Sweet
After that night, we fell into a comfortable sort of rhythm, the kind that I believed only the purest of catholic love could possess for its own. Sirius saw no sense in hiding the nature of our relationship, and I quickly clocked the approving glances of Peter and James to be of the triumphant sort, the kind that conspirators whose plans came to fruition would share among each other. I came to know the touch of Sirius’ skin better than I knew the touch of my own Mother, and to know his love better than I ever knew God's. One blessed night, when I held Sirius’ wasted, happy body, with my own, laid on the mattress in my room, I felt as though he truly could have been God – more than just my Adonis. If every moment with him felt so gorgeously infinite, how could he ever possibly be anything less than that?
Time passed, as it was prone to, and another moon came around. Sirius asked to come with me this time – and despite everything within me aching to agree to the arrangement, I attempted to put up some kind of argument. He wouldn’t have it – and Peter backed him in his adamance, and so did James, who had been informed of my ailment some obscurely early morning, no doubt – and I was forced to succumb to that which I craved like air; a promise of company. Sirius and I made my regular trip to Heartwood Forest.
“I won’t ask you to stay cooped up in my hut with me,” I decided with some hesitation, “so we’ll go into the forest. Just… please – promise me I won’t hurt anyone? Promise me you’ll make sure of it?”
“Of course,” Sirius kissed me gently on the cheek. “I won’t let you hurt a fly, don’t worry, love.” I nodded, and we made our way further in as I anticipated the transformation.
And there it was, like the horns of Jericho, the rising moon through the trees and the searing pain throughout my body, that made me double over and scream. Sirius turned quickly into his dog form, and hovered anxiously around my pain-wrecked flesh, no doubt smelling the wolf by now. And then, it came – the full transformation. The monster, in all its beauty, and for once, I felt… lucid. The wolf turned to Sirius, sniffing it curiously. ‘One of ours’, it concurred, and yapped playfully. The dog returned the sentiment, and soon the two of us were bounding through the woods, running faster than I had ever experienced in my life. It was exhilarating – just one inch short of Heaven. And of course, the release of detransformation came in its own turn – and with it the thoughts – but the moment I felt tears trail down my cheeks, Sirius was there to kiss them away, and to hold me tight, and to whisper sweet nothings into my ears. He was there, to pull my naked form down to the forest floor, and to curl up against me, and to hold me as I sobbed into his chest, and to chase away the hatred.
~~~~~~
A week passed in blissful uneventfulness, and I had started to delude myself that was all that was to it, now: blessed domesticity. And then, like a harbinger of judgement, James Potter rushed into the apartment on the evening of some casual Thursday.
“Back from the gentleman’s club so soon?” Peter asked health-heartedly, head still deep in his book.
The gentleman’s club was a local venue James frequented, with an exclusive guest list. As it turned out, both the names Potter and Black meant a lot in the wizarding community, and in all technicality, both of the men were heirs to great fortunes (why they entertained themselves with shared living schemes was beside me), and eventually parliament seats and lordships; but, as Sirius liked to joke, he was hardly going to get any kind of inheritance from his parents, and James’ had long, long lives ahead of them yet, so they had to wait for it yet. While Sirius couldn’t be half-bothered with pureblood society, preferring his underground queer venues, James had the heart of a true politician, and great dreams to fix the country from within the government someday. And as such, he frequented the gentleman’s club, and mingled with the posh-nobs it held within it.
James nodded. “I have news. Big news.”
“What is it, Prongs?” Sirius tilted his head (Prongs was a new nickname – James had been trying to achieve an animagus transformation, and so far had only managed to grow horns).
“They’re saying,” he spit out between panting breaths, “the Black heir arrived in London.”
“Seriously?” Sirius snorted. “What with how much you praise them for being in the know, your gentleman’s club has a bit of a slow news flow. We’ve been here for a few months now, you know.”
“I know,” James nodded, “but they’re not talking about you.”
Sirius furrowed his brow. “Not… oh,” his expression turned to stone. “Right. I’m not heir anymore. Of course not,” he let out a hollow laugh and got up from where he sat beside me on the floor. “So, then – who is it? Alphard? Surely not, he’s as queer as I am. Andromeda then? But they disinherited her as well… perhaps little old loony Bellatrix? Oh, that would be a laugh–”
“It’s Regulus.” James cut him off. Sirius’ mouth gaped slightly, and a rare moment of silence fell among us.
He cleared his throat. “Right then,” Sirius started. “Reggie. Right,” he passed James by, not giving anyone a second glance, “I need a breather,” he said, taking my cigarette box and leaving, no doubt roof-bound. James sighed.
“This is going to be a hard week,” he said, running his hand through his hair.
“Why is Regulus in London a bad thing?” I asked timidly. “He misses him – surely he’d want to see him?”
“Of course he would,” James nodded, “but Regulus wouldn’t.” He turned to look at me, eyes tired, and seemingly much, much older than they should’ve been. “Have I ever told you how I met Sirius, Remus?” I shook my head. He continued, “Peter already knows this story – I told him one time while the two of you were on an outing.” He sat down on the settee, hands clasped and rested in his lap, as though he was to say a silent prayer for the past.
“Me and my mum were taking a walk through the neighborhood,” he started. “Me and Sirius grew up in the same area, but we never really crossed paths. His parents were of the… wrong sort, I’d say.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, we were walking together. Nothing out of the norm, really – and we got to this large house at the end of the road. And in the corner of my eye, I saw someone standing on the roof. Sirius,” he added, “was planning to jump. I stopped, and me and my mum started shouting, trying to get him to get down.” He let out a bitter laugh. “And then, Walpurga Black came out of the house. His mother – came out to tell us off for loitering.” He looked me dead in the eye, and said slowly, “she was going to let him die, Remus. His own mother.” James let those words sink in for a moment before continuing: “eventually, we managed to coax him down. My mum, bless her soul, immediately took him back to our home, and doted over him for days, as she should’ve.” He sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I was delegated the responsibility of getting his things from his house. So I did – I went over one day, and Regulus opened the door.” He looked back at me again, and I saw, somewhere behind the warmth, pain – the kind I hadn’t seen since my own mother first learned just how much she had taught me to hate myself. “Remus, he was like a statue. No emotions, nothing. He just gave me a trunk and closed the door in my face. He didn’t even say anything,” James shook his head, “like he didn’t even care.”
There was a lot of silence after James’ tale, and none of us felt the need to break it. And when Sirius returned, I didn’t say anything. I didn’t ask him why he smelt of spirits, or why his hair was in disarray; and when he made love to me that night, I didn’t say anything about how rough he was being, how angry it felt. I didn’t say anything – and looking back, I wish I did. I wish I said something, anything.
I wish I stopped the end before it properly began.