trying desperately not to just collapse a second time. He had work the next day and couldn’t afford to skip any time that he was scheduled for a shift. As he half dragged himself across the carpeted floor of his bedroom, he felt the nausea well up inside of him, threatening to spill over but he quickly stamped it down, hauling himself into bed. His eyes flickered rapidly beneath the lids and his heart rabbeted away in his chest, however he felt better for the pleasantly cool sheets.

Dawn found Remus sitting at the island in the kitchen, record playing in the corner, and coffee sat before him. He had managed almost another hour's sleep before slipping out of bed and trudging into his kitchen, knowing it was useless.

He sat in silence, having nobody to share his home with. Having nobody at all. The light filled the room slowly, so slow he almost didn’t notice it. When he finally lifted his gaze from the dark swirling liquid in his mug he was surprised to find that his kitchen was fully lit again. He rarely turned the lights on, preferring to just walk around in the dark if there was no natural sunlight. Not to mention electric bills.

His flat itself was a trashy little thing, rattling with the vengeful winds of winter. The walls yellowing with damp and the shower nothing but a pathetic dribble. The window in his bedroom shook every time a car passed below and the only sign anybody even lived in it was the bed and the kettle on the kitchen counter.

Walking to work was one of the best parts of his day, even when it was cold and windy as it was today. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, the air biting at his fingers. He tried not to flinch when he saw a flash of red hair across the street, he tried not to notice at all. It had become increasingly easy to ignore the symptoms of a war torn soul the longer he’d lived with one. At first, a laugh that had sounded a little too familiar could send him reeling back in time, or worse spiralling into a paranoia that it had never ended at all. The laugh would morph into a scream, the edges of the world would darken, his eyes would narrow onto one detail in the room. He wouldn’t be able to move, to breathe. It was better now, he didn’t let himself remember the war at all. Most of it was vague impressions in his head, always swathed in hues of red and grey. He didn’t know which was worse, the grief he could be going through or the numbness he maintained.

The library was a nice place, light with large windows above the bookshelves that lined the walls, blocked only by the shelves that stood in the centre of the room. The floor was covered in a thin red carpet, reminding Remus of the common room at Hogwarts. It was quiet too, filled only with the rustle of pages and the occasional whisper. As Remus walked in, he breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of worn paper and leather covers, before making his way to the back room to hang up his coat.

“Hi Remus,” Justine, his older colleague, said as he entered. She was around thirty and leaning against the counter of the tiny kitchenette, chewing gum loudly. She had short, spiky hair, dyed a dark reddish colour and wore an obnoxiously bright lipstick. Remus smiled at her politely and set about making another cup of coffee - today he would be running the first group reading for children the library had ever hosted.

He was excited but nervous all the same. When he was at school, before the war, he had dreamed of becoming a teacher but he had little experience with children. Except for… but that didn’t do thinking about.

For the first few hours he sat behind the checkout desk, only bothered by the occasional elderly customer or university student taking out books. Other than that it was quiet that morning, filled only with his breathing and the squeaking of his chair. At one point Justine emerged from the back room and stacked some shelves, her eyes glued to him for the most part. He knew that she thought he was some kind of nut job, frail and mentally unstable, so as to only work a couple of shifts at the calm library even at the grand age of 24. Maybe he was some kind of nut job, god knew the few hours he did work left him so exhausted he could barely move once he was home. It was hard to be in public without breaking down from fear of being attacked. It was different to normal war, it was underground and therefore everywhere. Every place he went was tainted by the blood that had been spilt there. He had briefly considered moving to another city, especially after losing the others, but he simply didn’t have the energy.

At around midday he rose from the chair and motioned to Justine. She came over immediately, hips swinging and jaw smacking, and plopped herself down in the chair.
“Good luck,” she called teasingly as he started towards the corner that had been cleared for the reading, now containing a large carpet space and one chair instead of the desk that had occupied it before. He let out a small laugh.
“Thanks,” he replied, going to sit on the chair and wait for any children to arrive. He would likely have to talk to their parents for a little bit but the children were allowed to be left there.
Not long after, the first child appeared, a dark haired girl with a chubby face and blinding smile, despite her missing teeth. She looked around six and walked in holding her fathers hand, pointing over at Remus the minute she spotted him.

“Daddy! I think it’s over there,” she squealed excitedly, dragging the man over. Remus crouched down in front of her straight away, seeing as she was the first here.
“Hiya, what’s your name?” He asked gently, trying to smile reassuringly. It seemed to work because she grinned back at him.
“I’m Emma,” she replied a little too emphatically for someone just giving their name.
“Nice to meet you Emma, I’m Remus,” he said, trying to match her excitement.
“Remus is a funny name,” she giggled and he feigned shock, eliciting another laugh from her.

“Well I’ll keep that in mind. Why don’t you go and sit over there and wait for some other kids to arrive?” He suggested kindly to which she happily obliged.
He then straightened and held out a hand to the father who shook it firmly.
“It’s good kids get to do these kinds of things these days,” the man said somewhat gruffly and Remus nodded in agreement.

“Just to make sure, it’s ok if I leave for a bit?” The guy asked.
“Yeah course, just be back to pick her up by two,” Remus replied.
“Cheers,” the man replied before going to hug his daughter then leaving her there. Soon enough more parents arrived, bringing their children, some bringing their friends' children or their grandchildren. Remus greeted most of the kids and most of the adults but sometimes he didn’t get much of a chance.

Eventually he was left with a small group of about twenty children sat in front of him, their eyes fixed on him expectantly.
“Hello everyone,” he began and just as they had in muggle primary school, the children chorused a hello back to him. The ages ranged from four to around eight, some of them not having started school yet.

“In just a moment I would like to get everybody to introduce themselves but before that, I just wanted to see if you had any questions about the rest of this,” he tried to catch eyes with as many of the bright little faces as he could, hoping to make them as comfortable as possible.

“How long will we be here?” One voice asked. He answered.
“Where are my mum and dad?”
“What are you reading us?”
“Does the book have a princess?”
“What are those lines on your neck?” That question startled Remus and he paused for a moment. He couldn’t think of a way to explain it to children, muggle children at that.
“When I was younger I got very hurt there,” he explained slowly, carefully. “It healed but it left these marks. They’re called scars,” he finished, the children still looking at him in wonder. With anybody else, talking of his scars made him uncomfortable but from these little people he simply felt like he was teaching them something.

Just as he opened his mouth to continue a tiny hand raised from near the back of the group. He peered over the heads of the children at the front but whoever owned the hand was quite short and almost disappeared behind the others. The boy next to the hand had a shock of red hair and looked vaguely familiar.

“Yes?” Remus pointed to the hand signalling that they could speak, “do you mind standing just so I can see you?”

“My mummy and daddy showed me a photo of a man who looked like you,” the boy said as he slowly climbed to his feet and Remus nearly dropped to the ground right then and there. How he hadn’t noticed the boy before was a mystery, how he had ever looked over those unmistakable features was inexplicable. Because there, with green eyes that were too large for his face, wild black hair and round glasses, sat Harry Potter.

Joy was something foreign to Remus, especially these days. This moment though, he would remember it always as the most beautiful moment of his life, save for a few memories from his sixth year which were flooded with such radiance it would be almost impossible to top them.
Lily was nestled in an armchair, the tiny boy cradled in her arms. The wide, round eyes, so like Lily’s in their bright green colour, gazed out at each of them. James was perched on the arm of the chair, his arm wrapped around Lily, the afternoon sun lit both of their faces. Much like his wife he had a tired but ecstatic smile on his face. Remus was in awe of their beauty, the young family, glowing like a beacon in the darkness of the recent years. It was as if an ominous cloud had hung over them all since the war had begun, only blackening and growing more vicious with Marlene and Dorcas’ deaths, with the deaths of so many they loved.

Sirius was beside Remus looking at Harry in wonder. Remus could see the tremble in the other man's hands as he reached to take the boy from Lily’s protective grasp. He stared down into the little face and Remus felt the need to cry, he could feel the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He’d failed to cry at most of the death he’d seen but faced with this life, only just beginning, he joined the other three with moisture clinging to their cheeks.
“Wow,” Sirius breathed, finally looking at the rest of them, his eyes travelling over everybody, “he’s actually alive.” Remus laughed weakly, watching on but hesitant to reach out for the baby himself.

“Let's get a kid,” he said to Remus, laughter evident in his voice but also a touch of serious consideration. The thought gave Remus pause, having never thought of having children. He knew it wasn’t something he could do, but the thinly veiled hope in Sirius’ voice tugged on his heart.
“After the war,” was what he chose to reply with, enjoying the delighted smile that broke out on Sirius’ face. He doubted they’d be able to have a child seeing as they certainly couldn’t adopt together and it would be difficult to pretend they were single. Even if they could, it would be wrong to force his own condition into a child's life. For now though he ignored those facts, it wasn’t as if he was likely to get out of this war anyway.

He watched Harry. It felt right to see such a perfect combination of Lily and James. They themselves were near perfect, right and good in all the places most were twisted and wrong. Lily caught how his eyes were trained on the baby and she smiled gently at him, gesturing to the little boy.
“You can hold him you know,” she said, amusement and understanding tinging her voice. Sirius looked up as if he’d forgotten the rest of them were there before holding Harry out to Remus. He grinned, “yeah Moons you’ve gotta hold him.

Remus reached out, his muscles tense as he took the small body slightly awkwardly. He held him close to his chest, marvelling at the heat. It was strange to hold something so clearly alive, soft and floppy and so very, very warm. Harry blinked sleepily, his eyelids moving slowly. Although he'd been quiet the whole time he had never actually fallen asleep until Remus took him. The little boy was tiny, terrifyingly so, his fingers so delicate Remus was scared they might just snap. Remus felt the tears well up a second time and James smiled at him.
“He’s -,” Remus stopped, unable to express what he meant.
“I know,” James replied and from his expression Remus was sure he did.

Remus was an idiot. He had never moved away, simply choosing to just never see them again and now, he was forced to confront the people of his past. Through their son. He was a complete and utter idiot.

He was sure he had been staring at the little boy for too long when he finally blinked back to himself.
“Well” he said “that’s quite the coincidence.” He ignored the confused looks the kids gave him at the long word.
“You may sit down…”
“Harry,” the boy provided but he knew that. Of course he knew that.

He continued the rest of the reading session without interruption, although he couldn’t help his eyes straying back to the little boy who was like a physical embodiment of his friends. The red haired one must have been a Weasley, he now realised, which was why he had looked so familiar. Molly likely brought them both because whatever James’ or Lily’s or god forbid, Sirius’ reaction to him would have been, he doubted it would be to ignore him.

When it came around to two pm the parents began arriving to collect their children. The kids came up and said goodbye to him shyly, a lot of them giggling or hiding behind their parents legs. The parents thanked him before either looking through the bookshelves with their children or walking straight out. Eventually the only one left was Harry, Molly had gotten her son, her eyes widening comically when she’d seen Remus. He had of course known her quite well even though she wasn’t particularly involved in the order. The Weasleys had provided a safe house more than once. She hadn’t spoken to him though, maybe realising he wouldn’t want to be forcefully dragged back into the world of wizards after he had so purposely left.

Then came the moment he had been anticipating - dreading - the entire session. He saw the both of them before they saw him, walking together joyously. He glimpsed them through the glass panels on the library door, it was impossible to miss them, it was for him at least. They both looked just the same, young and bright, so very happy. Lily’s hair had grown a little longer and was clipped back prettily at the front, James had the shadow of stubble along his jaw, something he had refused at twenty, saying it made him look like his father. Still, in essence they were the same.

The library door chimed as they pushed it open and Remus stood frozen, just staring at them. Harry stood next to him, glancing between him and his parents hopefully, waiting for Remus to allow him to leave. As the couple walked through the door they had their heads bowed together, just talking but they looked up to find their little boy the moment they were inside. Lily immediately locked onto Harry, seeing nothing other than him but James’ eyes focused on Remus and he stopped abruptly, mouth hanging open. They were still at the opposite end of the library and about 10 metres away. Lily turned to husband curiously and he simply nodded very slowly at Remus, his gape never leaving his face. Lily turned, her eyebrows furrowed in question until she also saw Remus. She stiffened and all three of them were locked in a kind of staring contest.

That was until Harry tugged sharply on Remus’ sleeve and reminded him where he was. Briskly, he took the boy's hand and led him to his parents, who were still standing stock still. He stood hardly more than a foot away from them, facing James more than Lily. Harry barrelled into his mothers legs but stopped when he sensed the stilted atmosphere.

It was strange to once again look into the gentle hazel eyes of his friend. His heart felt as though it were shattering all over again. Those were the eyes that had made him worth something and the same ones that had taken everything from him, all in one foul swoop. He wasn’t sure how eyes so kind could do so much damage.

“Er hi James” Remus said haltingly, tone shockingly monotone even to his own ears.
“Hi James. Hi James?” Lily seethed, voice so low he could barely hear her. He turned to face her too and he could see her blazing fury hidden behind glassy tears, “You disappear for four years and all we get is hi James,” She was going red in the face from the strained volume and Harry was looking at her curiously. Remus felt the sudden urge to laugh in her face. Of course none of them knew that he knew. Here Lily was berating him, content with the fact that at the time, at least two of the group had wanted him to disappear.

His own emotionless resolve was quite weak and a near crazed smile broke out on his face. The only other person left was Justine and she was watching inconspicuously from behind a shelf. He was not helping the nut job image. A bitter laugh echoed around the empty space while he looked at them both with raised eyebrows. Instead of speaking to them however he dropped down and ruffled Harry's hair.
“Hope you had a great time Harry.” He straightened and turned to go back into the back room, tossing over his shoulder “if you bring him back, I guess I’ll see you around.” A cruel imitation of what he’d said so long ago.

They were all sitting in the living room. Harry burbled away in the corner, Lily and James sat on the sofa opposite Remus and Sirius. The couple were smiling and laughing. Sirius’ hand gripped Remus’ tight, his fingers massaging between Remus’ gently. They'd been fighting more recently but Sirius’ hand served to remind him of how much he loved the other man. They just had to make it through the war. The group had just met for the afternoon. One last meeting before the little family of three went into hiding. They’d laughed the whole night, they’d smiled and Remus felt as if the curl of lips should be enough to forget their situation, but it wasn’t. In fact each crinkled eye only deepened the ache in his heart. He wouldn’t see Lily’s flaming hair or petite features for months. Harry would grow without them, leaving all but his own parents behind, without the promise of joy and freshness and youth to brighten their dreary existence. The colourfulness of the Potter’s living room wore on his nerves, burning into his eyes.
“I’m going out for a smoke,” he announced to the room. Sirius’ fingers tightened but he carefully extricated himself.

The night outside was cloying, humid darkness swirling with dew and the promise of rain. The little porchlight switched on automatically and he winced at the brightness, he really shouldn’t be out alone in such dangerous times. He quickly rounded to the back of the house, in the Potters back garden, where battle was less likely to find him. He ended up just next to the kitchen window, where the little group seemed to have emigrated. The blinds were closed but he could hear their voices through the small window, which had been left unlocked and a little ajar. Risky.

“I’m not sure James. I just don’t think we can trust him.” Remus leant back against the wall and blew smoke into the crisp night as he listened to Sirius. He wondered distantly which order member Sirius thought was untrustworthy. They all knew there was a spy but the traitor had yet to reveal themselves. Of course everybody had their suspects and everybody was a little more guarded with information, keeping it in tight circles of close friends. James and Lily especially, being a specific target of Voldemort.

“Don’t be ridiculous Sirius. Of course we can. You’ve been saying this for months now. Why do you even think it’s him?” came James’ harsh reply. Now that was interesting, clearly it was a suggestion that caused some controversy.
“He never speaks to me anymore. We used to tell each other everything. Please James, you don’t have to stop speaking with him, just keep information from him. Just to be safe,” Sirius was almost begging.
“Fine. I think you’re wrong, but I won’t tell him anything.”
“I will,” Lily’s voice was infuriated and heavy with a kind of accusatory petulance. “I can’t believe you’d even suggest something like that.”
“Lily please,” Sirius sounded close to tears “what about Harry?” Remus couldn't fathom who would cause such division in the group.
“Don’t use my son to justify your betrayal Black.” Sirius hated being called by his last name. Remus felt anger build in him at Lily for using that against Sirius, no matter who he was accusing.
“Please just don’t tell him anything,” Sirius didn’t fight against the name, just continued to plead with Lily.
“I won’t tell him about this. But I will not withhold anything else,” Lily replied, voice ice cold. Just her tone caused Remus to shiver, he could imagine the piercing stare set on Sirius right now, equal parts hateful and disappointed.
“Remus is not the traitor.”

Remus froze. The air around him seemed to plummet in temperature, all of his hair standing on end. He felt a lump build in his throat, impossible to swallow down. He stood staring blankly into the blackness until his cigarette singed his fingers. He dropped it and stamped it out, not finding the energy to curse. He felt hollow, empty. It was as if Sirius himself had reached down his throat, grabbed hold of his heart and viciously tore it out.

He imagined walking back in and smiling at them. He imagined Sirius’ hand clamping back around his, not a safety blanket any longer but a vice, a tether meant only to regulate him. He imagined laughing with Lily, who despite all her fierce defence of him, would’ve still let him believe that his friends had faith in him. That the love of his life wasn’t warning others against him. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t picture their smiles and believe they were fake. He couldn’t recall Sirius’ touches in the shadow of mistrust. And maybe that was his problem. He’d built himself the perfect life, with everything he’d ever wanted. And in all truth, it had never been meant for him. He’d been able to fool the universe long enough that he deserved this and now, finally, the mistakes were being corrected.

He made it all the way back to the front door, the walk should have seemed shorter. He was, after all, much lighter with the absence of his heart. He even made it to the point where his hand was resting on the doorknob but he didn’t enter. He couldn’t face the feigned innocence and really what was left for him here? What could be left for him in a room where nobody wanted him?

He apparated straight back to his and Sirius’ flat. Sirius’ flat. He was quick to pack up essentials, clothes and toiletries. He’d have Dumbledore set him up in another house, he’d continue his spying missions, he’d help, but he would never come here again. He vowed that he would never see them again. He took a piece of paper from the desk drawer and scribbled a short note to Sirius. He couldn’t leave without anything for anybody to remember him by. He hoped they wouldn’t forget him, even if they only recalled him in hate.

I’ll always love you.
See you around.

Justine joined him in the back room an hour after he had slumped into one of the armchairs in there. He felt drained but restless. She regarded him oddly but said nothing, for which he was grateful.

That night when he finally returned from his shift he found a piece of paper on his doorstep. He tore it open but almost immediately discarded it when he saw the message. Some nonsense about late rent and eviction. Surrounded by swirling darkness he dropped himself onto the sofa. He fell asleep, not bothering to change or eat or even get to bed.

***

By the next week Remus had hardly moved from his position on the sofa. He had called in ill for all of his shifts for the entire week. The thought of stepping foot in the library had his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Sometimes he would get up from the sofa only to begin trembling so hard he would have to sit back down again.

It was early in the morning when he woke, shivering from lack of blanket, as his had fallen off during the night. He knew he would have to go in to work that day, as the library was hosting the second reading session. He felt too guilty leaving Justine to handle it when he’d volunteered specifically. He could only hope that Harry would not be sent again.

After a week of hardly moving it was quite a relief to finally shower and brush his teeth, and he felt at least a little alive as he left his flat. He had chosen very comfortable clothes for the day ahead, too tired to consider wearing something that didn’t feel like a safety blanket.

Justine watched him curiously when he entered, her hip jutted out to lean against the cabinets, holding a cup of tea in both hands.
“Wow you look like death warmed over,” she remarked, making a point to scan his whole appearance. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and shot her a sardonic smile.
“Well thank you,” he replied, earning him a short burst of laughter. It died quickly on her lips.
“Are you ok though? Seriously?” she asked, the way she cocked her head reminded him of Lily and he felt himself begin to crumble a little right there where he was standing.
“Yeah of course. Just been ill,” he replied. She only raised her eyebrows.

When it came round to when the children were dropped off he was relieved to see Harry arrive with the Weasleys again. This time they were accompanied by Arthur though, who stared around the library in wonderment. Remus winced when the man tripped over a child, too caught up in the muggles around him. Unlike Molly, when he caught Remus’ eye he straightened suddenly, shock filtering onto his face. Briskly, he walked to Remus, leaving the two children in the group of kids that was already gathering.

“Remus?” He said in a low voice as he sidled up beside Remus. “I haven’t seen you in a while.” He laughed hollowly, his eyes roaming over Remus’ face.
“No I suppose you haven’t,” Remus replied mildly, his fingers pulling at the cuff of his jumper.
Arthur’s face was filled with an interest that bordered on fatherly and Remus shifted uncomfortably.
“How’ve you been?” Arthur asked, implication clear in his voice. So many who had joined the war had ended badly, drunk or dead, shells of the people they were before.

“I’ve been coping,” Remus allowed a self-deprecating smile, gesturing widely to the library.
“Yes yes it was much harder for you youngsters. Especially without children to keep on for afterwards,” he glanced unsubtly at Harry. “Speaking of which, have you seen…?” He trailed off but he didn’t need to finish for Remus to know what he was asking. Arthur knew they had stopped speaking before the end of the war but didn’t know why. Nobody knew except Remus.
“Yes I saw them last week,” he replied, rather confused as to why they hadn’t mentioned it to the Weasleys, who they were clearly quite close with. Maybe they just wanted to forget it.
“How was it?” Again he sounded like a parent and Remus almost backed away.
“Oh it was no problem,” he said instead then turned to the group of children, effectively cutting the conversation with Arthur off.

The reading went as successfully as the previous week, though Remus could feel the dread rising in him as collection time ticked closer and closer. He hoped Lily and James would ignore him now they knew he was here. Their reaction before had been born from shock and maybe now they would want nothing more than to pretend he was really a stranger. Still, the stress of it weighed on him heavily as he glimpsed the clock for the fifth time that minute.

Just like the last time, he spotted him first. How could he not? He stood out amidst the crowd of neatly dressed mothers and suited fathers. He still looked young and rebellious.

Sirius was as beautiful as in his memories. He had the same leather jacket he’d worn at seventeen slung over his shoulders, his hair still long and shiny. His feet were clad in black boots, similar to Remus’ own but with larger soles. An earring glinted in one ear, a viciously charming smirk sliced through his face.

The minute he opened the door to the library his piercing eyes were fixed on Remus. So he’d been warned by Lily and James then. Maybe that was why he’d come in the first place. Just to confront Remus.

Before either of them had time to react to each other though, Harry ran at Sirius, leaping into his arms.
“Uncle pads!” Harry squealed. Remus’ chest squeezed unbearably “are you picking me up today?”
“Ugh. Hello Prongslet,” Sirius groaned as Harry’s elbow dug into his stomach, he was crouching down and sat back to ruffle the boy's hair, “no you’re being picked up by Molly and going to Ron’s okay?” Harry frowned slightly.

“Why’re you here then?” he asked, his voice pitching up in question. Sirius let his eyes flit to Remus for a moment.
“I’ve got to talk to Moony here,” Sirius’ voice dropped from friendly to dark and angry as he nodded in Remus’ direction.
“Wait, that's Moony?” Harry asked swivelling to look at Remus, something resembling awe splashed across his face. Sirius looked at him confusedly.
“Did you not recognise him from the photos daddy showed you?” he asked.
“I did, I did!” Harry defended passionately, “I said and he said it was a co-in-ce-dance.” He sounded the word slowly, pointing at Remus accusativley. Sirius let out a derisive snort.
“Did he now?” he muttered under his breath, straightening to glare at Remus.

“Sirius,” Remus hissed, careful not to use the others nickname, “I can't have this conversation here,” a pause to turn and smile at the mother of one of the girls, “have a lovely afternoon” he grinned too wide, face moulded like plastic. He snapped back to Sirius “can you go wait until they're all gone at least?” he whispered so only Sirius could hear.
“Fine,” came the sullen reply, Sirius wandering off into the library.

The minute the final parent had departed Remus found Sirius, dragging him into the back room. Justine stood in there, once again watching on like it was a soap opera.

“Sorry Justine,” Remus said as he entered, Sirius a few steps behind him glowering “do you mind if we just use this room for a moment?” Justine thankfully took the cue and walked out unquestioningly.
Remus turned to see Sirius’ mutinous face, the way he stood like a taut string.

“Well fancy seeing you here,” Sirius began bitterly, “I would’ve thought you’d fled the country.”
“What do you want, Sirius?” Remus asked tiredly, folding his arms as if to protect himself.
“Well I want a lot of things, but the actual reason I'm here is James,” Remus felt a shocking bolt of hurt, which was ridiculous, “he wanted to ask you to come round tomorrow. A reunion if you will.” He said the final sentence sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Why would he want that?” Remus asked suspiciously, tugging at the sleeves of his jumper again. Sirius paused for a moment, running his tongue over his teeth. Finally his shoulders dropped somewhat and he said in a softer voice, “he missed you I suppose,” then almost inaudibly “we did all miss you.” There was a long pause in which Sirius continued to look at him until Remus couldn't bear it. He glanced down at his feet.
“Fine. Fine I’ll come,” Remus replied, knowing he’d regret it. Even looking at Sirius was like embracing betrayal, never mind spending an evening with all of them. He didn’t half miss them though, like a physical pain every second. Sometimes he thought it would probably be the same sensation to have a limb removed.

“Pass me your wand,” Remus sounded calm, his voice eerie and detached. He could feel the wicked smile on his face, knew his voice echoed with triumph.

Below him, the man trembled. Remus couldn’t tell whether it was in fear or anger. Maybe just exhaustion. His ragged hair was splayed out on the ground, matted with blood and slick mud. His clothes, a simple white T-shirt and muggle jeans, so unlike what Remus had expected from the animal, were in a similar state, clumps of dirt clinging to the material. Remus pinned the man under his weight, a knee on his chest and his arms held above his head.

The boy beside him, a timid pale thing, passed him the wand with no hesitation. His hands were shaking and he was staring at Remus with large eyes. It wasn’t often that werewolves had a wand, but, Remus learned, the boy had been turned at around sixteen. Then had been turned out by his parents.

With the hand not holding the man’s arms, Remus put the wand tip to his throat. The man bared his yellow teeth, his eyes murderous but too weak to fight Remus off.
“You won’t be able to do it Lupin,” he growled, glancing pointedly at the wand, “you were always too weak for such things.”

Maybe once he would have been right. Maybe once Remus would have quailed at the thought of killing somebody. Not any longer.
“Believe me there’s nobody I want dead more than you,” he replied softly.
Remus smiled as he muttered the curse. Greyback went limp.

Remus woke to the feel of cold flesh under his fingers, the familiar bloat of a dead body ingrained into the grooves of his fingertips. He remembered when he had killed Greyback. He had had to, to gain control of Greyback’s pack, he had to kill the leader. Still for that curse to work he had to want it as well. The acidic triumph that had bubbled in his throat that night still haunted him.

He could remember, a few evenings later, when he’d returned to the flat for less than a day, the flinch he hadn’t suppressed in time when Sirius touched his arm. He could remember the way he had begun to shake the moment Sirius had left, when it finally sunk in that he was a person. A person who had killed happily. Not with the guise of insanity or self defence, only pure sadistic pleasure. Of course Greyback had ruined his life, but a better man, a stronger man wouldn’t have hated him. He’d apparated to a different pack, in the south of Wales less than an hour later, not waiting for Sirius to return with the takeaway he’d bought.

War had not been a good look on him.

Sirius and James had been the heroism of conflict. Bright and daring, glowing and beautiful. Remus had been scared of the way they settled into war so easily. They had been radiant, laughing too often, tears like jewels, not water.

Remus had been dirty in comparison, stooped and weighed on. It could have been the spying. It could’ve just been him. He was like the gnarled root of a tree, bent and broken.

Where Sirius had been the beginning of a legend, Remus had slunk in the shadows.

And as such they fought as they were, Sirius with loud explosions, performative but effective, vicious in their ruthlessness.
Remus had fought as a disease might have fought. He crept into the deatheaters and poisoned their system. Blackened mould spread from him until the framework collapsed. It was secret and that was its evil. Nobody could know, the deatheaters couldn’t know who their spy was, the werewolves couldn’t know who their pack member was and Sirius couldn’t know who his boyfriend was. Not who he truly was. He couldn’t see the killer and the animal because then he’d see what Remus was and he'd realise, finally, that it was not something he wanted. So Remus had grown distant, he’d known he was distant. Each time he’d disappear with no explanation, often after only a few hours back with Sirius. Each time he’d deflected a question, shaken off a hand, gone to bed instead of talking. Each time he’d seen the suspicion that lurked in Sirius’ eyes grow but had done nothing, said nothing to mitigate it. Only pulled away further, too lost to think, too hurt to try.

Apprehension pulled on his gut in anticipation for that evening. Sirius had given him an address to apparate to and he realised he should probably take his wand as well. It had sat in its box on his bedside table almost since the war ended but the others would expect him to have it. He was nervous to say the least. From the way each of them reacted to him, they didn’t know the true reason for his leaving, meaning he was likely to get a strong talking to. Unless of course he told them, something he wasn’t sure he could do.

Evening came around quickly, whittling away at the hours until it was time for Remus to leave. He was on edge but did his best to look relaxed. It had been a long time since he’d apparated, though he used to be especially adept at it.

On the hour he twisted, thrown into the grey vacuum between space, the magic sucking his skin in all different directions. When he landed in the Potter’s living room he stumbled slightly, but felt a small hand catch his elbow. He looked up with momentary dizziness swamping his vision before he met eyes with Lily. He glanced around to see James and Sirius as well, all of them apparently awaiting his arrival. It was the same house they had lived in before he left, but his mind had been forced to forget the address by the fidelius charm, or his own will, he wasn’t quite sure. Both Lily and James looked cautious as if they didn’t know what to expect of him. Sirius just looked rigid. His jaw was tight and Remus could hear his teeth grinding.

“Ah Remus,” Lily began somewhat awkwardly as he toed off his shoes and slipped his coat from around his shoulders. “Why don’t you er.. sit. Yes sit.” She gestured to the large sofa and Remus sank into it gratefully, it was a lot squishier than his own cheap furniture.

The other three took the seats opposite him and he felt as though he were in an interrogation. They looked at him expectantly. “So. How’s Harry?” Remus asked, searching desperately for conversation. He scanned over the photographs littering the room, spanning from the beginning of James and Lilys lives right to that second. He could see himself in many of the ones from Hogwarts, he could see where he was missing from the most recent ones as well.
“Well you’d know if you’d been here,” Sirius huffed to himself but still just audibly. James shot him an annoyed look. Remus could feel his own irritation at the man but stayed silent. The others assumed it was in shame.
“He’s fine,” James replied, definitely the warmest towards him out of the three, “right cheeky little bugger though.” They settled back into silence, just looking at each other.

After far too long James pulled Sirius into the kitchen calling out a quick excuse about dinner. Remus assumed he was taking him for a
short conference between just the two of them. The moment the living room door clicked shut Lily’s intense gaze settled on him.

“Well since small talks failed, why did you actually leave?” Lily asked, her tone businesslike. Remus nearly choked on his own spit.
“What do you mean?” He managed to gasp out after coughing a few times. Lily watched on impassively, her hands folded in her lap.

“I know you Remus. You wouldn’t leave them for a million pounds. Why did you really go?” Remus considered for a moment, whether to tell her the truth. It was unlikely they’d leave him alone now, no matter what he told them so there was no real reason not to be honest. Except for having to hear their reactions, except for the possibility they didn’t regret it.
“Some things were said that are hard to take back. Especially since they weren’t said to me,” he settled on. He had little doubt Lily would work out what he meant but it saved him having to say the venomous words out loud. Something he’d avoided so far.
For a moment she looked at him, a furrow between her eyebrows before her expression cleared.

“On the night you left?” She asked and Remus knew that she’d realised. He nodded, a pained expression straining his face. It was easier with her because it was least her fault. She had never suspected him.
“And to think I yelled at you,” she said to herself almost wistfully, gazing out of the window.

Then quite suddenly her gaze latched onto his face again.
“How have you forgiven us?” She asked, her voice a bit sharper. He shook his head minutely.
“I haven’t.” Was his simple reply, she didn’t look surprised or hurt.
“How will you?” She asked instead, cocking her head to the side a little.
“I’m not sure I will,” she looked sceptical and a bit sad but didn’t argue with him. He truly wasn’t sure if he could ever forgive them.

Both of them sat back in their chairs and at some point James and Sirius returned. The rest of the evening passed in stilted conversation. Nobody mentioning the thing that truly mattered. Just as Remus was beginning to think about leaving Sirius stood up from his position on the sofa. He pulled a face at James that the other man seemed to interpret. James tapped Lily on the shoulder and announced “me and Lily are going to check on Harry for a bit. We’ll be back.” He all but dragged his wife from the room.

Sirius motioned to Remus with his head and Remus reluctantly followed him into the kitchen. The stairs were just outside the lounge so it was harder to hear their conversation from the kitchen.
Sirius immediately went to the opposite side of the island to Remus, almost like he was setting them up for battle.
“I’m assuming that was so we could speak,” Remus said dryly, his eyebrows high on his forehead.
“Yes we haven’t talked,” Sirius said acidly. Remus raised his eyes to the roof in mock prayer while Sirius glared at him.
“Go on then,” Remus said challengingly, “talk.”

“We were together, Remus and you just left,” Sirius said, his voice level for the moment, lacking any emotion. It was a skill he’d picked up in childhood but had rarely used around Remus.
“Oh fuck off,” Remus laughed disdainfully “we weren’t together, not really.” Sirius tensed from where he stood on the other side of the kitchen island. He leant towards Remus, placing his hands on the top of the counter.

“Oh so that was nothing, the five year relationship?” He asked mockingly, irritation tainting his question “That was nothing to you?” He rocked back on his heels and Remus stepped closer to the island, hoping Sirius could see the misery in his face. Hoping Sirius knew he caused it.

“That’s not what I meant,” Remus said, waiting for Sirius to roll his eyes at him. It never came. “You stopped loving me long before I left and just because you don’t want to admit it doesn’t mean I don’t know it.” He finished. The words tasted sour in his mouth but speaking them was like spitting out a lemon, the tart flavour fading slowly.

“I never stopped loving you,” Sirius admitted quietly, they were now both leaning on opposite sides of the island, faces so close they could touch. Remus’ heart thundered. “Not for a second. I hated myself for it for a long time.”

“I’m sure,” his voice was scornful but he didn’t try to argue that Sirius had stopped loving him. Perhaps some part of him had known Sirius would never break a promise and he’d promised to love Remus forever. “You stopped showing me you loved me then,” Remus said placatingly but with an edge sharp enough to scratch diamond. Sirius’ face fell minutely but he wiped it off quickly, eyes hardening again.

“You say that like it was a betrayal,” his eyes bore into Remus’ and from their close position Remus could see the dark flecks that floated in them. When he spoke it came out flat and calm, far from what he felt, “It was in many ways.” Sirius’ face contorted, twisting manically as his anger grew.

“You know nothing of betrayal,” Sirius spat, eyes blazing with rage. Remus felt as though he were in on a joke only he could understand. He felt the insane urge to laugh.
“Really? Don’t I?” He asked instead, incredulity colouring his tone, “I lost Peter just as you did Sirius.”

Remus knew he wasn’t supposed to be here, if he was caught by the order or the ministry there would be serious consequences, some more serious than others. He had come, however, because he had to know.

That evening he had been in the control room of the order, based in a tall narrow townhouse in the centre of London. There in the main meeting room a large map was the entirety of the long table in the middle, showing the whole of London. The entire map was littered with faint glowing circles, they did not obscure any streets or words on the map, only emitted a soft light. The faint glow signified a danger, growing brighter the more severe it was. This night there was almost nothing, the sea of glow only bright enough to symbolise bar fights and other such threats. That was until in one far corner, in the middle of Hackney, a light had appeared, intensifying quickly. Without wasting time Remus moved around the table to reach the light, selecting it with his wand, causing the map to zoom in on that location. Once he was close enough for a street view he could see that the danger spanned two or three houses, possibly spilling onto the street in front. It was most likely a gathering of deatheaters. His pulse sped up and he zoomed back out so he had a full view of the map. All over London, bright circles had popped up, drifting almost lazily toward the larger circle. He did not know what it was and being assigned to the map room he could not leave, instead having to send a patronus to Dumbledore. Somebody else would be sent to the site.

Pulling out his wand he cast the spell, a luminescent wolf galloping around him a few times before he told it the message. After it was sent he slumped back down in a chair, his chest tight with frustration and anticipation.

By now all of the smaller circles had reached the largest circle and he watched on, almost bored. As he gazed at the map he noticed one small circle depart from the large circle. The small circle appeared to be glowing brighter than the others had been, almost blinding. It navigated the streets slowly, as if it were a single person on foot. He watched it, anxiety building steadily in his chest, waiting for it to disappear back to the rest of the group. It didn’t.

He couldn’t work out where it might be heading as it appeared to wander aimlessly until he saw it. The bank at the head of the street it was standing on. The guise for the ministry.

He really really shouldn’t have left. He wasn’t allowed to leave. But he had been slow and he knew that deserved punishment, the circle had been at the ministry before he’d even apparated, there was no time to send for somebody different.

There was only the echo of footsteps in the large foyer of the ministry. Shoes clicking against the polished floor. The sound made Remus cringe and he had the urge to take off the leather boots just to stop it. It was not quite night yet, the light dim and oppressive, every object shifting in the half darkness. More than once he had whirled around on a coat rack brandishing his wand. His muscles were rigid with stress and he almost wished James or Sirius was by his side. His heart clenched painfully at the thought.

The stillness of the air unnerved him, he knew somebody was there but he could feel no disturbance. It was as if the building itself was holding its breath, waiting for the climax.

He crept carefully down one of the corridors shooting off of the main foyer. He listened for any movement but found none, everything was perfect. He doubted, if he could have checked, that a single grain of dust had been unsettled by whoever had come in. No breath of air came through the open windows, no draught scuttled from the floo stations.

Suddenly in the stony silence he heard the smallest scrape of something sharp on the floor. His head whipped around to the opposite side of the foyer, where the mouth of a different dark corridor loomed. This corridor seemed even less bright than the one he had come from, so long that he could not see the end in the darkness. He didn’t dare light his wand, relying solely on his improved vision. He passed three doors, stopping to listen at each one. No other sounds betrayed their maker.

When he came to the fourth door, he could feel something foul behind it. It was like a physical presence, the evil stench of dark magic radiating from it in waves. He paused by the door and heard, from inside, the same sharp scrape, this time with the almost silent patter of tiny feet. He furrowed his brow, confused, what could be in there?

Slowly he reached out a hand and grasped the door knob, turning it with hesitance. Everything was still. He threw open the door and froze. Because there, sat in front of the door, was a rat. A rat he knew very well.

The next few moments happened quicker than he could process. As the rat, Peter, saw him it tried to run but he dived down on top of it, grasping it tightly between two hands. He stood, still gripping the rat before pointing his wand at it and, his voice shattering the quiet, shouted “petrificus totalus''. The rat instantly froze and he laid it on the ground, once again aiming his wand at it and this time, hissing almost like a snake, untransfigured Peter.

The man lay before him, his body stiff and straight like a plank. Remus could feel the adrenaline ebb from his body, replaced by a heart wrenching grief and denial.
“Peter,” his voice trembled, his whole body trembled. He said the word like it was the last thing keeping him from drowning, the last thing keeping him alive “why are you here?” It wasn’t really a question, both of them knew that, but he needed Peter to say it, needed to know.

Peter didn’t look like how Remus would have imagined had he been confronted. He thought he would have seen the nervous doughy face, the quivering lip and watery eyes, wide and scared. He thought that Peter would have shown remorse, guilt, anything. Although clearly he didn’t know Peter very well at all.
What he was actually faced with however, was so much easier and so, so much harder. The boy staring at him didn’t look like Peter, no, this boy had hard blue eyes, cold and cruel, shallow as pond water, a mouth set in a small triumphant sneer, almost a smile.
“I don’t think you really want to know why I’m here,” Peter said and even his voice seemed distant, distorted. He was right though, Remus didn’t want to know why he was there, he wanted to know why he had done this, why he had left them.

“Why- why?” Remus managed to choke out. Peter understood his meaning.
“It’s so weird, Remus. You and me, we’re so alike,” Remus almost flinched at it but managed to suppress the urge.
“We are not alike,” he bit out. Peter only laughed.
“Not in the ways that matter, no,” he replied almost wistfully. Remus wanted to punch him in the face.
“When I met James it was like I’d met the sun. He was incredible, amazing really. I dedicated everything I had to him, my time, my loyalty, everything.” Peter paused and Remus jumped in. “You’re trying to help murder James,” Remus said, voice steely. Peter looked at him in annoyance for being interrupted.
“True, and that I regret. That I would have to kill him for this but it was worth it. It would’ve been worth it.” Again Peter paused but this time Remus said nothing. The blonde man gave him a condescending smile, like a teacher telling a student they’d made a good choice.
“I didn’t like Sirius at first, he swooped in and he stole my sun. He was as bright and as outgoing but not as kind, not nearly as sweet. I wanted James to see that I had sacrificed things for him, that I should be his favourite. Eventually though I got used to it. Sirius became a little bit my sun too. He was incredible in his own way. I will admit though I feel none of the regret for the mourning he would have to go through that I feel for James' death. Then there was you. Lovely little Moony. I met you and I thought, aren’t we just the same. Quiet, studious, secretive, observant. He can be just like me, the second favourite. Always. But then you weren’t. You were Sirius’ first priority in more ways than one and, while the love he had for you and James was different, it was equal.”

“Sirius has never loved me, he made that quite clear the last time I saw him,” Remus said, eyes narrowed on Peter. Peter only laughed softly.

“James saved him, that makes a special bond. You were his everything. Even now I doubt he’s stopped loving you. And for James you weren’t his first priority but he adored you. You were like a deity to them. You fought them at every turn, you were rude and patronising and you told them off and argued and they loved you even more. I couldn’t say I was too tired for a prank, then the prank would happen, just without me. The minute Moony was tired we stopped everything. We had to care for him, even though he made it hard, even though he didn’t even want us to.” Peter spat the final words as though they burned his mouth, a vein bulging on the side of his head.

“Why did you hate me more than them though? If they were tired we stopped too. It wasn’t just me.” Remus breathed. His heart was thrumming and he could feel tears pricking his eyes.

“They were like dots to me, that’s how far they were. Nothing about me was the same as them, to be upset at them for this would have been like being upset with a cloud because it can fly. You, however, you were so like me and it was hard to see a version of myself, just better loved, seamlessly incorporated, universally admired. And so I came up with a plan. It was perfect. Convince James and Sirius you were the spy. Convince Sirius that it would be a better idea to have someone less obvious as secret keeper. It would’ve been you but they don’t trust you any longer so it is me. Always the second best option. They wouldn’t tell anybody, not if they were doing it for secrecy. Betray them to Voldemort. The Potters are dead, and Sirius is blamed, seeing as he is publicly the secret keeper. I am ‘killed’ by him too. And where does that leave you? You’re three closest friends dead. Your boyfriend in prison. And you, finally alone, just like I have been all these years. You could finally feel the agony of it,” he let out a small huff of laughter, “Don’t worry I would have visited as Wormtail.” Peter ended lightly, a smile stretching his face. Remus could feel pain ripping through him like a torrent of fire. He sat back in his heels.

“Of course though, the plan was pointless. Look at you now. No contact with any of them. They didn’t want you anymore and from what they’ve said you finally realised. Left without a trace hm? They’re feeling horribly hurt and betrayed, you know?”
Remus felt his face twist in anger and stood shakily. He got out his wand and sent a patronus, the message forgotten in the blur of emotion. He may have waited a second or an hour. Finally aurors arrived. Moody pulled him into a chair. Peter was arrested. Remus sobbed so hard he threw up.

“And not only did I lose him, I lost you too.” Sirius’ eyes narrowed and when he next spoke it was low and almost threatening.
“You have only yourself to blame for that. You left us, don’t forget,” Remus could see the hurt there. It pleased him, Sirius should be hurt. He wasn’t sure if he enjoyed that the other was in pain or just liked knowing he could cause it. Still, despite the satisfaction, a kind of fury washed through him. How dare Sirius try to blame him?

“Oh I see,” he began, his voice dripping with casual condescension, “I know you think you have this whole situation worked out but you don’t know anything.” Sirius’ jaw worked itself as the wrath built back up on his face.

“Don’t try to make this better with pathetic excuses. It wasn’t only us, Monty and Effie too, they were devastated. Died only two months after,” the other man’s voice was almost a whisper now, shaking and thick with rage. Remus went rigid.

“Monty and Effie are dead?” he whispered, voice cracking. Despair more excruciating than any dragged at his limbs. He crushed it into a corner in his mind, fists clenching so hard his nails dug bloody crescents into his palms. Sirius was almost smirking when he nodded.
“I left you, did I? So this is all my fault?” Remus asked, allowing his sorrow to solidify into a more familiar shape - fury. When he spoke he was again fighting the urge to laugh.
“Yes,” came the simple but sharp reply.
“Well I suppose it must be,” he started in a compromising tone, “trust me, oh wait, I forgot, you couldn’t possibly trust me. Who on Earth would? If I'd just tried a bit harder maybe I wouldn’t have been outcast by the people I loved most.” His sentence ended with sarcasm and a bitterness he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for a long time. It swirled around in his mouth, staining his teeth and tongue until he was nauseous with it.

Sirius looked at him, his stance relaxing a little and his brow furrowing in confusion.
“I- what?”
Remus found it hard not to feel sorry for the Sirius in front of him. The one that looked young and soft and vulnerable. Remus’ hardened heart didn’t have room for vulnerability any longer. As a boy he’d been so sweet, he knew now, back when he’d thought himself a monster. If only he could see himself.

“Oh that’s right, you didn’t realise I knew you thought I was a traitor. I heard you, the night I left. Your little secret meeting,” he paused to breathe through the grief that threatened to overwhelm him, “It’s funny, I’d thought so many times that I couldn’t make it through the war without you lot and then I heard you and I thought, well I don’t need to make it out of the war anymore. It was quite easy to leave then.”
Sirius stumbled backwards slightly, his head rearing back as if to escape Remus’ words.

“Remus you don’t mean that,” his tone was scared and Remus felt a flash of confusion.
“What?”
“That you didn’t want to make it out,” truly, what, what else did Sirius think he would have had if he hadn’t had them? They were the only thing. The only thing for him. James and Peter and Lily and Sirius. How much he had loved Sirius. It was like an eternal candle flame. So many things had tried to douse it but still it burned. When he had been young and stupid he had loved as though water would never touch the flame. As though the dampness of his own self wouldn’t one day creep up on the flame and make it dim, unrecognisable. He had known even then it would never stop burning, not for Sirius, but he hadn’t realised that that didn’t mean it would never change. Didn’t realise it might grow ugly and distorted. The wax might melt into a pool, or drip in thick droplets onto the floor, the fire might flicker weakly.

“Of course I mean it. Of course I meant it. Who else is there?” He asked and that was the base truth. One he knew Sirius understood as well as he did. There was nothing but them, and left without them, he’d had nothing at all.

“I’m sorry,” the sorrow in those grey eyes was gut wrenching, it was infuriating.
“Well now you are,” Remus snapped, keeping his volume low. He knew that Sirius preferred shouting in an argument, it made the words seem less real “you were quite content to blame me for everything before.”
“You were gone all-” Remus sighed, effectively cutting off Sirius. He was so, so tired of feeling.
“I don’t care, Sirius,” and his voice sounded like a dead man. “I just- I don’t care anymore. Not everything can be fixed.”

“But please,” Sirius begged, eyes misty. Remus would’ve once teared up at Sirius pleading, would’ve once been brought to his knees by it. He could only muster a faint annoyance “We’re the marauders.”
Remus smiled a small smile, an echo of the expression that used to haunt his face. He wished he hadn’t used them so abundantly at school, maybe then he’d have some left for now.
“The marauders died a long time ago.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him and turned on his heel to see James, standing in the doorway, eyes brimming with hurt.
“How, how could you say that?” His voice crackled and pitched unevenly and Remus realised uncomfortably that James looked heartbroken.

“He heard it James,” Sirius said mournfully from behind him, edging around the island to stand beside Remus. He kept a careful distance between them. “That conversation we had the night he left. He heard it.”
The sadness in James' expression intensified but there was also a hint of determination. “So that’s why you left,” he murmured almost to himself. He looked at his feet briefly but when he looked up Remus was shocked to see him smiling. “So it was our fault?” He asked, bordering on excited. Remus felt as though he had whiplash.

“Yes?” Sirius said, clearly just as dumbfounded at James' reaction as Remus.
James’ smile widened minutely and he slid to his knees in front of Remus, grasping his hands. Remus stared down at him, a judgemental grimace on his face. He wanted to laugh like he used to but he fought it.

“So you didn’t just decide to leave, it was because of us? Because we hurt you?” He looked up at Remus and Remus nodded slowly. “Then there’s hope for us yet because we can fix it,” he smiled, then his face dropped to a more sombre expression, a sincerity only James could muster clouding his eyes, “because I for one won’t stop trying to make it up to you. Not until I die.” Sirius seemed to have caught up with James’ reasoning and he turned around moving from beside Remus to beside James. He didn’t touch Remus but his face was even more serious, “if you’ll let me, I’ll never stop saying sorry. Never stop trying to fix it.” He said, his words mirroring James sentiment.

“I can’t just go straight back,” Remus said quietly, expecting a rebuttal of some kind but James only nodded understandingly and got to his feet.
“Just meet us one more time?” he asked softly. “We can go from there.”
Remus paused for a moment then nodded.

***

Their next meeting was a week later, in a pub just down the road from the Potter's house. It was a nice building, the stone walls smothered in climbing plants, although they were little more than twisting branches in winter. Remus arrived first, securing a small booth near the front door of the pub. When the others arrived he made sure he sat on the outer side, ready to get up at any moment. He wasn’t sure if it was a habit leftover from the war but he liked to make sure he had an easy exit.

Despite the fact that the booth was a semicircle, the other three seemed to gather on one side, as if a little afraid of him.

“I’m gonna go and get us some drinks,” James announced as the other two sat down. He slung off his coat, leaving it lying on the seat and wandered in the direction of the bar, not bothering to ask what anybody wanted.

Lily and Sirius slid into the booth, Lily closest to Remus, Sirius on the other side of her.
“How’s your week been?” Lily asked, looking at Remus, seemingly trying to ease the painful silence that encased the group each time they spoke.
“Fine,” Remus replied. Sirius stared at him continuously, never saying a word and looking away each time Remus caught his eye.

James returned with drinks, handing Remus the same thing he’d had every time at twenty. Still it ached. Nobody else commented, maybe they didn’t notice. He didn’t tell him that his order had changed. Didn’t tell them he couldn’t even drink the same things after he’d left.

The night dragged on. James was a blessing in that sense, conjuring conversation from nothing, talking for hours about little Harry. Remus listened hungrily, eager to drink in all that he had missed, especially about that beautiful little boy.

The first time he laughed at something that evening the others looked far too pleased for something so small. Sirius had an expression of wonder on his face, cheeks dusted pink. Remus had to fight not to kiss him.
“So Remus,” James asked at one point, “you got anybody, boyfriend, girlfriend?” Remus didn’t miss the look he shot at Sirius or the way the other man looked down into his cup. He could assume Sirius had somebody else then.

“No, no I didn’t really leave the flat much after the war. Only to go to work,” Remus replied, dread curling in his gut.
“Yeah nobody new here either, Sirius is still wallowing in loneliness,” Sirius scowled playfully and if Remus hadn’t been quite so relieved he might have realised it was a strange thing to bring up. If he hadn’t been so relieved he might have questioned why Sirius being alone made him happy.

“How is the library then?” Lily asked, referring to the work he’d mentioned earlier. He caught the real question behind her words.
“It’s very relaxed. They don’t notice that I have full moons off every month. They’re muggle,” he replied with a shrug. Sirius’ eyes widened slightly as if he’d just remembered something.
“The full moons!” He exclaimed, all of them turning to look at him. He cleared his throat awkwardly “Um how were they?” He mumbled.

Remus could feel his face shutting down, his chest seizing. “Well not fantastic,” he said sourly. Sliding out of the booth and standing. He began to reach for his coat and he could see the others try and frantically think of ways to get him to stay.

“Can you get into work after them,” James asked, starting to stand as well.

“Not usually, money is hard,” Remus admitted, though what he was about to say had less to do with that and more to do with escaping those in front of him. “I’m going to have to move, maybe somewhere new.” He saw the panic that flashed through the others simultaneously.
He began hurriedly pulling his coat on, almost in a frenzy to leave. They all stood too, pulling on coats.

“Right goodbye,” he said brusquely. He stepped towards the door but Sirius reached forward and latched onto his arm. “No, move in with me,” he said, desperation alight in his face. Remus felt his eyes widen, his jaw almost dropping open.
“I’m not sure that's a good-” he began but James chimed in.
“No, I agree. I know we failed you Moons but we only just got you back. You can't leave again.” they were looking at him hopefully, even the flowers on the table seemed to be leaning over in anticipation.
“Fine,” Remus sighed, shoulders dropping in defeat.
“Really?” Sirius almost shouted in a mix of relief and excitement, “really? We’ll help you move.”
“Oh no,” Remus replied too shortly, “I'll do that alone.”

Sirius’ flat was large and pretty. The furniture was strong and expensive, the rooms spacious. There was a balcony and a spare room, where Remus could stay. Still it felt as if a ghost could have lived there. The sofa cushions sat perfectly plumped, not a wrinkle marring their surface. The surfaces remained empty. The only personal touches were two album covers hung on the wall opposite the sofa and a wall in the corridor that led off of the living room to the bedrooms, which was dedicated to photos. Remus noticed none were hung from after he left.

In the first few weeks of living in Sirius’ flat Remus moved around like a ghost. He tried his hardest to remain invisible, making no change to anything except the spare room, where he slept. He stayed silent and melded in with the furniture. He could feel the yearning for Sirius in his gut, a noxious replay of his years in Hogwarts, watching the thing he loved from afar. Sure it would never be within reach.
He spent the full moon alone in a forest, large enough he would never meet another person. Sirius didn’t ask, maybe he didn’t notice.

Remus sat in the kitchen, peering through the door to where Sirius was sitting on the sofa. He was waiting for the other to leave before he walked through to get back to his room.
“I can feel you looking at me,” Sirius said lazily, not turning to look at Remus. “You live here, you don’t have to hide whenever I’m here.”
“Sorry,” Remus replied walking into the room. Sirius swung his head around to watch him as he moved into the little corridor that led to both bedrooms.
It felt like in the war, they could hardly look at each other, never mind speak.
***
Remus stood shirtless in the bathroom, inspecting himself in the mirror. A myriad of white lines slashed through his torso, arms, throat. Deeper ones flowed pink or red. He looked at the teeth marks that punctured his shoulder. The beginning of the end of his life. The door opened, Sirius stood stunned.
“You’ve got new scars,” he said flatly. Remus thought it was a stupid observation.
“Of course I do,” he replied, looking at Sirius with a raised eyebrow. He was almost glaring.
“I didn’t think-,” Sirius began before breaking off. “I feel like I should know them all,” he said lamely. Remus felt a flare of irritation. What right did Sirius have to know him?
“You could have,” he said, just to watch Sirius flinch.
***
“Do you want some tea?” Sirius asked. Remus felt as though he were back in time, when they had been strangers in a house. When they only spoke to offer food or tea. The thought was resentful.
“Ok” he replied a little too harshly.
***
“I wish I could have you back,” Sirius said one day. They were only passing each other in the hallway, as they did most of the time. Remus was almost pressed against the wall in his effort not to brush against Sirius.
“You shouldn't've lost me then.” he could still feel long suppressed love stir in him every time he looked at Sirius, it made him feel weak.
***
One day he caught himself watching Sirius from across the living room. They were sitting in stiff silence, Remus curled on the sofa and Sirius in an armchair. Every few seconds Sirius paused from reading whatever book he had and took a sip of his tea. Remus wanted to tear his hair out. It was impossible to be around the thing you had craved most for years and not be able to have them. It wasn’t really that he didn’t think Sirius would take him back, but it was strange, the limbo between hate and love. Anger and forgiveness. There was so much between them that they still had left to talk about, so much they didn’t know of each other. Even now the secrets of the war plagued their every interaction. Hurt buried beneath guilt and surface level civility. He wished Sirius would shout at him, just so he could shout back. He wanted to scream, scream that he didn’t know how to bridge the unfathomable gap between them, scream that he shouldn't be the one who had to.

“You don’t know me anymore,” Remus said quite suddenly. The words hurt to say, although he’d thought variations of them many times over the years. Sirius’ head snapped up from the book in shock from him speaking.
“Oh, finally decided to speak to me for more than two words,” he said, Remus was nearly surprised at the hostility there.

“What's there to say anymore?” Remus asked, even though he was the one who’d been trying to provoke Sirius.
“What do you want from me, Remus?” he sounded tired and a kind of manic pressure began to fill Remus’ chest. He needed a release, an explosion.
“You said you'd spend forever making it up to me,” he said, eyes focused solely on Sirius. The other man closed his book and placed it on the small coffee table. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“I did,” he sighed, letting his arms flop over the arm rests and rolling his head back against the back of the chair.
“You haven't,” Remus said, hoping desperately to draw some reaction, to wear at this thick barrier between them.
“You haven't let me.”
“Why should I let you?” Remus asked, the pressure built steadily, petulance creeping into his voice. It seemed to be the breaker for Sirius, he stood abruptly, Remus following.

“Look Remus,” he began acidicly, his voice slightly raised, “I know you want to blame me for all of this and I'll admit a large part of it is my fault,” his volume built as he talked, his pitch wavering as it went higher. “But don't- don't you dare pretend that you didn't leave long before I suspected you! What about when you wouldn't speak to me!?” his arms flailed as he gestured around randomly, his anger peaking “When you'd spend barely a day in my presence before going off on some mis-” but then he was cut off because Remus walked forwards, reaching him in two strides and pressed his lips hard against Sirius’.

“I don’t think I can do it without you any longer,” he whispered next to Sirius’ face. He could feel the faint puffs of air on his skin. He hoped Sirius would agree.

“If we’re gonna fix this, us, we have to talk about it,” Sirius said, voice tainted with frustration, breathless and sweet. In some ways all they’d done in their youth was talk and yet they’d still been so painfully bad at speaking to each other. At speaking about what really mattered.
“Tell me,” Sirius paused and cleared his throat, “tell me about the war, after I went into hiding. You kept fighting?”
“Ok, ok I will,” Remus whispered a little frantically, unable to keep his hands from Sirius’ face, “but only if you tell me about the war too. Your side of the war.” Sirius nodded.

***

It started slowly, with conversations in the early morning, spoken over hot coffee and toast. Hardly able to make out each other’s faces in the fuzzy greyness. Words in between soft kisses in bed.
“The order was so small,” Remus said one time, smiling wistfully at the memory of them. “In the end it was tiny, every fight was fought alone. There was no support, especially for me, being the only one who could go into the packs.”
“You what?” Sirius asked, sitting straight from his slumped position at the table. His head, that had been resting on his hand, perked up like a dog. Remus realised he had never told Sirius what those missions were.
“I spied on the werewolf packs,” he replied quietly.

***

“I didn’t distrust you because you’re a werewolf,” Sirius said out of the blue, another time. Remus had, like most mornings, sat opposite him. Neither of them slept well so, when they inevitably woke up, still drenched in darkness, they would sit together in the living room or the kitchen, silent until one of them spoke.
“No?” Remus allowed a small smile to creep onto his face. He wasn’t sure if it was better, better that Sirius distrust him because of a disease he’d never wanted, or because of something within him? Was it really better that Sirius distrust some part of Remus that was truly him? The flutter at the edges of his lips told him it was. Maybe it was the promises again. Sirius had promised never to use his lycanthropy against him, not after fifth year.
“Never,” was all Sirius replied.

***

“I just- why? Why did you fight to get me back? Surely it’s been easier since I left?” Remus asked desperately, his arms flailing in frustration.
“Because I love you,” Sirius’ answer was infuriatingly simple. It made so much sense and yet continued to baffle Remus.
“You shouldn’t though,” he replied flatly. Sirius’ shoulders tensed in annoyance. “We’ve been having this same argument since we were sixteen Remus. What do you think I am? Do you think I’m perfect?” He sounded exasperated.
“Of course,” Remus said. It was true in many regards, of course he knew Sirius had done a lot wrong but to him he was a boy with a golden soul.
“How? How? After all I’ve done, how?” Sirius seemed panicked in his denial of his own perfection
“You just are, you’re everything.” Remus replied.
“And in what world are you less than everything?”
“You don’t understand. I just am evil. I’m a killer Sirius, the things I’ve done, you won't be able to look at me,” he could again feel tears in his eyes, a sharp lump in his throat.
“What?” Sirius’ voice was softer again, “tell me what.”

***

“I murdered Greyback,” Remus said, smothered in a duvet, “I smiled as I cursed him.”
***
“The first time I killed somebody,” Sirius said, sitting on the balcony, only a cup of coffee to warm him, “I saw my mother. It was the only way I could use the curse.”
***
“I destroyed a horcrux. l felt more guilty killing a piece of the dark lord than I did killing somebody that threatened you.”
***
“I loved a man I thought was betraying me.”
***
“I loved a man I thought hated me.”
***
“I trusted Peter more than Dumbledore.”
***
“I found out Peter was the spy.”

Sometimes they spoke with a kind of nostalgia, other times a crippling melancholy. Every once in a while they would shout, scream of betrayals. It was one of these times they first truly talked about their downfall. “I- I can’t,” Remus had said angrily, Sirius standing opposite him. They had both risen from their seated positions in agitation, “Can you even imagine the agony of it. I spent my whole life paralysed by the thought of being alone again. And I lost all of you. Before I heard that conversation, when the war drove us apart, I lost you then.” He seethed and Sirius let him. “And it was all my fault,” he tore harshly at his hair, “I just lied and lied. If I'd told the truth.” Sirius reached across to him, guiding his hands gently from his hair. He sat him down on the sofa, going beside him and wrapping an arm around him. Remus turned, burying his face in Sirius’ neck. “Someone finally loved me.” He whispered brokenly.
“We still love you. So much. I love you more than anything my darling. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Sirius whispered back.

He told Sirius of all the times he’d looked at a near full moon and asked himself if he’d make it through another one. Asked himself if he’d wanted to. Sirius told him of the times he’d looked at the full moon and thought of Remus. Told him he’d kept track of them through it all, told him he’d known every night of pain Remus would have.

He cried, after so long, he cried for Mr and Mrs Potter, for Marlene and Dorcas, for Peter, Mary, even for himself. For each little piece of humanity they’d all lost in that war.

***

The next full moon Sirius gripped Remus’ hand too tightly. Waves of pins and needles washed through his fingers. He stood so their shoulders brushed, feeling as though he were consoling Sirius rather than the other way around.

He could feel the tremors up and down his spine, the way his bones creaked and his whole body swayed. He was glad to have Sirius to apparate him. He leaned his head on the other man’s shoulder as he twisted on the spot, the wall of light and sound consuming them. Remus guided the apparation to the forest he usually used.

They landed in a ditch, both stumbling under the weight of Remus’ body. His legs were beginning to give out in pain and Sirius set him carefully on the ground, leaning against a tree. He sat at his side, holding his hand reassuringly. Remus gave him a smile that was more a grimace, dazed by pain.

“Remember if the wolf starts going for Padfoot, leave immediately. I won’t hurt you,” Remus managed to gasp out, his hand flying from Sirius’ to grip his stomach.
“I know. They’ve never fought before though,” Sirius replied gently, rolling his eyes with a soft smile.
“Well they’ve not seen each other in a long time,” Remus said, hunched over, not noticing Sirius’ pained expression.
“I know,” he replied almost inaudibly. The first crack always managed to make Sirius flinch. The cry that came with it didn’t help. Remus was rarely emotional and hardly showed pain if he could help it. Remus looked at him with something like urgency in his eyes. Sirius changed to Padfoot.

The next morning Remus woke in his bed for the first time in years. The birds were loud outside and the daylight was pale and watery telling him it was early morning. He settled into the softness of the sheets, his head nestled in the pillow. Sirius was asleep beside him and he turned onto his side. It was surprising not to feel the tear of skin as he moved. There was only a dull ache in his limbs from the transforming itself. He pressed himself into Sirius, who grumbled and lifted his arm, allowing Remus to bury his head in his shoulder.

When Remus woke a second time, later in the day, Sirius was already awake, sitting up in bed. When he felt Remus shift he looked down at him smiling.
“You doing ok?” He asked, stroking his hand through Remus’ hair. Remus nodded in response, leaning into the soft touch on his head.
“I’m glad.”

***

The locket drew him in, like a magnet to his metallic touch. He wanted to spill blood for it, he could hardly let it go. This was, according to Dumbledore, the most dangerous of the horcruxes, sucking in its wearer until they were nothing but a shell. Until they were hardly more than an extension of the dark lords souls themselves. He didn’t understand why he’d been assigned this horcrux. He was not the strongest, not the smartest. He was weak in fact, weak for the locket in his grasp.

He shook slightly as he laid the locket on the floor of the safe house. It was like withdrawals, he could feel the pull of it, he wanted nothing more than to cradle it to him. Hold it close to his heart.

Drawing a deep breath he took a step back, retrieving the basilisk fang from the only piece of furniture in the cell like room. The walls and floor were grey. The piece of furniture was a large ornate desk, painted in black white and every hue of grey in between. The knobs and handles were made of sparkling silver. He was unsure why he had been told to do this in such a strange room. Dumbledore had said it would help with the visions, not that he’d seen anything yet.

He wrapped his hand firmly around the fang, finding that it fit comfortably in his palm, he raised it above the locket but just as he was about to bring it down a whirlwind of blackish grey smoke appeared above the locket. He stumbled back in shock, the fang still brandished in his hand. His back hit the desk and he was forced to press back against it in terror.

Slowly the cloud began to take shape in front of him, still a deathly grey colour. It formed into two figures, slightly blurry at first, seeming to try and pull at the surroundings but unable to do so. As the figures walked forward they solidified into the shapes of two men, grey and faceless. Although he could recognise them immediately. He watched in horror as the faces grew onto their heads until there, outlined in black and white, Was Sirius and James. The two men looked at each other, their eyes glittering black before fixing their gaze onto Remus. He was frozen.

Suddenly, colour began to bleed across their faces and clothes. Remus looked around, almost expecting something else to have entered, causing this change, his eyes caught on his own hands. He stared for a moment because as he watched, his fingertips turned slowly grey. As if the figures were pulling the colour straight from him into themselves. Maybe they were.

“Hello Remus,” Sirius said sweetly, “we miss you.”
“Yeah,” James replied, “we were heartbroken when you betrayed us.” Both of their voices echoed as if they were talking from down a well. It made them sound supernatural and terrifying. It wasn’t helped by the pure black of their eyes.

“How could you!?” Sirius suddenly shouted, shrill and echoing even more. Remus jumped and crossed his arms over his chest, unable to protect himself from the sickening imitation of his friends.

“You’ve killed us. You’ve killed us,” James chanted his voice as high as Sirius’. Sirius joined in after a few moments.

Remus felt tears form in his eyes, covering his ears and bending over. “I didn’t, I didn’t, I didn’t,” he muttered over and over, begging for it to stop. With his last remaining strength, he pushed forward, his eyes focused only on the locket. As he passed James and Sirius he almost expected to feel solid mass but there was only the hint of warm air clawing at his cheek.
As he plunged the fang into the locket he heard a deafening, heart wrenching scream. It was as if the air itself paused in acknowledgement of the death.

Remus woke from the nightmare to find Sirius beside him. That was one pain he couldn’t take.

Sirius pulled him in closely and he didn’t feel the need to throw up. The first glimmers of daylight streamed through the blinds.
“I love you,” he said to Sirius, pulling back to look the other man in the eyes. The grin he received was blinding.
“I’m so glad you’re here again,” Sirius replied, voice a low whisper like he was scared to break the moment.
“We’re like a vine,” Remus said back, dangerously close to exploding with joy, “we’re all twisted up together, our whole lives are.”
Miles and miles away the sun burned but Remus felt like all it’s warmth was in that room with him.