Chapter seven:
The weekend before the start of term, Sirius hovered near the doorway of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office. Remus had several boxes piled high on the far wall, and the shelves were already filled with books.
"Er, have a seat," Remus offered, gesturing hastily to the threadbare sofa near the fireplace. He scratched his neck absent-mindedly, careful not to look in Sirius's direction for more than a few seconds.
Sirius hesitated, wondering if it wasn't perhaps too late to call the whole thing off. Teaching was one thing; sharing an office in immediate proximity to Remus Lupin was too much. Sirius forced himself to take a few hesitant steps forward, sitting down stiffly on the edge of the sofa. He sighed, rubbing his hands over the top of his legs several times before looking up and realizing Remus was watching him expectantly.
"Sorry?"
"Tea," Remus repeated.
"Oh. Er…sure. Okay."
Remus poured a mug and handed it to Sirius, their fingers grazing for a split second. Sirius cradled the mug in his hands protectively, looking halfway in the general direction of Remus. He felt like a student waiting in pained anticipation to find out just how severe his punishment was to be. Remus himself hesitated near the fireplace, half moving toward the sofa and half stepping aside. Finally he settled on dragging a trunk nearby and sitting across from Sirius.
"I, er, have a copy of the first unit lesson plans for you to review," Remus told him. "The full moon lands at the end of the second week in September."
Sirius nodded to indicate his understanding.
"You are, of course, welcome to use this office as you need—"
Sirius cleared his throat. "Dumbledore gave me a different one on the sixth floor."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Okay. Well, good. I'll give you the password, though, just in case."
"Right."
There was another stilted silence.
"When do you take over for Aurora?"
"Around Christmas," was the short reply. Sirius tapped his heel anxiously against the floor. He didn't know how to be around Remus anymore. A relentless itch was developing on the back of his neck, and Sirius had to fight the urgent desire to explode.
Remus nodded, pursing his lips for a moment. "So…are you moving back? To England?" he asked after a moment. "Or are you just coming back when you have teaching duties?"
Sirius swallowed a sip of tea hard. He glanced around Remus's office in its half-completed state so he didn't have to look at its owner. "I don't know…I haven't really decided."
Another silence. It was exactly four days before James and Lily died that Sirius had last seen or heard from Remus. Not after he had been arrested, and certainly not in the nine and a half years after he had been released from Azkaban. He had played out how their reunion would go over and over in his head, but this—sharing a teaching post at Hogwarts—had never made it into the fantasy.
"You know, I…" Remus began. Sirius looked over at him to continue, but Remus had lapsed into silence, staring at the empty fireplace.
"What?" Sirius prompted quietly.
"No, it doesn't matter," Remus said hastily, waving a hand distractedly.
"What?" Sirius repeated, more sternly this time.
Remus sighed. "I was against the whole thing about the Order tracking you down—"
"They—what?"
"Years ago, when you first left England—" Remus explained, waving a dismissive hand like it wasn't at all unusual to be tracked by a secret organization dedicated to fighting Dark wizards. "The Order wasn't exactly an organization anymore, but most of its members still offered to work for Dumbledore when needed—Dumbledore was, er, rather curious where you had gone to, you see. So a few people who worked for the Ministry offered to track you down, and—er—keep tabs on you for a time." He looked up at Sirius apologetically. "That's how Dumbledore knew how to find you so quickly—and he knew you still wanted Harry, so I think that's what he used to convince you to come back."
"So you knew about this whole thing?" Sirius asked testily. "About him practically blackmailing—"
"No," Remus said quickly, eager to absolve himself. "No, I had no idea—"
"So you just thought it would be grand to share a teaching post?"
Remus sighed. "No," he said again, this time slowly and carefully. "Dumbledore said it was very important for you to come back to England, that's all—I think he was waiting for your reaction before telling the Order anything further."
Sirius felt his eyebrows rising further with each word. He was irritated to learn that Dumbledore had been spying on him for years, but not surprised. "So… what?" Sirius asked dully. He had spent too many years being demonized to feel angry at Remus's revelation. "Did he think I was trying to find Voldemort or something?"
"No," Remus said slowly. "No, he pretty much accepted the Wizengamot's decision to clear you."
"Did you?" Sirius asked idly before he could stop himself.
Remus dropped his gaze.
"You know, don't answer that," Sirius added quickly just as Remus had opened his mouth to speak. He pinched the bridge of his nose to fight the headache that was forming there. "It doesn't matter."
Remus ran a hand over his gold eyes tiredly. "Of course it matters," he muttered.
Sirius took a deep breath, looking around the office, taking note of his escape routes. He hadn't meant for their conversation to go this far.
"I don't…know what to think, even now," Remus continued.
"You don't know if you think I'm a murderer?" Sirius paraphrased skeptically. He could feel his guard—which he had allowed to falter around Remus upon coming back—rising up with rapid speed.
Remus looked up at him. "You did kill Peter."
Sirius took a deep, shaky breath. He looked at Remus warily, but all he saw was a carefully-guarded mask. This was his answer: all else aside, Remus considered him a murderer. Sirius supposed technically he was, but he had hoped that the circumstances surrounding it all would have meant something. Sirius nodded silently, unable to come up with a good counter-argument. "Yeah," was the short reply.
"So sometimes I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about it all," Remus added, a slight coolness to his voice now. "I don't think you deserved to go to Azkaban over it, once it was obvious you weren't the Secret Keeper—"
"You know, it's fine," said Sirius roughly, getting to his feet. "You don't have to explain it to me—"
"Sirius—"
Sirius set his half-empty mug on Remus's desk and found the folder of lesson plans with his name written on it. "I realize that we have to maintain some level of civility if we're working together, but you don't have to explain to me why you don't trust me," Sirius added sharply. "I didn't come back to Hogwarts to beg your forgiveness or your friendship, and I doubt you feel you need mine, either—I came here for Harry's sake. That's all. So if you feel like you need to absolve yourself of something, don't bother—you're ever Remus the good boy, and I'm just…" Sirius waved his hand. "Whatever. Read the Daily Prophet if you want to pick something out." He offered Remus a sarcastic half-wave before shutting the office door and heading down the empty corridors. His footsteps echoed in the silence, which felt suffocating. Had these halls always been so long?
Sirius pushed past the heavy doors and marched across the courtyard, quickening his pace to get as far away from the school as he could. He was sorely tempted to head to the Three Broomsticks for a drink, but too many people would recognize him there. Instead he found his feet carrying him toward the far side of the lake, toward the spot he had frequently haunted in his school days. The enormous lakeside boulder was still there, though the water level was further out these days. Sirius climbed onto the top, settling himself on its mossy surface. The school was completely hidden by forest from this spot, giving the feeling of real solitude.
He shouldn't be feeling so disappointed—he had known exactly how Remus felt over ten years ago. Remus didn't interfere with Sirius's arrest, hadn't come to rescue him from Azkaban, and had certainly maintained a flawless silence for the nine or ten years Sirius spent away from the wizarding world. He hated it—he hated that he cared—he hated that Remus so obviously didn't.
Sirius pulled his last pack of muggle cigarettes from his pocket and lit one with the tip of his wand. He took a few deep drags, exhaling the grey smoke through his nose. When the lightheadedness kicked in, Sirius took a steadying breath, staring gloomily out across the silent lake.
He needed to get over it. No one had come looking for him for ten years, and just because Dumbledore needed him now, it didn't mean anything had really changed.
"Look," came an unexpected voice suddenly.
Sirius jumped so hard he nearly fell from the boulder. He whipped around, heart beating furiously against his chest, to see Remus stepping carefully over tree roots and loose stones as he approached from the forest. Remus stopped when he was several meters away, his hands deep in the pockets of his trousers.
"Go away," Sirius muttered, ignoring how childish he sounded.
"We obviously have a lot to talk about—"
Sirius laughed coldly at that. "You're telling me," he said sarcastically. "But I think you're about twelve years too late—"
"Look, what was I supposed to do?" Remus demanded, betraying the first hints of anger. "Lily and James were dead, Peter was dead—Dumbledore himself gave evidence to the Ministry that you were the Secret Keeper—"
"Let me ask you something," Sirius interrupted. "Do you remember in second year, when we cornered you about the lycanthropy?"
Remus sighed, turning toward the lake so he didn't have to look at Sirius.
"Do you?"
"Yes, of course I do—"
"And you remember what we told you? About how long we had known—"
"Sirius—"
"No, this is important," Sirius overrode him. "Six months, right? Six months we knew you were a werewolf."
Remus looked back at Sirius, frowning and clearly annoyed. "So?"
"So," Sirius continued from his place on the rock. "We gave you the benefit of the doubt first, didn't we? And even when we finally cornered you, what did we say—"
"This isn't relevant—"
"We said," Sirius interrupted loudly. "That just because we didn't understand, it didn't meant you weren't still our friend—we gave you a chance to explain—"
"What did you want me to do?" Remus all but shouted. "I was halfway across England when it happened—even if I had gone to the Ministry, do you really think they would have taken me seriously? Your childhood friend and a werewolf? I know you can't argue that you would have done anything differently if our places were switched—you obviously thought I was the spy—why else switch to Peter?"
Sirius flicked his half-finished cigarette roughly into the lake and rounded on Remus. "I can forgive you for thinking I was the spy—I can even forgive you for letting them cart me off to Azkaban without a trial—but what about three years later, Remus, when they released me?"
Remus looked away, agitated. It was becoming clear that he regretted coming down to the lake. Remus had always hated arguing, mostly because he had a temper almost as explosive as Sirius's when one was able to coax it out.
"Y'know," Sirius continued baitingly. "When everyone found out I was innocent?"
"What do you want me to say?" Remus shouted.
"Tell me what happened—tell me why you abandoned me—"
"You were abandoned? Are you serious? You dug your own grave by being stupid enough to go after Peter by yourself without talking to anyone first—I was the one who was left out of the Secret Keeper business—I was the one even Lily and James thought was the spy—"
"Oh, and I bet that was real rough on you," Sirius said waspishly. "'Oh no, Lily, James and Sirius think I'm the spy!' Do you know how many people think I'm a Death Eater and a murderer? A traitor to my best friend?"
"I thought you didn't care what anyone else thought," Remus snapped.
"I don't!" Sirius shouted. "I care about what you think!"
There was a ringing silence.
Sirius turned to glare out over the lake, instantly regretting letting that last comment slip. He pulled out another cigarette for something to do with his hands, practically sucking it down to get the nicotine into his brain as fast as possible.
"What happened?" Remus asked after a minute, his voice back to normal if not a little unsteady. "That day?"
Sirius took another long drag, letting the smoke billow around his face like a veil before blowing it away. He considered not telling Remus out of spite, but then what would that accomplish? Hadn't he always wanted the chance to explain to his old friend what really happened? He took another hard drag off his cigarette. "That night…" he began slowly, absently scratching up the moss on the rock next to him so he didn't have to look at Remus. "I had arranged to check on Peter, to make sure he was still safe." He brought the cigarette to his lips a third time as the memories flashed in his mind's eye, threatening to take him back there. "There was no sign of a struggle, nothing. He was just…gone. Something was wrong. I went straight to James and Lily's…" He cleared his throat roughly, hesitating. "Well, so after that, I decided to go for Peter. You can argue that it was stupid or foolish, but you have to remember that my sentence was already set—I don't think anyone would have believed me, even then… Anyway, I cornered him in London, on a muggle street." Sirius took a steadying breath, rubbing his brow at the headache that was forming there. "He yelled for the whole street to hear that I'd betrayed them—I was trying to get a clear shot of him, but there were just so many muggles in the way." In his mind's eye, he could see the billowing dark cloud of dust surrounding him, and taste the iron of spilled blood on the back of his tongue. "Finally he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killing everyone within twenty feet of himself."
There was a heavy silence. Sirius finished his cigarette and toyed with the filter absently between his fingers. "I don't know if he was trying to kill me, too, or if it was just part of a clever plan to fake his death—well, Peter was never an expert at Charms…" Sirius took a steadying breath and glanced sideways at Remus, who was listening with rapt attention.
"How did he die?" Remus asked carefully.
Sirius turned back to look over the lake, squinting in the sunlight. "You want the real version, or the official report?"
"The real one, obviously—"
"I just let him die," Sirius said flatly. He gave a half-shrug as he turned back to his filter. "He had injured himself pretty badly when he blew up the road—I could have saved him, but I just…watched him die. So I guess that's kind of like killing him myself."
Remus raised his eyebrows. "That's not the same thing at all—"
Sirius scoffed. "Yes it was—listen very carefully—I could have saved him. He would have lived if I had done something." Sirius shook his head, looking out over the lake. "I even considered smashing his skull in to expedite the process. If he hadn't done it to himself, I would have done it for him—"
"That still doesn't make you a murderer—"
"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" Sirius interrupted.
Remus looked angry at the insinuation. "All this time, you've led everyone to believe—"
"I'm responsible for the deaths of three friends and twelve muggles," Sirius cut in. "How I see myself is my business—but you really thought I blew him up? Killed all those people?"
Remus threw his hands up in frustration. "Well, it wasn't like you were telling anyone otherwise—"
"Yeah, because I had loads of people just lining up to ask me for my side—" Sirius interrupted sarcastically.
"You did! Everyone from the Ministry, the reporters—"
"I didn't want to talk to them—"
Remus snorted. "That's the stupidest thing I've heard—"
"You don't get it," Sirius groaned, too tired with arguing to raise his voice again. "I don't care what the Ministry thinks about me, and while it's annoying sometimes, I also don't really care what the general public thinks about me, either. I cared about what you thought—what Dumbledore, the Order—what you lot thought, and I got my answer when not a single one of you tried to get me out of Azkaban, or when none of you said a single word to me when I got out."
Remus took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. "I thought you were a murderer," he said slowly, carefully. He ran his hands through his hair, which was already starting to grey. "Obviously I was wrong, but I'm not sorry that I couldn't have known that, because you refused to tell anyone otherwise—"
"Look," Sirius interrupted, scooting to the edge of the boulder and jumping down. He brushed dirt off his pants and fixed Remus with a level gaze. "It doesn't matter, anymore—we don't have to pretend like we're friends. We just work together, now, that's all—"
"Sirius—"
"It's not like you have anything else to say to me, right?" Sirius asked testily.
Remus glared at him, sighing. He looked as though he had a great deal to say, but then he said, "No, I guess not."
"Great," Sirius replied flatly. "Then I'll see you at the staff meeting tomorrow."
