A first attempt at writing for the Harry Potter fandom, after having been a rabid follower for years. Just an idea I've been toying with for awhile. Takes place during Voldemort I, and is definitely not compliant with most of canon, being that Lily and James will not end up dying. Focuses on what might have happened had Remus been confronted about being the spy, and if Dumbledore had become the Potter's Secret-Keeper. Mostly revolves around the SLASH relationship between Sirius/Remus.
After several revisions, I'm not still not completely happy with this chapter, but it will have to do, because I'll go insane if I have to look at it one more time. Apologies if the characters seem OOC at times. Some of it is intentional, while the rest is due to my own inability to write them accurately. Sirius cries a lot. I'm not sure why, exactly. Just thought I should warn you. And Remus is temperamental. Any spelling or grammatical errors are my own. I don't have a beta-reader (any takers?), and spell-check isn't always foolproof.
Story and chapter titles come from the W.B. Yeats poem 'The Second Coming'.
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
-W.B. Yeats; 'The Second Coming'
Remus Lupin was many things. Anyone who had attended school with him would agree that he was a scholar, a thinker. His friends would say that he was infuriatingly level-headed. He was patient. He was a werewolf, but those same friends would adamantly swear that that had nothing to do with his character.
Right now, Remus Lupin was tired.
He had just returned from briefing Dumbledore on a particularly unsuccessful mission to convince a pack of werewolves just outside Wiltshire to consider allying themselves with the Order. The jaunt had extended ten days past what he'd planned, and all that had been achieved was that the wolves weren't threatening to force-feed him his entrails anymore. To top it all off, he had cut it very close to the full moon-it was about two days away, and the frustrated, angry wolf in him was howling and clamoring for escape.
So. Remus believed that he had adequate cause for exhaustion.
Desiring nothing more than to take a hot bath and to then snuggle into his soft, warm bed (and into an equally soft, warm body), he started when he realized that the body in question was standing in the hallway leading to the bedroom.
"Moony?" Sirius Black's eyes widened with shock and the deepest sort of relief as he uttered his lover's name disbelievingly.
Seconds later, Remus found himself with an armful of Sirius as the dark-haired man caught him in a hard, slightly desperate embrace.
"Merlin-where the hell were-said you'd be-no idea how I've-so relieved you're not-" Sirius' incoherent babble, difficult to decipher on a good day, was altogether too much for Remus' frazzled mind to take at the moment. Prying the other wizard off of him with perhaps a tiny bit more force than was necessary, he mumbled,
"M'fine, Sirius."
Stunned silence. Remus winced, realizing that that might have been the wrong thing to say, considering the circumstances.
"You're fine. You're fine." There was a dangerous glint in Sirius' gray eyes as he laughed in an unconvincingly careless manner. "That's good, then. That's fine. Well, I'm chuffed, really. It's absolutely brilliant to know that while I've been waiting here, not knowing where you were and biting my nails to the quick because you're a bloody week-and-a-half late, you've been…fine." He was breathing heavily through his nose, a sure sign that Remus needed to perform some damage control, and fast.
"Look, Sirius," he stated with a calmness that he could not claim to feel, "the assignment ran longer than I expected it to. I didn't mean to make you worry, but I needed a little more time, and it's not as though I had plenty of chances to owl."
"A little more time is a day. Two, at most," Sirius said through clenched teeth. "Ten days is when the people who love you start thinking that the Dark side's turned you into werewolf treacle tart."
"I know, believe me I know. It's difficult for everyone involved. But I thought that if I gave it a few extra days-" Remus hastily amended his statement at the other man's pointed glare "-okay, ten extra days, the other werewolves might begin to come around."
This seemed to slightly mollify Sirius.
"And did they?" he questioned, the hysterical edge fading from his voice. "Come around?" Remus sighed heavily.
"No. I don't think they did, not really. A scattered few seemed receptive to the idea of trusting our side, but I'm not sure if it left any sort of lasting impression."
"So then it was all for nothing?" The hysteria found its way back into Sirius' voice. "Those ten extra days were absolutely useless?!"
Quite fed up now, the wolf snarling at the surface, Remus found himself rolling his eyes.
"Can we possibly save the row for tomorrow, when I'm up for it?" he asked impatiently. "I'm not in the mood for a discussion right now, because quite frankly, it's been a very rough three-and-a-half weeks and I'm completely knackered."
"Oh come off it, Remus!" Sirius was using the werewolf's given name, which could only mean trouble. "You're never in the mood for a discussion anymore. You barely tell me anything. D'you really think that you're the only one who's having a bad go of it? I mean, I can barely leave work for hours at a time anymore without being called back in because one of us has been murdered or Death Eaters are on the attack again. The Order's losing members left and right-and-and James and Lily were attacked just last week by Voldemort himself!"
It was clear that this was the matter that was truly bothering Sirius, because he looked stricken as he said the words, as if he didn't really believe them even though he knew that they were true.
Remus felt his insides curl unpleasantly and go icy cold.
"Are they alright?" he asked waveringly.
"For now," Sirius answered, angrily swiping away tears that he didn't realize had fallen during his tirade. "Soon as James realized the Death Eaters were on their way he caught me on the two-way mirror. I sent Moody a Patronus to let him know what was happening. Lucky that Longbottom and his wife-Alice, you know-were with me. We Apparated over and were able to hold off the Death Eaters until Moody got there with reinforcements."
"It was just you, James, Lily, Frank and Alice by yourselves against Voldemort?" Remus said sharply.
"Actually, we got Alice to Apparate out again with Harry-take him to a safer place-so really it was just James, Lily, Frank and me. But to tell the truth, Voldemort seemed content to let the Death Eaters handle the fight. From what little I could see, he appeared sort of…preoccupied, and then just vanished while everyone was still in the thick of things. Mind you," Sirius added darkly, "I was preoccupied myself, dodging Unforgivables and the like, so I could be completely off-base. After Moody showed up with other members of the Order, the Death Eaters apparently decided that it wasn't worth their skin if their lord and master wasn't around to watch the battle, so they beat a hasty retreat."
"Everyone's all right, then?"
"Yes, they're okay, relatively speaking, but Remus, that's not the point. This is the third fucking time that it's happened in however many months. Dumbledore's talking about sending James, Lily and Harry into hiding, he reckons there's a spy in the Order. The Ministry is scrambling-not least of all because its employees are being murdered in scores-everything's falling apart here and sometimes it just gets really hard to cope with this on my own."
Sirius pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "You wouldn't even recognize James anymore, he's so grim and serious, but at least he's got Lily and Harry, and I know that it's selfish, Merlin I know, but sometimes I just wish that you could be here because I really need you."
After this diatribe, Remus stood there, not quite knowing what to do, just trying to process all of the information that had just been handed to him. Irritation forgotten, wolf temporarily quiet, he stared at Sirius (who'd dropped his hands to his side once more), taking in the other man's appearance.
He looked like hell, not to put too fine a point on it. The glossy, jet-black hair that he was usually so vain about was tousled and messy. There were dark circles under his eyes courtesy of countless sleepless nights, and his almost ever-present air of cheerful mischief-maker had been replaced by loneliness and defeat.
So there was not much else Remus could do but wrap his arms around Sirius, offering the only comfort he knew to give. His lover responded in kind, snaking his own arms tightly around the werewolf's mid-section. (Remus was left again to marvel at the two-inch height advantage he had received from a late bout of puberty-it irritated Sirius to no end that Remus was taller than he was).
"I'm sorry for chucking all of this on you at once," came Sirius' voice, muffled because his face was pressed against Remus' shoulder. "But it's frustrating, because I go mad worrying about you all the time, even though I know that what you're doing is important to the Order."
"I understand," Remus said quietly. "I really do, because I worry about you too. My blood runs cold every time I hear that there's been another attack on the Ministry, or that another Auror's dead. And it kills me to constantly leave you alone with all of this, but I'm literally the only one who can do what I do for the Order. Dumbledore's trusting me with this, and I can't take that lightly."
"I s'pose I understand," Sirius said, echoing the other man's words. "And even though I don't like feeling like a bloody war bride, I'm glad you're home safe now."
"That makes two of us," the sandy-haired man stated dryly. "Anyways, it should be awhile before my next assignment, so…"
The fact that Sirius was dressed for bed, wearing only a thin white tee-shirt and sweatpants had not escaped Remus' notice, and was in fact driving him to distraction. Sirius lifted his head and smiled up lazily. His reply of 'So what?' was cut off before it even left his mouth by Remus' lips on his.
Not that he was complaining. It had been far, far too long since they had had physical intimacy of any sort, and he was drowning in smoldering kisses and the feel of the werewolf's long, hard body molded to the contours of his.
For Remus, it was a chance for the wolf to channel his aggression in an entirely different and certainly more pleasurable way. Impassioned kisses gave way to frantic groping and tugging, and before either of them were even really conscious of it, they were sprawled over the kitchen table, Sirius pulling frantically at Remus' shirt and whimpering while the werewolf pushed at the elastic waistband of the sweatpants, one hand firmly tangled in Sirius' already mussed black hair. It was absolute ecstasy for the contact-starved men.
However, just as Remus was about to suggest that they take this into the bedroom, a loud popping noise interrupted the pair's activities. Both stared in stunned silence at a perfectly unperturbed looking Albus Dumbledore, who promptly turned around to allow them some time to compose themselves.
"I do apologize for the intrusion upon your privacy," he said, back to the two, "but there was a matter of utmost urgency that I needed to discuss with Remus."
Sirius' mouth hung open, not having moved past the bit where Albus Dumbledore ACTUALLY Apparated in on…well, what he had Apparated in on.
"This is some horrific hallucination," he groaned into Remus' neck. "That's all there is to it. Just an awful trick of the mind." But Remus was standing up now, straightening his clothing and attempting to make himself a bit more presentable, and it became quite clear to Sirius that this was not a hellish vision, but reality.
Suffice to say that that did not make him feel any better.
Passion reluctantly abandoned, they both stood, waiting patiently as the headmaster turned around to face them again. Remus coughed embarrassedly.
"You wanted to speak with me, sir?" he questioned with forced nonchalance.
"I did," nodded Dumbledore.
Sensing that this was probably not a conversation meant for his ears, Sirius grudgingly said (while vaguely wondering when he'd become an housewife),
"Why don't you use the living room and I'll…er…I'll just make some tea."
"That would be excellent, Sirius, thank you." Dumbledore beamed as Remus led him out of the kitchen and into the living room of the flat. Sirius glared murderously at the older wizard's back.
"What's this about?" Remus inquired wearily, opting to stand instead of sit on the couch. "I didn't miss anything in my report earlier tonight?"
"No, nothing like that," Dumbledore replied. "It would not be remiss to say, however, that my news is related to the mission you recently undertook." Interest piqued, the werewolf stared at the other man, whose face became a little graver with the weight of the information that he was about to impart. "The werewolf pack that you just spent time with is meeting with Lord Voldemort tonight at midnight."
"What?!" Remus' eyes narrowed. "True, they weren't very receptive at all to what I had to say, but they didn't give any indication that their allegiance ran with Voldemort either."
"One of my sources has just informed me that several key Death Eaters have been speaking in secret with the pack leaders. Voldemort is offering them rights and freedoms that have been denied them by the Ministry and all of the wizarding world. It isn't surprising that they would prefer his 'instant' fix to slow, painful legal steps."
"Do you want me to go to the meeting?"
"Quite the opposite." Dumbledore's eyes glinted with a hint of steel. "You are to go nowhere near that meeting. The only reason that I am speaking to you of it now is so that you might steer clear of that particular pack until we are more certain of their intentions following this gathering."
"But what if I can convince some of them not to attend?" Remus asked desperately. "I know that at least one or two of them might be swayed. If I could just try to-"
"Remus, it is admirable that you are so dedicated to the cause and to the Order. But it will do us absolutely no good if you are at that meeting and a Death Eater recognizes you as one of ours and decides to kill you," Dumbledore stated firmly.
"If I don't allow myself to be seen-Headmaster, what if I could come away with valuable information about Voldemort's plans?!" Remus asked desperately, unable to comprehend that Dumbledore could just allow something such as this to happen, something that the werewolf had put so much effort into preventing.
"I very much doubt that. This visit is to ally himself to the werewolves, not to map out strategies and locales. It is probable that he will merely feed them tales of equality-superiority, even-power, and their long-denied rights."
The wolf, awakened once again by Lupin's frustrations, roared within his chest.
"But how do you know?" he challenged.
"I do not know," Dumbledore admitted, staring sternly over his crescent moon glasses. "Just as I do not know whether or not the werewolves apart from their pack leaders will be swayed to Voldemort's side. However, even if I were aware of what the outcome of this meeting will be, I would not send you, Remus, because you are in no condition for it. You are exhausted after weeks of difficult work, and asking you to take such a risk while you are not at your best is a potentially fatal mistake."
"Then don't ask," offered Remus quietly. "I'm volunteering." Dumbledore stared at him for what seemed like a very long time.
"Tea's ready." Sirius' grumpy voice interrupted the what was almost a silent standoff between the two men.
"I am afraid that I will have to take mine on the go, Sirius," the headmaster said briskly. "I've another matter that requires my present attention." Accepting the proffered mug, he nodded his thanks at the Animagus, and returned his gaze to Remus.
"Remember my orders, Remus," he said sternly. Then, in a softer tone, "Sometimes, we become so consumed by protecting the faceless masses that we forget about the individuals we care the most for." It may have been a trick of the light, but the headmaster's eyes seemed to flicker towards Sirius for the merest of seconds. The words only served to incense the sandy-haired man further, however, and he glared furiously as Dumbledore Apparated out with a crack.
Sirius, mystified, stared in the older man's wake.
"Mad, he is," he said, shaking his head. Noticing his lover's rancor, he reached out to the werewolf, only to have him flinch away. Hurt, Sirius folded his arms across his chest. "What'd Dumbledore say to get your knickers in a twist?"
"Nothing," muttered Remus. "Just…nothing."
"Obviously," Sirius replied in a voice dryer than a drought in the desert.
"Leave it, Sirius." Irate, Remus made his way back into the kitchen, seeking a momentary reprieve from the other wizard's prying eyes.
"I won't bloody well leave it, not when it's got you in such a foul mood." Sirius' mouth was uncharacteristically pressed in a thin, trembling white line. "So how long'll it be this time, then? A week? Two-and-a-half? Two-and-a-half and ten days?"
Remus struggled to contain his temper, thwarted as he was by the howling beast so close to the surface.
"You'll be pleased to know that Dumbledore considers me unfit for duty at this time," he ground out. "It is likely that he will not require my services for a while to come."
"Do try to contain your own happiness, Moony," Sirius said scathingly. "Overjoyed just doesn't suit your complexion."
"Can you at least attempt to understand how crucial this work is to me and to the Order? Try to see past your own needs and loneliness in order to get the bigger picture of what it is I am doing?" Remus asked in a dangerously low tone.
"What I see," Sirius retorted recklessly, ignoring the threatening signs, "is a man who refuses to realize that he is completely overworked and near-collapse with all of the stress that he places on himself. I fail to understand how anyone in the Order will benefit from the crucial tasks that you take on should you get killed or captured through the negligence that comes with utter exhaustion!"
By the time he was finished speaking, his voice had elevated to a shout. "And you're being a right git about it, too!" he added for good measure.
"Excuse me, but this git is trying to help fight a war! And the more people that we can ally to our side, the better! Being tired is a small price to pay, if I can convince as many werewolves as possible to join the fight against Voldemort!" Remus was now matching Sirius in volume.
"Bollocks! You know that's only part of it! The other part of it is the bloody martyr complex that no one can convince you to get rid of. Half the reason you're so eager to meet with the werewolves is that on some fucked up level of your consciousness, you feel like that's where you belong, that you're not worthy of 'human' company, that the other wolves are your equals-"
In later hours-days, years-Remus would never be able to determine what his snapping point had been.
All Sirius would say after that night was that he hadn't seen it coming, before clamming up and refusing to speak of the matter anymore.
In any case, neither of them had expected Remus to lash out and backhand his lover with all of the force and rage that came with being two days from the full moon, and frustrated in more ways than one.
The blow was strong enough to send Sirius stumbling towards the table that less than half-an-hour ago they had been snogging on. He crashed into, and then steadied himself, on the edge of it.
For several long, terrible minutes there was nothing but stunned silence.
Remus, instantly drained of every ounce of considerable rage he may have possessed mere moments ago, was the first to speak.
"Sirius-damn-I didn't mean-I just-are you-Merlin, I can't believe-" Deathly white, he couldn't seem to make himself to speak in proper sentences, and all that came out was a garbled heap of horrified, discontinued thoughts.
"You hit me," Sirius said in an impossibly small voice, sounding like he didn't quite believe it himself. Straightening and looking up with the slow, jerky movements of one who has just endured a rather nasty shock, he removed his hand from the side of his face where he'd been struck. A glaring red mark stood out from the rest of the skin on his right cheek, along with a very slight trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. Nauseated, all Remus could think to say was,
"I-I know." He realized that he should come up with something more-an expression of shock, concern, maybe a goddamn apology-but he was unable to form cohesive thought.
"It hurt," Sirius continued with that same disbelieving air.
"I'm sorry." The room seemed to be closing in on Remus, the walls coming together until there was nothing but Sirius, him and the thing he had just done. "Merlin, I'm so sorry-I need to-I have to go." He needed air, he needed time to think, he needed to escape this horrible, cloying guilty feeling that intensified for every lingering second that he stared at that red mark. The red mark that he had made.
"Go?" Sirius asked. He seemed startled. "Go where?"
"Just-anywhere," Remus muttered. "For a walk."
"You can't just go for a walk-it's dark out-it's DANGEROUS-"
"I don't care!" Remus cut Sirius off in an instant. "I can't stay here right now, I need to clear my head, I just-I don't care." Such was his hurry to escape his present circumstances that he forgot his coat as he slammed out the door, leaving Sirius alone and near to tears.
"What if I do?" he whispered to no one at all.