Chapter 6
The next morning, Sirius would not step foot outside his room.
When the afternoon crept over the green hills in darkening shades of red and orange, Remus set down his book and walked back upstairs. He was just in time to see James, who was slipping out from Sirius' door. There were hanging shadows under his bleary, brown eyes, and Remus caught his arm before he could pass into the bathroom to squeeze at his elbow.
"Have you spoken to him?" Remus asked.
James shook his head, a drowsy smile pulling at his lips. "He won't." He rubbed the back of his neck and studied Remus with a weary, slow gaze. "He'll want to see you. Go in."
Remus nodded, once, then let go of James to clap him on the shoulder, because he looked like he needed it and because James and Sirius were two sides of the same coin, so what was James supposed to do when they wouldn't stop landing one way up? He waited until James had passed down the stairs to turn back around.
"Padfoot." He said as he walked into Sirius' room, closing the door behind him to stare at where Sirius lay, sprawled out across the faded carpet, one tanned, bare leg free from the thin blanket that curled around him. A chipped mug of untouched coffee rested on the floorboards next to him. "Did you know it's nearly noon?"
Sirius did not stir, but his eyes did flicker open. Smoke hung in the air, his lit cigarette still sitting between his fingers as he lifted it to his mouth. It was a habit that, just like Remus, he'd sworn to break time and time again. "Mm."
"You're missing all the sun."
"I'll survive."
"You say that now, but you just wait until you're as pale and monstrous as me. It's not an easy life, being a recluse." Remus shoved his hands in his pockets to frown down at him. He couldn't let Sirius go back to this strange shadow of himself, not again.
Sharp, quick, Sirius' head lifted from the carpet and he anchored a cutting glare upon Remus, his mouth twisting. "Don't ever call yourself monstrous, Remus John Lupin, or I'll jinx you to hell and back."
"A coherent sentence." Remus remarked as he neared. "That's an improvement."
There was a flutter of muscle in Sirius' jaw, the dying ember of his anger, before he sighed and propped himself up onto his elbows to drop his cigarette into his cold cup of coffee. "Lie down."
Smiling, Remus dropped down to settle next to him on the scratchy rug, and rolled onto his side to take him in, as he should be taken in, silken and holy in the thin, afternoon light, black hair scraped back by restless, beautiful, gold-ringed hands.
For their first year at Hogwarts, Sirius had only ever worn one ring, a chunky, silver thing stamped with the Noble House of Black crest that his mother had given him on the platform Kings Cross. In second year, Sirius had reached out to take a bowl of peas from Remus across the table at the Great Hall, and Remus had cried out when the circle of silver had burned the back of his palm. Sirius had looked at him, unfaltering, and then slipped the ring from his finger. He had never worn it again.
"Are you okay?" Remus asked. But Sirius was quiet, too quiet, lifting one, slumped shoulder in reply, and Remus could think of nothing else to say, nothing else to do, but kiss him.
He had never kissed Sirius first. He had never taken that step, never known how to, and his heart was thundering against his ribcage like it wanted to break free, but Sirius pushed into him, almost aggressive in how his tongue sought him out.
It was only when Sirius slowed, kissing at the corner of Remus' lips as his shoulders trembled, that Remus realised, with a jolt, that Sirius was sobbing. He was kissing Remus and crying, gasping as tears welled on his black lashes, like he couldn’t breathe. Remus wrenched back, gripping at his chin to stare at him, feeling sick and aching and helpless.
"Sirius." He whispered, fingers smoothing over the stark edge of his jaw, his high, damp cheekbones, the slope of his nose, like he was trying to find what was wrong, seek it out and kill it himself. "Sirius, Sirius, talk to me."
Sirius shook his head, again and again and again, burrowing down into his blanket, but Remus wouldn't, couldn't let him hide. He slipped a hand around the back of Sirius' neck to hold him, pin him in place, until he was unmoving beneath his touch, no longer shaking. Please don't take him from me, he asked no-one, nothing, God maybe, if he had ever believed in a God. He always felt like he was going to lose Sirius. Everything with Sirius felt like losing.
"I don't care." Sirius said into his jumper, his low voice muffled by the fabric. "I don't know why I'm crying. I'm glad I'm off that bloody stupid tree."
"Maybe you do care." Remus told him. "They're still your family."
Sniffing, Sirius glanced up at him, his eyes blank and waxen. "James is my family. Euphemia and Fleamont are my family. My mother and my father and my idiot brother are nothing to me."
"Sirius--"
"No. No, no." Sirius drove a palm into his chest, where his heart still thumped, striking at him like he's trying to prove something, but the hit of his fist was so soft. "Moony. Please. I can't bear it. Just tell me that I'm right. Tell me I shouldn't care."
"I won't lie to you." Remus seized at his wrist and held it in the little space between them. "Maybe you should be talking to James about this. He hates it when he doesn't know what you're thinking."
It is difficult not to think of James’ drawn face, his restless pacing in the corridor, the golden boy who knew Sirius like he would know a mirror. And Sirius, quiet, staring at him as they lay there on the hard floor, duvet twisted around their legs, listening to the crickets outside the window.
"James is scared of me." Sirius said when the silence became too much, and his other hand was creeping under the hem of Remus' thick jumper, thumb stroking into the dip of his navel and over the rise of his hip. "He's so worried that he won't be able to fix me and it's killing him. I can see it in his face, even when he pretends everything is fine."
“But you’re telling me.” Remus asked. His mind narrowed in on Sirius’ touch, his skin prickling with it, and his throat tightened. “Why?”
“You don’t look at me like I’m dying.”
Remus blinked, his voice straining low. “How do I look at you?”
"I don’t want to talk. Not now." A shiver trickled down Remus' spine as Sirius' hand hitched up his waist, and his mouth was hot on his neck, where his pulse fluttered, before it had kissed its way up to claim his lips. Remus kissed him back, wanting him more than anything, but there was a staccato ache in his lungs, as if something tragic had shattered there, some bone, some cartilage, and he had to pull away.
"Sirius." He said. "This won't work."
Deep beneath the dark pupils of Sirius’ eyes, an emotion shifted, rose to the surface, and then broke. What was it? Sirius did not roll away, did not move at all, when he replied, "You– you don’t want to kiss me?"
It was the echo of what he’d teased the day before in the garden. Don't you want to kiss me? It made Remus want to scream at him. But how could he? Not when he had that look on his face, that fragile, careful look, the look that slipped over him when he read one of his mother’s letters, or when his brother ignored him in the hallways, and it was painful, too painful, for Remus to stand.
“That’s not what I meant.” He mumbled. “I just– are you sure this will help?"
“I never said it would.” Sirius said, and when he kissed Remus again, Remus let the pain wash over him without another word.
*
Suddenly, it seemed like Sirius Black could not stop touching him.
In the slow mornings, when the boys were dragging themselves out of bed, Sirius would slip into the bathroom and kiss the toothpaste from Remus' lips. When Peter was absorbed in a chess game and James had taken to the skies on his broom, Sirius would push Remus against the hallway wall and sneak a hand under his shirt. If Remus stepped out to smoke, Sirius would follow him out and pull him behind a bush where no one could see them.
It was too close to the moon, and Remus could smell Sirius all over him. He never left.
The Potters arrived back two days before the full, and Remus was hollow with the certainty that he owed Euphemia and Fleamont Potter so, so much, with every biscuit that Euphemia offered, with every pat on the back that Fleamont gave to him. It made him miss his own mother, but this was better than being locked up in the basement, knowing that she was upstairs, listening to him scream.
"Thank you." Remus said to Euphemia early one morning, when he had barely slept and the boys were only just stirring upstairs. "For letting me stay here."
"You're all welcome to stay here anytime." Euphemia replied with a soft sort of smile.
"I'm-- different though." Remus mumbled. "From the others."
"Yes." Euphemia nodded and offered him a buttered crumpet. "You're much cleverer."
The day before the moon reached its fullest shape, Remus was sure there was something inside of him bent on hearing him apart. It was under his skin, but then it was always there, a dormant creature, a fucking crawling spider in his bones.
After the four boys had crept into the dark forest, after the wolf had risen from him and fallen again, Remus remembered little. The early morning shattered through the trees as Peter and James wrapped their arms around his shoulders to carry him back to the manor, Padfoot running ahead, still barking and drunk from the night before.
Inside the house, Remus felt like he was trying to breathe underwater. His foot was on the last step of the winding staircase, but his head was somewhere else entirely as pain shivered up from deep in his chest, rushing like blood. He didn’t realise he was falling until someone caught him and pulled him by his shirt, but by that time, it was too late, and he was gone, pushed into the darkness that swallowed him down.
When Remus swayed back to life, he was no longer on the stairs. There was an arm around his waist and although he was sitting on the edge of something soft, the body he slumped against was all hard angles and planes; Sirius, he would know him anywhere. He stirred, squeezing his eyes shut once before opening them as a bright light pulsed at his irises.
“--should tell my parents.” A voice was saying, and he could see James’ wringing hands and Peter’s frown from where the pair stood in front of him. Another ache pierced his temple as he raised his chin further to see that he was on the bed of one of the small guest bedrooms.
“I’m fine.” Remus mumbled, stumbling to get the words out before anyone could go and bother Euphemia and Fleamont Potter at five in the fucking morning. There was a hot breath against his neck, and he met Sirius’ eyes, though his face swam in and out of focus, hazy and half there. “I’m okay. It was just a bad moon. I’ll sleep it off.”
His spine ached, so Remus let his head drop back down as a spinning blackness rose up like a crashing wave, and leaned into the warmth of Sirius’ side as his fingers tightened at his hip.
“Go sleep.” Sirius said, his tone strained and edged with something serrated and delicate. “I’ll put him to bed.”
James sighed. “We all care about Moony, Padfoot.”
“I know!” Sirius snapped back at him, and the whole room spun into a stiff silence for a few, taut seconds before Sirus drew air sharply in between his teeth and continued, far more soft than before. “I know that. Can you go?”
“But–” Peter began.
“He doesn’t need you lot crowding him.” Sirius cut through Peter's protests. Breathing him in, the sharp, spiced scent of him, the bonfire smoke still laced into his clothes, Remus rested his chin on Sirius’ shoulder and listened as the other boys' footsteps faded and the door creaked closed behind them.
“Sorry.” Remus murmured into his ear, just before Sirius pulled away, the mattress springing as he stood. “I’m sorry.”
“Shut up, you idiot.”
When light filtered through his lashes, Remus caught sight of Sirius, bent before him, dark hair falling into his face as he undid the laces of his shoes and slipped them off his feet, one by one. Limp, Remus struggled to unbutton his fly with trembling fingers, numb and hot and sick. He was used to waking up naked in the cold, damp air of the Shrieking Shack, and he couldn't remember getting dressed again in the first place, but Sirius lay a hand on his knee.
“Can I help?” He asked, and Remus hesitated, the familiar taste of his own denial on his tongue, before he surprised himself, and nodded. Sirius pushed the stiff material of his trousers down his lifting hips, over his thighs, his calves, and then tugged it from his ankles. He was so gentle, so quiet, that Remus felt something catch in his chest, something too big to choke back.
"Sirius." Remus said, just the word, like he could savour it, wind it into his tongue and keep it tucked away in his throat where no one else could have it apart from him.
He left it to hang in the air and Sirius did not meet it with any reply of his own, just pressed him into the mattress with a soft palm and pulled the blankets up to his chin. Sleep was crawling into his head, into his lungs, but Remus stared at Sirius as he brushed the tangled curls back from Remus' forehead, watching how his brow furrowed, how his teeth bit down on his bottom lip, the distracted, absent changing of his face.
"Sleep." Sirius said. "Or you'll be in trouble."
Remus turned his cheek into the pillow, too heavy to roll his eyes at him. "I'm not scared of you, Black."
A grin wore at Sirius' mouth and he stepped away from the bed.
"You should be." He said, and he flicked the light switch, plunging the room into a deep darkness. Remus fell asleep to the sound of the door clicking shut.
*
By twelve the next day, Remus could breathe again, but he had woken with Sirius in his head. Mostly, the thought that he really, really didn't want to see him.
So, he pulled on a shirt and ducked outside before any of the boys could notice him. He could hear them in the living room, James hollering something about the size of his antlers while Peter and Sirius heckled him, but Remus passed into the warm garden to stare up at the sky.
For a long moment, he just stood there, before walking towards the back gate. It creaked as he pushed at the rusting latch, just as it had the night before, a hollow reminder of the pain still burning in his bones. The grass was long enough to brush his hip, and when he sat down, he just could see over swaying blades of green, ruffled by a cool breeze as he flipped open his book to his page.
He read, and kept on reading, head dipping low to avoid the glare of the sun, but he wasn't sure he was taking in any of the words. He couldn't take in anything really. He rested his cheek against his arm and closed his eyes, before metal groaned once more, and he blinked at the figure, coming towards him through the field.
"I've been looking for you." Sirius said. "Are you hiding?"
Remus didn't want to meet his eye, so he fidgeted with the corner of a page. "Is there a reason why I should hide?"
"No." He could hear the smile in his voice. "Obviously not. We all know you couldn't go that long without seeing my beautiful face."
"Sure." Remus mumbled and he closed his book, before standing up so that they were face to face.
Blocked out by light, Sirius was more of a shadow, just the corner of his mouth and the tip of his ear bathed golden. The Potter Manor rose behind him, old brick and creeping vines, and the air smelled like honeysuckle again, and a bit like Sirius, like the wild, like smoke, like his aftershave.
Sirius stretched out to touch his jaw, before his hand slipped down to wind their fingers together, hard, bruised knuckles and soft, ink-stained palms and blunted, bitten nails. Remus looked down, and then tugged away from his touch.
"Stop it, Sirius." He said.
Arm dropping to his side, Sirius drew in a sudden breath. "What?"
"Stop kissing me. Stop touching me." Remus snapped. Fuck. His shirt was sticking to his back. He threaded a hand through his hair. "I don't understand-- I don't know what any of this means."
Sirius stared at him. "Do- Do you want it to mean something?"
"You know what I am." Remus chewed down on his lip, and his chest was tightening, a wild murmur itching at the base of his skull. "I'm gay. I told you I’m gay."
"I don't care that you're gay." Sirius replied, sharply. The gap narrowed as he stepped closer, his eyes fierce and blazing and boring into him, but Remus met his gaze without flinching. He’d always been able to take Sirius’ glares on his chin, more than Peter who folded within three seconds and James who always settled for shoving at his shoulder. He would never let Sirius win.
"But it matters.” He said. “You only ever bother to touch me when you need a fucking distraction. Maybe you thought I was desperate, or convenient, or maybe you weren’t thinking at all. Just– go and use someone else.”
"Merlin, Moony-- none of that is true!" Sirius licked at his bottom lip, and there was a familiar dark, angry flush rising up his neck. "I wouldn't just-- I don't want to kiss someone else. Is that what you want?"
"Really?" Remus shook his head, and he laughed in spite of how he hated himself for ruining something he’d been wishing for since he was fourteen fucking years old. He clenched his jaw, and they were so near to each other, inches apart. "Why don't you tell me what you want? Do you even know?"
He wasn’t expecting an answer, because Remus knew Sirius. He knew that Sirius would stand there in silence, saying nothing, brimming with the cruel, vicious words he had not quite unlearned from his parents, biting down on the tempest, the storm, pressing desperate hands over the horrible, gaping wound deep inside of him that bled and bled and bled but gave him no answers. So, Sirius watched him and he was silent.
"That’s what I thought." Remus almost wished he was blinking back tears, but his voice was dry and hot and brittle. “I would do anything for you, Sirius. Just not this.”
Sirius stilled, then turned, and strode for the gate, slamming it shut hard behind him. The wind picked up, howling through the tall trunks of the rustling trees. Remus sighed and sat back down in the grass.
*
“Lily’s owled me.” Remus announced to the room, setting down the parchment. It was that same evening, and a small, white owl had smacked straight into the open kitchen window only a few minutes ago, with a letter addressed to Remus in Lily's neat, inked handwriting.
James’ head shot up from where he had been sprawled across the table, loose-limbed and panting from the oppressive heat. His black hair stuck to his sweat-slick forehead. “Evans? Lily Evans?”
"For fuck's sake." Sirius said, and Remus started at the sudden sound of his rough, biting voice. He had been leaning by the sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he hadn't stopped smoking for the last half an hour, thick smoke coiling around his wrist and out into the dark sky through the cracked window. After Remus had walked back to the Manor, Sirius had remained in a cold, stony silence that even James couldn't break.
“I can’t hear the L-word anymore.” Sirius muttered, without looking at any of them. “Please, have mercy on our pitiful souls.”
Peter snorted, his mouth full with watermelon, red juice dripping down his chin. “Latvia?” He guessed.
“Loch Ness Monster?” James suggested with a fleeting, golden grin, though his eyes flickered over Sirius and narrowed. At Sirius' silence, he sniffed and turned on Remus instead, jabbing an accusing finger into his shoulder. “Why has Lily written to you and not me?”
“She hates you, Prongs.” Remus pointed out, swatting his hand away. "She burns every letter you send her."
“Right.” James sighed, and then frowned. “Well. What did she say?”
“She asked ages ago if I wanted to catch the train to see her next month for Marlene's birthday." Remus said, and huffed at James' squawk of protest, clapping a palm over his open, petulant mouth before he could speak. "But I said that I'd promised to spend this summer with you miserable lot. Turns out she knows more curse words than the rest of us put together, but she's extended the invitation."
“To all of us?” James exclaimed, muffled by Remus' fingers. He scrabbled at his arm to free himself and asked, his voice climbing higher and higher. “Even me?”
Remus raised a delicate eyebrow. "She didn't say you couldn't come."
James flopped down onto one of the kitchen chairs and it groaned beneath him, sagging as if it were on its last, tired wooden legs. Rather pathetically, Remus knew exactly how it felt.
“Lily.” He breathed, as if in a distant, wonderful dream. Despite himself, Remus twisted his head to grin at Sirius.
The smile was not returned.
*
Two days later, when it was time for Remus to leave, Sirius still would not look at him. He would smirk and laugh and challenge James to attempt a Wronski Feint, but he did not utter a single word to Remus unless he had to, upon pain of fucking death.
Remus couldn't stand it. The thought of returning home to his mother and her rich perfume and her fresh batches of chocolate cookies was a quiet sort of comfort when the Marauders followed him to the fireplace that evening. Despite everything, it was difficult to leave, because he still had James, falling off his broom, and Peter, bringing them cold lemonade when it got too hot to do anything but lie around.
“Don’t forget about us, dearest.” James sniffed, throwing his arms around Remus and yanking him into a sweaty, tangled embrace. Euphemia and Fleamont had already said their goodbyes and Remus had fervently promised them both that he would help de-gnome the garden next time he visited.
Peter nodded, pale and solemn as squeezed at his shoulder with a small hand. “We’ll hold a vigil for you every night.”
“Idiots.” Remus replied, and shoved James off with his boney elbow and a roll of his eyes. He glanced over at Sirius, who was standing there with his hands digging into his pockets as he scuffed a bare foot against the carpet. His mouth tightened for a moment, before he was opening it, and–
"Can I say goodbye to Moony?" Sirius said, and when James and Peter just blinked at him, he cleared his throat and added through gritted teeth, "Alone."
“Why are you the only one allowed a special Moony goodbye?” James whined, but Peter was tugging at his sleeve to pull him out of the door with a long suffering sigh. His voice still called out as their footsteps receded down the corridor. “He swore he didn’t have a favourite, Padfoot, stop trying to sway him!”
Heart thumping, Remus swallowed the lump lodged in his throat and turned to Sirius. “Bye then.” He mumbled, but Sirius only frowned at him and stepped closer.
"I won't kiss you, Moony." He began in a low voice, his gaze dark and edged, but gentle. "Or anything else. I promise I won't. I know you don't want me to. You’re right, I wasn’t thinking."
Nodding, Remus looked away, unable to bite back the tight twitch of his dry lips. "Fine."
“Are we okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’re okay.”
"You don't have to go." Sirius said, finally, and he looked like he had tasted something sour, something he didn't like, even as he stared at Remus with wide, gleaming eyes. "Sorry if I've been a bit of a--"
"Dick?" Remus supplied, a bit cruelly, but he softened at the expression on Sirius' face. "I do have to go, Sirius. It's my mam's birthday tomorrow. It's nothing to do with you."
“Oh. Right.”
"Sirius." He said. He liked saying his name. No matter what, he didn't think he'd ever stop wanting to say his name. Sweat trickled down his spine. He hesitated, and his hands were shaking, palms damp, but he raised his chin and told him-- "You can kiss me whenever you like. But only if you’ve thought about what you want."
Sirius was very still. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Remus shrugged and stepped into the flames of the Potter's fireplace.
"See you next month."