Speak to Me
Second Year
"I've been mad for fucking years, absolutely years, been over the edge for yonks, been working me buns off for bands..."
"I've always been mad, I know I've been mad, like the most of us...very hard to explain why you're mad, even if you're not mad..."
"So, Remus." Sirius lounges on one side of him, James on the other. Sirius' arm rests across his shoulders.
"Hey." He says it cautiously, looking from one to the other slowly. He sets down his book. After more than a year with them, he knows that when they sit down like this and don't start talking immediately about some prank other other, something's wrong.
And oh, is something wrong.
"Is there something you want to tell us, Remus?"
Remus freezes. Literally, freezes. And then he thinks that if it wasn't already obvious, there it is.
"No."
"Remus..." Sirius tries to look at his eyes, but he stares at the ground. It really is interesting, he thinks. Why can't Sirius see that? Much more interesting than him and his stupid secret.
"My name is Remus Lupin and I'm crap at Herbology and my mother's ill," he says in a rush. Remus notices that Peter isn't there. "Where's Peter?" He asks, trying, hopelessly, to bring the topic of discussion away from the something he's not telling them.
"Still at dinner," James said.
"Your mother's not ill," Sirius says, and it's soft, slightly angry. He stands up abruptly.
"Sirius," James hisses, and they exchange a glance, speaking without words in a way only Sirius Black and James Potter can do.
"We're friends, Remus. And you know what friends do? They don't lie to each other. And you know what else they do? They don't ditch their friends on the tiny little fact that they're a--"
"Sirius!"
Sirius is staring down at Remus, and a twelve-year-old Sirius Black staring down at him with a mixture of anger and passion and affection is almost as intimidating as...well, almost anything, except perhaps the moon.
"That they're a what? That I'm a what?" Remus challenges him, and it's almost like James isn't there and Remus feels like Sirius is about to whip out his wand and hex him.
"Nothing, Remus, if you don't want us to know we won't." As if that could change it. As if one word Remus says could erase it right from their memories and thoughts.
"I never--"
"We don't care." Sirius almost spits it out. He sits back down next to Remus, close, as if to prove it. "We don't care what you are, you could be McGonagall in disguise and we'd still be you're friends."
"Well, that'd be a bit of a stretch, even for you," James tells him, the ever-present grin tugging at his lips. Remus thought he looked strange without it--this is much better.
Remus can't hide the smile as Sirius picks up his book.
"Though you could be, considering...Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two. At least it's something assigned."
There's a pause and then James says. "Really, Remus, we don't care. I can't think why you'd think we would."
"Oh, yeah, I'll just tell you, first night at Hogwarts, 'Hello, I'm Remus Lupin, I happen to be a werewolf, and you are...?" And Remus realizes that if they hadn't known earlier, if they'd gotten it wrong, now they know. And there's no taking it back.
Sirius takes his hand and shakes is heartily. "Sirius, disowned son of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, nice to meet you."
"Where do you go?" James asks, and Sirius drops his hand. They're excited now, at the prospect of something else hidden about Hogwarts for them to find out. They're both staring at him with wide eyes. "Is it a room or something, or do you just run about the grounds, or does Dumbledore--"
"The Shrieking Shack," Remus says, and it's met by heavy silence.
For about two seconds. "The Shrieking Shack? But it's haunted."
"But that's not--"
"But you're--"
"But...does it hurt?" Sirius' question is, once again, so un-Sirius-ly sensitive.
Remus shrugs, ignoring the burning grey of his eyes. "A bit."