He can’t look at his friends; they might see his abnormal thoughts glinting behind his irises, they might see that he’s been lying and pretending this whole time.

This is different, this is real. Sirius is kissing him through choice, passionately and properly, and Remus groans as they topple sideways onto the unmade bed.

It rushes up inside of Remus - Sirius never was bad, never was a murderer, no, that was Peter, of course - his Sirius was true and right and loyal.

She glances at Remus, as he tries to keep a straight face, and grins, lips twisting prettily. He smiles politely, and he notices that her cheeks, for reasons unknown, tinge with pink.

Perhaps she notices that when she mentions her dead cousin’s name, something stirs in him, something rears it’s ugly head and makes him want to scream. Maybe she knows he’s still in love with Sirius Black.