Remus loved Sirius. He loved Sirius so much it hurt sometimes. But more often than not, it hurt all the time. Sirius and he had never been lovers until after Azkaban, after Voldemort rose again.
In school it had been James and Sirius. James and Sirius were best friends, James and Sirius were lovers, James and Sirius screwed around behind Lily's back, James and Sirius made the female population of Hogwarts cry.
And Remus was ashamed to admit it, but he had used that. Sirius had only ever loved one man, one person in that sort of way, and that was James. Remus had used Sirius' broken heart to find a way into his bed, his soul.
And Sirius pretended so well. He made love as if it were going out of style, smiled at all the right times, made Remus laugh, held him after the full moon, and all the other things lovers were supposed to do.
But he didn't love Remus.
He never would.
And Remus just sat there and smiled and regretted all he had convinced Sirius to do. He had Sirius now, wasn't this what he wanted?
But he knew it wasn't.
He wanted the same thing Sirius wanted.
He wanted to see James alive, running toward Sirius, a kiss on his lips for the man he loved.
If I could relive those days
I know the one thing that would never change
(Nickelback, 'Photograph')
