A/N: Set in chapter five of HP: Order of the Pheonix. So here we go again. This could be seen as a sequel to "In Place of Her" but I think it can be read alone. Lupin grabbed me by the throat and angsted pitifully at me. I'll post the second part later. Enjoy...SB/RL angst/fluff whatever. Partially inspired by "Ghost" by the Indigo Girls. Eventually RL/Tonks

Burning Bright

I

"He's not a child," Sirius replied impatiently to Molly, eyes bright. I knew he could never resist a fight, no matter how small. He had always enjoyed even verbal sparring, though he had never been good with words, by his own confession.

I think I was the only one in the room who realized exactly how deeply Molly's next words struck him.

"He's not an adult, either!" she retorted, the colour rising in her face. "He's not James, Sirius!"

Sirius flushed scarlet, then went dead white. I could clearly read him: rage, shock, hurt. He answered Molly after just a moment too long. "I am perfectly...perfectly clear who he is," Sirius managed, voice tight, almost quivering. He turned on his heel and left the room, back straight and tense.

He did not look back, even when I called his name. I abandoned my wine, and followed him, tossing an apologetic look to the others. I knew he was going away to sulk, probably, and usually I would have let him. But something about the hurt on his face at Molly's comment...it disturbed me.

I followed him up the stairs, like a wolf hunting the fox to its den. I knew he would be in his old room. I think he knew I was following him. When I reached the top of the stairs, the door to his childhood room was pulled almost to, but not latched. It stood faintly open, as if beckoning. I took a deep breath–merely because of all the stairs–and walked in, shutting the door behind me.

He was standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his chest, staring past me blindly.

"Sirius," I called.

His gaze jumped to me. I realized that perhaps he had not been expecting me. I felt a little uneasy, now, and berated myself for my assumption of welcome and entry. But his lips twitched into a little smile. "Remus," he acknowledged.

I took a deep breath. "I don't think she meant to hurt you," I started, unable to think of any other way to begin. "She's just trying to protect Harry, you know."

He twitched, and his smile vanished. He looked away. "I...I know...but how...how could she say that? I know he's not James, I know it, dammit! Does she think I could not know it every time I look at him? He's got Lily's eyes, no matter how much he does look like James, even if...even if..." he trailed off, breathing unevenly. Grief was stark on his face, and he shook his head, hiding his face behind the fall of his long, dark hair.

"I know," I murmured, stepping closer. "She didn't mean to hurt you."

I realized he had not heard me. "Lily's eyes, Lily's eyes," he muttered, almost singsong. "I know he's not James...Harry won't give up on me."

Those words struck straight through me, shocked me back a step and burned into my heart. "Sirius," I hissed. He looked up, startled, and I could read the grief on his face, and what lay underneath...hurt and betrayal, bitter and so many years old. I knew that sick look. "You loved him." The world shifted beneath me, and the matching hurt and bitterness swelled up against my own throat.

I read the truth in the way his blue grey eyes widened. Then he shut them, and shook his head, violently. "No...I don't...You know I can't love anyone," he snapped, the bitterness choking his voice. "You told me that, and it must be true. You're always right."

I realized how much that desperate, furious stab of teenage agony had really, really hurt him. All these years...I bit my lip and stepped back again. I never...I had meant to hurt, in my petty anger, but never...

II

I solemnly swore never to sleep with Sirius Black sometime in our fifth year. Why? I knew it would mean nothing to him if I did. He came in night after night smelling like a different girl...and one night he came in smelling of two separate girls and one boy. I swore then and there I would never sleep with him. I swore I would never ask. I knew he would say yes if I asked, and that it would not mean anything to him. I wanted it to mean something.

Sirius was handsome, with good features, well-kept hair, and those striking grey-blue eyes. Even I knew he was a looker, and I did not pay much attention to those things. Besides his good looks, he could be very charming at times. On his good days everyone loved him. He had the few days where he would seek solitude, closed off from even his closest friends, but those came fewer and far between as the years went on. Girls flocked to him, attracted by his face and his casual flirting.

I think what attracted me to him was the way he latched onto everyone. I could see beneath that confident veneer...he was desperately looking for love and acceptancejust as I was. Every relationship he went through he was searching for what he had never had as a child. He did not really know how to love; girls left him just as quickly as they picked him up. But he tried so hard to give them what they wanted, in the hope they could give him what he needed. I knew what it felt like to crave acceptance... As a werewolf, I knew rejection very well. It was difficult for me to watch him claw so desperately after every shred of affection his lovers would give him...and fall apart every time they left him, spitting harsh words that would hurt him so deeply.

Of course, in the end, I was no better than they were.

By the end of our fifth year, I knew I had fallen hard for him. I could not get him out of my head. I wondered what it would be like to have him look at me the way he looked at his lover...that sincere smile with the hidden need beneath it. To have him leaning so casually against me, sharing body warmth as easily as he shared his secret laughter. I was constantly tempted to touch him...just touch him. To run my fingers through his hair, to rub the tension out of his shoulder, to just touch him as easily as he touched his lovers. I wanted that easy acceptance and familiarity.

And I swore I would never have it. Teenagers induce a lot of their own misery themselves, I have found.

I justified my promise to myself with so many reasons. I never really admitted to myself just why I wanted him, just what I wanted from him. At first it was because he only liked girls. Then it was because I was his friend. Later, that changed to because I was not handsome. I knew it. My monthly transformations were draining, and I scarred myself up very badly in those days. Even now I use a mild cosmetic charm to hide my scars. It is not because I am vain...rather, I dislike people staring at me. I have a really hideous scar across my face I got in my third year...I hooked my dew-claw in the corner of my eye, somehow, and laid my face open to the bone, from eye to jaw. It got infected, healed up, became infected again, and Madame Pomfrey had to cut open the scar-tissue so it could heal again. By the end of my fourth year it was a thick, seamed scar from the top of my cheekbone down to my jaw. It is faded now, but still prominent.

The last reason was because Sirius was sleeping with James. I found them out in our sixth year. I came up during lunch late in the year and found them, naked and very involved, Sirius's face flashing in and out of view behind his sun-lit hair, making those heart-breaking cries with every thrust. He sounded like he was sobbing. Red-tinged, slowly blueing bruises were mottled down his back and under James's fingers on his hips, and all up and down his arms. I think what shocked me most was the sheer wrongness of it all...James loved Lily, and here he was shagging Sirius into the mattress...his best friend... How clearly I can recall feel the sudden stab of betrayal, as Sirius's voice keened sharp and short, and they collapsed into a tangled heap of skin and limbs in the sunshine. Betrayal...how could he do this to me?! But I knew he was not really betraying me...how could he when we had never had anything more than friendship? But the heart is not rational.

I scolded them both, told James to stop using Sirius like that, tried to tell Sirius that he was being used, tried to tell Sirius to break it off. I know he did not listen to me. I could see it in his eyes. I watched him so much I could read him well. I could tell his mood and reaction even better than James could, James who spent so much time with his pseudo-lover and friend.

It was our final year that I fought with him. Fed up with dreams dashed and hope scattered, bitter and twisting love into hate, I had a shouting match with Sirius in front of the entire Gryffindor common room. I told him he was loose and easy, no better than a whore on the street, sleeping with anybody that asked. I screamed that he knew nothing about keeping relationships, that he did not know how to love anyone. I took such low blows I am still ashamed of myself. At the time, I was hurt and angry and ended the entire debacle by giving Sirius a black eye. We were less than friends after that. I felt I deserved it but felt that it was his fault, and hated and loved him more than ever.

The war began, we fell apart, and then he was gone.

I was left with regret and a love I had never before realized had consumed me so completely.

Until it was gone.