Forever young
And finally, here it is! It took a while, I'm sorry for that. Oh, and I renamed it, so no, Jen, you are not hallucinating. ;) Am I the only one who sees a few parallels between Brian and Sirius? Maybe it's the heat.
Story: Forever young
Rating: PG-15
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. The Harry Potter universe was created by JK Rowling and consequently belongs to her and her various publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Note: I am a big Queer as Folk fan and so I decided to write a R/S story with QaF vocabulary. I think it worked just fine. ;)
Forever young
Sirius Black didn’t believe in love, he believed in fucking. At least that was what he repeatedly told everyone who was willing to listen - and a few who weren’t. Despite wearing this motto on his sleeve, he broke numerous hearts. Not his own heart, never his own. And still, the girls did not stop fawning over him, adoring him, falling for him. Neither did Remus, who was secretly doomed since the end of sixth year when he had woken up with clammy pyjama trousers and his mind full of Sirius Black. Of course, he did not tell him. After watching the Black ritual of How To Get Rid Of A Pathetic Lovesick Soul, Without Provoking A Scene uncountable times, Remus knew better.
It wasn’t as if Sirius scorned his victims; he just didn’t let it touch him. There was still something of the aloof heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black in him. At Hogwarts he took the girl to the Owlery, later he took her out for dinner in a classy restaurant. His methods changed, his attitude didn’t. After telling her that it had been nice but that it was time to move on now, Sirius went straight to the boys’ dormitory and later to the flat he shared with James, Remus and Peter. When James moved out to get a place with Lily and Peter had enough of the bad cooking and moved back to his mother, Sirius came straight to Remus. Not to tell him how it went; he never told. They either spent the evening in companionable silence, a rare form of friendly intimacy, or played Wizard’s Chess, at which Sirius excelled.
There were not many things Sirius wasn’t good at. He was a great flatmate. His cooking had remarkably improved, he did most chores without complaining and he shopped for groceries more often than Remus. Most of the time, Sirius didn’t bring the flavour of the week - or the night - to their flat, but stayed at their place. As Remus once asked why, Sirius looked perplexed and said, “Because I can leave whenever I want, Moony.”
Sirius always got away with it, using his irresistible smile, a flirtatious look of his deep grey eyes, a bark-like laughter. His body said ‘sex,’ his smile said ‘who gives a damn,’ a tilt of his head said ‘that’s who I am.’ He was so full of life and Remus was used to, was addicted to watching the Sirius Black Show over and over again. And yet, most of the time, Remus didn’t know who was in the supporting role and Sirius didn’t volunteer this kind of information. Remus tried to escape his addiction, pulling men and women in clubs and bars, looking for release. Yet, inexorably, he found himself comparing them to his devilishly handsome best friend. Whether Sirius knew that he swung both ways, that he wasn’t normal in this respect either, he didn’t know. Remus did not know a lot of things and this ignorance got to him, made him insecure.
Living together had not necessarily brought them closer together. They had been good friends all along, all four of them, but Sirius still spent most of his time with James. Remus spent his time working, coveting, needing. And yet, there was something special about their friendship. Like everything else, James had taken over the role of Sirius’ brother without any effort, laughing, teasing, challenging him. Peter was still some kind of tag-along but was growing up and James and Sirius respected him a little more. Remus himself…he didn’t know where he fit in. It wasn’t that Sirius went to Remus if he had a problem. He had James for that. Whenever he was beside himself with joy, he went to James as well. But there was a silent understanding between him and Remus that was hard to grasp, to categorise. It was as if both were craving late Sunday morning breakfasts and the occasional dinner after a long and exhausting day. The whirlwind of laughs, wits and charm that was Sirius Black stilled when he was around Remus.
For almost a year nothing broke their routine. Sirius lived what he believed in and Remus lived through and for Sirius, struggling, trying very hard to overcome his cumbersome feelings. James’ stag night wasn’t supposed to be any different from the usual madness that was their lives. There was war and chaos and the longing for normality and excess. They all got ridiculously drunk.
“Nngh,” dribbled James into the pillow before he passed out on the sofa. After Peter had thrown up on the waitress they had shifted the party to Sirius’ and Remus’ flat. The chubby Marauder was lying on the floor; one leg still on the sofa James was sleeping on, and snoring soundly.
“To Prongs on his stag night,” slurred Sirius and drained another glass of Firewhiskey. Red lips accentuated in the flickering candle light, eyelids half-closed and heavy, one could even forgive him this bathetic joke, found Remus. It was getting inexplicably harder not to stare at Sirius, now that the others were asleep.
“Moooony,” purred Sirius and his voice snapped Remus out of his observations. Strangely enough, his hitherto unfocussed eyes were centred on him. “You know, you should have stopped thinking hours ago. It’s pathetic.”
Strands of black hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head disapprovingly. Remus smiled and sank deeper into his armchair. The booze made him dizzy and he closed his eyes for a moment. As they fluttered open again, Sirius was hovering above him, grinning deviously.
“What?” asked Remus, trying to sound annoyed. Sirius leaned closer and Remus forgot how to breathe.
Sirius licked his lips. Oh Gods, thought Remus. “C’mon, Moony… please,” whispered Sirius and Remus felt the words more than he heard them. His face must have given him away. Sirius looked at him with a strange intensity and then he kissed him. Sirius kissed him! Remus’ intoxicated brain refused to react. A hot tongue delved into his mouth, full lips sucked him in, teeth were scraping him. Remus was lost. Strong hands were on his forearms and pulled him up. The room spun and Remus had to blink hard. This couldn’t be real, he had to be fantasising. But then there were warm arms embracing him from behind and…oh…Sirius’ lips on his neck, and Remus found he didn’t care.
Stumbling, they made it to Remus’ bedroom.
“Moony,” breathed Sirius as he undressed Remus. And then there were hot, open-mouthed kisses on his chest, his neck, drugging kisses on his mouth, hands everywhere, roaming, pinching, caressing. Through the haze Remus felt wanted and very alive. He surrendered to touch, to feeling so damn good. More and more; he wanted everything he could get of this willing and gorgeous man in his arms and he greedily groped for every inch of flesh he could reach. He cried Sirius’ name as he came, spilling himself over and over between them.
The greyness of the morning after was inevitable. Remus’ head hurt and he groaned in pain before he opened his eyes. And blinked. Next to him lay Sirius, black hair dishevelled, one arm draped over Remus’ waist, snoring softly and naked as the day. Remus’ heart jumped to his throat. Don’t panic, he told himself. While trying to disentangle himself from Sirius, his mind searched fervently for an explanation. How on earth could this happen? His memories were blurred and incomplete at best. More crouching than sitting on the cold floor he felt nauseous. Remus fumbled for his pants and somehow managed to put them on, his breathing laboured.
He gasped in shock as realisation hit him. James and Peter were just outside the door! What if they found out? He had no doubts what their night meant to Sirius. As he had said often enough, he didn’t believe in love, he believed in fucking. James would certainly beat him bloody for pulling Remus and a tiny part of him wanted this, too, wanted to punish Sirius for giving him what he had wanted for so long, for giving him nothing at all. Still sitting on the floor, he propped his head on his knee, waiting for the pain to go away.
Sirius groaned in his sleep and his hand felt for him. Panicky, Remus stumbled to his feet and headed for the door.
“Weeemus?” yawned Sirius. Remus froze, his hand already on the door knob. Slowly, he turned his head. Spread out like a fantasy, Sirius peeked at him through his fringe. In a few seconds he would understand and Remus wasn’t too keen on the resulting awkwardness right now. Or at all.
“Holy fucking shit!” Sirius jumped up, drawing his legs to his body and pressing his back to the wall, as if trying to bring as much space between them as possible. Remus winced but tried a feeble smile.
“Morning,” he said and to his surprise, his voice was steady. Sirius gaped at him before rubbing both of his hands over his face, trying to get rid of the picture in front of him.
“Fuck,” Sirius groaned, not looking at him. “We…we, oh bugger! Why do I do these things? Remus? Whatever I don’t really remember shouldn’t have happened and…erm, I think I’m sorry…and…I will be even more when the world stops spinning.”
Remus nodded slowly. Sirius looked up and he nodded again, more determined this time. Forgetting was best. Forgetting meant friendship and laughter, intimate talks and friendly pranks.
“Bugger,” said Sirius again as he heaved himself out of bed. Remus took in the image, his friend’s long legs, the trail of hair underneath his bellybutton, the sinews and muscles playing underneath his smooth skin. His skin…He remembered tasting it and bit back a groan of frustration. How on earth could he forget this, even if it was only a shredded and blurred memory?
“Moony?” Sirius was standing only inches away from him, already dressed. His brow furrowed, his lips pressed together, he was the epitome of a bad conscience. “Are you alright?”
“Yes…no, I mean, I’m just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t…expect…I didn’t know you were interested…in, you know,” stammered Remus, cursing himself for being so incoherent.
Sirius smirked. “Buggery?” he provided dryly. Remus looked him straight in the eye and nodded. “We’re both good for surprises.” Sirius reached out for Remus’ shoulder but Remus flinched.
“Don’t!”
Sirius frowned again but stepped a little closer. “We can’t turn back time, not without a time turner. It happened. There should be no regrets even if you didn’t exactly want this,” he whispered almost softly, sadly. Remus nearly got distracted by Sirius’ sensuous lips moving so close to him, but he knew that Sirius was right. He hadn’t wanted this. The pain was sharp and new.
“Let’s forget about it. After all, it wasn’t love or anything,” said Remus harshly.
Sirius opened his mouth but at this moment James hollered, “PADFOOOOT, MOOOOONY! YOU AWAKE YET?” They both cringed.
“One more word and I’ll geld him myself,” hissed Sirius, holding his head.
“He probably had his Hangover Potion already.”
“Hangover, shmangover, his voice hurts my brain,” Sirius groaned. Remus opened the door and when they stepped into the living room, the shadow of the veil of alienation and doubt fell onto them for the first time.
It was never lifted. Not before this dreadful night. Something had irrevocably changed between them and Remus wasn’t sure that it was he alone, who couldn’t forget, who could not move on. For him, it was one more regret on the list of Things He Couldn’t Have. For Sirius it was apparently a first. But on what list?
After weeks of strained politeness, Sirius cracked.
“Mooony,” he cooed one night and popped on the sofa next to him. His voice was overly cheerful.
Remus looked up from his book. “Hmm?”
Sirius grinned at him and only someone as proficient at watching Sirius Black as Remus would have noticed the tension in his shoulder, his neck, his jaw. When Remus didn’t smile back, the grin slowly disappeared.
“What is it, wolf boy? Spill it!” Again false bravado.
“Nothing.”
Sirius sneered. “Don’t give me that shite. You never read unless it’s really necessary. Reading…” and with that he tilted his head to make out the title, “…101 Ways To Keep Your Broom In Order is not necessary.”
“Maybe I developed an interest,” countered Remus wryly.
Sirius gave him that look. “After seven years of pestering by me and Prongs? You don’t even have a broom! Look, Moony…I know it still bothers you.”
Remus felt his anger rising. “No, actually, it doesn’t. It doesn’t bother me at all. I am seeing someone.”
Sirius’ face went through a strange transformation before it got back to normal. Disquietingly normal. “You are?” he asked calmly.
“Is that so unbelievable?” Remus asked just as calmly, one brow raised.
“No, of course not, that’s not how I meant it. I think it’s brilliant!” Sirius smiled. Remus shivered. “Brilliant,” repeated Sirius, apparently trying to convince one of them. “Who is it?”
“You don’t know him.”
“Will you bring him to the pub next time?” Sirius still smiled. He always had to push too far.
“He’s a Muggle,” lied Remus. “I’d rather not bring him along. You know, it’s nothing dead serious.” Remus couldn’t resist adding, “I thought I’d try your way for a change.”
“My way?” asked Sirius unnecessarily and licked his lips. Remus didn’t know whether to kiss or to slap him.
“The fucking minus the love.” It felt good to see Sirius’ smile freeze.
“Whatever swings your wand, mate,” was Sirius abrupt response. “Gotta go, I’m having a date.” And as quick as he had appeared he disappeared and left a puzzled Remus behind. He wasn’t sure whether he had won this argument. He didn’t even know what it had really been about.
Over the next months he learned that watching Sirius became difficult. More and more he realised how much information Sirius had volunteered without him noticing it. Their Sunday breakfasts were ruled by uncomfortable silences, which grew longer as time went on, as war went on. Sirius withdrew into the Potters’ domestic sphere, spending most of his time with James, Lily and their baby. But it wasn’t as if Sirius wasn’t his friend anymore. Sirius never missed a full moon, bandaging Remus’ wounds and looking after him. If the worst came to the worst, his friends could always count on him. Nothing could shatter the loyalty of Sirius Black. Nothing but betrayal.
One morning in November, Remus woke up and found that he had lost everything overnight. He couldn’t sleep through a night for months afterwards. It wasn’t the why that tormented him. It was the enormity of the how that didn’t let him sleep.
How could Sirius turn his back on his best friend, the man he had called his brother?
How could Remus not have foreseen this?
How could he ever face Harry Potter without the answers to these questions?
Remus did what he always did. He postponed thinking about the unbearable, doing the inevitable, and moved on. After a while it got easier, the pain a silent companion. After another while, the time where he had friends seemed to be nothing more than a dreamlike fantasy, only a product of his imagination. After two years, he stored the pictures, letters and photographs at the bottom of his trunk, which still bore the letters Sirius, James and Peter had commissioned. After twelve years he faced the one person he had avoided more than all his memories. He went to Hogwarts and taught Harry Potter. And then there were Sirius and Peter.
Nothing could describe the emotional roller coaster Remus went through during this short time in the Shrieking Shack. That probably cost him a few years. Nothing could describe the guilt he felt when he woke the next morning and found that he had ruined everything. Peter was free and Sirius wasn’t; because of him. As usual Remus decided to leave; only this time, his secret - the secret he had kept for the best part of his life - had been made public. Although he didn’t know where his friend was, it was soothing to know that Sirius was innocent and free. Remus didn’t open his trunk but he spent some time sitting in front of it, remembering what was inside. That night in all its tragedy had given him back something he believed to have lost. The postcard he got from Morocco was being pinned against the bathroom mirror.
Sirius arrived at his doorstep seven months and three days after the postcard, looking thin and ragged.
At first, Remus couldn’t reconcile them - the beautiful teenager and the jaded, haunted man. Sirius had always been young in his memories, just like Lily, James and Peter, the Prewett brothers, Alice and Frank. But Sirius was more, had always been; he was the epitome of youth and beauty, life and fun. He had been his Pan; so how could the dirty, starved creature be the same man he had lusted after?
Then Sirius said, “Moony!” and smiled. Smiled a familiar smile, a little devious and crooked. Remus half-imagined him wearing a green cap and suddenly it was too much and he grinned - a very real, actual and open grin.
“Get in, you mangy dog.”
“Woof,” made Sirius and hugged him tightly.
It wasn’t that easy, of course. They tiptoed around each other for three days. Sirius had these moods, where he sank into a brooding silence, staring into invisible places Remus was almost glad not to see. What Remus could see was that Sirius suffered from the loss of youth, his strength and power. He got easily frustrated when he couldn’t remember a spell or a certain event. Remus heard him curse as he used the bathroom. After years of avoiding feelings like the Werewolf Capture Unit, he caught himself sharing the pain Sirius felt. It was nothing compared to other losses but perhaps this made it more real.
On the fourth day Sirius made a snide remark on the tea, trying to hide that he didn’t know how he’d liked it before he forgot about colours, taste and shape.
Remus only looked at him and said slyly, “Only the best for the blasphemous dunderhead, who used to use tea bags.”
Sirius threw his head back and roared with laughter. It wasn’t really that funny, thought Remus. But somehow looking at Sirius laughing his barking laughter, displaying his painfully white neck and yellowed teeth made him chuckle and then laugh as well.
Reconciling the past with the present wouldn’t be so hard after all.
For Sirius it was.
“I remember things, you know, but sometimes I remember them wrong. They made me…I didn’t want to forget, Moony.” Grey, desperate eyes were focussed on the ceiling of Remus’ bedroom. It was the fifth day and Sirius had started to talk, slowly, choking out the words, as if they were hurting his throat. Remus stared at him and said nothing.
On the sixth day Remus opened his trunk and showed his memories to Sirius. They sat down side by side.
Holding a photograph of himself and James duelling with broomsticks, Sirius whispered, “I often wished I could remember.”
Remus blinked and opened his mouth. And closed it. Sirius threw him a sideways glance. “I mostly wished I could forget,” Remus said softly. A hand on his arm, squeezing it slightly before fishing out another picture.
A squealing Lily was carried over the threshold by a beaming James. He had thrown her over his shoulder, crumpling her creamy white wedding robes. Remus found himself smiling and it didn’t hurt half as much as he had always feared.
“He was so happy,” Sirius grinned. “Remember the day she finally consented to go on a date with him? Merlin, I was so close to use a permanent Silencing Charm on him.”
Remus chuckled. “It was truly love on thousandth sight.”
“Remus, have you ever…found someone…like Lily?” Sirius asked with strained curiosity.
“Yes, I am hiding her under the bed.”
“Smart ass.”
“You used to be more creative.”
“It’s only a question of practice,” smirked Sirius, looking at him slyly. Remus rolled his eyes.
Another picture of James and Lily sprawled on a sofa in the Gryffindor Common Room, alternately kissing and smiling at each other. Remus marvelled at their young and happy faces. When he looked up he found Sirius staring at him with an unreadable expression.
“What?”
Sirius wet his lips and looked back at the photo. “Back then, I was envious. I didn’t know it but I was. I wanted to have what James had.”
Remus bestowed a strained smile on the man beside him. “As far as I can recall, Sirius Black didn’t believe in love, he believed in fucking.”
“I believed in friendship and loyalty,” replied Sirius brusquely.
“So did James.”
“James was a lucky bastard, he got to love Lily.”
“So?” Remus was puzzled, something that felt vaguely familiar.
Sirius made a noise between a huff and a snort, and then looked at another picture. They went on for hours, exchanging memories like that, until the light was too dim to go on and they decided to have dinner.
On the seventh day an owl arrived and Sirius left to meet Dumbledore. Remus stayed behind, just like he always did.
They met again, of course. Remus couldn’t afford his cottage any longer since nobody wanted to employ a werewolf. He moved into number twelve Grimmauld Place, shacking up with Sirius once more. It was different. They were both older, greyer, less energetic. The house was downright hostile. But somehow they managed to get along, cleaning, sorting, removing. Watching Sirius was different now but still fascinating. Whereas the younger man had been bursting with energy and life and so bright that it was almost blinding, Sirius’ presence still demanded attention, only a darker kind, sucking it in like a black hole.
“What happened to the Muggle?” asked Sirius one evening as they shared a modest meal in the kitchen. Remus was puzzled by the question and it took him a moment to understand. He lay down the cutlery and looked at Sirius, his wasted beauty and bright eyes. It had been a long time. There was no need for lies anymore.
“There were many and none,” he answered carefully.
Sirius frowned. “You made him up?”
“Not really. I had been seeing a Muggle; I had been seeing others as well. I just…I wanted us to be friends again,” he said slowly, wondering why this wasn’t embarrassing anymore.
Sirius’ eyes flashed and his jaw was set. Remus resumed his meal in the tense silence, his hands shaking faintly.
“We always were.”
Remus looked up again, one brow raised. Sirius smiled. Remus shivered.
“I was always your friend, Remus,” Sirius repeated with more strength and intensity. Remus felt that he was missing something crucial.
“I know. I know that now.” But then I was afraid of losing you. I was afraid of being just another notch on your bedpost, stupid as it seems now. Remus didn’t like where this conversation was heading. One wrong word… a right word, there was too much at stake. And Sirius had always had a knack for making him uncomfortable.
It took him two days to finally understand. He woke with a start in the middle of the night caused by a very vivid dream of James. They had been sitting in the kitchen of Potter Manor, drinking butterbeer. James had been talking about Quidditch and Lily and how he would marry her and then he had suddenly changed and grown into the man he used to be in 1981.
“How’s Sirius these days?” the older James had asked.
Remus had answered, “He is lonely.”
James had run his hand through his hair and looked at him strangely. “I thought he had you.”
That’s when Remus woke up, sweating and breathing hard. This bloody idiot!
But how could he have been so fucking blind himself? After all these years of watching Sirius, priding himself in knowing the Sirius Black Operating Manual by heart, he had simply not seen, not understood. So many words and inexplicable actions made sense now and all the parts of the puzzle fell into place. Remus didn’t find any more sleep that night.
In the morning he resumed watching Sirius, realising that he read him right for the first time. He noticed the involuntary glances, the not so accidental touches and the tiny smiles whenever he entered the room. It almost knocked him out as he recognised the half-buried longing in his grey eyes for what it was and always had been.
Remus had never considered himself as someone who lacked self-esteem. His excellent education, the memories of his friends and his supportive and loving parents had always been the foundation of his optimism. Yet, he had never even considered the possibility that Sirius could be interested in him and had been, even back then, when he was the most dashing and handsomest bloke near and far. The duration of this interest could only mean one thing and Remus couldn’t help but feel a sudden surge of excitement.
Maybe it was too late for them but he wouldn’t miss this chance, now that he knew he had one. After dusting and removing several Protection Charms in one of the bedrooms and doing some very tedious research in the library, he showered and dressed carefully for dinner. Each step down the stairs brought him closer to his life as it could have been.
When he entered the kitchen he found Sirius deep in conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt. They both looked up as he entered the room, Shacklebolt with a casual nod and Sirius with this special smile. It would do, Remus was in no hurry. Shacklebolt informed Sirius about his latest ideas to lead the Ministry astray about his whereabouts. The Auror didn’t stay long and was gone before the clock struck eight.
“Merlin, I’m hungry,” complained Sirius. His robes hung loosely around his still too thin body. Remus smiled because it didn’t matter.
“Let’s try to find something edible then,” he suggested, looking around in the only recently made inhabitable kitchen.
“Shacklebolt brought something from Molly. I bet five Galleons that it’s your favourite,” said Sirius, smiling wryly. It was no secret that Molly Weasley wasn’t too fond of him.
“Keep your money,” said Remus, not really hungry himself. There was a snake pit where his stomach had been. Sirius was busy getting the meal ready and Remus was busy throwing furtive glances at Sirius. This was hopefully not going to be a big mistake.
“Alright, Moony, what’s eating you?” asked Sirius between spoonfuls.
“What? Oh, nothing, I’m a little tired, that’s all. Full moon in three days,” answered Remus, knowing full well that Sirius wouldn’t let go.
“Nothing, my arse. I know you,” glared Sirius.
“Actually, I have good evidence that you don’t,” answered Remus softly, hands shaky. Sirius leaned back and stared at him incredulously. “You know, last night I realised that you don’t know me very well but are the best friend anyone could hope for.”
“That’s a comfort, not to mention a blatant oxymoron,” remarked Sirius sardonically.
“Shut up, will you!” Remus used his teaching voice but smiled. “I came to this notable conclusion when I remembered something you told me at the cottage.”
“Blimey!” Sirius imitated the youngest Weasley son in mock surprise but Remus could see a trace of nervousness in his eyes, the tilt of his head, the width of his smile. “Will you enlighten me, professor?” he added.
“You told me you were envious of what James had. I didn’t understand. Why would friendship and loyalty keep you of all the people from believing in love? Well, I do understand now.”
That Sirius’ face bore an expression of hardly suppressed panic would be an understatement. Remus got up, the chair making a high scratching noise on the ancient floor. His palms were sweaty and he wondered briefly whether having a drink or two would have been advisable. Sirius’ eyes widened as he leaned against the table next to where Sirius was sitting, legs outstretched, traitorous hands in his lap.
“Now that I do understand,” Remus started with an odd scratchy voice, “I must tell you that you’re a stupid twat.”
Sirius blinked. “I am?” he asked blankly before understanding dawned on him and a genuine smile lightened his face with unexpected beauty. He bent forward, bracing himself on his forearms and looking expectantly up at Remus.
“Yes,” whispered Remus, not trusting his voice anymore, and leaned forward. And kissed him.
Fin
***
Feedback keeps me young!
Story: Forever young
Rating: PG-15
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. The Harry Potter universe was created by JK Rowling and consequently belongs to her and her various publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Note: I am a big Queer as Folk fan and so I decided to write a R/S story with QaF vocabulary. I think it worked just fine. ;)
Forever young
Sirius Black didn’t believe in love, he believed in fucking. At least that was what he repeatedly told everyone who was willing to listen - and a few who weren’t. Despite wearing this motto on his sleeve, he broke numerous hearts. Not his own heart, never his own. And still, the girls did not stop fawning over him, adoring him, falling for him. Neither did Remus, who was secretly doomed since the end of sixth year when he had woken up with clammy pyjama trousers and his mind full of Sirius Black. Of course, he did not tell him. After watching the Black ritual of How To Get Rid Of A Pathetic Lovesick Soul, Without Provoking A Scene uncountable times, Remus knew better.
It wasn’t as if Sirius scorned his victims; he just didn’t let it touch him. There was still something of the aloof heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black in him. At Hogwarts he took the girl to the Owlery, later he took her out for dinner in a classy restaurant. His methods changed, his attitude didn’t. After telling her that it had been nice but that it was time to move on now, Sirius went straight to the boys’ dormitory and later to the flat he shared with James, Remus and Peter. When James moved out to get a place with Lily and Peter had enough of the bad cooking and moved back to his mother, Sirius came straight to Remus. Not to tell him how it went; he never told. They either spent the evening in companionable silence, a rare form of friendly intimacy, or played Wizard’s Chess, at which Sirius excelled.
There were not many things Sirius wasn’t good at. He was a great flatmate. His cooking had remarkably improved, he did most chores without complaining and he shopped for groceries more often than Remus. Most of the time, Sirius didn’t bring the flavour of the week - or the night - to their flat, but stayed at their place. As Remus once asked why, Sirius looked perplexed and said, “Because I can leave whenever I want, Moony.”
Sirius always got away with it, using his irresistible smile, a flirtatious look of his deep grey eyes, a bark-like laughter. His body said ‘sex,’ his smile said ‘who gives a damn,’ a tilt of his head said ‘that’s who I am.’ He was so full of life and Remus was used to, was addicted to watching the Sirius Black Show over and over again. And yet, most of the time, Remus didn’t know who was in the supporting role and Sirius didn’t volunteer this kind of information. Remus tried to escape his addiction, pulling men and women in clubs and bars, looking for release. Yet, inexorably, he found himself comparing them to his devilishly handsome best friend. Whether Sirius knew that he swung both ways, that he wasn’t normal in this respect either, he didn’t know. Remus did not know a lot of things and this ignorance got to him, made him insecure.
Living together had not necessarily brought them closer together. They had been good friends all along, all four of them, but Sirius still spent most of his time with James. Remus spent his time working, coveting, needing. And yet, there was something special about their friendship. Like everything else, James had taken over the role of Sirius’ brother without any effort, laughing, teasing, challenging him. Peter was still some kind of tag-along but was growing up and James and Sirius respected him a little more. Remus himself…he didn’t know where he fit in. It wasn’t that Sirius went to Remus if he had a problem. He had James for that. Whenever he was beside himself with joy, he went to James as well. But there was a silent understanding between him and Remus that was hard to grasp, to categorise. It was as if both were craving late Sunday morning breakfasts and the occasional dinner after a long and exhausting day. The whirlwind of laughs, wits and charm that was Sirius Black stilled when he was around Remus.
For almost a year nothing broke their routine. Sirius lived what he believed in and Remus lived through and for Sirius, struggling, trying very hard to overcome his cumbersome feelings. James’ stag night wasn’t supposed to be any different from the usual madness that was their lives. There was war and chaos and the longing for normality and excess. They all got ridiculously drunk.
“Nngh,” dribbled James into the pillow before he passed out on the sofa. After Peter had thrown up on the waitress they had shifted the party to Sirius’ and Remus’ flat. The chubby Marauder was lying on the floor; one leg still on the sofa James was sleeping on, and snoring soundly.
“To Prongs on his stag night,” slurred Sirius and drained another glass of Firewhiskey. Red lips accentuated in the flickering candle light, eyelids half-closed and heavy, one could even forgive him this bathetic joke, found Remus. It was getting inexplicably harder not to stare at Sirius, now that the others were asleep.
“Moooony,” purred Sirius and his voice snapped Remus out of his observations. Strangely enough, his hitherto unfocussed eyes were centred on him. “You know, you should have stopped thinking hours ago. It’s pathetic.”
Strands of black hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head disapprovingly. Remus smiled and sank deeper into his armchair. The booze made him dizzy and he closed his eyes for a moment. As they fluttered open again, Sirius was hovering above him, grinning deviously.
“What?” asked Remus, trying to sound annoyed. Sirius leaned closer and Remus forgot how to breathe.
Sirius licked his lips. Oh Gods, thought Remus. “C’mon, Moony… please,” whispered Sirius and Remus felt the words more than he heard them. His face must have given him away. Sirius looked at him with a strange intensity and then he kissed him. Sirius kissed him! Remus’ intoxicated brain refused to react. A hot tongue delved into his mouth, full lips sucked him in, teeth were scraping him. Remus was lost. Strong hands were on his forearms and pulled him up. The room spun and Remus had to blink hard. This couldn’t be real, he had to be fantasising. But then there were warm arms embracing him from behind and…oh…Sirius’ lips on his neck, and Remus found he didn’t care.
Stumbling, they made it to Remus’ bedroom.
“Moony,” breathed Sirius as he undressed Remus. And then there were hot, open-mouthed kisses on his chest, his neck, drugging kisses on his mouth, hands everywhere, roaming, pinching, caressing. Through the haze Remus felt wanted and very alive. He surrendered to touch, to feeling so damn good. More and more; he wanted everything he could get of this willing and gorgeous man in his arms and he greedily groped for every inch of flesh he could reach. He cried Sirius’ name as he came, spilling himself over and over between them.
The greyness of the morning after was inevitable. Remus’ head hurt and he groaned in pain before he opened his eyes. And blinked. Next to him lay Sirius, black hair dishevelled, one arm draped over Remus’ waist, snoring softly and naked as the day. Remus’ heart jumped to his throat. Don’t panic, he told himself. While trying to disentangle himself from Sirius, his mind searched fervently for an explanation. How on earth could this happen? His memories were blurred and incomplete at best. More crouching than sitting on the cold floor he felt nauseous. Remus fumbled for his pants and somehow managed to put them on, his breathing laboured.
He gasped in shock as realisation hit him. James and Peter were just outside the door! What if they found out? He had no doubts what their night meant to Sirius. As he had said often enough, he didn’t believe in love, he believed in fucking. James would certainly beat him bloody for pulling Remus and a tiny part of him wanted this, too, wanted to punish Sirius for giving him what he had wanted for so long, for giving him nothing at all. Still sitting on the floor, he propped his head on his knee, waiting for the pain to go away.
Sirius groaned in his sleep and his hand felt for him. Panicky, Remus stumbled to his feet and headed for the door.
“Weeemus?” yawned Sirius. Remus froze, his hand already on the door knob. Slowly, he turned his head. Spread out like a fantasy, Sirius peeked at him through his fringe. In a few seconds he would understand and Remus wasn’t too keen on the resulting awkwardness right now. Or at all.
“Holy fucking shit!” Sirius jumped up, drawing his legs to his body and pressing his back to the wall, as if trying to bring as much space between them as possible. Remus winced but tried a feeble smile.
“Morning,” he said and to his surprise, his voice was steady. Sirius gaped at him before rubbing both of his hands over his face, trying to get rid of the picture in front of him.
“Fuck,” Sirius groaned, not looking at him. “We…we, oh bugger! Why do I do these things? Remus? Whatever I don’t really remember shouldn’t have happened and…erm, I think I’m sorry…and…I will be even more when the world stops spinning.”
Remus nodded slowly. Sirius looked up and he nodded again, more determined this time. Forgetting was best. Forgetting meant friendship and laughter, intimate talks and friendly pranks.
“Bugger,” said Sirius again as he heaved himself out of bed. Remus took in the image, his friend’s long legs, the trail of hair underneath his bellybutton, the sinews and muscles playing underneath his smooth skin. His skin…He remembered tasting it and bit back a groan of frustration. How on earth could he forget this, even if it was only a shredded and blurred memory?
“Moony?” Sirius was standing only inches away from him, already dressed. His brow furrowed, his lips pressed together, he was the epitome of a bad conscience. “Are you alright?”
“Yes…no, I mean, I’m just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t…expect…I didn’t know you were interested…in, you know,” stammered Remus, cursing himself for being so incoherent.
Sirius smirked. “Buggery?” he provided dryly. Remus looked him straight in the eye and nodded. “We’re both good for surprises.” Sirius reached out for Remus’ shoulder but Remus flinched.
“Don’t!”
Sirius frowned again but stepped a little closer. “We can’t turn back time, not without a time turner. It happened. There should be no regrets even if you didn’t exactly want this,” he whispered almost softly, sadly. Remus nearly got distracted by Sirius’ sensuous lips moving so close to him, but he knew that Sirius was right. He hadn’t wanted this. The pain was sharp and new.
“Let’s forget about it. After all, it wasn’t love or anything,” said Remus harshly.
Sirius opened his mouth but at this moment James hollered, “PADFOOOOT, MOOOOONY! YOU AWAKE YET?” They both cringed.
“One more word and I’ll geld him myself,” hissed Sirius, holding his head.
“He probably had his Hangover Potion already.”
“Hangover, shmangover, his voice hurts my brain,” Sirius groaned. Remus opened the door and when they stepped into the living room, the shadow of the veil of alienation and doubt fell onto them for the first time.
It was never lifted. Not before this dreadful night. Something had irrevocably changed between them and Remus wasn’t sure that it was he alone, who couldn’t forget, who could not move on. For him, it was one more regret on the list of Things He Couldn’t Have. For Sirius it was apparently a first. But on what list?
After weeks of strained politeness, Sirius cracked.
“Mooony,” he cooed one night and popped on the sofa next to him. His voice was overly cheerful.
Remus looked up from his book. “Hmm?”
Sirius grinned at him and only someone as proficient at watching Sirius Black as Remus would have noticed the tension in his shoulder, his neck, his jaw. When Remus didn’t smile back, the grin slowly disappeared.
“What is it, wolf boy? Spill it!” Again false bravado.
“Nothing.”
Sirius sneered. “Don’t give me that shite. You never read unless it’s really necessary. Reading…” and with that he tilted his head to make out the title, “…101 Ways To Keep Your Broom In Order is not necessary.”
“Maybe I developed an interest,” countered Remus wryly.
Sirius gave him that look. “After seven years of pestering by me and Prongs? You don’t even have a broom! Look, Moony…I know it still bothers you.”
Remus felt his anger rising. “No, actually, it doesn’t. It doesn’t bother me at all. I am seeing someone.”
Sirius’ face went through a strange transformation before it got back to normal. Disquietingly normal. “You are?” he asked calmly.
“Is that so unbelievable?” Remus asked just as calmly, one brow raised.
“No, of course not, that’s not how I meant it. I think it’s brilliant!” Sirius smiled. Remus shivered. “Brilliant,” repeated Sirius, apparently trying to convince one of them. “Who is it?”
“You don’t know him.”
“Will you bring him to the pub next time?” Sirius still smiled. He always had to push too far.
“He’s a Muggle,” lied Remus. “I’d rather not bring him along. You know, it’s nothing dead serious.” Remus couldn’t resist adding, “I thought I’d try your way for a change.”
“My way?” asked Sirius unnecessarily and licked his lips. Remus didn’t know whether to kiss or to slap him.
“The fucking minus the love.” It felt good to see Sirius’ smile freeze.
“Whatever swings your wand, mate,” was Sirius abrupt response. “Gotta go, I’m having a date.” And as quick as he had appeared he disappeared and left a puzzled Remus behind. He wasn’t sure whether he had won this argument. He didn’t even know what it had really been about.
Over the next months he learned that watching Sirius became difficult. More and more he realised how much information Sirius had volunteered without him noticing it. Their Sunday breakfasts were ruled by uncomfortable silences, which grew longer as time went on, as war went on. Sirius withdrew into the Potters’ domestic sphere, spending most of his time with James, Lily and their baby. But it wasn’t as if Sirius wasn’t his friend anymore. Sirius never missed a full moon, bandaging Remus’ wounds and looking after him. If the worst came to the worst, his friends could always count on him. Nothing could shatter the loyalty of Sirius Black. Nothing but betrayal.
One morning in November, Remus woke up and found that he had lost everything overnight. He couldn’t sleep through a night for months afterwards. It wasn’t the why that tormented him. It was the enormity of the how that didn’t let him sleep.
How could Sirius turn his back on his best friend, the man he had called his brother?
How could Remus not have foreseen this?
How could he ever face Harry Potter without the answers to these questions?
Remus did what he always did. He postponed thinking about the unbearable, doing the inevitable, and moved on. After a while it got easier, the pain a silent companion. After another while, the time where he had friends seemed to be nothing more than a dreamlike fantasy, only a product of his imagination. After two years, he stored the pictures, letters and photographs at the bottom of his trunk, which still bore the letters Sirius, James and Peter had commissioned. After twelve years he faced the one person he had avoided more than all his memories. He went to Hogwarts and taught Harry Potter. And then there were Sirius and Peter.
Nothing could describe the emotional roller coaster Remus went through during this short time in the Shrieking Shack. That probably cost him a few years. Nothing could describe the guilt he felt when he woke the next morning and found that he had ruined everything. Peter was free and Sirius wasn’t; because of him. As usual Remus decided to leave; only this time, his secret - the secret he had kept for the best part of his life - had been made public. Although he didn’t know where his friend was, it was soothing to know that Sirius was innocent and free. Remus didn’t open his trunk but he spent some time sitting in front of it, remembering what was inside. That night in all its tragedy had given him back something he believed to have lost. The postcard he got from Morocco was being pinned against the bathroom mirror.
Sirius arrived at his doorstep seven months and three days after the postcard, looking thin and ragged.
At first, Remus couldn’t reconcile them - the beautiful teenager and the jaded, haunted man. Sirius had always been young in his memories, just like Lily, James and Peter, the Prewett brothers, Alice and Frank. But Sirius was more, had always been; he was the epitome of youth and beauty, life and fun. He had been his Pan; so how could the dirty, starved creature be the same man he had lusted after?
Then Sirius said, “Moony!” and smiled. Smiled a familiar smile, a little devious and crooked. Remus half-imagined him wearing a green cap and suddenly it was too much and he grinned - a very real, actual and open grin.
“Get in, you mangy dog.”
“Woof,” made Sirius and hugged him tightly.
It wasn’t that easy, of course. They tiptoed around each other for three days. Sirius had these moods, where he sank into a brooding silence, staring into invisible places Remus was almost glad not to see. What Remus could see was that Sirius suffered from the loss of youth, his strength and power. He got easily frustrated when he couldn’t remember a spell or a certain event. Remus heard him curse as he used the bathroom. After years of avoiding feelings like the Werewolf Capture Unit, he caught himself sharing the pain Sirius felt. It was nothing compared to other losses but perhaps this made it more real.
On the fourth day Sirius made a snide remark on the tea, trying to hide that he didn’t know how he’d liked it before he forgot about colours, taste and shape.
Remus only looked at him and said slyly, “Only the best for the blasphemous dunderhead, who used to use tea bags.”
Sirius threw his head back and roared with laughter. It wasn’t really that funny, thought Remus. But somehow looking at Sirius laughing his barking laughter, displaying his painfully white neck and yellowed teeth made him chuckle and then laugh as well.
Reconciling the past with the present wouldn’t be so hard after all.
For Sirius it was.
“I remember things, you know, but sometimes I remember them wrong. They made me…I didn’t want to forget, Moony.” Grey, desperate eyes were focussed on the ceiling of Remus’ bedroom. It was the fifth day and Sirius had started to talk, slowly, choking out the words, as if they were hurting his throat. Remus stared at him and said nothing.
On the sixth day Remus opened his trunk and showed his memories to Sirius. They sat down side by side.
Holding a photograph of himself and James duelling with broomsticks, Sirius whispered, “I often wished I could remember.”
Remus blinked and opened his mouth. And closed it. Sirius threw him a sideways glance. “I mostly wished I could forget,” Remus said softly. A hand on his arm, squeezing it slightly before fishing out another picture.
A squealing Lily was carried over the threshold by a beaming James. He had thrown her over his shoulder, crumpling her creamy white wedding robes. Remus found himself smiling and it didn’t hurt half as much as he had always feared.
“He was so happy,” Sirius grinned. “Remember the day she finally consented to go on a date with him? Merlin, I was so close to use a permanent Silencing Charm on him.”
Remus chuckled. “It was truly love on thousandth sight.”
“Remus, have you ever…found someone…like Lily?” Sirius asked with strained curiosity.
“Yes, I am hiding her under the bed.”
“Smart ass.”
“You used to be more creative.”
“It’s only a question of practice,” smirked Sirius, looking at him slyly. Remus rolled his eyes.
Another picture of James and Lily sprawled on a sofa in the Gryffindor Common Room, alternately kissing and smiling at each other. Remus marvelled at their young and happy faces. When he looked up he found Sirius staring at him with an unreadable expression.
“What?”
Sirius wet his lips and looked back at the photo. “Back then, I was envious. I didn’t know it but I was. I wanted to have what James had.”
Remus bestowed a strained smile on the man beside him. “As far as I can recall, Sirius Black didn’t believe in love, he believed in fucking.”
“I believed in friendship and loyalty,” replied Sirius brusquely.
“So did James.”
“James was a lucky bastard, he got to love Lily.”
“So?” Remus was puzzled, something that felt vaguely familiar.
Sirius made a noise between a huff and a snort, and then looked at another picture. They went on for hours, exchanging memories like that, until the light was too dim to go on and they decided to have dinner.
On the seventh day an owl arrived and Sirius left to meet Dumbledore. Remus stayed behind, just like he always did.
They met again, of course. Remus couldn’t afford his cottage any longer since nobody wanted to employ a werewolf. He moved into number twelve Grimmauld Place, shacking up with Sirius once more. It was different. They were both older, greyer, less energetic. The house was downright hostile. But somehow they managed to get along, cleaning, sorting, removing. Watching Sirius was different now but still fascinating. Whereas the younger man had been bursting with energy and life and so bright that it was almost blinding, Sirius’ presence still demanded attention, only a darker kind, sucking it in like a black hole.
“What happened to the Muggle?” asked Sirius one evening as they shared a modest meal in the kitchen. Remus was puzzled by the question and it took him a moment to understand. He lay down the cutlery and looked at Sirius, his wasted beauty and bright eyes. It had been a long time. There was no need for lies anymore.
“There were many and none,” he answered carefully.
Sirius frowned. “You made him up?”
“Not really. I had been seeing a Muggle; I had been seeing others as well. I just…I wanted us to be friends again,” he said slowly, wondering why this wasn’t embarrassing anymore.
Sirius’ eyes flashed and his jaw was set. Remus resumed his meal in the tense silence, his hands shaking faintly.
“We always were.”
Remus looked up again, one brow raised. Sirius smiled. Remus shivered.
“I was always your friend, Remus,” Sirius repeated with more strength and intensity. Remus felt that he was missing something crucial.
“I know. I know that now.” But then I was afraid of losing you. I was afraid of being just another notch on your bedpost, stupid as it seems now. Remus didn’t like where this conversation was heading. One wrong word… a right word, there was too much at stake. And Sirius had always had a knack for making him uncomfortable.
It took him two days to finally understand. He woke with a start in the middle of the night caused by a very vivid dream of James. They had been sitting in the kitchen of Potter Manor, drinking butterbeer. James had been talking about Quidditch and Lily and how he would marry her and then he had suddenly changed and grown into the man he used to be in 1981.
“How’s Sirius these days?” the older James had asked.
Remus had answered, “He is lonely.”
James had run his hand through his hair and looked at him strangely. “I thought he had you.”
That’s when Remus woke up, sweating and breathing hard. This bloody idiot!
But how could he have been so fucking blind himself? After all these years of watching Sirius, priding himself in knowing the Sirius Black Operating Manual by heart, he had simply not seen, not understood. So many words and inexplicable actions made sense now and all the parts of the puzzle fell into place. Remus didn’t find any more sleep that night.
In the morning he resumed watching Sirius, realising that he read him right for the first time. He noticed the involuntary glances, the not so accidental touches and the tiny smiles whenever he entered the room. It almost knocked him out as he recognised the half-buried longing in his grey eyes for what it was and always had been.
Remus had never considered himself as someone who lacked self-esteem. His excellent education, the memories of his friends and his supportive and loving parents had always been the foundation of his optimism. Yet, he had never even considered the possibility that Sirius could be interested in him and had been, even back then, when he was the most dashing and handsomest bloke near and far. The duration of this interest could only mean one thing and Remus couldn’t help but feel a sudden surge of excitement.
Maybe it was too late for them but he wouldn’t miss this chance, now that he knew he had one. After dusting and removing several Protection Charms in one of the bedrooms and doing some very tedious research in the library, he showered and dressed carefully for dinner. Each step down the stairs brought him closer to his life as it could have been.
When he entered the kitchen he found Sirius deep in conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt. They both looked up as he entered the room, Shacklebolt with a casual nod and Sirius with this special smile. It would do, Remus was in no hurry. Shacklebolt informed Sirius about his latest ideas to lead the Ministry astray about his whereabouts. The Auror didn’t stay long and was gone before the clock struck eight.
“Merlin, I’m hungry,” complained Sirius. His robes hung loosely around his still too thin body. Remus smiled because it didn’t matter.
“Let’s try to find something edible then,” he suggested, looking around in the only recently made inhabitable kitchen.
“Shacklebolt brought something from Molly. I bet five Galleons that it’s your favourite,” said Sirius, smiling wryly. It was no secret that Molly Weasley wasn’t too fond of him.
“Keep your money,” said Remus, not really hungry himself. There was a snake pit where his stomach had been. Sirius was busy getting the meal ready and Remus was busy throwing furtive glances at Sirius. This was hopefully not going to be a big mistake.
“Alright, Moony, what’s eating you?” asked Sirius between spoonfuls.
“What? Oh, nothing, I’m a little tired, that’s all. Full moon in three days,” answered Remus, knowing full well that Sirius wouldn’t let go.
“Nothing, my arse. I know you,” glared Sirius.
“Actually, I have good evidence that you don’t,” answered Remus softly, hands shaky. Sirius leaned back and stared at him incredulously. “You know, last night I realised that you don’t know me very well but are the best friend anyone could hope for.”
“That’s a comfort, not to mention a blatant oxymoron,” remarked Sirius sardonically.
“Shut up, will you!” Remus used his teaching voice but smiled. “I came to this notable conclusion when I remembered something you told me at the cottage.”
“Blimey!” Sirius imitated the youngest Weasley son in mock surprise but Remus could see a trace of nervousness in his eyes, the tilt of his head, the width of his smile. “Will you enlighten me, professor?” he added.
“You told me you were envious of what James had. I didn’t understand. Why would friendship and loyalty keep you of all the people from believing in love? Well, I do understand now.”
That Sirius’ face bore an expression of hardly suppressed panic would be an understatement. Remus got up, the chair making a high scratching noise on the ancient floor. His palms were sweaty and he wondered briefly whether having a drink or two would have been advisable. Sirius’ eyes widened as he leaned against the table next to where Sirius was sitting, legs outstretched, traitorous hands in his lap.
“Now that I do understand,” Remus started with an odd scratchy voice, “I must tell you that you’re a stupid twat.”
Sirius blinked. “I am?” he asked blankly before understanding dawned on him and a genuine smile lightened his face with unexpected beauty. He bent forward, bracing himself on his forearms and looking expectantly up at Remus.
“Yes,” whispered Remus, not trusting his voice anymore, and leaned forward. And kissed him.
Fin
***
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