Chapter Ten:
Remus doesn't forget Lily's letter from the summer, though he never mentions it to her. He's not particularly certain if this is more out of respect for her obvious desire not to talk about it or that fear Lily Evans seems to inspire in a rather large portion of the Hogwarts male population, especially in Gryffindor House.
As most Gryffindors can enjoy a certain clash of wills, Lily has also lately received some amounts of adoration (if that's what you want to call it) most especially from James. Remus can understand this objectively, but when he looks at girls, he prefers ones that he's not already friends with. Not that Lily is friends with James.
He wonders too if she knows she's making herself a challenge, which is exactly what James has never, ever been able to resist.
So between to James and the letter, which is back in Wales in a drawer, Remus is quite aware of Lily Evans. He notices Olive Caradan as well, and pays special attention to the other housemates from Muggle parents. It makes him think too much of Mam, but he does it anyway.
September passes without much incident, if you can even say that about a month at Hogwarts. There are duels and detentions and absolutely horrific amounts of homework that Remus will be teased for a million years if he ever admits to enjoying.
October seems to be going smoothly enough as well, with the exception of yet another terrible transformation. Again Sirius stays close by in the Hospital Wing, under the Cloak. He gets in so much trouble for playing hooky the next day that there's no question that he never left Remus alone.
It shouldn't be comforting. It's his friends getting in trouble for him – Sirius, who got a Howler for it and is in enough trouble as it is. But when Remus protests, his own words sound so half-hearted Remus nearly winces.
This peace changes, unfortunately, and it begins with another attempt by James on the hand of the fair Miss Evans.
"How wonderful to discover you here!" says James loudly when Lily walks out of Greenhouse Two with several bags of first year potions ingredients – probably a favour for Slughorn. Lily seems to actually like the Professor, which Remus supposes is a lot easier when one is at the top of his class with apparent ease.
"Now is not the time, Potter," says Lily, voice very flat. Remus doesn't dare look across the twenty or so feet of rippling grass that separate them; he imagines she's glaring.
"Lovely day, isn't it?" Remus says to Sirius, who looks at him like he's got three heads. Remus shrugs. It's true, actually, and Remus isn't the only one who thinks so; half the student body is strewn out on the lawn in little knots of black robes and bobbing pointed hats, soaking up the sun before the Scottish autumn starts in earnest.
"Why does it have to be her? Why not someone more fun?" Sirius hisses to Peter and Remus, glaring at the less-than-enamoured Lily, who is doing her best to edge away from James. "There are loads of birds at this school. At least he could have the decency to choose one who'd like to go on kitchen runs or something. Evans is nearly as buttoned up as you Remus."
"I am not! Why are you even using a buttons analogy? It's supposed to be 'straight-laced' or something of the kind," protests Remus, cheeks hot. He feels he is possibly proving a point.
"I've never even seen you look at anybody," Sirius says, offhand like it's a fact of life.
Maybe that's because Remus is very good at looking without being seen. He doesn't say that, of course. He's not utterly sure he could. Instead he gives Sirius a look over. Tall, even at fourteen. Dark hair that's definitely long now, but in some sort of rock star way. Less Elvis, more Celestina Warbeck in her punk phase. He holds himself like a prince and he probably always will. Every moment Sirius is fidgeting somehow, twisting the only piece of jewellery he wears nowadays, that ring of onyx and gold with the family crest in the centre.
Good to look at, the best of the four of them in Remus's opinion, though James's personality is less moody and apt to change at the slightest thing, so he pulls more of the girls' attention. Even if he is awful to Lily.
Peter and Sirius, oblivious to Remus's thoughts, are studying her.
"Really," Sirius is in the middle of saying, "he could do better. What about…" he casts his eyes across the lawn, at the various little groups of students. Laughing girls clutching at their chests, boys with the sleeves of their robes rolled up to expose muscled forearms and those large hands with the hard knuckles underneath. "…Mckinnon. She's wild." It's strange how he says it, drawling and bored.
"Oi, Mckinnon!" shouts Peter, jumping on the bandwagon now that Sirius has pointed her out. She turns with that sly grin of hers, looking up from her group of friends. When they've got her attention, Sirius lets off a long wolf-whistle that echoes across the grounds. A few sixth year Hufflepuff boys pause in tossing a quaffle to clap and hoot. Remus blushes. Sirius is so bloody loud and confident and, he'll easily admit, fairly obnoxious. Marlene blows the three of them a kiss and winks at Remus when Sirius turns away. He quickly drops his eyes.
If he had a type, he supposes it would be more like Marlene. But it's not as if he's picky. He lets his eyes sweep across the teenagers sprawled all over the lawn, takes them all in, so long as they're his age or older, girls and boys alike. Remus has never been able to figure out how people just…choose one gender to appreciate. Sex is sex, isn't it? Just nerve endings, when you come down to it. How does it matter so much who touches them?
Not the best thoughts to have now. Not the best thoughts to have anytime, not with Sirius standing so close, as if the concept of personal space has never crossed his mind.
They're back on the subject of Lily Evans, who's currently red in the face and reaching for her wand.
"I can see the appeal," Peter says, his eyes studying her long red hair, the hint of the curve of her hips through her austere school robes.
"Wormtail you lech, you're as bad as Moaning Myrtle," says Sirius, nudging him in the ribs.
"Can't blame me for what nature gave me," Peter sing-songs back, rocking on his heels. "I can't be as creepy as Myrtle. I'd have to die first, at least."
"I just don't see it," Sirius says, squinting at Lily. Remus blinks. Even he can understand the attraction, though she is incredibly not his type of girl, and much more his type of friend. There is a disturbing suspicion that she's a bit like Sirius and James only with less reckless boyishness and more cunning. But really, Sirius doesn't see it at all?
Remus hopes Sirius isn't genetically programmed to go for insane girls, or worse, cousins.
"Sure you're not just jealous, Padfoot?" teases Peter. Remus privately thinks that if Sirius is jealous of anyone, it would be Lily who's been getting more and more of James's attention since third year.
To be honest, it's hard to imagine Sirius with anyone at all. He's been asked out loads of times, even once when they were first years for chrissake. But he's never gone with anybody. Girls whisper about how aloof and handsome he is.
They've obviously never shared a dorm with him, never caught him in the act of transfiguring the last bar of soap into a sea urchin, never seen him belt out bad pop music, Muggle and Wizarding alike, at four in the morning to wake them all up because he's got a great idea and do they think House Elves can be trained to dance the cancan? He pours pumpkin juice in his tea instead of milk, puts mustard on his steak, and conjures powdered sugar for his pasties. They don't know any of that.
"She's a bore," drawls Sirius, finally bothering to respond. "Look, she's trying to get away again. At least it's slightly more fun when she starts shouting and hexing him. But she's friends with Snivillus."
Trying to puzzle out Sirius Black's mysterious dating life whilst following this inane conversation gives Remus nothing but a headache and a remarkably grumpy mood, which is only heightened when Remus sees who's coming striding across the lawn.
"Speak of the devil," he murmurs. A pack of Slytherins, the really nasty ones, are on the move across the grounds.
"What, are they looking for a better patch of grass than the rest of us? Need the optimal cushioning for their stupid pureblood arses?" demands Sirius, not too quietly. The three of them wander closer to James and Lily, automatically regrouping.
Remus seems to be the only one who hears Lily mutter, "Fuck," when Snape comes into view among the many figures. She slings her school bag over her shoulder and strides off across the grass, bypassing her friends and making for the vague shape of the Whomping Willow in the distance.
Distracted from the scene in front of him, Remus opens his mouth. What he's going to say, he's got no idea. "Don't go close to that tree, it hates me and will probably hate you by association, and then it'll take a swing at your face"?
"Watch out, Evans," calls Sirius, twirling his wand lazily. He's still facing the gang Slytherins who are now headed towards their little crowd, but his eyes are on Lily. "That's a Whomping Willow. Terribly nasty."
She shows him two fingers but she does swerve – thank Merlin's bollocks – and heads back towards the castle, presumably to replenish Slughorn's potions stores. Sirius's eyes catch his just for a second; not nearly long enough for Remus to convey his thanks.
The Slytherins are the rougher crowd; there's Evan Rosier at the front, a seventh year now with a lot of muscle, and skinny Wilkes, with his gaunt face and nervous hands, always on the lookout for a bit of blackmail. After them comes Snape, who they will never admit is probably the mastermind of half the curses that get thrown at them – the nasty, in-the-Hospital-Wing-for-a-week type.
Lestrange is there too; back at the Black household arrangements are already being held for his marriage to Bellatrix. They'll make a horrific couple, but Sirius can amuse himself with the fact that Bella's French is terrible. He hopes they vacation at the Lestrange family Chateaux in the Alps very frequently, just to annoy her.
"I think that went well," says James, stepping up to them. "What's Snape up to? And the others?"
Sirius's lips suddenly go thin. "Regulus is with them," he snaps. "I don't want to watch him being all chummy with those evil gits. I'll lose my lunch."
James shrugs, obviously reluctant to pass up such a good chance to bother Snape. "Alright then," he says slowly.
Despite Sirius's misgivings, they don't go back up to the school. Instead they stand close together watching the way groups go tense and quiet when the Slytherins get too near. Someone in the crowd shouts out something and there's an eruption of harsh laughter.
A Ravenclaw fourth year stands up, gesturing madly; Remus recognizes him as Alice Shepperd's latest boyfriend. Alice, and the group of girls she's with, Marlene included, turn to look. Alice stands. One of her friends puts a hand on her arm, trying to pull her down again. Marlene stands too, and she and Alice stride towards the growing argument. A few other Ravenclaws have joined in now, and the boys with the quaffle are still and nervous. Even the kids down on the shore of the lake are shading their eyes to see what the commotion is.
Remus can't tell who throws the first spell. There are at least ten people, so many wands in hand. There is a crack, and then another, and the shouting begins. Most people surge towards the fight, trying to get a better look. Alice and Marlene are caught in the thick of it with the Ravenclaws; Remus can just barely see them through the sudden chaos. Frank Longbottom runs past them and the crowd opens for him, letting them see right to the centre of the fight.
"The Mudblood's fighting back!" shouts a vicious looking Slytherin girl.
Remus, James and Peter look at Sirius.
"Let's go," he says through gritted teeth. They dart after Frank, who's covering Alice while she screams at three burly sixth years, each twice her size.
"What are you thinking, hexing him, you stupid bigots!" she shouts.
"Alice! Alice, stop yelling and look out," grits out Frank, blocking a jinx sent her way.
"Don't talk, blood traitor!" shouts Mulciber, levelling his wand on Frank.
"Someone get the Headmaster!" cries a young girl caught up in the fray. Marlene snatchers her robes and pulls her out.
"Go! Get Dumbledore!" she says, but the girl looks too scared to stumble further than the fringes of the fight. People are pressing in on all sides, shouting and cursing. The wide, sunny day is suddenly a maelstrom of twisting black robes and pressing hands and the smell charred earth. Alice is standing over Frank now, who's been hit with a jelly-legs jinx, from the looks of things. Her face is hard and hunted and she looks ready to fly at anyone who gets too close.
The four of them push on to the centre, where the Slytherins are packed together. Some of them have put their hoods up, obscuring their faces. Sirius's eyes dart over them frantically, looking for his brother. Regulus is only thirteen, and small for his age. He seems to, as always, have slipped between the cracks.
"Look out!" James shouts, dragging them down by their necks to avoid a jet of fire.
"What the fuck?" Sirius shouts. "What do you lot think you're up to? This isn't your pretty little pureblood home where you can do whatever you please."
"Oh, so you're not a pureblood then, Black? Been disowned now, like your slut of a cousin?" shouts Rosier. Sirius lunges for him, ready to get his hands around his fat neck. James hauls him back, just in time to miss the red streak of a stunning spell that rips through the air.
"You think you're so safe here at Hogwarts?" demands Rosier.
Remus grabs Sirius's robes.
"Let's get out of here; find a teacher," he urges.
Rosier laughs. "Oh, right, as if we care about teachers and school. You stupid half-blood, you're not good enough to spit on."
Sirius hexes him, aiming for his face. Lestrange blocks it, waving a taunting finger.
"Sirius would you stop it! It's not like I haven't heard it before."
Rosier isn't even listening to Remus anymore. He just looks at Sirius. "You can't stay on that side forever, Black. You can have your little fun as the prodigal son, but you have your blood, and that's where loyalty lies. At least your brother understands that."
"DON'T YOU TALK TO ME ABOUT MY BROTHER!" Sirius lunges again, and this time they're not fast enough to catch him. He's hit with a stunner out of the crowd and goes down.
Remus's vision goes white. He can't feel his fingers or his face, or hear the shouts around him. He raises his wand. Somewhere in his mind he is aware that McGonagall is sprinting across the grass, screaming at them. Students scramble away from the fight, in a hurry not to be implicated in something like this.
Just as Remus opens his mouth to spit out a spell, the Ravenclaw boy, Alice's boyfriend, dashes over to help James hold up Sirius. He gets in front of Remus's wand arm, and Remus has to whip his hand up to send the spell spiralling into the bright sky.
"You idiot!" he shouts, horrified. "Watch out!"
The Ravenclaw turns at his shout, mouth open to yell back or to apologize, Remus doesn't get to find out. Rosier sees the opening, and the Ravenclaw can't turn fast enough. Rosier says a spell, loud and sure.
"Imperio!"
The boy turns slowly, eyes dead and a little smile on his face. Remus and everyone around him stop to watch, horrified. He's certain he must have misheard.
"But that's an Unforgivable," whimpers Peter. A girl in the crowd screams.
"The rules of the old age are over," intones Rosier, but sweat is rising on his face from carrying the spell. The Ravenclaw raises his wand, not towards Remus, but turns it in and presses against his own face.
"EVAN ROSIER!" screams a voice full of fury, and suddenly McGonagall is blasting them all apart. She's shocked too, eyes wide. "Expelliaramus!" she calls out, and Rosier's wand shoots into the air. James snatches it up fast, before any of the Slytherins can make a move for it. It tingles sickeningly in his palm. The Ravenclaw boy's eyes roll back in his head and he drops.
Even most of the Slytherins back away. More teachers pour out onto the lawn, and Dumbledore sweeps down with them, thunder on his face. Sirius moans in the grass and Remus drops to his knees, all risk forgotten. Soon it's just them and Rosier, with Lestrange still at his side, glaring daggers at McGonagall. A few hexed Slytherins lay about in the grass. Alice and Marlene are off to the side, staring at the fallen boy, faces white.
"NEVER AGAIN—NOT IN THIS SCHOOL—EXPELLED, NO QUESTION," chokes McGonagall, so red in the face she looks like she's going to start hexing them herself.
Lestrange spits in the grass. Madame Pomfrey races up to the Ravenclaw, beckons Alice and Marlene to help Frank get to his feet. She conjures five stretchers, which two of the hexed Slytherins wave off with snarls, stumbling off into their groups of friends, who quickly whisk them away.
Flitwick tries to get Sirius up on a stretcher, but Remus looks up, still blind with rage, and snarls out something. His face is so feral that Flitwick stumbles back.
A hand lands on Remus's shoulder. James.
"Put him on the stretcher." Sirius moans again. "You have to calm down, Remus."
"Leave boys, now," McGonagall orders. "Go with him to the hospital wing if you choose, but go!" Dumbledore arrives, face darker than they've ever seen it.
James and Peter shield Remus from view and levitate Sirius onto the stretcher, which glides off towards the Hospital Wing. They trot along quickly to follow it, their hands on Remus's back and shoulders. He shakes them off, vicious, but together they mount the steps out of the noonday sun and into the darkness of the castle, Flitwick trailing behind with Alice, Marlene, and Frank on a stretcher of his own.
The stretchers avoid the main hallways, but still there are students who see them who gasp and run forward, only to be warned off by a teacher or a Prefect. Remus hardly notices them.
In the empty Hospital Wing Flitwick levitates Sirius into a bed and quickly casts the counter-charm. Gray eyes flutter. Flitwick hurries off to tend to Frank as Pomfrey rushes in with the Ravenclaw boy. The four of them are left alone.
"Strange to see it all from this angle," murmurs Sirius. "Remus, I think things are going topsy turvy. Shouldn't you be in the bed?"
Remus tries to smile. It comes out more like a grimace.
"You alright there, mate?" asks James.
"Terrific," drawls Sirius. "Where's the motherfucker Rosier?"
"Expelled," gulps Peter, blue eyes wide. His hands are shaking.
"Sit down a minute, Pete," says James, patting the end of Sirius's bed. "I'm sure Padfoot doesn't mind."
Sirius shakes his head and Peter flops down gratefully.
"Actually, Peter can have it. I want out of the bed," Sirius says, trying ineffectively to get up.
"Down, Mr. Black!" cries Madame Pomfrey from across the room, where she's casting hurried spells.
James snickers. "She knows how to deal with you, Padfoot. Heal, boy."
"Shut up, you arse. I'm an invalid." He rolls his eyes, but he does lay back down. Lowering his voice, he asks, "What did Rosier do?"
"The Imperious Curse," whispers James.
"What even is that?" asks Peter, a tremor in his voice. "I thought he was going to turn on us, but then he – he…." Peter presses a finger to his own neck, under his jaw.
"No one at school should be able to cast that. Rosier's underage, but they might still send him to Azkaban."
"Bloody hell," Remus murmurs to himself.
"Good afternoon, all," says a voice from the door. Dumbledore stands there. His face is placid as ever but his eyes are troubled. They all gravitate towards him on instinct. "Poppy, is Mr. Boot at all ready to discuss this?" asks Dumbledore softly.
"No, Headmaster! The boy's just been put under the Imperious Curse! He needs rest and recovery, not questions."
"I trust your expertise, Poppy," Dumbledore says with a faint smile. "The rest of you, if you're at all able, please follow me to my office.
Madam Pomfrey opens her mouth, presumably to protest, but Sirius drags himself out of bed. He's still swaying a little, but Remus supports him on one side, James on the other, while Peter gathers their things. None of them are going without one of the others, that much is obvious.
Across the room Frank struggles to his feet with Alice's help, and all but the unconscious Ravenclaw follow Dumbledore through the castle.
There are candles burning in Dumbledore's office by the time they all file out, down the spiral staircase and past the familiar gargoyle statues. Even James and Peter are subdued.
"I think we've missed dinner," says Frank quietly. Remus listens hard.
"No," he says, "It's still going on."
"What are the Prewetts doing here?" asks Alice, stopping suddenly in the passageway.
"Hey Gid, hey Fab," says Marlene. She's in sixth year, they're in seventh, but they seem to hang out together. The twins, normally so restless and ready with grins, just nod to her. Their hair is muted ginger in the torchlight.
"What are you here for?" Marlene asks in that low voice of hers.
"We need to talk to Dumbledore," Gideon says. The younger Gryffindors glance back at the closed entrance.
"You'll have to wait," says James. "The Minister just went up."
"We'll wait," Fabian says. "You lot should get down to dinner."
They nod, too tired to argue. Marlene hangs back. Remus tries not to listen, he really does, but his hearing is too good and the castle echoes too loudly.
"What are you two up to?" she asks. "You're not serious, are you? I know you're frustrated, but it's silly. You're so close to graduation; you can take your NEWTS this year."
Remus slips up and glances back down the long corridor.
Gideon smiles and cups Marlene's face.
"Our choice, Marlene. Don't tell me you're not itching to be with your sister right now." She sighs. If they say any more, it's lost in the clatter of their footsteps and the low hiss of torches as they turn the corner.
"What was that about?" whispers Peter once they can no longer see the Prewitts and Marlene.
Alice, normally the gossip, shrugs. "No idea," she murmurs. "I've had enough of talking about serious things for the night."
It's late for dinner, but the Great Hall is still packed. They don't have a chance to talk among themselves; nearly before they sit down they're mobbed by students on all sides.
Alice is completely overwhelmed by Ravenclaws asking after her boyfriend in the Hospital Wing; someone jeers at Sirius for getting stunned, but ten others congratulate him. Peter, always glad for attention, looks happy enough to recount what he remembers, but he shakes his head and looks ill when people ask about Rosier's Unforgivable Curse. There's a rumour spreading that he's fled the school, and another that he used the Cruciatus. Half the students don't even know what an Unforgivable is, and lots of strange theories are being circulated. The six of them barely pick at their food.
Finally, James has had enough. He stands, claps his hands, and ushers all of them – not just their group, but Frank and Alice as well – up the stairs and away from the clinging crowds. Anyone who thinks to follow receives a full blast of Sirius Black's glare and, most effectively, this creeping feeling that they are being subtly threatened by Remus Lupin, of all people.
Everyone follows James without a word or a question. He has a talent for that, and leads them straight to the kitchens.
"We can get a quieter meal in here," says James, standing in front of the familiar painting with its ticklish pear.
"I'll bite: what are we here for?" says Alice wearily, but there's a smile at the corner of her mouth for the first time since this afternoon. It feels impossibly far away. Remus rubs at his eyes, feels Sirius's hand light on his back. It's a feather of a touch, ready to run off as if it's never been there in the first place at the slightest provocation. Remus sighs and leans into the comfort as much as he dares.
"Listen to that, Wormtail. Kitchen virgins."
It occurs to Remus how strange they must all sound. There was a time when his greatest goal was to be normal, but there's probably no hope at this point. Not with friends like this.
"This is where the House Elves prepare the meals," explains Remus. Frank scrubs at his dark hair.
"Neat," he says finally. "I always did wonder where you lot got all that food for your birthdays."
They look at each other, an unspoken agreement to keep the tunnels to Hogsmeade and thus their supply of Butterbeer and Honeydukes' sweets a mystery for the ages. James reaches a hand up and tickles the pear, which swings open almost immediately. They check the hall and file inside, Remus and Sirius bringing up the rear.
"Wow," says Alice, "I've never seen one before." She's looking at the rows of House Elves which are breaking rank from dish-cleaning duty to race over to them.
"Do they always bring you chocolate?" she asks.
"Er, not really. Just Remus," explains Peter. If anything Alice and Frank look more perplexed than before. Remus, taking the chocolate offered to him with thanks, feels a little empathetic. He remembers what it's like to be caught up in the madness of his friends' world without being prepared whatsoever for it.
"Does Mistress be wanting chocolates?" an Elf asks Alice.
"Er," says Alice, looking around. James and Peter are ordering roast beef sandwiches with "a bit of that spicy Romanian mustard, if you've got any left".
"Spicy mustard?" asks Frank, drifting over to join them.
Remus shoves his hands in his pockets. "What do you like, Alice?" Over Alice's shoulder Sirius looks on, eyes dark and unreadable. "They can make anything within reason, but we don't like to ask for much without giving them advance warning."
"Scrambled…scrambled eggs?" Alice says, staring at Remus. He shifts uncomfortably.
"Ask them, I'm pants at making eggs."
Of course, the House Elves are already racing to the giant frying pan lying over a small inferno, but it gets another smile out of Alice. She moves off, gravitating towards Frank.
Sirius makes a soft scoffing noise from somewhere behind him.
"You'll have her falling at your feet if you keep that up."
Remus is genuinely shocked. He raises an eyebrow and suspects a teasing motive. Sirius has been rather subdued.
"I don't think I'll have anyone going mad for me anytime soon," he says with a crooked grin.
"But are you interested?" Sometimes when Sirius gets a thought in his head, he won't let it go. Better to just go along with it. Remus thinks for a moment, really considers it.
"No interest whatsoever," he says finally. "Even if I was, she has a boyfriend."
"Mm, Boot," says Sirius. "The Ravenclaw. Chivalrous of you, Moony."
Remus kicks him, lightly, on the shin. They flash each other quick and tired grins.
"Eat your chocolate," says Sirius, and they go off to steal some of the sandwiches Frank, James, and Peter are hoarding.
It's warm in the kitchens, and while it does smell like dishwater and spicy mustard, that's not a bad thing. Not at all. Sirius imagines what his life would be like if he'd been on the other side of that crowd today, if he'd been just a little more like his baby brother.
It's so horrific to think about. He almost feels bad for Regulus, that he's stuck with people like Lestrange and Snape when Sirius has these people; has Remus sitting at his side, trying to be surreptitious about stealing the roast beef slices out of Sirius's sandwiches.
Remus can hear the three others, tossing and turning in the dark. Peter sleeps first, then James, like falling dominos going from one side of the room to the other. He thinks Sirius has gone out too, finally, but then there is a thump and footsteps, just two. There's not a lot of space between their beds.
"Sirius?" he whispers, and he's going to feel like a right idiot of Sirius is just getting up for a piss. But he's not. He parts the curtains of Remus's bed, stands over him in his pyjamas, dark scarlet silk and his grey eyes glittering in the tiny light.
"Sirius?" Remus whispers again, sitting up slowly. There's something in the air, something heady and thrumming and strange, that makes this some dream, some play, in which things are possible that wouldn't be in the daytime.
"Moony," says Sirius, voice strangled. He raises a hand towards Remus.
"Have you been thinking about what Rosier said? Because that's…that's bullocks Sirius, you know it is." He lifts a hand, looks at the scar that wraps around his wring finger, still there after all these years. "What's in the blood is just there. It's not you. It's never been you."
Sirius's breath comes ragged.
"No," he says slowly. "That's not…not anymore. I believe you. If you say it. You're always right."
"What then, Sirius?"
Something almost happens. Remus doesn't know what, just something.
The urge is sudden and potent, to fist Sirius's shirt and pull him forcefully down onto the bed, push him under the sheets and let the dark warm heat spread, touch his face, all of him. It's so strong and vivid that Remus recoils a little.
Sirius's breath comes fast. But then he straightens, turns, backs away. The curtains fall closed around Remus's bed and Sirius's footsteps go quickly to the bathroom. There is no sound of a whispered spell, but candlelight shows under the bathroom door. Sirius is very good at little wandless charms like that. The shower comes on.
James snorts in his sleep. Remus carefully, very carefully, closes his drapes, feels the texture of the red velvet very acutely under his fingers.
Once he is fully alone, Sirius completely out of sight, something snaps and Remus comes into his normal, reasonable, buttoned up mind again. It has an effect a bit like jumping into the lake in October, and Remus leans against the headboard, trying not to breathe too loudly and wonders just what the hell just happened.
No thought is forthcoming.
Remus swallows, listens to the noise of the shower. He touches his own hip bones, traces down his thighs to his knees. It's not a body he's terribly comfortable with, this one. Too skinny and worn down, too many scars to be on the right side of attractive. But it's a body. Remus doesn't feel like it's the wolf clambering up in him. Hell, it's nearly new moon. He feels human, so human. Tense all over, yes, and stunned, and trembling with something frustrating and carnal. But quite human.
Remus frowns, fists his hand in his pillow. Breathes out slow almost-whistle and tells himself that he can deal with thinking about this in the morning.
Under the elastic of his pyjama pants the cotton is damp and warm. It's a sharp scent. Normally he does this before the moon, and even then it feels more like a chore, like medicine.
"Stop thinking," Remus whispers to himself, wishing he could be more like Sirius who would wank without a thought as to why he was doing it, just because it feels good.
And it does feel good, his hand against his cock, drawing it up above the hem of his pyjamas. Remus strokes along the length, harder than he'd meant to. Even if he'd rather take it slow, draw out this strange and inexplicable – no thinking, remember – this thing, his body wants more than he expected.
Remus hisses, pushes his head back against his pillow. The bed is soft and warm and all but swallows him up. He arches out of it, just a little, hips canted up towards his hand. Hair is in his eyes and he can't bring himself to care, just concentrates on keeping his breathing quiet, under the relentless pounding noise of the shower.
It's impossible not to think, but it's not worry or stress that comes to mind. It's Sirius, it's always been Sirius, Sirius all around him. Sirius standing folded in those drapes, dark hair sliding across his hard cheekbones, feverish eyes.
The shower is impossibly noisy at night, pounding and splattering obscenely loud in his ears.
Sirius could be in there for a number of reasons; he's wandered around at night before. When he's not an insomniac he's a sleepwalker, which has led to some spectacular times over the last few years.
But he'd looked so awake. Remus wets his palm on his tongue, reaches down again, faster now. Sirius looked a lot of things, a lot of things that make Remus wish, though it scares him a little, that he'd pulled Sirius down after all. And what then?
Remus gives a little groan, cups his balls. He's going to come soon, so much earlier than he wants to, but there's no stopping it. Not when Sirius could very well be on the other side of that wall, standing in the shower, dark hair plastered to a white face. Not when it's so possible, even if just in Remus's mind, that Sirius is mimicking him; that he's got his own cock in his hand.
It's too easy to imagine. Remus gasps quietly, lets a litany of curses fall from his lips. He knows Sirius too well, without even noticing that he's been looking. It all rushes together.
Done, Remus lays back. He lets his mind become fascinated by the sight and feel of the fine sheen of sweat on his skin.
The shower pounds on.