Author's Note: Hope you're enjoying it so far. Let me know if you are or if there's anything I could work on. Thanks for the reviews so far! This entire chapter is in the present.


The present

Remus Lupin's eyes shot open. He could feel sweat dripping down each side of his face. Or was he crying? He couldn't be sure. He pored through vivid dream images, and tried to relax whilst reassuring himself that, once again, none of it had happened. The destruction, anger, and the decaying results: they never took place. Not ever. He wiped his sleeve across his face, before stuffing his face into his pillow.

He'd killed him again. It happened every night.

The werewolf snarled. There was no recognition and no control. Except there was, this time. Lupin glared. The boy in front of him looked terrified beyond what a human was capable of feeling. Lupin wanted him dead. In this dream, he knew it was Sirius Black standing in front of him. He knew, and he hated him for it. Slowly, he closed in on him. The boy couldn't do a thing. Carefully, cruelly, he ripped him apart.

Remus stifled a whimper. He knew how it would have felt to rip the flesh off of who he had just weeks ago considered his best friend. He knew what it was like to kill someone he loved- someone he had kissed and held and longed to touch.

It was unsettling to think that in reality he really had killed him... perhaps not in werewolf form and perhaps not physically. However, he had torn him apart. He could see it every day.

Lupin's heartbeat slowed to a more natural pace and he then rolled over. He allowed self-resentment to fill him and consume every part of his being. This was not the start to a very good day.

However, it was the same start to every day. He would not be sleeping any more tonight. He would wait- and hate- until the appropriate time for rising would come. A lot of him wondered if anyone had heard him in his sleep.

Most of him just wondered if Sirius was awake too.


Sirius rinsed the razor. He covered his cheeks, chin, and jaw. He buried them in fluffy, white shaving cream. It stung the open cuts on his lips. He didn't care.

Carelessly, he tossed the blade across his face and then held it under the warm water pouring out of the tap. He ran it lightly across the flesh of his neck. Sirius wondered what it would feel like to press it harder, to make himself bleed until he didn't have to be any longer.

He was willing to bet it would feel pretty awful and then it wouldn't feel like anything at all.

Before he could test this belief, he watched a light brown-haired teen enter the restroom, from the mirror in front of him. He watched him say hello and not receive a response. He watched him turn on the sink next to his own and splash cool water on his face. He watched him remove his shirt and underwear. He felt himself tense up, allowing himself to believe for just a second that Remus would now approach him, hold him, touch him.

Instead, wordlessly, Remus turned on the water in the shower and got in. Sirius sighed, but first, he could have sworn he heard the former boy sob. He could have sworn.

He washed his poorly shaved face and left. He wished he could have showered with him. He imagined Remus' warm skin pressed against his own, their lips devouring one another, hands ravaging the other's body.

And then he figuratively woke up and tried to get on with the day.


The day was long and yet it was like it had never happened. It was as if he had never woken up, as if classes had never taken place. Sirius couldn't remember it even though it wasn't over yet. He was cold and unfeeling.

Except he wasn't. He was terribly human. He ached, a whole lot, most of the time. His intense blue-grey eyes stung at the best of times. He let sadness consume him. He let himself be the tragic, pathetic, self-pitying, teenager that he knew he was. What else was he to do?

It was like the world was on fire.

He was trapped; his lungs were filled with an oxygen that did not allow proper breathing. His mind was filled with a panic that could not be calmed. He wanted to cry out, to say goodbye to the boy he would die for. To kiss him for the last time, to hold him, knowing, that he would be dead within minutes.

But he couldn't do that, as he would not be dead within minutes. It would take years, and would be no catastrophe. He would waste away, perhaps his pain would settle with a mere dull ache. He quite suddenly felt a strong urge to get up and push his silver blade deep into the flesh of his chest.

He longed to break his own heart.

Sirius eased into thoughts of Remus Lupin. How strange it had all been. He'd kissed Remus on multiple occasions.

He'd been kissed back, some of the times.

If he was so damnsure about not wanting me, Sirius thought. Then why had he allowed me to hold him? Why had he brushed my lips with his soft tongue?

The considerations did not bring hope and they did not bring relief. They brought only confusion and discomfort.

He wished he could just not care. As if he had a say. As if he cared by choice. As if he wanted to look at the handsome, wreck of a boy every day in class, and every day at lunch. As if he could pretend he didn't hurt.

Every night that he didn't sleep he was haunted by images of his beautiful, blue-eyed, heartbreaker. Some nights he yelled at him, some he kissed him fiercely. It was all very hard to bear, and every night he so badly wished he had the privilege of crawling into Remus' bed. How perfect it would be to absorb the teen's warmth and to make the other boy's bad dreams meaningless. He was certain that this privilege would allow him sleep, but that it was also impossible to attain.

He absolutely could not understand why Remus had apologized to him. He could not understand his strange behavior or his pain, but Sirius knew of it. He truly believed that he now saw him as he was, and not as he seemed. He was deeply troubled, Sirius knew, but he also was aware that he could not make a difference towards the matter.

I don't want you, he had said.

Sirius realized that the classroom was no longer filled with students. He had entirely forgotten that this was where he had been. He quickly stood up, gathered his things, and then stopped. Remus was sitting in front of him, head on his desk. He was fast asleep, and the professor was absent. Hate consumed him for having the thoughts he did. Firstly, he wanted to put his hands down Remus' shirt in order to feel his smooth, muscled stomach. He then wanted to suck the boy's neck and reach down the front of his pants, hardening both of their dicks. He wanted to ravage his body, taking all of it to sate his needs.

"Fuck my life," he spoke angrily. "Remus, mate, get up." Gently, he shook the boy's shoulder. The feeling of contentment and warmth surprised him. God I am such a waste. Such a waste, he thought repeatedly. "Moony," he spoke.

"Ah, sorry," Remus mumbled, raising, and turning his head in order to get a good look at Sirius. The latter boy quickly removed his hand from his shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to wake me... didn't at all mean to fall asleep."

"S'all right," he said quietly, his dark eyes flashed rapidly to and away from the other boy's tired, blue eyes. They looked more grey than blue today. "You don't sleep well, do you?"

"Not particularly... but neither do you." Remus licked his dry lips and rubbed his eyes and face. Sirius watched him.

"I sometimes do," he lied.

"Sirius, I hear you," Remus gave him a disapproving stare, trying to steal his eye contact. "You clear your throat, you get up, and you toss all night. It's a shame really, have you tried potions?"

"They... well, I suppose they don't work well on me. My body doesn't cope well." He felt awkward, especially since he was tall and standing and the other boy was not. He suddenly had a strong urge to leave. He would not spare the boy seated in the chair in front of him a second glance. Except he didn't budge. The second urge he felt was to place his thumb and first finger on Remus' chin and pull it towards his own. When Remus suddenly stood up it surprised him enough to take a step backwards even though he wasn't all that close.

"I know what you mean. They actually make me throw up, sleeping potions. Pathetic, really. I guess it's my weak stomach. And then I get nightmares." he shuddered visibly, and began to pack up his quills and parchment. He thought about the strange urge he felt, and wondered if he really was the monster in his dream. Maybe he really wanted to kill him.

Sirius had no response. He didn't want to leave anymore. He just wanted to listen to Remus talk. "Er, Moony? Can you keep talking?" Remus raised an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah. I'm not going to lie, I do miss speaking with you." Sirius looked away, firstly towards the door and then at the floor beneath him. "Sorry. Not just for... I really am so sorry, Sirius. So sorry."

"Why are you so goddamn sorry?" asked Sirius, suddenly angry. "It doesn't make any fucking sense. I don't understand anything you say to me. I don't know why you're such a wreck, all the time. I'm the one who pursued you. I did things you didn't want me to. I'm all wrong for you. And you know what the worst part about it is? I still want you. I want you so badly that it hurts. It fucking hurts, Remus."

The other boy winced, and closed his eyes tightly. Sirius had a pretty good idea of why he did this now. He suddenly felt very guilty for what he'd just said. "I- sorry, I'm sorry Remus. I should have kept that to myself. I know you have your reasons. Sorry."

"I do, but it's my fault. The apology should be mine," he whispered. He stared at the ebony-haired teen's pained eyes. Sirius mumbled something incoherent and raised eyes to reach Remus'. And like that, they stood and stared for at least a minute. Sirius just stared, dazed, and he knew he'd pay for it tonight when he couldn't sleep. He knew this moment would hurt him as soon as it was over.

Remus bit his lip and ran a hand through his tangled brown hair. He felt the urge he had before, but this time he realized that it wasn't to hurt Sirius.

It was to get closer to him.

They were so close it could have been nauseating for the both of them had they been with any other human beings. Sirius did not try to hide the clear longing drawn all across his face. He could hear, feel, smell, Remus breathing. There was an intimacy in standing here with him, so alone, that made him freeze. He shifted uncomfortably.

He had been known to feel the arousal he felt at this very moment when in company of the boy here. "I don't understand," he whispered. "I don't..."

He couldn't speak; he stopped himself just as his lips brushed Remus'. He froze, "I'm really fucking so-"

But Remus rammed into him. He kissed him hard. He wasn't gentle, he was rough and desperate and longing. Sirius could feel the need attached to his actions. He also felt his own need and pleasure. This was a part of what he'd longed for.

It was everything.

He could taste Remus' warm, dry lips against his own. He bit the other boy's lip and allowed access for his tongue. His hands wandered below his waist. Desire consumed him. There was something about this urgency, this desperation, in the deserted classroom, that made him, literally, throb with need.

Remus held him more tightly than either of them had ever been held before. This was like nothing either boy had ever felt; for a second Sirius really believed he felt an electric current shoot up his spine. Remus pushed Sirius and himself on a nearby desk, and took all that he could from him. He opened his eyes and paused suddenly, so Sirius did the same.

Remus' lips pulled away and he shuddered slightly, his blue eyes wide with fear, "Fucker! I am such a stupid fucker. God damn. I am so sorry."

Without another word, he left. Sirius felt a mix of extreme confusion and hurt. The excitement and magic he'd felt just seconds ago was gone like lightning and he had to put all he had into not breaking down. Sirius could not comprehend this strange behavior. He felt vulnerable and he felt cheated.

Fuck my life, thought Sirius Black. This is so unfair. What did I do to deserve this bullshit?