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Shattered Reflection

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Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own these two delectable men or anything about their back round or future. All of it belongs to the wonderful, the beautiful, the enchanting J. K. Rowling—darn! Why does she get all the good ideas?

Rating: R

Authors Notes: I have been working on this for months. Well, more like I wrote half of it in one day, and then a couple months later I did the other half. I know it is supposed to be a little confusing, so don't you worry your pretty little heads about it, okay? I hope they are not entirely out of character. I tried my hardest—I did! Really! This is my first attempt at Remus/Sirius, so don't be surprised if it well, sucks lemons. This story is dedicated to my muse (hehe) Betty! Go read her stories at "Shaking Where I Stand", they are so good!

Warning: Slash. Gets a little dark around the middle. Depressed!Remus. WantstoshagSirius!Remus. Hehe.

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Chapter One

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"The only thing to fear, is fear itself."

Remus could feel the danger in the air— no, smell it through incredibly sensitive nostrils, sending a shiver of utter fear and revulsion through his blood, pumping to other parts of his body like a water well—while he was near. It was all he could do not to dislodge himself from the other boy and take off running towards some kind of safe haven and huddle in the deep depths of overwhelming pity and hatred. The gnawing sensation at the pit of his stomach that he received from gazing into those silver tinted eyes—eyes that held so many memories and thoughts, honor, pride, and mischief—was almost always too much to bear, causing him to wince and turn the other way.

Why? He did not understand why his stomach rose to his throat and threatened to slip out of the corner of his eyes and ears, just from the presence of the radiant other. The same one that haunted his miserable dreams, keeping him tossing and turning through the night— waking up with his frail chest covered in ominous sweat, and his delicate legs wrapped endlessly in red blankets.

It was almost as if he knew something terrible was making its ghastly way across the plains of their lives, one day going to catch up to them all. It wasn't something he could see or touch, he would sense it— bringing terror into his heart, and pushing others away from him, not wanting to make them take the plunge with him. His heart was telling him to get them to safety, but his mind was telling him to get away.

He couldn't get away. They were always around him, always near—always. How could he possibly push away the one who he loved? The one he yearned for? The one he lusted after with all his heart and…other places? Just the sight of him made the werewolf inside his earthly flesh rise up on the haunches, bearing its piercing teeth and hard jaw, howling to the formidable moon with a wanton rage.

How could anyone expect that of him? How could anything?

He turned his gaze to the towering wall of testosterone that sat mere feet in from of him. A small smile tugged on the ends of his narrow lips at the sight before him—the boy chewed nimbly on that sensuous bottom lip as a bead of sweat ran down the middle of his forehead, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration. A strand of jet-black hair fell down in front of the boy's face, before he swept it back in frustration. Remus' heart contracted in an obviously painful way, his gaze skimming across his gallant mates.

On those nauseating nights once a month when he was tearing his own skin apart, ripping his altered fingernails down his pale chest—ending up laying on the floor withering in pain and complete and utter horror— that feeling would sink into his pores, giving him renewed violence and strength. Telling him to kill it—remove it from their lives before it was to late.

But what? He would ask himself over and again, his brain throbbing from the over-analyzing. What could possibly put all of them in enough danger to ruin their very lives? The other boys seemed to think they were invincible— crawling into dark places, sneaking past rather disgruntled teachers, slipping curses and potions behind their backs while eyes innocently wide, and among other things—fighting. Although Remus certainly did enjoy the adrenaline rush through his veins as they all crouched under that infamous cloak, trying to keep from breathing and snickering, he knew they would eventually get caught. This feeling—this terribly sense—made him realize they weren't invincible and there was something—or someone coming after them.

"Hey, Remus. You okay?"

Remus' gaze snapped to his friends, realizing all too late that he had been glaring at the never-ending row of multicolored books just in front of them. "Er, what?" James was gazing at him—concern stamped across his bemused eyes, framed by thick-rimmed spectacles. Remus licked his lips nervously and saw Sirius look up at him from the corner of his eye. "Oh, yeah, yeah," he waved his hand through the air, almost touching the tension. "I'm fine."

"Good," James exhaled and shot a look down at his paper. "Because really, Moony, I need help. This just doesn't make any bloody sense. Where are we supposed to find this spell, and why would we need to know how to repel water?"

"In case it rains?" Peter squeaked out helpfully, glancing up from his piles of Potions homework.

"In case you get something wet and sticky in your eye?" Sirius drawled; a sheepish grin bestowed upon his face, as he nudged James' ribs and waggled his beauteous eyebrows suggestively.

James' cheeks turned a shocking red—looking rather fetching next to his mishap mop of messy black hair—as he shot Sirius an indignant scowl. Remus chuckled, lifting himself up from his chair and making his way over to his blushing friend. "Here, look," he licked his finger and turned the page of the book. "Right here—Impervius. We learned about this last week in Charms class, Prongs. Weren't you paying attention?" James grinned and shook his head. Remus sighed. "No, I suppose you weren't. It's not a very hard spell, once you get the hang of it. And besides," he glanced at Sirius. "It can only be used on solid substances, like glass or plastic—not people."

Sirius grinned rakishly, his eyebrows shooting up as he stared unabashed at the boy in front of him. "Aw, too bad. We could've put that spell to good use, no?"

Remus choked on his own saliva as his eyes almost bugged out of their sockets. He barely heard James and Peter sniggering beside him because of the sudden ringing in his ears. We, his mind buzzed, as his knees became suddenly weak. We? No, no, no. Sirius, don't do that to me. He fought against the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes, and the sudden beat of his aching heart—thrumming currently to the beat of defeat. He glanced down at Sirius, forcing a playful smile. "Oh, I don't know about that, Padfoot. You wouldn't have to worry about it, considering I would be facing down."

Sirius' eyebrows raised even farther up, disappearing under his dark fringe, his silvery blue eyes misting over with what could only be—Oh, oh my—desire, before purring erotically, "Ooh, Moony, my good little subbie."

James exploded into laughter, banging his callused fists onto the unsteady wooden table. Peter's eyes widened in utter disgust as his mouth thinned into a repulsed line and he sniffed quite loudly before going back to his work, muttering. Remus blushed furiously, his pale fingers gripping onto the table for support, noticing some curious second years looking their way.

"Mr. Potter!" The four boys looked up—or so Remus thought—as a very disgruntled looking Madam Pince made her way to their table. With her newly polished finger-nailed hand she whacked James on the side of his head ("Ouch!") as she made annoying shushing sounds. "This is a Library gentlemen, and if you haven't noticed some people are trying to read. Now quiet, before I kick the lot of you out."

Remus smiled at the flustered Librarian, and soon felt the stare of someone on him. He turned his head slightly to look down, and saw Sirius gazing up at him, that infamous grin still intact. Remus' heart seemed to be thudding a mile a minute at the emotions traveling past Sirius' silvery eyes, and he opened his mouth to say something—anything—to get him to stop looking, but a stab of pain ran through his stomach. That feeling—that god-awful sense—was pumping through his veins and he had to take a step back if he wanted to remain calm on the outside, his features never changing.

Fear mixed with desire and ran through his blood down towards his groin, as his gaze never once left Sirius' stunningly beautiful face. That long—soft to the touch, easy on the eyes—hair that streamed down his impossibly long neck, sending shivers of longing down Remus' sensitive back. He had always wanted to touch that hair, thread his lengthy digits through it and tug, hard, to pull that ravishing face down to his own, and place a searing kiss on those lustfully full lips.

Remus gulped and turned his body away from Sirius; sure that the other boy could see the…er…physical effect he had on him. He tried to keep the blush off of his face as he quietly walked back to his seat—around the still furious Madam Pince—and sat down to continue his work, ducking his face out of view.

Get away. He had to get away. His wolf instincts were kicking in, causing him to literally shake with the effort to hold it back in its place. His fingers tightened around the quill he was holding, his teeth grinding together in indignation.

Far away.

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He could sense it—it was near. There was a an unmistakable odor of blood and extensive amount of fear drifting through the air. It gripped his throat and threatened to choke him. The thing…whatever it was, was here.

His senses were caught in a whirlpool of emotions as he stumbled forward on his hands and knees, squinting up at the lustrous illumination mere inches in front of him. As he proceeded, the light got farther away.

It was near. Catch it, Remus. Get it and kill it.

The sounds, the voices—they were driving him insane. What did it mean? He could hear them clear as day, but the understanding was incomprehensible.

Blue.

Was all he could see. A blue with strings of silver threading their way in and out of the cloud-like form. It seemed happy—as odd as that sounded to him—he knew that whatever this substance was, it was happy.

The thing that came to mind was Sirius—Sirius' wonderful, sensual, lighthearted eyes—that showed whatever the boy was thinking—a key to his unbridled soul.

A streak of red.

A cry in the night.

Pain and utter longing filled blue clouds.

He could feel it then; the thing—whatever it was—was coming towards him. Faster and faster it came. Run! Run! His mind told him. But he couldn't move, couldn't stand. His heart stopped beating in his chest as he stared unabashed at the emotion that he could see.

The red.

It was coming.

Remus' eyes snapped abruptly open, his lupine senses on keen alert as he lurched forward in his bed, chocolate brown hair sliding against his shoulders—his eyes wide and searching. His breath came out in labored pants and he knew, he knew he had heard it—smelled—a patter of feet, a rustle of curtain. Fingers clenching tightly at the red sheets, bundling them up against his chest, he stared into the darkness, eyes searching, waiting.

Had he been murmuring in his sleep, again? Had one of the boys become fed up with the insistent babbling and left to sleep in one of the chairs? He did not think he had muttered anything, for he did not remember. Lifting his hand, he quickly wiped off a drop of sweat from his brow, before slowly lying back down, pulling the covers up to his chin and around his trembling body.

It was the same dream as before. He had been having this dream for the past few weeks, and it was slowly driving him insane. The one question that lingered in his mind hours after he has left the cozy comforts of his bed: What did it mean? The only thing he remembered from it was that cloud-like substance—with its feeling bore to the world, for all to see and feel with their hearts. But why would a cloud have feelings?

And was he going insane? At times like this it was rather hard to find oneself completely, or even a little, sane. His eyes bore into the gold curtain above his head; tears of frustration seeking on the corners of his eyes, begging to be let free. Brushing them away angrily, he started to turn over on his side to resume his sleep, but a sudden noise stopped him. Freezing in mid-turn; the curtains sloshed open noiselessly, presenting a dark silhouette to the night.

A cold fear rose up in Remus' throat. The only thought that ran through his head, buzzing like a bee caught in a web: Stay still. Without breathing, he noticed the bed dip with the weight of the person. A large hand presented itself, dark and tanned, into the glowing moonlight, and Remus visually stopped himself from flinching away, wondering who the fuck was in his bedroom and what would happen to him.

The hand gently lay on Remus' cheek; warm and supple, fingertips callused by years of gripping the splitting wood of a broomstick. Sirius. The air that he had been maintaining in his lungs suddenly let loose in a whoosh, as he relaxed under the touch. Silently turning his face against the soft hand, looking up into Sirius Black's face, outlined handsomely in the light. "Sirius," he breathed.

"Remus," the other boy whispered into the night, his voice sounding almost hesitant.

A sudden thought hit him hard in the groin, unleashing some rather embarrassing feelings coursing through his veins, pumping his blood. Sirius Black was sitting on his bed, holding his large hand against his cheek. You know what they say about boys with large hands, the words ran in his head, as he stifled a groan, twisting his legs closer together. What was he doing here? In his bed? Turning him on?

"Sirius…" he started, still whispering so not to wake the others.

"You—you were crying out for me…in your sleep," his voice was shaky, spilling over Remus like a calm sea; he scooted closer on the bed, bunching up the blankets around his arse as he did so.

Remus flinched at the words. So he had been talking his sleep. "O—oh, was I?"

Sirius nodded his head, black strand bumping against naked shoulders. "Yes. You were. Remus? What were you crying about?"

Remus stiffened at the accusation, the blood rushing from his face. Not wanting to answer, not knowing how to answer he pushed away that delicious hand, flopping over on his stomach. Tucking the scarlet pillow under his chin, he stared at the headboard in mock fascination. "Go away."

He sensed rather than felt Sirius recoil back at the harsh words. He hadn't meant them, not really. It was just… the harsh realization that there was no one to whom he could confide in; trust with this dream. Not a soul that wouldn't laugh at him, or call him batty. Because perhaps he was batty.

Then, that hand that was had laid so gently on his cheek was presently placed on his shoulder blades, pressing gently. Remus' breath hitched dangerously high, as his eyes closed in the pleasure of having skin on skin. Tenderly, his hand descended down Remus' back, sliding against the hot skin, dipping lower—oh so lower—stopping at the small of his back. Remus licked his lips as they parted in a silent exclamation.

The bed bent even lower as Sirius leaned forward, his nipples—hard and perked—sliding against Remus' shoulders. A low groan escaped him, as his hips bucked unconsciously into the sheets. "I'm sorry, Remus," the words were murmured against the tender shell of his ear.

Remus turned his head ever so slightly, to look at the man inducing such delicious terror in him, reflecting on his cock. Brown eyes clashed with silvery-blue. Opening his mouth to say something—anything—their breaths mingled, as his lips brushed against Sirius' dimpled chin.

Remus moaned throatily, placing his hand on Sirius chest—fingers brushing against aroused nipples, shooting fire into the other boys eyes—and pushed with all his might. "Sirius," he gasped. "Just go."

Sirius blinked down at him, his face contorted. Remus had the flashing thought of a disgruntled child that did not get what they wanted from the candy store. Remus' breathing was shallow, and he hoped the sheets were doing a splendid job of covering his aching cock. Face flushed, chest rising, he flattened his palm against the other's muscular chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart. "Sirius…" his voice was whiny, begging, breathless. "Please."

Covering Remus' hand with his own, Sirius drew it away and placed it gently on the blankets next to the panting boy. His face was rigid with refusal. Oh no, Remus groaned into his head. Sirius, my love. It's for your own good… Remus' gaze had a hysteric sense of pleading in it, asking forgiveness. I can't let you play with my heart.

The bed popped up as Sirius stood. "Fine, Remus. Have it your way." Turning on his heel, he padded back to his bed. Remus watched him go, lifting his heat-enflamed body up on a shaky elbow. His gaze traveled down the body of his best friend, swaying hips that only barely held up old pajama pants, rounded arse—perfect for grabbing or resting locked ankles against, up to the nicely toned muscles of his shoulders and strong naturally arched, unmarred back. Remus bit his lip fiercely as his hand slide down his own chest.

He hadn't meant to make Sirius feel refused or even harmed. Remus knew he didn't mean any of the actions, and his heart couldn't take the real refusal—of his soul mate, destined lover, lusted partner.

Remus flopped down against the cold sheets, facing the ceiling once more as his thoughts returned that perfect body. Whimpering slightly, his fingers brushed against the chocolate brown hair on his groin. One day, Sirius. One day. When the soft hand wrapped itself around the hardness, he threw back his head—hair flopping around his forehead, and called out quietly into the night.

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TBC