For Cuban Sombrero Gal's "Five Things" challenge on the HPFFC Forum.
I.
Sirius Black puts his arm around him. Remus supposes that's where it all started. With Sirius Black and his damn impulse to touch people.
"Yes, Sirius?" He can't help feeling that something's wrong. And the way James is staring at him, the way Peter's sort of behind James, it all points to something being wrong.
James suddenly smiles and sprawls himself across Remus's bed. Then Peter joins him and they're all crowded there.
This always happens. It's always Remus's bed. It starts with Sirius, and then James, and then Peter. It's no different from usual, he allows, but the looks on their faces are enough to make his heart pound with anxiety and paranoia.
"What's wrong?" His voice comes out small and scared. He pulls the sleeves down over his hands, hiding his scars.
Sirius takes his arms from his shoulder and reaches for his hand, yanking the sleeve down in one swift motion. His fingers trace one particularly deep, half-healed gash.
"This is what you do?" He whispers. "How could they let this happen? Dumbledore? I thought he was the best bloody wizard of the age!"
"I--I don't know what you're talking about." Remus's voice betrays his lie. He knows exactly what he's talking about. He knows exactly what this is about. He knows exactly what's going to happen. He packs his bags in his mind. He'd leave Sirius that shirt he's always wearing. If he still wants it. Knowing it belongs to a werewolf, he'd probably scrub himself clean of all feeling and memories of it. Of him.
Remus tries to keep his face and voice impassive as he thinks this. "I just--my mum has a Muggle kitchen, and I'm always hurting myself with those...those knives, they're so--Muggles are--"
"Wizards have knives, Re--"
"And that's why it's hardly healed?" Sirius interrupts James's gentle words. "Oh, never mind, I forgot you go home once a month to see your dying mother. Right. The knife must have just slipped last month, didn't it?" Remus tries not to hear the hard edge in his voice, the once a month, last month, month, month, month.
At twelve, Sirius Black has sarcasm perfected.
"Sirius," James says, admonishing him. "You're scaring him. Just shut up, okay? Remus, first of all, you need to know that we're your friends. Best mates, and all? Second, you need to know that we--we love you. Okay?"
Remus can't bring himself to nod, even though he knows it's a bit hard for James to say that. He's too busy waiting for the but...
His head feels slightly light. He relishes Sirius's hold on him, which tightens. He realizes, somewhere, that if he was disgusted, why would he hug him?
He decides Sirius is just a little deranged. He's starved for love and affection at home, so at school, he goes a little overboard. He's just getting ahead of himself. He'll realize it once James says it. He'll realize he's hugging a werewolf. And he'll be gone.
Remus hugs his knees to his chest slightly awkwardly because of Sirius, preparing for the worst, and waits for James to continue.
"After you know that, you need to know that we're not stupid. We are taking Astrology, after all. And we do know you. It's not obvious how you tense up every time Sinistra mentions the moon, but we can see it because we're your friends."
"I still don't know what you're talking about? M--moon?"
"Yes, moon, you great daft bugger," Sirius says loudly.
Then there's silence.
"We shouldn't have to say we don't care," James says. "And we're not mad at you for not telling us." He takes a breath.
"Mad--mad at me for not telling you? Yeah, so you could tell the entire school and make me leave, yeah, mad at me for not telling you because it makes such a difference whether I tell you or not or if you figure it out yourself, other than the fact you've had to live with a werewolf for a year and a half and you need to cl--to clean the--the room because--because I--I'm so--dis--disgust--" Remus stops, because he can't keep talking without completely breaking down. He notices Sirius is still close. Still holding on to him. Almost so tightly he can't breathe. He finds he doesn't care about anything anymore, so he doesn't care if they see his scars and he doesn't care if they can see right through him and he doesn't care if they see him cry. Modesty, for Remus at this moment, is irrelevant.
"Didn't you hear James? We. Don't. Care. Why is that so hard to understand?" Sirius sounds slightly angry anyways. "Don't you know we're your friends? What did James say to remember? Don't you remember what he said? Weren't you even listening? Remus, why..."
Remus really doesn't know what Sirius was going to ask him.
James gets up, swinging his legs to the floor and staggering over to his bed. "Well," he says. "It's almost midnight. We have double Transfiguration first thing in the morning, and McGonagall won't like it too much if we're falling asleep over our--uh--whatever it is we're transfiguring."
Sirius snorts. "Like you care if McGonagall cares," he scoffs.
"No. No, that's right. Just tired. Come on, Pete."
Peter scrambles off Remus's bed, leaving only Sirius, who had pulled back slightly, but is still much too close.
"Sirius?" He says hesitantly. He's still waiting until Sirius comes to his senses.
"Remus, you have to deal with that fact that we don't care! I don't get what it is that's stopping you, but all you see is the wolf, you don't see you, and you are what we see, what we care about, and we don't care that you turn into a wolf once a month, other than the fact that it hurts you!" He grabs Remus wrist. "We see you and your genius pranks and your...your...your studying and how you can do that and still think of pranks, and we see how you try to be nice to Snivellus even when all of us are hexing him and you stopping us from looking up spells even worse to use on him, and how you probably know tons of them, and--"
Sirius stops. Remus can see a faint blush creep up his cheeks. He feels oddly exposed, sitting in the dark with Sirius and realizing that--
"You're stuck with us, sorry," Sirius says, climbing off his bed. He stops and turns to look at Remus. "You're stuck with us forever and you better not think of leaving."
When Remus laughs at the idea of him leaving, Sirius scoffs at the concept of them doing it, and Sirius hugs him one more clumsy time and dives into his own bed in a way only Sirius Black can do.
--
II.
At fourteen, Sirius and James are entirely concerned with four things. Pranks, food, girls, (or girl, in James's case), and their friends.
Remus is happy to see that the last came first. Happy, but of course, he's always surprised to find that it's not just James and Sirius--that it was James, and Peter, and Sirius, and Remus.
Sirius launches himself at him. Remus winces as Sirius's hand comes in contact with the side of his head as he tackles him into the sand.
"Moony! Come swimming with us! It's hot, come on!" He rolls over and lies on his stomach next to him in the grass. "James is being all, Lily, Lily, Lily, look how smashing she looks in her swimsuit, blah, blah, blah, and Peter's being Peter and come on, come swimming! I'll protect you from the Giant Squid..." Sirius gazes at him hopefully.
"Thanks, Sirius, but for some reason I wasn't too concerned about the Giant Squid."
"What, then?"
"I..."
"It's not those stupid scars again, is it? We see you shirtless all the time, Remus. It doesn't matter."
"Yeah, but..."
"Forget the girls. Actually, don't. Girls have a thing for scars." Sirius grins wickedly. "Makes you look--"
"Don't finish that sentence," Remus says, and stands up. "Just don't..." He gives Sirius a long look, then pulls off his shirt and sprints to the edge of the lake, diving in and surfacing, spitting his wet hair from his mouth. He's only just gotten the water out of his mouth when Sirius gives a whoop of joy and leaps on him, forcing his head under again, making him cough and sputter but he's so happy, for some reason, maybe it's because Sirius is ignoring all the girls who keep sending him sideways glances, or maybe it's because he's laughing and splashing him and he's splashing him back and he forgets about his scars and about his insecurities and about the fact that he really shouldn't be here with Sirius at all, because what is Sirius Black doing being friends with a werewolf?
--
III.
Remus is drunk.
He hates being drunk.
He hates how he has absolutely no control over what he does, what he says. He is terrified of doing something stupid, letting people know, terrified of making a fatal mistake.
But everyone else is drunk, so Remus decides not to care about any of that anymore.
It's almost funny how fast he doesn't care in.
--
Remus is still drunk. He's drunk and alone in bed, and that's no fun, so that's why when Sirius pushes aside the hangings surrounding his bed, he smiles and sits up.
"You have lipstick on your...lips." Remus tells him. And for good measure, reaches over and wipes it off.
Sirius doesn't say anything.
"Who was it this time?" He asks.
Sirius shrugs. "Dunno. Don't care."
"Why not? Don't want to see her in the morning?" Remus isn't scolding him like he usually does about girls, he's playing, teasing, because he doesn't really care what Sirius thinks, no, he cares, he just knows Sirius won't care.
"No. Just doing it to forget about you."
Remus cocks his head slightly to the side. "Okay, one, why would you want to forget about me, and two, why would snogging girls help you do that?"
"You're cute drunk, you know that?" Sirius asks him, ignoring his questions.
"Um, thanks?" He's not quite sure if being called cute by his best friend is a good thing or not.
"So Moony, I was thinking--"
"Oh no."
"Shut up...I was thinking about maybe...because you know how they say you don't know till you try it? So Peter...no, and James, that would just be gross, so you're the only one left, only one really there in the first place, and--"
"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Remus asks. He's completely bewildered, and the Firewhiskey doesn't help.
Sirius doesn't answer, just leans forward, and in a second his lips are on his and his hands are in Remus's hair and Remus is against the wall, and Sirius is on top of him, sitting on top of him, his legs on either side of him, and Remus doesn't feel the back of his head knocking against the wall. His heart is pounding sluggishly, and Sirius feels like a blur. A very heavy blur.
Sirius pulls back. "That was better than I thought it would be." He grins impishly at Remus.
"When I said 'oh no' I meant it, Pads."
Sirius's face lights up as he smiles almost blindingly. "I thought it was good. Good? No? Again?" His eyes fall to his lips, and something drops in Remus's stomach. He shrugs noncommittally.
He doesn't move when Sirius crashes his lips to his again, but his hands move up automatically to twist in Sirius's hair, and his mouth opens slightly, his tongue running over Sirius's lips, which part. He tastes like Firewhiskey.
He tries not to think about the fact that it's Sirius he's snogging, Sirius whose tongue's touching his, but it is Sirius who it is, and it is Sirius whose hand's slipping up under his shirt.
But it doesn't matter, really, because if it were anyone but Sirius is would be wrong and not as wonderful, it wouldn't make his lips tingle and his heart beat crazily and his whole body feel as if it were more alive than ever.
And he finds he doesn't care as Sirius's clumsy fingers trace a scar, as his lips move to his neck, as his legs fall asleep because Sirius is sitting on them. He isn't concerned in the slightest about being decent. Sirius pulls his shirt over his head and Remus pulls Sirius's off of him and he's wonderfully loose. He marvels at just how wonderful it feels to have severe lack of judgement and a mind clouded by alcohol.
Maybe he should try this more often.
--
IV.
Remus figures he must have a thing for Blacks.
She's nothing like him, nothing at all, with her pink hair and tiny fingers. But there are moments when Remus sees Sirius in her, in her grey eyes, when she lets them be grey, and in her loud, careless attitude, and in the way she kisses him.
But she's nothing like him and what he feels for her is nothing compared to the all-comsuming love he felt for him, but she's there, and she loves him, which he finds unbelievable enough.
And when they make love he forgets about the fact that he's way too old, way too poor, and a werewolf. He forgets about the fact that she's not her mother's cousin. He loses himself and he lets himself lose himself and he likes that he can do that again.
--
V.
Holding his son, Remus Lupin isn't hiding anything.
One hand reaches for Dora's and squeezes, while the other supports the tiny head of Teddy Lupin.
Holding his son, Remus worries, but he's reached a detached sort of worrying.
Teddy's hair changes from pink to turquoise. Remus thinks wryly that he got his mother's gift and (maybe, hopefully not) his father's curse.
Holding his son, Remus Lupin doesn't try to hide.