"and we grew apart when I thought
we'd grow together."
-via Ben Maxfield
▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬
London, December 1979
Sirius kicked an old beer bottle down the sidewalk, an irritable growl bubbling from his throat. This was absolutely not the way he wanted to spend his Saturday night. Not in the slightest. Nor was this his idea of "watch." For God sakes, his apartment had been ransacked by none other than Lord Voldemort himself! Shouldn't there be more action? More wand usage and ass-kicking? Why were there no snatchers or Death Eaters roaming the streets? So far, he'd only encountered a feral cat inside of a trash can and an elderly woman with outdated attire – which was a monstrosity in and of itself. He was positively bored, and he had been for nearly six hours; not to mention, he'd been paired with Benjy, of all the bloody people in London.
"Don't look so sour," Benjy sneered, cigarette idle between his perfect teeth, "it could be monumentally worse."
Sirius scoffed, "I advise you to shut your trap before Moody makes his rounds."
"Constant vigilance," Benjy cackled, rolling his dark eyes around in their sockets. "The enemy has no limits – no restraints. He will attack without hesitation, and so should you."
At this pitiful attempt at humor, Sirius grimaced. He could launch into the speech that lasted a full six minutes without a stutter from memory alone. Moody's inevitable advice before sending any younger member of the Order out on patrol had been, of course, constant vigilance. If he heard it one more time, he might've just closed his ear drums with cement. Hearing it from his least favorite person in the world just made it all the worse.
"You're like a child," Sirius sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I can assure you, Mr. Black, my lovers – past and present – do not share that sentiment," Benjy teased, a shameless wink following the flash of his lustrous smile.
Sirius gagged, "What the fuck is the matter with you? That's disgusting."
Benjy, small in comparison to Sirius' figure, tailed his partner as he idled around the empty sidewalk, "Oh, come on, Black! I know things between you and Remus ended on a bitter note, but you can't stay alone forever."
Sirius slowed his pace, shoulders slumped miserably. He'd done such a wonderful job of expelling thoughts of his previous partner; his mention was rare, typically followed by crossness and tension by every party, and it was agreed that avoidance was the best route to follow in regards to Remus. It had worked, for the most part, and time marched forward as it always did. Soon enough, his name was only a passing subject in regards to enemy Werewolf dens or attacks on small towns. It was as if he'd never been a part of their group but part of the enemy's, and that's what had angered Sirius the most.
The only people who seemed to still ache from his absence were Sirius, James, and Lily – the only loyal people in their little Order, so it seemed. From time to time, they'd take a patrol near his flat, watching him walk home from the Emporium, shoulders slouched and brows furrowed. He stayed alone for the most part. Actually, he was always alone. Morning, noon, and night, Remus remained isolated from the rest of London – from the rest of the world – only emerging for work and groceries. Sometimes, as if by chance, his amber eyes would flicker over the stray dog on the corner, dark and mysterious, and frown.
Did he know, Sirius wondered. Did he know it had been Sirius watching over him, protecting him from the surrounding dangers of Death Eaters? Probably not.
"Why does my loneliness matter to you?" Sirius muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. His jaw ticked, eyes narrowed in an accusatory glare.
"Because I refuse to let one of God's finer creations go to waste," Benjy declared.
He stubbed his cigarette in a flowerpot, smoke rising from the soil in plumes. Sirius noted the familiar markings of the Stoker's Brand; it was Remus' favorite brand of cigarettes. His frown deepened, as did his already unpleasant mood. The blame could easily rest on Benjy's shoulders. He was annoying as shit, and he knew it.
"In case you haven't noticed, Benjy," Sirius groaned, "you're one of the most belligerent ulcers I've ever had the displeasure of enduring, and the chances of me ever stooping low enough to simply have a drink with you are slim to none."
Benjy smirked, "I don't give up easily, Black. I'll change your mind!"
"Uh huh." Sirius wandered down the road, disappearing under the shutter of streetlamps and moonlight.
He'd considered bumming a smoke from Benjy; his nerves were on fire that night in December. However, his pride got the best of him. He'd prefer to stay antsy and on his toes rather than subtly communicate an inkling of civility toward that parasite of a human being.
Winter had been dreadful so far, as was every winter in Britain. The days were dank and miserable, slush crashing down rather than delicate snowflakes. The skies were dark and brooding; a thick layer of gray, misty clouds shrouded the cities and countryside's. It had been weeks since he'd seen the sun, and he was growing hostile in her absenteeism. The summer air had already grown to be a part of his distant memories, melting into the backdrop of more pleasant times. It pained him to even think about it.
Benjy approached carefully, just glancing out of the corner of his eyes at Sirius.
"Yes, Benjy?" Sirius snapped, not particularly enjoying the staring.
Benjy ruffled at his tone, "Nothing. I've just… I've never seen you like this, s'all."
This piqued Sirius' interest. "Like what?"
"I don't know," Benjy shrugged. "Indifferent."
Sirius laughed, "I can assure you, I've never been the happiest pea in the pod."
"I didn't say happy or sad, Black," Benjy clarified. "I said indifferent. Indifferent to the world, to your friends. To this war."
Sirius' face twisted from amused to bewilderment. "What does that mean?"
"When Remus was around, you know, you were more passionate about the things you were fighting for," said Benjy. "Now, it just seems like something you have to do rather than something you want to do."
"It is something I have to do, Fenwick," Sirius snapped. "Without the Order, half of London would probably be dead."
Benjy looked forward, mouth twitching – unspoken words begging to leave his tongue.
Sirius regarded this war as he would any other – tragic. Lives had been lost. Lives he valued, however cruel or distant they might have been. It had cost him relationships, friendships, and his home. It had cost the bond between himself and the Potter's, between him and Minnie. It had appeared that Sirius had lost nearly everything for the sake of this raging war, and it was unfair. Forgive him for being bitter about his losses; for the majority of his life, he'd gone without much to make him happy, and after years of working his arse off to hold some things dear, it was snatched away from him in the blink of an eye. Yet, his disdain for this war was selfish?
"You're not the only person affected by all of this," Benjy finally said. "We've all lost something… someone."
"I don't assume that I am."
"Well, I suggest you stop with the sulking," Benjy hissed. "It puts everyone off."
Sirius felt something in his chest tic dangerously, a chord that had been stagnant since Remus' departure struck painfully. He didn't need Benjy of all people telling him what he should and shouldn't feel; if Benjy felt anything besides the prick between his legs it would've been a damn miracle! Sirius didn't need the lecture nor did he want advice from someone who's longest relationship had been with his own pillow.
"Forgive me for missing one of my best friends," he snapped. "Some of us have a beating heart."
"And forgive me for looking out for everyone else," Benjy countered.
Sirius pivoted on his heel, thoroughly put out with some kid's advice. He knew nothing – Benjy knew nothing – about Sirius or how he felt for any particular person.
"Why is everyone so bothered by my own sulking?" he shouted. "Everyone else gets to go on about their day with the people they love with not an inkling of misery or longing! Then, here I am, motherless, fatherless, without Remus, and tending to my brother – alone! So, don't preach to me about sulking. If anyone deserves to sulk, it is me, and there's not a fucking thing you can say to change my mind. Now, bugger off before I knock your teeth in, Fenwick."
Sirius stormed off, ready to be alone with his thoughts. His lungs were hot, throat on fire, and his fists clenched tightly at his sides. All of them were so lucky to have someone – anyone – to make this war easier. Everyone Sirius ever cared for was either dead, sick, gone, or too busy with someone else. And yes, Fleamont had been right when he'd said that war doesn't give a damn about one's heart, but that didn't make swallowing the pill any easier. In fact, it served as a constant reminder that even if they did win the war against Voldemort, only a fraction of them would have someone to bask in the glory with. Sirius was not one of them.
"They killed my sister," Benjy called.
Sirius slowed his pace. So what? They killed Sirius' mother and father, endangered his brother and everyone else he loved. Why did it matter if they'd killed Benjy's sister? Nobody seemed to care when it was Sirius' own family; his mother didn't even get a proper funeral.
"And my brothers," Benjy continued. "And my mother and uncle. They killed my lover and two of my friends. Not to mention the family cat." He added the last bit for comedic effect, no doubt.
Sirius halted, back still toward Benjy, in hopes that the swelling guilt would soon subside against the contempt in his chest. What did it matter, he asked himself, but that voice in the back of his head reminded him that war was not fair. Not just to him, but to everyone else. Perhaps Benjy had been right; maybe they were all losing people. However, Sirius remained stern in his misery. He'd lost more than anyone, hadn't he? Lost someone who continued to live, only without him. Wasn't that the worst loss of all?
"Instead of sulking about it, why don't you try talking about it," Benjy offered. "I haven't seen you with James and Lily properly since October."
"Because," Sirius said, tone clipped and cold, "their wedding is next month, and they don't need me fouling everything up."
Benjy snickered, "Fair enough. But why else haven't you been talking to them?" Sirius kept his mouth shut. "They don't understand, do they?"
Sirius hadn't wanted to put it like that – not at all. However, it was true. Neither Lily nor James truly understood loss. James, especially. Their families were still intact. Their friendships were still strong. Their relationship was fierce and beautiful. Their lives were immaculate if one erased the tragedies of war – movie-like, almost. Flawed in the most beautiful of ways, yes, but still strong. They had each other and their parents; they had Sirius and Peter. What the hell didn't they have?
"No," Sirius muttered. "They don't."
He seated himself on a park bench just under an old, dead cherry blossom, naked and twisted. Memories of the Whomping Willow attacked the forefront of his mind. It had seemed like ages ago when they'd ventured into the shack late at night, corralling Remus into the Forbidden Forest and gallivanting like wild animals. Their school years were a distant memory in his mind – almost fogged and eclipsed by the image of war and loss. Sirius wished he could return not because he wanted to change anything – well, maybe a few things – but just to relive some of those moments he took for granted. So many moments, lost to arguments and petty rivalry. Lost to hidden emotions and pride.
"It isn't their fault," Benjy said. "They're the lucky ones, yeah. People like you and me have to carry the brunt of the misfortune during times like this."
"Well, it's shitty," Sirius sneered.
"Yeah, it is," Benjy's voice trailed off, masked by the honking of car horns and motors. "But—" he inhaled deeply – "I don't doubt it'll be over soon. Mr. Lupin and Moody are close to finding the rat, and once they do, we'll have an advantage."
Sirius bristled at the mention, "I don't appreciate everyone assuming it's Remus."
Benjy shrugged, "You have to admit –"
"I don't have to admit shit."
"—that the timing is impeccable. The dreams don't help either, mate. He literally talks to Voldemort himself. Not to mention the type of people – animals – he's been dealing with for the past few months. I mean, Werewolves are pretty intense. Maybe he traded information for his life?"
"Remus would rather die than do that," Sirius stated. "He'd rather die than give up the Order; his friends know that."
Benjy threw his hands up, "I'm just telling you Moody's suspicions. I don't particularly agree with him. I am quite aware Remus is better than that."
"Well, we've done a hell of a job convincing the others of that," Sirius picked at the skin around his nails, ignoring the trickle of blood into the creases of his knuckles. "I'm sure everyone else will agree with Moody this weekend."
"Maybe not," Benjy beamed. "I have faith they'll pull through during the vote."
Sirius could only smile at Benjy's optimism.
While Sirius would like to think that the rest of the Order had as much faith in Remus as he and James did, it just wasn't realistic. Many of them weren't as close with him as the Marauders were and, therefore, didn't know his character. They didn't know the kind, selfless man Remus had always been, and they didn't understand his past. They saw him as the rest of the wizarding world did, whether they were brave enough to admit it or not: a traitor. And the worst part about all of this was that they had no real evidence that Remus had been smuggling information to the enemy, no concrete sources or facts. The only doubt in all of their minds had been what was in his blood. Because he was a werewolf, he was not to be trusted.
If only Sirius could attest to these strengths and weaknesses in their arguments!
Information had been leaking since the beginning; the enemy knew things about their whereabouts and tactics early on – things that only an Order member would know. The details of their attacks – the precision – were carefully and thoughtfully planned with hardly any discrepancies. Hell, no one knew where Sirius lived! Only senior members of the Order knew his address; the likelihood, however, of someone like Moody being the rat was about as probable as Sirius himself turning to the dark side.
"You should defend him at the vote," Benjy suggested. "I know James and Lily will, and so will I."
Sirius glanced at Benjy from the corner of his eye. Never had he seen Benjy so heartfelt, so genuine. For nearly two years, he'd convinced everyone that he only thought with the head in between his legs and his wand. Skilled as he was, it would've appeared he wasn't so bright. Yet, here they were – two men who'd been more alike than unalike – delving into their hearts at midnight on an unknown street with nothing but their clothes and wands.
"I doubt there's any other suspicious member to point the finger at," Sirius sighed. "Remus seems like the obvious traitor. It's easy to blame the Werewolf."
And that's when he saw it. The uncomfortable frown on Benjy's face and the squirming. He noticed the nervous fidgeting with his fingers and the tremble in his lips. It had nearly slipped his notice – he almost lost it. However, there it was. Suspicion. Benjy knew something, Sirius figured, and he'd be damned if it was not brought to light.
"Unless you know someone," he urged, trying to balance carefully between accusatory and imploring.
Benjy shrugged tensely, turning away from Sirius and averting his attention to the figures down the sidewalk.
"Benjy," he said. "Benjy, if you know something, you need to tell me."
If there'd been a hint of doubt toward any other group member, Sirius just had to know. His case against the accusing had to be strong for Sunday and, at that moment, it was about as sturdy as an uncooked spaghetti noodle. Without proper evidence and dependence on only his gut, Moody's accusations would rip him to shreds, leaving Remus victim to the mercy of the Order and Voldemort. Sirius knew Remus was most vulnerable alone, and the wrath of both sides would break him.
"It's just," Benjy began. "I don't trust some people, s'all."
"Like who?" Sirius leaned in, his voice quiet against the bustle of traffic.
Benjy glanced at his surroundings; Sirius had never seen him so nervous before. Out of every member of their group, Benjy had the most confidence out of them. He knew what he wanted and what it took to get it. His goals were tangible, his conquests probable. Benjy had faith in himself more than anyone in the world, so to see him nervous – so afraid to speak his mind – left Sirius worried.
"I know he's your friend," Benjy said.
Sirius felt his gut sink; the worst news of all was going to be delivered. Perhaps he'd been lying when speaking on behalf of Remus. Perhaps he'd suspected James, out of all people! Sirius prepared himself the worst. The truth would hit him like a sack of bricks, he knew, but that wouldn't ease the blow in the slightest. He inhaled deeply.
Benjy swallowed thickly, his voice wavering. He leaned into Sirius, his breath rolling off the goosebump covered skin. Here it came.
"Do not. Trust. Pettigrew."
Sirius blanched. Peter? His Peter Pettigrew? The mouse? The coward? The little, fat shadow of James Potter? Benjy must've been mistaken; there was no way that Pettigrew was the rat. It was so unlikely; Sirius might have bet his life on it! Peter was cowardly and scared of his own shadow. The thought of him ever working for a man like Voldemort was laughable. It was ridiculous. It was impossible.
"That isn't funny, Benjy," Sirius snickered. "I'll believe that when the Hippogriff sings."
Benjy recoiled, "I'm serious, Black."
"No, I'm Sirius Black."
Benjy shoved Sirius by the shoulder, sending him flailing to the ground, "Do you want to defend Remus or not?!"
Sirius blinked, the pain in his rear hot and spreading. Benjy never got violent – not with his friends. Could it have been true? Sirius had trusted Peter, albeit very little. Sure, he'd been a little distant in the past year, but his mother was ill. Sirius had been absent since September to tend to Regulus and not a single person doubted his intentions. Benjy was mistaken. Someone like Peter could never cause a leak. He was too weak.
"It's just hard to believe someone like him could ever amount to anything," Sirius laughed. "He hardly knows how to cast –"
"Confringo!"
▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬
The Leaky Cauldron, December 1979
"Damn you, Peter," Remus murmured, face wet from the rag damp with blood.
He'd woken with a nasty headache and a nearly broken nose if the pain served him right. Hours had passed before then, the sun dipping below the buildings lining the cobblestone streets. Not a single person stopped to check on the unconscious man in the middle of Knocturn Alley; there'd been a strict "none of my business" rule in place those days, especially with rising concerns of those in allegiance with Tom Riddle. Not that he blamed any of them. A nearly seven-foot, hairy man bleeding out on the wrong side of the tracks seemed like risky business. Still, it did little to soothe his ego.
There was no point in returning to his flat and not a single hope for shelter at Potter Manor. The Leaky Cauldron was the only place he could seek refuge in the coming hours; Peter must've gone to the Order by that point and told them a bold face lie!
Remus still found himself shocked – petrified, even – of the implications of the day. Peter Pettigrew – his long-time mate and peer – in cahoots with the Malfoy's? There were only so many conclusions one could draw in that situation, especially after their short-lived conversation that had already become hazed with concussion fuzz.
What could he possibly be doing with Narcissa and Lucius – of all the wizards in London! Something in Remus' gut had been dancing around the answer with fiery torches to light the way; there could only be one true reason. It had been Peter all along leaking information. That had to be the only reasonable answer.
But Peter? Wormtail? The same Wormtail who could barely gather enough courage to accept his diploma two years ago? The one who blushed every time Lily so much as brushed his elbow? It couldn't have been, or, maybe, they'd all been underestimating him?
Remus poked around in his memories, those he could manage at least, and forced himself to find the signs. Signs of anything, really. Social distancing, oddly convenient alibis, or something of the sort. Information had been leaking for nearly a year thus far; their locations, training tactics, formations, and patrol teams. The Death Eaters were conveniently informed about every little thing the Order had done so far, and, now that he was forced to open his eyes, he could begin sliding the puzzle pieces together.
For instance, Peter had been absent at several social calls. New Years, Lily's birthday bash, and James' homecoming party were just a few on the list. Then again, he'd had to tend to his sickly mother; Remus had faith that Peter would at least tell the truth about that. However, the memories of early quits during practices, calling off from patrol on the perfect nights for an attack – it was coming together.
Though, even if his rational mind was making sense of all the evidence pointing toward Peter, something inside of Remus implored him to seek out the faults in it.
There were none.
"Remus?"
Remus was startled by the soft, familiar voice in front of him. He looked up through blood-crusted lashes and tears to find Lily, a worried look written across her delicate features. She was wrapped in James' jacket, waves of ginger framing her pale, and rather sunken, face. She'd been covered in snow; it must've started after he'd entered the Cauldron.
"Oh," Remus stiffened, unsure how to act in such circumstances. "Hullo, Lils."
As he opened his mouth to fill the silence, Lily launched herself at Remus, pulling him into a tight embrace. Her perfume – the one he'd gotten her for the holidays – assaulted his nostrils, but he didn't mind at all. It was comforting to be surrounded by familiarity, so much that he could've wept. He returned her gesture, arms swallowing her in the thickness of his own jacket and warmth. They stood for a moment, neither willing to pull away. Pulling away meant conversation, and neither Remus nor Lily were prepared for what came next.
Would he tell her? Peter Pettigrew, their long-time friend, had been the traitor? The question had truly been, would she believe him?
He extracted himself from her arms, holding her away from him and gathering whatever courage was left in his body. This was harder than he'd expected; something about the frenzy in those dewy, emerald eyes, the flush in her cheeks – it made him almost guilty for the information.
Perhaps he should have kept it from her and asked for Dumbledore or Fleamont instead. It had been months since they'd spoken, only corresponding through the holiday exchange from afar. That had been it. No brunches at the emporium or shopping trips in London. They hadn't seen a film or binged a show in ages, so it felt. Laying it on thick with such a revelation could have only sunken the ship.
"May I sit," she asked, gesturing to the empty chair across from him.
He blinked, pulled from his thoughts violently, "Y-yes! Of course."
"You don't know how relieved I am to see you," she muttered, seating herself and cradling her fingers. "There's only so much of dumb and dumber a woman can take."
It was meant to be a heartfelt joke – something to take the edge off their already icy start, but it had struck a chord. The mention of James and Sirius had been a blow to the chest he wasn't ready for. Just as his contact with Lily had been minimal, the contact with the boys had been even less. With Sirius, there had been nothing but fuzz over their own frequency; a tug in his chest here and there, a slight stabbing sensation in the night, and nothing more. Yet, hadn't that been what he wanted?
"I could say the same thing," Remus forced an awkward smile.
He had never been good at things like this; social interaction had been like a skill he had yet to master, leaving him fumbling at every encounter. It hadn't been so until recently, his distancing pulling him further and further from the man he'd become. It was his own fault, he reasoned. He left. Not them.
"Where have you been these days," Lily asked, the expectancy in her eyes noticed briefly.
Remus merely shrugged, "Usually at home or at work."
He suspected that, at least until his innocence had been secured, he'd leave out the tidbits of private investigating and sleuthing. Remus was sure Lily would never rat him out; that had been Peter's new occupation. Still, it was never harmful to be careful. Though he did hate keeping things from her – from the one person who'd always tried to remain upfront and honest.
Except she hadn't been. For nearly a year, she'd lied to him. All of them had. Julienne had been dead, and like any good friend they should have told him. It would've been difficult and strenuous, but he would've healed and moved on.
He never even got to say goodbye. Didn't get to attend the funeral. Nothing. They kept that from him. For a year.
Was he ready to forgive them?
"Remus," Lily struggled to find her words. He watched helplessly. "I've got to tell you a few things."
I do, too, he should've said. Yet, as they usually did when it mattered most, his words failed him.
"Firstly, I want to tell you how sorry I am," she finally began, tears brimming her eyes. Remus felt the typical sting that came with watching Lily's emotions get the better of her. He swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing back the almost instant forgiveness that had been budding. "I… I never wanted to keep it from you. Ever. I wish that there was some noteworthy excuse to give you to make it all make sense –" she paused, gathering her breath.
"But," Remus prompted her softly.
She swallowed thickly, "But there just isn't one, Rem. I was – we were all so scared. Dumbledore tried to make it all seem worth the secret – told us that is for your own good, and Fleamont, too. I suppose we were a bit naïve, wouldn't you think?"
Remus ruminated in such an explanation for a moment, trying to process his next words quite wisely.
"Do you remember the spring of '77," he asked, expression and tone soft.
It would have been easy to be angry, resort to accusatory remarks and belligerence. However, it wasn't in him anymore. He just needed to know.
Lily nodded, "I almost lost all of you."
"Do you remember how you felt knowing that we were all safe? Knowing that we weren't dying or already dead?"
Lily paled, eyes cast down at the filthy, wooden table. She only nodded.
"I never got that closure," he explained. "I never knew what happened to her until it was too late. My very first friend – the one who taught me how to befriend James and Sirius – was gone, and the people I considered my family knew." He stared, eyes fogged with tears. "You knew and you kept it from me."
"We didn't want to," Lily sniffled. "James argued with his Dad for days while you were in recovery. He threatened to put off the marriage and –"
Remus sighed, holding a hand up, "Lily, what's done is done. There's no going back. I understand, but… it hurt. Shit, it still does. It'll always hurt."
Lily, an inch within hysteria, took Remus' hands, "What can we do? Tell me!" Remus let his thumb stroke her skin, the callouses rough. "We miss you, Rem, so much. Not a day goes by and we don't think of you or mention you. James and Professor McGonagall have been building a case for you since you left."
"And Sirius?"
He couldn't help it. He couldn't help but wonder if Sirius, too, thought he was guilty of being a traitor. Deep down, it was clear that Sirius could never – would never – but that sliver of insecurity that always bubbled when he needed its silence the most, was there – taunting him.
Lily averted her gaze, "Well, to be blunt, Regulus takes up most of his time now. If it isn't Reggie, then it's patrol." She bit her lip. Remus could tell she was holding back.
"You're not telling me something, Lils," he prodded. Hopefully, with their newfound reunion, a bit of trust could be established before anything else.
She sighed, "Sirius had a bit of a… a bit of a meltdown after you left."
"A meltdown?"
"I would call it a tantrum – you know, his usual stunts when something inconvenient happened – but… it was worse this time. I've never seen him so overwhelmed," she explained. "We all have our moments – God knows Sirius does – but he was a wreck, Rem. A complete and utter wreck for two weeks."
Remus felt a notch in his heart deepen. Poor Sirius. Remus should've been there for him; God knew how hard it was taking care of the family he had left. Damn. What had he done?
Lily must've noticed the change in his stature – the slouched shoulders, trembling lip, and curled fists – and grabbed him tightly.
"You aren't to blame," she urged.
"But I –"
"You left, Remus," she said. "With every right. We don't blame you. This has been coming for years."
Remus nodded. Sirius was a touchy topic, as he usually was after an argument of such proportions, and Lily knew well enough to leave it be.
Truly, he now wanted to be alone. Yes, he'd been going on and on about missing his friends – missing his mother and Sirius – but with this newfound apology, and a lack of answers really, he was overloaded with emotions that weren't making any sense.
On the one hand, he was still very upset with the lot of them for lying. Hell, did he even want to see Dumbledore and Fleamont? No. Not at all. However, with the explanation Lily gave, their actions made more sense now than they did all those months ago. It didn't make it right, nor did it erase the gaping wound in his heart, but it was a start.
"Rem?"
Lily's voice, soft and, if he were served correctly, nervous, cut through his thoughts. He was always zoning out lately; that needed to stop.
"Yes," he cleared his throat, forcing himself to pay attention for just a few more moments.
"There's something I've needed to get off my chest for a while now," she said, raking trembling fingers through her damp hair. "I just never know how to begin."
Needless to say, Remus was puzzled as she let the silence stretch on. Lily had been one of the only people who properly expressed emotions; time and time again, she acted as a sort of mediator between the men who couldn't do so much as politely ask for a can of beer or extra napkins with their dinner. To finally catch her without the perfect words or something wise and kind to say was shocking. It was terrifying, actually.
He was even more bombarded with unprecedented emotions when her palms gently cupped her once covered stomach, folded around the small bump that protruded even from beneath her sweater. It couldn't have been any larger than what any normal person looked like after a hefty meal; surely he'd misunderstood.
However, the look on Lily's face – the small smile as realization dawned on Remus – sealed any doubt.
"You're pregnant," he scoffed, completely baffled. "Since when?"
"Sometime last month, I believe," she said. "I'm just as shocked as you are. James is usually pretty good about protection."
"So he gloats," Remus chuckled.
His eyes refused to look up from her stomach, in awe of the idea of a little James or Lily hiding within the fabric of her clothes. He just couldn't imagine what their life would be like in a day, let alone nine months! Still, it was early, and the cards were still being laid, but he'd be lying if he told himself he wasn't the least bit excited. Even if it was too soon to get attached, and he wasn't even related to the kid!
"I'm happy for you Lily Pad," he smiled, unable to contain the glee.
She released a breath of air, relief written all over her features, "I'm so glad I told you!"
"Does James know yet," Remus asked, already knowing the answer.
Lily shook her head, "I only found out last week; he's been gone since the beginning of the month on a bit of a mission."
"I'm sure he'll be elated," Remus reassured her.
It was evident this secret of sorts had been weighing on her; with Sirius emotionally absent and James simply gone, it had to have been acting as a type of nervous burden. He couldn't help but feel gratitude that he'd been the first to know, in some way. After all that had happened in those few months apart, they were still able to come back together in their own ways. He was sure that James would come around soon after with the help of Lily. If things kept up the way they had been, they'd be back t normal in no time.
If only this were true for he and Sirius.
▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬
Okay, I am so so so so so so so sorry for the delay. Not only has COVID-19 mucked up my school year, but I've also sorta been going through it emotionally so I've had absolutely no energy to write. I had a mid-term last night after waking up at three in the afternoon only to go to bed immediately after and sleep through the night – so that explains my condition for the past month or so. I'm either sleeping or staring at the wall like Bella from New Moon lmao.
I'm officially doing online classes and I've got a job now and my schedule is packed, but I still always come back to this story because I love it AND you guys so much. I really do apologize for the inconsistencies. Every time I tried, shit came out and y'all know how I am about shitty chapters.
We're nearing the end, and it isn't the end one would expect. I know you all might be expecting a certain night to be the end of book one, but I don't think I'll do that… . because I'm evil and you'll hate me, but I promise it'll work out in the end. I pinky promise.
Will we get anymore Wolfstar? Will we get to see Peter rot in a cell? It will all come in due time, and the angst veil will lift. I promise.
Until the End,
Nic.
