Second

by Mrs. Ron Weasley1

Sirius is depressed. Remus is pissed off. Things come to a head - and a revelation. *slash, pre-Azkaban*

A/N:  This wasn't going to be posted outside of the SBRL Mailing List because I hated it.  Then, I got some encouragement, ego boosts and, as a result, a brighter day, and have finally decided to post it here.

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns Remus, Sirius and everything else that you already know.  I, unfortunately, own The Charmers and their song.  Out of all the things to own...

RATING: PG-13 for language

 
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"Second"

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There he was again, doing his brooding act. He'd been doing it for quite a long while now, and it always drove Remus crazy. He knew it was ridiculous – it wasn't as if he had any hold on him. Or any right to him. Or any right to be mad at him. But he hated that feeling of being…second. Second to what? He was never going to be a first. She had been. And she had broken his heart. A year ago, now. And every once in a while, Sirius would turn up his music box to the saddest song possible, get a bottle of Firewhiskey and brood.  He would lie on the couch, look out the window mindlessly and just…disappear.

Two years ago, Sirius started seeing Helena Burns. He was seventeen, in his last year at Hogwarts. The relationship had started out rather casually, yet as time went on, it had become clear to everyone around him that Sirius had fallen irrevocably in love. To Remus, it had become rather painfully clear. He had no right to be as upset as he was – after all, now Sirius was happy – extraordinarily so, it seemed. And Remus with his…crush…would surely get over it. After all, he had Sirius' friendship, which was more than he could ever ask for. He didn't need to be with him to know that he was loved, or cared about. 

He tried convincing himself of this, but it was getting more and more difficult with each passing day. At night, he would curl around his pillow, holding it painfully close, willing it to turn warm and solid; willing for the scratchy, cool cotton to turn into smooth, living skin; for the white, clean smelling sheets to turn into dark, slightly musky hair; for the suffocating blankets to turn into strong limbs. He would fall asleep, tossing everything aside and cursing himself for this pain that he had inflicted upon himself. Sirius would never be his, and Remus would simply have to get over it.

A year ago, Helena left Sirius. Nobody really knew why – it came rather as a shock to everyone, especially, it seemed, to Sirius.  Remus had never seen anyone so utterly destroyed. For the first time in a year, he wished that Sirius was still with Helena, if only it would take away the look on his face. The look of complete and utter
misery. It seemed like all the life had been taken out of Sirius.  He had become a shell of a man, barely living. For a month, he hardly ever ate – only when either Remus or James or Peter would go into his room and physically force him to swallow whatever it was they had put into his mouth. Anything Sirius had to do, he did
automatically, not stopping to think at all. Sometimes he would come home on his motorbike completely plastered, barely able to hold himself up from the alcohol, and fall into bed only to wake up at six at night the next day, try to care for a hangover, fail and go back to sleep.  He finally got a hold of himself after three months and stopped drinking as much. However, he would still avoid company, choosing to stay in his room and, as Remus once heard, listen to his collection of "Helena Music" – the first time they danced, the first time they kissed, the first time they had said "I love you"… She dominated his life even in her absence.

Remus hated her.

In the last month, the former Hogwarts Marauders had begun to get their friend back. Sirius was now able to laugh and joke, even stay with them freely, not seeking refuge in his room or bottle. Remus' heart felt lighter, as well. No one knew this, of course, but he had been suffering almost as much as Sirius. After all, seeing the one
you love die slowly with each passing day was no easy feat, especially while knowing that there was not a damn thing you could do about it. So, Remus waited. Perhaps, one day, Sirius would return to them fully, without retreating every now and again into the old routine of music, alcohol and emptiness.

~*~

And today was an ordinary day, really. Remus had gotten up a bit later than usual, stretching out luxuriously at the knowledge of the weekend. Today, he had nothing to do but try to translate some ancient runes that the Order had come across the previous day.  They could help with the next mission, and Remus felt very privileged to have been given the feat of tackling the ancient texts.

After having gotten breakfast, he went out to the Wizarding Library of London down at Diagon Alley to get a few Rune dictionaries that he might need, and came back to find Sirius lying on the couch in an achingly familiar pose of despair, "Sha La La, I Shall Never Be Whole Again" by the Charmers blaring out of the music box, and a half empty bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey sitting on the floor at his feet.  Remus' heart plummeted.

Not again…

He felt like throwing the dictionaries on the floor, ripping out every page and screaming at the top of his lungs for Sirius to get off his miserable arse and look around, just to see that he didn't have to be so depressed all of the time. Just to notice that he was not alone. Just to realize that there was a person there who loved
him with all his broken heart, ready to lay down his life just to make him, Sirius, at least a tiny bit better, even if it was merely by a grain of sand out of the entire shoreline. Angered beyond his comprehension, Remus clutched the dictionaries closer to his chest and briskly walked in the direction of his room, resisting the urge
to slam the door. Not that Sirius would have even noticed.

Remus tried to calm himself.  He sighed and sat down at his desk. He mechanically pulled out a piece of parchment from a drawer, picked up a quill and opened the inkbottle that calmly sat on his desk. He then fished out the actual text from his bag and unrolled it. Familiar characters looked back at him, innocent in their stillness. They were not still for long as something prevented him from seeing straight. Remus' hand automatically swiped at his wet eyes and he grew even angrier, this time at himself. Why the hell was he crying like a baby, at his prominent age of nineteen? He hadn't cried in years, not since he had broken down in front of his friends at their realization of his true nature. He hadn't even cried when one night they showed up at the Shack and immediately changed into their unfamiliar new forms of stag, rat and dog. This made no sense. He had to get a grip on himself, this would simply not do.

"Sha la la la, I shall never be whole again,
I might as well just forget it all now, babe,
I had once thought that I had gained
All the happiness I had so wanted,
Then you left –
And here I am – broken, lost and
Trying to remeeeeeembeeeeeer…."

Remus shut the dictionary with a thud. He hated that bloody song.  Sirius listened to this one more than any other. Appropriate. Remus wondered if Sirius even realized how absolutely talentless that lot was. The lyrics were ridiculous and horribly written, to boot.  Sometimes Remus' wicked side would find this rather amusing – perhaps Sirius wanted to be just a bit more miserable, thinking that not only had his only love left him, but that he was now doing nothing but drinking and listening to terrible music.

Trying to shut out the melody coming from the direction of the living room, Remus opened the dictionary again. He had a mission to accomplish, after all. He didn't think Dumbledore would appreciate him botching up a crucial assignment due to a bad song and a broken heart. Some things were simply more important than others, and the translation had to be done by the end of the weekend. Sirius could very well sod off.

"There might have been hope,
Might have been a new love,
But I'm scared, babe, `cause you…

Sha la la, I shall never be whole again…"

Bloody Sirius. The least he could was turn down the damn music box.  Remus realized that he still had tears in his eyes, and he stalked off to the bathroom to wash his face. This was just humiliating.

He saw Sirius out of the corner of his eye, looking out the window, face contorted into a painful smile. That smile spoke volumes. It was of the bitter sort, no humor visible, save for the caustic notion of a love betrayed. Oh, Remus really hated Helena. He threw another livid look Sirius' way and shut himself off in his room once again.

For the third time, he opened the dictionary. The guitar solo was driving its way into his lungs, it seemed, and he saw, as if from a distant, a drop of moisture fall onto the page, blurring the words.  Damn him. Swiping at his eye once again, Remus shut the dictionary.  This just wouldn't do. He got up heavily and found himself retracing the path to the sink, splashing cold water on his face and drying himself off. For the millionth time, he cast a mad look at Sirius and shut the door of his bedroom behind him. Remus leaned against the cool oak and closed his eyes.

What was happening? Why today, of all days? This was so bloody unfair. Sirius was the most daft and hopeless idiot Remus had ever known. Whatever had possessed him to fall in love with such a sodding git, he didn't know, but he sure wasn't about to thank it.  All Sirius had to do was look at him, at least once, and he would
know. Obviously, he didn't return his feelings. Not because Remus was of the "wrong" gender – Sirius had been known to say that he didn't discriminate – but because Remus was of the wrong everything else. For one, his name wasn't Helena. And that made all the bloody difference.

He would never be "number one". No one ever would. Any woman – or perhaps even man – that would follow his or her predecessor would be destined to be second, always trying valiantly to push through the
barrier but not one would succeed. This had hurt too much, cut too deeply. Remus knew that feeling only all too well. He would never…

Anger welled up in him for the third time, and Remus growled in frustration. Not really knowing what he was doing, he threw open the door and yelled above the music:

"Sirius, I'm bloody moving out!"

Sirius' head shot up and he looked at Remus, bewildered:

"Remus, what the hell are you talking about?"

Remus wanted to know the same thing, really, but he tried to continue as if he knew:

"I just can't, I c – " His voice broke and he shut the door again, powerless against his own actions. He quickly walked towards his closet and began throwing things out. Just as his hand had closed around a suitcase, it was seized powerfully and wrenched away. He refused to look Sirius in the eye as he struggled out of his grip and
turned his back to him.

"Remus, look at me. Look at me!" Sirius clutched his shoulders and made him turn, though Remus still refused to look up. His eyes were still red.  This was beyond humiliating.  He wasn't sure how, but a second later found him sitting on his own bed, with Sirius still holding his shoulders and telling him to look up.  Remus pursed his lips painfully and continued staring at his own shoes.

"Remus, you can't what? What can't you do?" He knew that Sirius was trying to catch his eye, but he didn't rise to the bait. "Remus, bloody talk to me!" Now, this was too much. Sirius was not telling him to talk? He was ordering him to open up? After having spent long, horrible months in his room, pining away after something that could never again be? That broke the silence. He met Sirius' eyes as any tears left in his own magically dried up.

"Me, bloody talk to you?  What do you think I've been trying to do? What the bloody hell do you think we've all been trying to do?  I can't watch this anymore, Sirius, I just can't!  You want to spend the rest of your life shut away in your own misery, that's fine, but I will not continue to watch it!  I will not watch you drink away your
life and always be a default to share the misery with if Firewhiskey isn't readily on hand!"  He ran his fingers angrily through his hair, and turned away.  "I try to make you feel better, I tell you that you are not alone, but every sodding weekend you get up, fetch another bottle, put on the bloody Charmers and sit there like the entire world is against you!  Well, fucking grow up, because we all still love you!  Except you're too bloody selfish to see it!  I can't do this anymore, Sirius, it hurts too fucking much…"

Remus couldn't remember the last time he had yelled for so long, and his voice had gone hoarse. But it felt good. Oh, it felt bloody great.

He felt Sirius drop his hands and saw him clutching them in fists by his sides. He had turned away and his jaw was locked tight, every muscle straining on his face. A very tense silence ensued, and Remus realized that he might have gone too far.  After all, it wasn't Sirius' fault that he felt this way…  It was really unfair what he had said – necessary, perhaps – but unfair all the same.

"Do you know what I was going to do, Remus?" Sirius finally turned to him and looked him right in the eye.

"What?"

"I was going to finish listening to the song, then I was going to put away the bottle and come in here. Then I was going to tell you just how wonderful you are, how much you mean to me, and how much I love you."

Remus blinked. And blinked again. It hurt slightly from the recent waterworks that had dried up a little too quickly. His eyes always were extra sensitive.

"You were…" He found his voice to be hoarse and rather quiet. "You were what?"

"Don't you know that I realize that I'm doing? Don't you know that?"

"Well, yes… But you don't seem to be doing too much about it, so –"

"Remus, what is it that's really bothering you? Tell me, please. I need to know."

"Why? What do you care?" He wasn't going to give in this easily, even if it meant he sounded like a five-year old.

"I do. I care about you, believe it or not. Do you know what I was thinking about when I was listening to the music just now?"

"I can well imagine what the hell you were thinking about, Sirius…"

"No, you can't. I wasn't thinking about drinking. I hadn't even finished the bottle. I wasn't thinking about Helena, either. I was thinking about you. That whole time today, I was thinking about you."

"Sirius –"

"Just let me finish…please." Sirius silenced him with a hand to his lips. Remus felt a shock run through his entire system. He could do nothing more than listen, his every other function having sort of shut down
and abandoned him. "I was thinking that I never tell you just how wonderful I think you are. I wanted to let you know that today.  You're what has kept sane this past year. You are the one person that I can count on late at night if I need to cry on somebody's shoulder. You're the person that I have the most fun with – have had
the most fun with in a long time. Helena breaking up with me hurt, it hurt a lot. But there was a reason she had broken up with me, Remus."

"What?" It had come out quiet. Remus wasn't sure if he would ever regain his voice.

"She realized that she could never compete.  She didn't want to be second.  I loved her, Remus, I really did, but there was something…missing.  When she told me that it was over, I didn't know what to do.  It felt like a part of me had been snatched away and I would never get it back.  Her words kept coming back to me, over and over, until finally their real meaning had sunk in.  I was really in love…with somebody else."

Remus' throat had gone dry. He stared at Sirius unblinking, realizing for the thousandth time just how blue those eyes were.  They looked lit up from within, almost as if there was a bright torch inside Sirius' head that almost never went out.

"I didn't know how to deal with it.  I was scared.  I avoided being around…that person.  I avoided it for months.  Hell, I avoided everything for months.  Once in a while, I would remember how wonderful it had been with Helena and I would think that this whole misery was over her, and then I would look at that other person…and I would know that it was not.  It was all about you, Moony. I'm in love with you."  Sirius shrugged apologetically and even managed a smile.

Remus closed his eyes. He felt strangely numb. This was absurd.  This was absolutely, positively not happening. This was…he felt soft skin against his cheeks.  Sirius was wiping his tear-stained cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

"Please don't cry again, Moony… Please. I never liked it when you cried and I was always so glad that you practically never did.  Please, open your eyes – I want to see you."

Remus obeyed. Sirius was looking at him in a way that was new and yet familiar all the same. No one had ever looked at him like that before, and the only reason he knew that look was that he had given it to Sirius too many times to count. But he never expected it to be returned.

"Sirius…"

"Remus."  Sirius breathed out and leaned in.  "Absurd" was the last thing Remus remembered thinking before strong lips had found his.  His mind shutting off, Remus clutched at Sirius's head, instantly tunneling his hands through the black strands, opening up his mouth to his friend's and swirling against the awaiting tongue with his own.  Sirius' broad hands were gripping him around the waist and pulling him closer, kneading his body almost desperately.  Remus had never been truly drunk, but he imagined that this was the closest he would ever get to feeling it.  His senses were on overload, Sirius' smell and taste and feel all assaulting him, euphoria washing over his ever fiber, his skin tingling and his ears ringing.  When they finally pulled apart, he realized that he was almost completely deprived of oxygen.  And that he had kissed Sirius.

"Padfoot, you can't be serious," he finally said when he began to breathe normally once again.  To his surprise, Sirius chuckled:

"Did that feel like I wasn't serious, Moony?.." His hands gripped Remus' waist harder.

"Good point…"  Remus chuckled in response. Surprising both of them equally, he pulled Sirius to him once again and for a very long time, the two of them forgot everything but each other.

The rune translation lay abandoned on the desk.


~FIN~