Chapter 92: Moony & Padfoot

Remus hadn't dared look at the Marauders Map after he confiscated it from Harry. It was too hard to look at Sirius's handwriting, to flip through the years of effort the four teenage boys had put into creating it. But he knew that he owed it to James to keep an eye on Harry the night of Buckbeak's execution; he had a feeling that Harry and his friends would sneak out to Hagrid's hut. It was Remus's duty to make sure that nothing bad happened – and by bad he meant that Harry didn't happen across Sirius Black.

Even in his own head though, that sounded absurd. He tried to tell himself that it was just the painful memories of a better time associated with the map that kept it locked inside his desk draw – but that wasn't the whole truth. He didn't want what Maggie and Tonks had told him to be true. Because if it was true – if Pettigrew was the secret keeper, and Sirius was innocent – it meant that the narrative that he'd told himself since Halloween 1981 had been a lie. It meant that he was a fool who should have seen it coming – because it was much more within the realms of Peter Pettigrew's character to be disloyal than it was Sirius's, and that was a truth that Remus just couldn't ignore.

There were smalls hints of it throughout their years at Hogwarts. Peter would side with whoever seemed to have the upper hand in arguments between James and Sirius. He would try and partner with the strongest student in Herbology, even if it meant leaving his group of friends. He didn't know who he was like James, or have the stubborn streak that Sirius did, or Remus's brains. In fact, there was nothing remarkable about Peter Pettigrew at all.

So if he believed that Voldemort was on the winning side of the war, was there a chance Peter switched sides?

Remus thought yes. He also thought that his grudge against Sirius – not the one from the prank, which would have made it understandable, but that childish, pathetic grudge he had because of Eliza Goldsworthy – may have blinded him from this glaring fact.

If Remus had refused to see reason over that…

But Harry's safety mattered more than his fears. He was so much like James, so the chances were he'd try to stop the execution from happening, which would result in all sorts of trouble for himself, his friends and Hagrid.

And Remus was right. He watched them for a small while, and just as he decided that he ought to go down there and escort them back up to the castle, he saw that not one, but two Marauders had beaten him to finding Harry. Sirius, and Peter.

There was no moment of disbelief. The map was the last piece of hope he was holding onto that he hadn't been convincing himself of a lie for over a decade; the only reason he had to not fully accept what Maggie and Tonks told him all those years ago. But now that the proof was in front of his eyes, he couldn't deny it.

And he couldn't stop the onslaught of memories that rushed to his mind. Except they weren't Peter related, which surprised him. He expected that if he found out that Peter was the secret keeper, he would allow his mind to properly dissect all the little moments they overlooked that showed his true colours, rather than just gleam over them with half-hearted effort.

One memory was sharper than the others, a memory that occurred not far from where the figure of Sirius Black currently ran on the map.

It was Christmas 1974, Remus's fifth year at Hogwarts. He was spending Christmas at Hogwarts for a change; usually, he spent the holidays at James's place, but James and Peter's families had decided to visit France. The Potters were unsure as to whether or not they would have another chance to go abroad given the current state of the wizarding world, but it was a shame that Christmas fell near a full moon. Remus had to stay at Hogwarts, and to his surprise Sirius adamantly insisted that he would stay too. After a delicious Hogwarts Christmas feast, they decided to go for a walk around the grounds; the snow was thick, but had stopped falling for the time being.

Remus leaned against the beech tree overlooking the frozen lake, watching Sirius with bemusement from a few feet away. Remus had only ever built sandcastles, not snowcastles. And in typical Sirius fashion, he didn't just build any old snowcastle – he had a whole bloody tool set for the task.

Sirius used a curved metal tool to carve out little windows in the snowcastle, impatiently blowing a strand of hair that had fallen out of its ponytail out of his face. His expression was one of unwavering focus as he smoothed the window and moved onto the next one. If there was one thing you could count on Sirius for, Remus mused, it was the unexpected. A talent for creating beautiful snow sculptures was the very last skill Remus expected Sirius to have under his belt. He thought that knitting would be the extent of Sirius's unusual talents, but seemingly growing up with a regal and incredibly rich family meant that no skill went unlearned.

There was something enthralling about watching Sirius's deft hands transform the unshaped mound of snow into a replica of Hogwarts. He didn't look up at the castle once for reference; he seemed to know the outside of the castle as well as he knew the inside, a map in his mind instead of the one in his pocket. Remus wondered if Sirius had a photographic memory.

After the good part of an hour, Sirius abruptly stood up and took a few steps back from the snowcastle. He bit his lip and cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowed as he scrutinised every inch of his creation. Finally, a contented smile crossed his face.

"It's done, Remus. Come have a look now."

Remus stood up, brushing some snow off himself that had fallen from the leaves of the tree. He treaded towards Sirius, smiling slightly.

Up close, the detail was incredible. From the slight tilt in Gryffindor tower to the tiling pattern on the roof of the astronomy tower, it was nothing short of perfect.

"Only you would master such an obscure skill," Remus said, shaking his head in mild disbelief.

Sirius grinned, shaking snow out of his hair. It fell onto his cheeks that were pink from the cold. "Why thank you. Just don't tell James. He'd take the mickey out of me."

"You're not wrong," Remus agreed. He glanced over at the castle again. James appreciated many things, but art was not one of them. Unless it involved Quidditch somehow. It struck him that Sirius had probably never shown anyone his snow sculptures. When he looked back, Sirius had taken a step closer to him. It was only a subtle step, but noticeable nonetheless.

"I don't mind that we didn't go to the Potters," Sirius said thoughtfully. His eyes were set on Remus's with a soft sort of intensity that made him feel nervous. "It's nice to just have your company for a bit."

"Why's that?" Remus asked, his throat dry. Sirius pondered for a moment, but seemed to be at a loss for words. He shrugged.

"I don't know." But Remus could see he was lying, which was strange. Sirius always said what was on his mind; it was what made him both insufferable and yet uniquely Sirius. Maybe he just liked the peace and quiet without James and Peter around. There was never a quiet moment when-

Then Remus was acutely aware of Sirius's lips pressing against his.

Remus pushed him off immediately. It was a reflexive reaction. His hands rested on Sirius's shoulders as he surveyed him in shock. Sirius stared calmly back, but Remus could hear the racing pace of his heart. There wasn't much Remus didn't overthink – especially near the full moon, when his mind was in constant overdrive – but there was no thought to curling his fingers around the material of Sirius's sweater and pulling his body against his, no thought to catching his lips with his. It was as though his body moved of its own accord, but Remus had no protests about it. Sirius kissed him with an intensity that made Remus's skin burn. He didn't realise until now just how long he had wanted this.

Remus wasn't quite sure what to do with the electric feeling coursing through his veins. He had felt nothing like it before, and it scared him as much as it excited him. Sirius kissed him harder and Remus returned the favour, feeling a rush of something that felt animalistic and not quite him, and before he realised what was happening he dug his fingers into Sirius's collarbone.

Remus pulled away as he felt wetness on his fingertips. To his horror, he realised he had drawn blood. He backed away from Sirius, aghast.

"It's fine," Sirius said impatiently, making to grab Remus's wrist and pull him back. "I liked-"

"That's going to scar for life," Remus snapped angrily. "I'm a fucking werewolf… this was a mistake," he muttered, avoiding looking Sirius in the eye. "I'm sorry."

"It's not like I'm a stranger to scars," Sirius answered. "I don't care, Remus – I know you don't think it was a mistake, not really-"

"Yes, I do. Just go, Sirius."

Sirius went, but not for long. That was always the problem.

Being a werewolf meant being an outsider in every way – even if the Marauders didn't care, he did. Sirius couldn't possibly understand why Remus felt the guilt he did after that incident, the way it added to the constant shame that seemed to cloud his sense of self wherever he went. He couldn't even kiss someone without the wolf somehow getting in the way. He couldn't ever lose control with another person without fearing he would scar them. And Sirius may not care; he may be his usual blasé self about the silver scar on his collarbone, but Remus would never be able to look at him without feeling guilty.

But the guilt Remus felt right now was much, much worse.

Twelve years in Azkaban. For a crime he didn't commit.

He knew that Maggie and Dora were telling the truth. He had codesigned the map; there were no flaws in it, and absolutely no feasible way that the twins could have made up such an intricate tale. But it had been so much easier, so much less painful, to convince himself that it wasn't the truth. Because letting Sirius back in, letting his heart be open to the possibility of not all hope in the world being lost… well, when you lived your life on the margins of society, never truly fitting in, losing everyone you ever loved one fated Halloween night… it was easier to be pessimistic. Easier to live a life devoid of hope.

Because with Sirius being innocent came the fact that everything they went through together wasn't a lie.

Remus had always admonished Sirius for being selfish. Sirius tried hard not to be, but there was always a tinge of entitlement in his words and in his tone, and a lack of understanding about how his actions made other people feel, the markings of a spoiled child. But would Sirius have done what he did, roles reversed?

Remus scoffed aloud. Of course not. Sirius would have done for Remus what Eliza did for him… if not more.

While there wasn't much that Remus could have done to free him… Sirius wanted him to have faith. That would have meant everything.

But he didn't.

And that was the ultimate betrayal, was it not? James would hate him for it. He could almost hear his voice… You should have known he would never do that to me… you knew him like I did, if not better… you selfish fuck, Remus.

Whilst it was undeniable that James and Sirius came as a package deal, and Remus and Peter were often on the outside of their dynamic duo, there were times when Sirius and Remus naturally gravitated towards one another. James and Peter's families were friends, so they often would excitedly discuss the pranks they were going to pull at parties the Pettigrews threw, or past escapades they had as in their younger years. It wasn't as though Sirius and Remus didn't care for their tales; they just felt like outsiders intruding upon the conversation. Sirius tried to stay away from his family as much as possible, and had long since given up pranking at family events for the punishments weren't the sort of telling offs James and Peter received. Remus had a single, agoraphobic muggle mother who had lost contact with her family, so Remus had never experienced a family gathering in his life.

These occasions began Remus and Sirius's friendship, which was a separate entity from the collective group of Marauders. They would have their own quiet conversations whenever the subject turned to the Potters and the Pettigrews, mostly about their classes at first. This turned to walks along the lake, where Sirius would burst forth with jealousy at James for his relationship with his family. Remus didn't understand – it was friends he had craved his whole childhood; he was quite content with just his mother – but he listened to Sirius's rants and discovered a lot about him.

First, the arrogance was a persona. Remus guessed that it was partly due to his upbringing in such a regal household that he had unconsciously adopted those traits, but mostly, it was Sirius's way of guarding himself from the world. And he was very good at it. Until their walks around the lake, Remus was convinced that Sirius was as cool, calm and collected as he acted. But he quickly learned that Sirius had big emotions.

Second, he had no idea how to channel those emotions. They came out in harsh bursts of anger that almost seemed directed at Remus – if he didn't know better. Still, Sirius apologised profusely every time this happened and spiralled into a pit of self-loathing.

Third, Sirius had no awareness to just how reckless he could be.

Take the prank for instance.

Remus had loved Sirius before and after the prank. That never changed. But the prank signified yet another solid reason why Remus just couldn't be with him. The scar was one thing. But Sirius had yet again shown no regard for the wolf, which was going to be as much of a part of Remus as his conscience would be if he had committed a murder that night.

As much as Sirius did understand parts of him that James and Peter could not, no one could understand a werewolf. Even Remus didn't fully understand it.

Like how the wolf seemed to know things. As the years had gone by, and Remus had become accustomed to his condition, he learned to lean into that wolfish sense. Sometimes he could taste when it was going to storm in the air. One time he smelled something bitter coming from the old muggle lady next doors house. He went to investigate, and saw that a man was trying to break in. But it wasn't just his physical senses. Sometimes, it was almost intuitive. He felt it in his bones the way he felt the pull of the moon in its different phases.

Drinking wolfsbane for the best part of a year had dulled him to this intuition, so he didn't recognise it for what it was.

But it was a feeling he associated with his teenagerhood. The anticipatory feeling in his chest that wasn't his own, but the wolves, accompanied him the day before every full moon once his friends had learned to change themselves into animagi. The wolf would be free with its newfound friends and wouldn't feel so trapped it needed to harm its host.

Remus was so unfamiliar with both that freedom and the initiation that he left his office without remembering that he hadn't yet had his potion. All that registered in his mind was that third fact about Sirius, the recklessness. He couldn't just kill Pettigrew in front of James's son without telling him why, and Sirius was not one for rational conversation when anger was involved…

So Remus, in trying to stop Sirius from acting without thinking, made a reckless decision that would inadvertently change everything…

Moony and Padfoot would run free again tonight.