Song is blasting/chorus lasting/and he doesn't even know…/every time I see you/maybe I don't wanna be/caught up in the wreckage/caught up in the wreckage…
–The Dollyrots, Wreckage
Fourth year
December 2nd
Remus
I'd known exactly what was going to happen, really. I'd hoped it wouldn't, but it did. I'd been expecting it since the unceremonious ending of the debacle itself, to be perfectly honest. I couldn't even begin to count the number of times I'd told myself that, whether I liked it or not, I'd been his little experiment, just trying it on for size. And, really, I couldn't say that was a happy thought, there wasn't a lot I could do about it, and it was hardly like he'd… I don't know, raped me or something, so I was dealing with it. More concisely, I was sulking and licking my metaphorical wounds. I was being stupid, really, I knew. I was hardly the first person this had ever happened to.
Of course, that was all before I saw him sloping off with Elena Miles.
And while I'd kind of expected it to happen, I hadn't really thought about it, you know? Or expected it to happen so soon. And it hurt. Fucking hell, it hurt, in a way a bruised ego and a disillusioned crush really, really shouldn't have done. I could literally feel it, curling around the pit of my stomach and making me want to act like a spoilt child: cry and rage and lash out at her. She was perfectly nice, too. A bit of a slag, maybe, but by no means the complete bitch you're allowed to hate for getting off with the object of youraffections. Somehow, that only made it worse. I was angry, really, as much as sad. See, I loved him, clumsily, madly, agonisingly and completely, but he was so fucking predictable, acting like a bloody child, running away from anything that threatened to topple the comfortable, worn-in pattern of his life.
It wasn't until a few seconds after they'd left that I was still just standing there. Trying valiantly to just hold it together until I could get upstairs, away from all these people, I seized my bag and pretty much ran for it.
With only the prospect of colossal humiliation stopping me bursting into girly, noisy tears, I made for the bathroom.
Having cleaned myself up a bit and given myself a good mental talking to, I staggered out again. What I needed right then was a nice, long, boring essay to get my teeth into. Anything to just get him the hell out of my head for a while. With a bit of luck, if I could just sneak back downstairs no one would even know I'd been gone…
'Moony.' It was James. Dammit… busted. He must have followed me up. Wearily and warily, I turned.
'Yeah?'
He looked at me intently, bottle-green eyes cutting right through me. I was going to have to be careful – it wouldn't be the first time I'd underestimated James. He might not have been the brightest spark in the wand, but he knew me too well and occasionally displayed these alarming flashes of perception. 'Tell me, Moon.'
I swallowed nervously. Uh oh. 'Tell you what?'
He tutted and heaved himself from a sprawl to a reasonable approximation of sitting. 'You know bloody well what. Something's bothering you.'
'I think Lily Evans is getting to your head, Prongs,' I said, falsely lightly, as I started subtly sidling towards the door. 'Nothing's bothering me.'
'Liar,' he drawled, without a second's hesitation. 'I might not be as smart as you, Moony, but I wasn't born yesterday. There is something, isn't there? You've been weird for ages. 'Specially the last couple days. And don't even think about running away,' he added, noticing me edging away from him, 'I've put a locking charm on the door that only I can undo.'
Sighing deeply and turning back to face him – after all, there was no getting out now, James was the undisputed master at locking charms – I looked right into those wide, honest eyes and lied through my teeth. For the first time, uneasiness stirred restlessly in the pit of my stomach. I didn't like lying like this – after all, he'd kept my other secret. The big, furry one. But this? I had no idea how he'd react. And what if he accidentally let it slip? I'd be a dead man walking. 'Nothing. Honestly. Let me out, Prongs.'
He groaned, frustrated, running a hand through his unruly, black hair. 'Don't do this, Moon…'
'Do what?' I was going for innocence, but I don't think it quite came off. To be honest, I was thoroughly disturbed by the fact that my acting hadn't been nearly as good as I'd thought.
'You know… shutting me out like this,' He looked right into me, positively defining genuine concern. Fuck you, Sirius Black, for making me do this. 'Whatever it is,' he continued, in a rush, 'you'll still be my mate. I'm not gonna… I don't know, start treating you like you're fucking contagious or something.'
There were several grammatically and politically incorrect things about this sentence, but it was the least of my worries.
I sighed heavily, flopping down onto my bed and wincing slightly at the mattress' indignant squeaks. Clearly, I wasn't getting out until I'd spilled some beans. 'Honestly, James, it's nothing. By which I mean that you really, really don't want to know.'
'But what I don't think you realise is that the more you tell me I don't want to know, the more I do.' He offered a wide, endearing, hopeful smile, instantly dropping several years in age.
'Naturally,' I said, drily. At heart, James was still about seven years old.
'So, what is it? Or,' he added, eyeing me craftily in a way I did not like, 'who is it?'
'No one you'd know,' I blurted, automatically yet blatantly falsely, realising my mistake a split second too late. Bugger…
'AHA! So it is someone.' He was so pleased with his detecting skills, he was practically jumping up and down. A treacherous smile tugged at my mouth. It was ridiculous; he was practically a walking happy pill, unless you'd managed to get yourself on his bad side.
But I'll hand it to him, he had a knack for getting things out of people.
'Yeah,' I admitted. I couldn't even screw up the motivationto fix my little slip of the tongue. 'I mean it, though. If you knew who it was it'd probably kill you. I'm only thinking of your health here.'
His eyes narrowed, the light slicking almost menacingly over his glasses. 'Not Lily?'
I laughed properly at that, not because so much there was anything wrong with Lily but just because quite literally no one could have been further from my thoughts. 'No, James. Not Lily.'
Instantly, he turned defensive. 'What're you saying about Lily?!'
It was the laugh, I knew. I shouldn't have laughed. 'Nothing,' I assured him. 'You like her so much I wouldn't even think about it. Even if she was my type.'
That seemed to placate him, at least temporarily. 'Good. Or I really would have to kill you.'
'I don't doubt it.'
He was thinking again. That worried me. 'Not Lily… Another girl then?'
'No. Just… no. Really, really not.'
'Not a girl… a boy, then?'
Well, that was logical, I supposed.
'No shit, Sherlock…'
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 'Sherlock?'
'Ugh… never mind. It's a muggle thing.'
'I'll take your word for it. So, a guy… Someone giving you trouble? Do we need to rough someone up a bit?' he looked positively hopeful. James had a long, wide protective streak that extended automatically to cover me, Sirius, Lily, even Peter – anyone close to him. It was quite touching, actually, but let's just say that no one was ever going to mistake him for a member of the international magical peacekeeping squad.
I sighed. 'Unfortunately, it's not quite like that. Much as I'd like to, I don't think decking him is the way forwards.'
'Then what is it like? You can talk to me, Moony. I honestly don't think anything could surprise me more than your furry little problem did when we finally worked it out.' He half-smiled, remembering, but the worry and curiosity were still there, underneath. Well, it was time to bite the bullet.
'Go back to the bit where you thought it was a girl…' I swallowed, suddenly wondering if this had been a good idea. 'Then swap girl for boy.'
Comprehension dawned. 'Oh.'
Silence fell with an almost audible thud. The decrepit (possessed?) grandfather clock by the door to the bathroom ticked deafeningly. It was at this point when I started to reflect on the wisdom of this particular confession.
'So,' he said, positively oozing awkward vibes, but (promisingly) not flipping out. Yet. 'You, er, like guys then?'
'It's not even that,' I said, miserably. 'It's not… guys in general. Just him.'
I realised as I was saying it how true it was. He nodded thoughtfully, digesting this.
'Well?' he prompted, eventually, with unconditional acceptance that I could literally feel spreading slowly through me like a hot drink on a cold day. 'Who is it?'
I got up, already heading back to the common room, away from this painfully uncomfortable conversation. It didn't sit well, shutting him out (as he'd put it) like this. Not after he'd taken the revelation that I wasn't quite as straight as he'd thought so well. I turned back.
'I could tell you,' I said, in all seriousness, echoing him just a few minutes ago, 'but I'd have to kill you.'
I made for the door. Then, remembering it was locked, I offered him my most angelic smile. 'Are you going to take that locking charm off the door now? Otherwise people are going to wonder what we've been doing up here...'
A/N: Hope you enjoyed... I'm having so much fun writing this, you wouldn't believe. Loved it? Hated it? I'd like to know what you think :).
