This was written for the Fairest of the Rare competition Sing Me a Rare: Now That's What I Call Music edition.

My Prompt was Mr Brightside by The Killers

My chosen character was Remus Lupin

My given character was Lily Evans

WINNER: Best Use of Song

It started out with a kiss.

Well, it wasn't actually the kiss that started it, if Remus were to be honest with himself. It was the drunken game of spin the bottle they played after they had won the Quidditch Cup last year. James and Sirius procured an obscene amount of butterbeer and Firewhisky from Merlin only knew where, and Remus had drunk more than his fair share.

More specifically, it was when the bottle spun around in a blur and finally slowed with the tapered neck pointing toward Lily Evans that this all started. Remus had never kissed anyone, let alone one of his best mates' love interest. But, how could he deny her when everyone in the room was chanting and laughing and Sirius was making this ridiculous squawking sound—mimicking a chicken—and Remus' head was swimming and his face was hot. So naturally, as one does when feeling the walls of peer pressure close in around them, he leaned forward. He pressed his lips to hers and his swimming head stilled and his heart sped up and holy fucking Merlin, it was everything.

Lily tasted like oranges and cinnamon and maybe something a little salty? Probably the crisps that Peter—bless him—had talked the house elves into giving them. Whatever it was, it tasted like Christmas and fuck Remus loved it. Her lips were soft and velvety against his slightly chapped ones and when he heard "No! A proper snog!" and her tongue slipped into his mouth he could have just fucking died right then and there.

When she pulled away, her lips were wet and a little bit swollen. But, they were red and shiny and her cheeks were flushed and he was certain the colour creeping up his neck was the exact same shade of red as the rug they sat on.

Weeks of James pestering Remus for details about the kiss forced him to relive it constantly. He loved James—truly, he did—but, fuck if the man could hold onto the tiniest of threads for the longest of times. He'd cornered Remus in alcoves—"Tell me again Moony, you said like Christmas?"—and even earned him a detention from McGonagall for passing notes in class with disturbingly specific questions scratched into the parchment.

It was this moment he kept reverting back to when he felt a strange tug in his chest when James had—finally—somehow convinced Lily that he was worth her time. Of course, Remus was happy for him. James had been trailing after the girl for nearly six years, begging her to look his way, if only so he could make a fool of himself before she looked away again. Apparently, something had changed between the summer of sixth and seventh year, and for some reason James seemed more mature, more grown up. Less like a lovesick puppy and more like someone who would actually care for her...

Lily had noticed it too.

Remus wasn't jealous. Really, he wasn't. He was happy for them both. Happy that they would get to live their lives together. Happy that one of his best mates had finally got his girl, that she had seen through all of James' arrogance and realized that he was really a stand up bloke. Because James really was a stand up bloke. And Lily Evans was marvelous. And they deserved each other. They deserved happiness, even if it wasn't a type of happiness Remus would ever know. Even if it was her lips he thought about late at night, and the feel of her tongue he remembered when he was alone in the shower, and her taste—like bloody fucking Christmas—he chased in the others he had since kissed.

Okay, so maybe he was a little bitter. But, how could he not be? Jesus, he had watched all of his friends—even Peter for Christ's sake—couple up. And he was alone. Always fucking alone. Always waiting outside the dorm when there was a sock on the handle, or groaning in frustration when he found his mates and a girl in an alcove on his way to the library. He was always alone and he knew he always would be. So, he felt the bitterness he had to swallow—thanks to the bite on his side from Greyback—was a little warranted.

And, as he laid in his bed with his hands clasped behind his head, staring up at the ceiling, maybe it was all in his head. But, he could have sworn she had been just a bit nicer to him after the kiss. She had been just a bit more affectionate, a touch more sweet on him.

It was a strange night, the kind of night that usually would have him questioning himself and wondering how he had gotten to where he was in his life. All of his friends were out with their perspective partners, presumably doing far more than just snogging—if the bragging that Sirius did was anything to go by. He rarely found himself alone in the dorm, huddled under his own blankets as he tried to get to sleep at a respectable hour on a Saturday night. If he concentrated, he could hear the whoops and hollers of the students who were flying after hours around the pitch. He could hear the drunken laughter of his housemates from the common room as they played some whisky laced version of gobstones or exploding snap.

Typically, on a Saturday night like this, at this time in the evening, he would have already been locked from the dormitory as James and Lily or Sirius and...whoever occupied their beds for something other than sleeping for a while. He would wander about the castle, grumbling angrily to himself about the indecency of shagging where other people slept.

But, tonight? Tonight he had found himself snuggled into his favourite blanket. His favourite book propped open on his stomach, his favourite chocolate still dancing on his tongue. It should have been a good night, all things considered. All past Saturday evenings considered. It should have been a spectacular evening full of comfort and absent of his friends making fun of his love of Mr Darcy and goddammit it should have been a good night.

However, in Remus' experience he'd found that nights are often not as good as days, and particularly less good than mornings. And naturally, this theory was found true by the sound of someone stumbling into the room. Or rather, two someones.

He laid completely still, hoping that it was just Peter and Sirius coming back from whatever drunken shenanigans they had managed to get into. He recalled hearing them talking about trying to get into the Hufflepuff common room to join some party that was supposed to be wild—Hufflepuffs threw the best parties, everyone knew that—and he had half a mind to ask them for some of the "special smokes" he knew they would have brought back with them. Just as the thought of being blissfully stoned while he continued on his eleventh journey of Pride and Prejudice began to cement itself in his mind, he heard a giggle. A girlish—very much not Peter or Sirius—giggle and his fist clenched around his sheets.

The giggle was followed by a breathy moan and he could hear the sound of lips meeting and he could imagine what was happening beyond the curtains of his four poster bed.

"Merlin, you really do taste like Christmas," James' voice floated from his own bed and Remus felt something sickening boil in his gut.

Of course, Lily wouldn't know that it had been him—Remus—who made the connection between the citrus spicy taste on her tongue and her favourite holiday. Lily would only hear James whispering sweet things to her while he continued his assault on her person, kissing every freckle on her face, her chest, her hips…

Remus was well and truly fucked. He couldn't sit here any longer and listen to them, the sounds of zippers unzipping and clothes being shucked to the floor made that much too clear. But, how could he get up now and reveal himself? He had been laying here the entire time just listening and even he knew that was fucking creepy. With some half thought out idea of a plan, Remus' clumsy hands dropped his book and it seemed like the thud was reverberating around the dormitory, tearing through the sounds of moans and wet lips and he silently cursed his stupid hands for being so big and so horribly uncoordinated.

"Hello?" James said, "Moony, is that you, mate?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, it's me."

"Oh my god," Lily gasped, and Remus could picture the look of horror on her face.

"I was asleep!" Remus said, knowing that it sounded lame and probably like a lie. Well, it was, but that was besides the point. "I rolled over and my book...sorry. I'll just...I'll go. Are you decent?"

"I—yeah. Yeah, we are. I closed up the curtains mate, you can go out."

"Sorry," Remus apologized again, dragging himself from his bed and swiping his book from the floor. "Sorry Lils. I'm er—I'm just gonna go."

"Yeah, that's great. Thanks, mate."

"Bye, Remus."

Their voices came from behind the heavy burgundy curtains that surrounded James' bed and Remus thanked Merlin that they couldn't see how absolutely tomato red he was sure his face was. God, how embarrassing. The door slammed hard behind him, hard enough to signal his exit and he lingered outside of the door for a few minutes. Was he listening to see if they had resumed? Absolutely not. Did he feel that strange pull in his belly that felt suspiciously like jealousy when he heard the squeaking of the springs of James' mattress? Maybe. Jesus, what was wrong with him? Was he actually so desperate for human touch that he was feeling so—not jealous—of his friends?

Not friends.

Not all of them.

It didn't bother him that Sirius and Peter had taken to spending their free time with the fairer sex. With Sirius, they all knew it was only a matter of time before his good looks would be used for the sole purpose of adding notches to his bedpost. And with Peter, it was honestly a bit of a welcomed reprieve. At least if Peter was busy chasing Mary MacDonald's tonsils he wasn't pestering Remus to copy his Charms essay. He was fine with it—really, he was.

The stairs felt wobbly and uneven beneath his feet and ignored the shouts of "Hey Remus!" as he crossed through the crowded common room and out into the corridor. He was an idiot, really. He hadn't even put shoes on and his feet were freezing but distance was probably the best thing right now. Maybe he could go to the Hufflepuff common room and find a corner to sit in under a haze of funky smoke and maybe he'd also get lucky enough to have some girl press her fingers against his skin and he could tell her she tasted like Christmas.

She wouldn't. None of them ever did, but that's besides the point.

The only Christmas laden kiss he had ever tasted was Lily Evans and she was indubitably off limits. Maybe he could find a kiss that tasted like New Year's Eve or Easter or some other bullshit holiday. But, not Christmas. Never Christmas.

His attempts to distance himself had not gone unnoticed in the following weeks. James made it a habit to point out every time Lily was in the room with them, Remus left. He had even cornered him once and demanded an explanation in that very James way—"I thought you liked Lily, Moony? Did she do something wrong? Are you angry with me?"—and naturally, Remus had realized what an absolute arse he was being and then forced himself into study sessions with them.

It was when he was alone with her, and her full red lips, and her slightly flushed skin, and her bright, pretty eyes, that he realized it was in his head. It was only a kiss. A stupid, spin the bottle snog that happened well over a year ago! She held no place in his heart beyond what one of his best mate's girlfriend's should hold. He didn't yearn for her company or her conversation. He didn't really even give a shit if she looked his way or talked to him at all. She was a nice girl, and funny, too—but, he didn't want to be her boyfriend or something ridiculous like that.

He was not boyfriend material, plain and simple. He was gangly and awkward and had the habit of letting his own spiraling thoughts overtake the mood of a room. No girl wanted to be around that, not when they had other options. Perhaps, that was the issue? That he just wanted to be wanted because who didn't? He couldn't think of a single soul on the earth that didn't find comfort in knowing their company was missed, that the feel of their skin against another was missed. That was all it was then, wasn't it? He just wanted what everyone else had. What he would never have, thanks to the four legged, blood thirsty beast he turned into every month.

Petty jealousy of a life he wouldn't have. That was it.

Still, it didn't explain that even though he had gone above and beyond to avoid Lily and James, he had also gone out of his way to spend Saturdays locked in the dorm—a dorm he knew they would eventually stumble into. It didn't explain the way he watched them from behind the beech tree on the shore of the Black Lake as they skinny dipped late at night. It didn't explain why he still felt so fucking sick every time he saw them together but yet, he couldn't look away and Jesus mother of fucking Merlin what was his problem?

He was just debating on whether or not he should just quit school altogether and maybe check himself into a muggle hospital for the insane when he heard the door open. He was having a very long talk with himself in the bathroom mirror, trying to convince himself to get his shit together, when he heard her voice crack in a little whimper and he froze, clutching the sink for dear life. The door was cracked only a few inches open but he could see them through the sliver and—God, he was such a pervert—he could smell the smoke as James lit a cigarette before cracking the window.

Remus could see her in the dim light of the wall sconces and he was enraptured as she plucked the tobacco stick from James' lips and took a long drag, the smoke billowing out from between her red, kiss-bitten lips and he felt like he was drowning. He was a good person—really, he was—but he felt so out of control of himself. Which was a bit funny to think that watching Lily as her hand pressed to James' bare chest was what made an actual werewolf feel out of control. He felt like all of his "saintly attributes", as Sirius liked to put it, had just been thrown to sea and now he was some depraved monster watching from the shadows.

When their lips met again, he could remember vividly how Lily's felt on his own, how soft and plump they had been. How warm and welcoming they had been.

Pull yourself together, it was only a kiss!

It was only a kiss.

A stupid, moronic, childish kissing game. A kiss she had shared with three others that night. A kiss that meant literally nothing to her! Still, he couldn't get it out of his head, and he couldn't pull his eyes away as James' fingers pulled at the zipper on the back of her dress and he pushed the fabric from her shoulders and down her waist and over her hips. He shouldn't look. He shouldn't be watching as Lily climbed onto the bed and straddled James and he shouldn't watch as her breasts pressed against his chest and her hips grinded down onto his and shouldn't…

But, he couldn't look away.

And it was killing him. And his stomach felt so sick and his head felt so loud and all he could think about was how he had gotten here. How did it end up like this? With him hiding behind the half closed door to the loo, watching as one of his best mate's and the love of his life… Jesus, she took her fucking knickers off and why couldn't he just look away?

This was it. This was just the price he had to pay for being a werewolf. This was the whipping he would take, time and time again, to exist in a world with people around him. He would watch and wonder how he would manage to make it through his entire miserable existence without the feel of someone wrapped around him. Without his name on the breath of a moan. Without his hands feeling the soft skin of a lover.

He laughed—out loud, like an absolute fucking moron—because it had been a kiss that started this mess. It had been a harmless, silly kiss.

"Hello?"

Oh, well he was well and truly fucked again. He had just chuckled his way into a corner while he sat here with a brain full of self loathing and a trouser full of erection and how the hell was he going to explain this away? This wasn't a "fancied a late night read under the tree" or a "I laid down for a kip and didn't hear you come in" type of moment. This was a caught red handed with his hand quite literally down his pants and his mouthful of broken excuses and lack of alibis. The overwhelming feeling of wanting to sink into the tile of the floor was crushing and his brain was just screaming how did you let it get here? How did it end up like this?

Oh right, the kiss. Like he didn't know. Like it wasn't the only thing he'd been able to focus on for well over a year.

Jesus. Fuck. Shit. Dammit.

He watched—like the complete idiot he was—as James moved from the bed, walking seemingly in slow motion toward the bathroom door. Jesus Christ Almighty, he still had his fucking hand down the front of his trousers and how the fuck was he going to explain this?

A shout.

A loud, horrible, wonderful, scream of embarrassment came from the bed as the door to the dormitory blew open and smacked hard against the wall and Remus had never in his life felt his heart skip beats the way it just had.

"Fuck, Prongs! We have a code! The sock! You're supposed to put a sock on the door! I swear to Merlin I've seen Evans naked more than you at this point and that's saying something!" Sirius' voice, loud and erratic and blissfully saving hit Remus' ears and he wanted to cry from the relief of it.

Lily was stammering and apologizing and James was arguing with Sirius about barging in and Remus stood, hand definitely not in the front of his trousers, trying to slow the erratic beating of his heart as he thanked his lucky fucking stars for Padfoot.

But then, the door to the bathroom was opening even wider and shit—he hadn't figured out how to explain why he had been standing in here but Sirius—Merlin, bless this man. He owed his a fucking lifetime of essays—flung the door open and gave him a strange look. A knowing look.

"And poor Moony! Jesus, you've probably been stuck in here the entire time! Prongs didn't even bother to check and see if anyone else was in the dormitory—which we share—before he started shagging Evans, did he?"

"I—well, no. I didn't realize…" James' voice sounded sheepish and embarrassed and Remus couldn't believe how his luck had turned and thank Christ for Sirius Black.

"Well, don't just stand there! Make yourselves decent and find somewhere else to shag, won't you? Merlin, people live here, Prongs!"

Remus found the small space of the bathroom suddenly crowded when Sirius stepped in and pulled the door closed behind him and he was running through a list of things he could say that would make sense. Something—anything—that would get him out of explaining what he was doing in the bathroom. Why he hadn't made himself known and just exited the room quickly like he had done a dozen times before.

But, it was with a smack to his shoulder with a flash of folded up parchment that he made the connection. The Marauder's Map hung in Sirius' hand and the look on his face—that knowing look—was still firmly in place. One dark eyebrow cocked up high on his forehead as a smirk pulled at his lips and he chuckled a little under his breath and had he known the entire time?

"Not the first time you've been held captive by the lovebirds, is it?" Sirius asked, with a tone that said he already knew the answer to that question and Remus was certain that if he gave whatever half concocted story his brain could supply right now, Sirius would not believe him.

"I didn't...I never...I never—"

"I know, Moony," Sirius said. "But hey, on the bright side, you don't have to worry about it anymore. I have a feeling they'll make it a point to be a little more private from now on."

"I—er...I mean, I don't—"

And Sirius cut him off again, impatient as always with Remus' stammering and very evident embarrassment and flashed him a million galleon smile and shrugged his shoulders. "I heard Emmeline has been asking around about you. Might be worth looking into."

Remus stared at him, stupidly, unable to form words with his ridiculous tongue that felt too big for his mouth at the present moment. Finally, once some semblance of sense had returned to him he gave a sharp nod.

"Emmeline?"

"Emmeline."

And, fuck, if Remus had ever been so eager to agree to seek out the dark hair and bright eyes that were attached to Emmeline Vance. Who probably didn't taste like Christmas but smelled like Earl Grey and sunshine and he always did prefer the mornings anyway.

.

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a/n: This was a very different writing style for me and I had so much fun writing this piece. Thank you so much to everyone who voted during the competition and to my absolutely lovely alpha DrunkenWinky, because without her this would not have had an ending. I was so stuck. lolol Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!

xoxo

Mimi