Prompt 22
Title: how do you know?
Word Count: ~ 2750
Prompt: 22 for dogdaysofsummer
Rating: PG
Summary: "In the early morning, Remus frets about the way his friendship with Sirius has crossed into something more..." This is also a little bit of a drabbly offshoot of my WIP A Knack for Things.
My other prompt entries are here: Five, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-One
August 25, 1977
Remus has always been an early riser.
James believes in waking up promptly, and Sirius always mumbles something about “letting sleeping dogs lie,” and Peter’s just out like a rock, but Remus has always woken up early.
He loves the scant moments of privacy that an early morning offers. At Hogwarts, he used the time to commandeer the prefect’s bathroom for a nice long shower, the steam rising everywhere. And here, at James’ house (though, let’s face it, if this is a house, then Remus lives in a hovel), Remus gets up early out of habit, not quite knowing what to do with himself.
Over the last few days, he’s found that sitting in back of the house is quite nice, wrapped up in a blanket for warmth, the Potters’ fields stretching all the way to the horizon (no wonder James was such a little hellion - he had so much space to run amok in). At first, he did the sensible, prosy thing, getting all of his summer homework done (who knew the N.E.W.T.S. could be such a pain?) in the misty grey fog of a morning in August. But now, with that done, all he can do is sit and relish the silence.
He’s not left alone very often, he thinks, adjusting the corners of his blanket. At home, his younger sisters were always around and his mother fretted about him. When he got to Hogwarts, he was so amazed by the fact that James, Sirius, and Peter were friends with him - despite their knowledge of his lycanthropy - that he never questioned the way that they were always together, always thick as thieves.
But now he wonders if maybe they’re starting to grow apart. Maybe they need more time apart. Sirius moved in with James two weeks ago, before Remus and Peter came to stay (the Marauders have always stayed at James’ place for a couple weeks out of the summer). And yet, Sirius confessed to Remus yesterday (right before he kissed you on the mouth, a voice whispers into his head, but he ignores) that he and James haven’t been as in tandem as they are normally. James has recently come to the conclusion that Lily is all he could ever want (well, come to this conclusion again, but something in his voice sounds convincing this time, despite the fact that he’s supposedly dating Bridget Adler these days), and Sirius is angry (not that he’s told James), probably because he doesn’t want to share his best mate (apparently Bridget doesn’t count as a girl). At least, that’s what Remus thinks.
And Peter…Remus sighs, shaking his head to dispel these thoughts, but it utterly fails. He doesn’t seem to be as convinced about which side he’s on in the coming war. Remus won’t lie to himself; as much as he’s tried to ignore it, the war that is purebloods vs. everyone else has been in the air for years now. For almost as long as he’s known about the war, Remus has known which side he’s on (how could he possibly entertain the notion of fighting to rid the wizarding world of Muggleborns, when he himself has Muggle grandparents? He could never fight for a lie). But Peter is waffling, and no matter how he acts around James, Remus and Sirius have seen him on his own. Away from James, Peter isn’t so sure of himself. Not about which classes he’ll take, or about the war, or even how he likes his tea. Sirius thinks it’s gotten worse lately, but neither of them is sure why.
Then again, couldn’t Remus say the same about the way he is around Sirius? The sky’s gotten a bit brighter, he thinks abstractly, watching the fog slowly dissipate. It’s like how his confidence acts when he’s away from Sirius. He’s less sure that he’s not just a werewolf, not just a boring kid with brown hair and a mediocre ability to do magic who doesn’t deserve his friends. And, sure, Remus craves privacy sometimes, and, today of all days…
Sirius kissed him. There it is, really, the reason why he got up even earlier today and watched the dawn creep up. Last night, while Remus was running away from James in a magical version of tag, Sirius pulled him into an alcove as James darted past, in hot pursuit of Peter. They hid, and talked, and at some point Sirius leaned forward and brushed his lips across Remus’ and the feeling was electrifying, nothing at all like the time Mary McDonald walked up to him and attacked his mouth with her own.
It was so much better than that.
But Remus had been so shocked, he’d stepped out of the alcove, just in time for James, on his third or fourth circuit of the house (Peter could be surprisingly slippery when he tried), to crash into him, knocking him over and effectively ending the game. And then Remus had mumbled something or other and retreated to his room, not knowing what to do or say, avoiding the hurt look in Sirius’ eyes. What happens when a mate, who’s also a boy, kisses you? What happens then?
Remus doesn’t know.
Which is why he’s out here, he supposes, huddled in a blanket and feeling rather lost. Whenever he’s needed something, it’s Sirius he’s gone to, and it’s not like he can do that now.
Because this changes everything, doesn’t it? He’ll admit to blushing after waking up from dreams of Sirius Black, and there has been the odd moment or two…but he read somewhere that nobody is 100% straight or gay, and everybody falls on a spectrum. And, really, the way the four of them are on top of each other all the time (he is determined not to think about the implications of that thought, but pulling one’s mind out of the gutter is very difficult), how could there not be an awkward moment or two?
But he’s Remus Lupin. Being a werewolf is bad enough, but a gay one at that? (Voldemort probably discriminates against gays too; it’s not like they can go around producing little purebloods.)
And it’s Sirius Black. One of, if not his very own, best mate.
He doesn’t know what to do. Maybe kissing any boy feels that electrifying. Maybe it’s just that he’s bent and shouldn’t be kissing any girls. (Remus doesn’t think so; he feels like it’s just Sirius that makes him feel this way.) But Sirius hasn’t always been bent, has he? Just two months ago he shagged Laurel Leighton, up in the Astronomy Tower. (Maybe Sirius is some sort of omnisexual creature. He’s certainly humped enough things in his dog state to lend credence to this theory.)
Maybe, maybe, maybe…Remus clenches his hands in frustration. He’s never really been one for ambiguity.
“Moony?” Remus, half-distracted by his thoughts, twists around to find James, of all people, just standing there, his hands in his pajama bottom pockets, hair sticking up every which way. His glasses are askew and he looks oddly young for someone who came of age three months ago. “What are you doin’ out here?”
Remus extends a hand to pat the seat next to him, and James moves to take it. “Just thinking, really. You?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Whatcha thinking about?” He yawns widely, his Gryffindor jumper a vivid splash in this otherwise gray-green landscape.
Remus hesitates, but he’s never been one to lie to James (our beloved ringleader, he thinks wryly). “Padfoot.”
“Oh.” James runs a hand through his hair absent-mindedly, mussing it even more. “I think he’s doing well, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Remus blinks in surprise, then remembers that Sirius has, of course, just separated himself from his family. Permanently.
“Actually, his mum sent a Howler to Mum and Dad yesterday,” James says conversationally. That’s news to Remus. The black-haired boy answers his unasked question. “It came to their study, which has eavesdropping wards all over the place. I haven’t told Sirius.” Yet goes unspoken.
He winces, adjusting his blanket around himself. Drawing from his one experience with the woman, Mrs. Black is not a nice person. “Was it bad?”
James nods, settling into the bench, crossing his ankles. “I don’t ever want to tell him. It’s official - he’s been properly disowned and literally blasted off the family tree.”
“I’m sure he probably guessed that,” Remus points out, feeling as sensible as always. “He’s not daft.”
“S’pose you’re right.” They fall into silence, but with James, it’s never uncomfortable.
Remus doesn’t know why he trusts James so implicitly. James had introduced himself first - with Sirius following immediately after - the night after the Sorting, and it was James who was first to accept him after they figured out that he was a werewolf. It seems to be a gift of his, this ability to both give and inspire loyalty and trust.
James saved your ass when Sirius endangered Snape’s life, he thinks suddenly. But that was last year, when Sirius was dealing with his family issues and feeling completely reckless. Sirius has grown up, he tells himself fiercely, pushing away those awful memories of a time when James and Sirius were at odds.
Sirius. His thoughts always return there, these days, don’t they? Whether he’s worrying about him, or thinking of him, or doubting his own abilities and comparing himself to everyone around them…it’s always Sirius that he comes back to.
“How did you know that you liked Lily?” he asks.
ooo
“How did you know that you liked Lily?”
Remus’ voice is soft, so soft; James almost misses it among the sounds of the birds beginning to wake. “The first time?” he asks. “Or now?” It’s kind of a serious question to be answering in the early morning light, where everything and nothing is possible.
Remus hesitates, his dark brown eyes uncertain. Then he says, “Now.”
It’s funny, James muses. No one’s really asked him that. When he came down to breakfast yesterday and announced this, they just accepted him at face value. He loves his mates for this, of course, but not even Sirius questioned him. (Granted, it might’ve had something to do with the fact that he is still seeing Bridget (or avoiding her; same thing, really) - which is really a problem he needs to sort out, but they’ll be off to school next week and maybe he can end things because of that.)
‘D’you know why I started dating Bridget?”
“Hooking up, you mean?”
“Yeah, that.” James shakes his head. “It was Padfoot’s idea. I mean, I wasn’t really into Lily this year, and he thought it would give me closure.”
Remus snorts, an act that is uncharacteristically ill-mannered of him. James wonders if something is wrong. “You took Padfoot’s advice?”
James nods. “I mean, I thought it worked. When I saw her in Diagon Alley last month, I didn’t feel anything. I even got angry when she blew me off about that Heads meeting.”
“Then what?” Remus presses. “When did you know?”
A sudden realization hits James, and he has to wince at his own cluelessness (in his defense, he’s never really been a morning person). So, that’s why Remus is asking. “Well, I had that meeting with her two days ago.” He looks away from his mate, picturing her dark red hair and bright green eyes as she laughs at something he says. “And it was just…” he’s struggling to explain it, to find the words to express himself. “We were at this park, the one I went to as a child. It’s up the road.” He gestures, but Remus doesn’t look away. “And she was talking, and - hang on. What I meant is, well,” he sighs hopelessly, then grasps at a way to explain it. “I mean, in fifth year I liked her because she was bloody gorgeous and stood up for herself, but when I was watching her at the park…it’s really all about her little quirks, like the way she doesn’t care about being Head Girl and doesn’t realize that she’s brilliant and funny and -“ he breaks off, suddenly realizing what it is. “It’s like, looking at her, at the park, I could just see us there ten, twenty years from now, with, like, children and a proper house and everything. I want to spend the rest of my life with her,” he says, feeling pathetically earnest. She’s got that bloke right now, anyway, as if James didn’t have enough barriers between himself and Lily.
“Oh.” Remus looks off into the distance, his brow furrowed. “So…it’s all the little things. And you could see yourself with hi-her forever.”
James chuckles ruefully. Remus always did have a talent for cutting through all the crap. But as Remus closes up, James wonders if he should say something, to push his mate in the right direction. Is it his place? “You know,” he says softly, trying to get it out before he loses his nerve. “He really likes you.”
His guess was right. Remus jerks his head to look at him, eyes wide in panic. “I-I d-don’t know what you’re…erm, I mean,” he stammers, his voice slightly high. “He, well, er, what?”
“He really likes you,” James repeats, gauging Remus’ reaction. As the tall, lanky boy gets over his moment of shock, the color returns to his face, his nose scrunched up in confusion.
“Erm” - Remus glances back at the house, as if to see if anyone’s listening. James doubts it; Sirius and Peter won’t be up for hours. “H-how do you know?”
James smiles smugly. “I’m his best mate. Of course I know.” It wasn’t hard to spot; Sirius has never been particularly discreet, and the glances he throws and the way he acts and moves when he’s around Remus and thinks that no one is looking…”It’s been months.” Not that Sirius has actually said anything to him. But you’d have to be completely barmy not to have noticed how quiet Sirius was last night, after Remus left. James isn’t quite sure what happened, but he thinks that Remus must’ve found out about how Sirius felt.
“R-really?” Remus mumbles, his eyes wide not with panic, but curiosity. James isn’t sure, but he thinks he might have occasionally caught Remus staring at Sirius the way James mooned after Lily in fifth year. “You’re not messing with me or anything, right?” A shadow flickers across his face, and James thinks that maybe Remus is afraid to get hurt.
“Of course not.” James stretches his arms out, hearing his joints creak and grind together in an impressive imitation of an old man’s set of bones (Quidditch is hard on the body). “Why didn’t you tell us you were bent?”
“I-I didn’t know,” Remus confesses, looking particularly vulnerable. For a moment, James allows himself to feel pity for his mate. It’s hard to be gay in the wizarding world, but to be a werewolf, too? (That is how James sees it, because, after all, you’re gay all the time, but you’re only a wolf for a couple of days each month.)
Just as his stomach rumbles, reminding him that the sun has been coming out and it’s now time for eat something, James realizes that he ought to allay some of Remus’ fears. Getting to his feet, he says quietly, seriously, with all the fierceness he can muster, “I can’t speak for Pete, but I don’t care what you are.” It seems to him that, lately, people have been judging others based on what they are, instead of who they are.
As he sets off back towards the house, James throws over his shoulder, “Breakfast? I think my mum’s made eggs.”
“Sure.” Remus walks quickly to catch up to him, and the two boys make their way to the door. As James puts his hand on the latch, Remus puts a hand on his wrist, startling him a little. “Thanks, Prongs,” the relief evident in his voice.
James waves him off as he pulls open the door and they step inside, rejoining the rest of the world. He wants his friends to be happy, and if they’re happiest with each other… Aloud, he says, “I think I need to dump Bridget though, seeing as I am madly in love with another girl and all that. Any ideas?”
Behind them, the sun is shining fiercely.
ooo
A/n: Well...comment?