Disclaimer: Remus, Sirius, and Harry still belong to J.K. Rowling. The chapter title comes from the same song as the story title, "Say Goodbye" by Dave Matthews.
Author's Note: This portion of the story is set just after the end of GoF, when Sirius goes to "lay low to Lupin's."
Go Back to Being Friends
Chapter Four—Secret Creatures
Nearing SunsetWind ruffled the shaggy fur of the black dog, making him appear monstrously large. Or it would, if anyone were observing him. The dog was careful that no one did. He sat now in the shadow of a crumbling stone wall, taking advantage of the camouflage his dark fur provided him. From a safe distance, he had already circled the small whitewashed cottage, and now he merely watched.
He was the most sought-after fugitive in Britain and had managed to remain free for two years only by a combination of caution, guile, luck, and well-timed assistance. Now, as he stood so close to the cottage he sought, the stakes were higher than ever. If he were caught here, he risked not only his own life, but also the life of one of two people he loved most in all the world. He could not count on luck, and he would not expect assistance. He sat and watched. If anyone, or any thing, were also watching this cottage, he would find them before they found him. When he had circled the cottage, the only person he had scented was the man he had come to find. He had not felt the bone-chilling cold that alerted him to the presence of Dementors. The only movements he saw now in the late-day light were that of small animals finding food while the diurnal predators were sluggish and the nocturnal ones waited for darkness.
He scented the smoke before he saw it rise from the cottage's chimney. The man he sought was making dinner. The dog rose, shook himself to warm his muscles, and trotted slowly toward the cottage. He thought that the cottage suited its owner. It was small, probably just one or two rooms inside, just enough space to suit a solitary person who contented himself with the essentials in life. A chicken coop stood near a small garden growing vegetables and a few magical plants. "To feed the body." Fuchsia bushes, dripping with showy magenta flowers, grew on either side of the front door. "To feed the spirit." A stone shed with a heavy oak door stood on the other side of the cottage. "To control the wolf." The dog walked slowly toward the Gryffindor-red door, gathering the courage to scratch.
He knew that he would be welcome in Remus's home. They had corresponded throughout the past year. Each had forgiven the other for mistakes and mistrust in the past. But, would he be welcome in Remus's heart? Sixteen years ago, Remus had admitted that he was in love with Sirius. Sirius had been too young and too foolish to admit that he felt the same way. Sixteen years ago, Remus had begun trying to fall out of love with Sirius, at great personal cost to them both. If Remus hadn't succeeded by the fateful Halloween that ruined all their lives, he had undoubtedly succeeded since then. Sirius knew there was no hope that Remus had remained in love with a man he believed to be a traitor, a murderer. Yet, Sirius had resolved to tell Remus of his feelings anyway. Too much that had gone wrong between them had been born of silence.
The dog's heart was pounding so forcefully in his chest that he thought its beat must be visible through his fur. His sat back on his haunches and raised a paw to scratch, but the door suddenly opened inward revealing the man whom the dog loved. Warm brown eyes flecked with gold, "I missed those eyes."
"Come in, Padfoot. Dumbledore wrote to me, but you're a day earlier than he told me to expect you. I wondered how long you were going to sit by that wall." Remus saw the dog glance around at the surrounding countryside nervously. "Don't worry. No one's watching the house. The Ministry kept a very close eye on me for about nine months after I left Hogwarts, but now they only spy on me once a month. Always the first Monday. Idiots." The dog walked into the house, nails clicking on the wooden floor. He waited until Remus closed the door before shifting back into human form, rising from four legs to two.
Remus watched his friend's eyes as they raised level to his own eyes. The pale blue eyes were the same in both incarnations. "I missed those eyes." He realized that he was staring, and turned away from Sirius before he made a fool of himself by blushing. "You're just in time for dinner. There's some bread on the griddle," he gestured toward the fireplace. "Make sure it doesn't burn, and I'll go see if any of the hens laid any eggs since this morning." Remus took a blue and gray earthenware bowl from a cupboard built into the wall and started for the door.
Sirius had already taken a seat on the footstool near the hearth, and the sight made Remus stop for a moment just to look. In some ways, the sight was so familiar. How many times had he watched Sirius illuminated by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room? The way the flickering light played with the black hair, deepening the shadows and reflecting gold wherever the hair curved just so, it was just the same. But his face, time and pain and the nightmare of Azkaban had changed his face. Sirius was still handsome; he would always be so, even to someone less biased than Remus. No, the difference was in the expression. Many of their schoolmates thought of Sirius as a class clown, someone always smiling and laughing, without a deeper thought in his head. Remus was one of the few who knew better. But even when Sirius stared into the fire with his most pensive expression, Remus knew that he would only have to call Sirius's name in order to see him smile again. Now as he looked at his friend staring into the flames, Remus wondered if he would ever see Sirius smile again.
"Sirius?"
"Yes?" Sirius looked up at Remus, but he did not smile. His eyes were filled some deep worry.
"Nothing. I'd better look for the eggs."
Sirius watched Remus go and then stood to look around the room. Entering Remus's current home, seeing possessions he did not recognize, the accumulation of a lifetime—a lifetime that Sirius had been absent from—drove home the point that there was indeed a lifetime between them. In many ways, Sirius had only been away from Remus for two years, the two years he spent as a fugitive after escaping from Azkaban. He did not feel he had been truly been alive for the dozen years he existed in Azkaban, lost in painful memories. Remus, on the other hand, had accumulated an entire history of which Sirius was not a part. They had been apart for more years than they had spent together. He had asked Remus many questions in his letters; most of those questions had gone unanswered in the replies. Perhaps he needed to find some of the answers to know if it would really be fair of him to say anything.
The old cottage was indeed two rooms, as he had guessed. An enormous stone fireplace was the wall between the rooms. In the winter, the stones probably absorbed the heat from the fire during the day and then radiated that heat into the bedroom all night long. "Remus always hated being cold." The small room held only a few pieces of furniture. Ink stains on the surface of a small pine table attested to its dual role as desk as well as dining table. Behind the table stood a bookcase painted the same Gryffindor-red as the front door. The lower shelves held books while those at a more convenient height held assorted scrolls, Muggle notebooks, bottles of ink, and in a basket, quills. Another red bookcase, between the front door and the bedroom door, was filled with books and labeled boxes and baskets. Sirius recognized only a few of the books, textbooks they had used at Hogwarts and books they had given Remus as gifts. Sirius smiled when he saw a paperback copy of A Wizard of Earthsea. He himself had given Remus that particular book when they were about fifteen. He pulled it from the shelf to read the inscription. "Dear Moony, Let me know when you finish reading this. We'll have a long chat about it then. –Sirius" He was pleased that Remus had kept it, in spite of everything. The spine of a large book caught his eye, red leather with "Moony's Photo Album" written in gold letters—a gift from James.
He was just about to pull it off the shelf when he smelled smoke. "The bread!" Just a few steps brought him back to the hearth. He grabbed the handle of griddle and jerked it back from its perch just above glowing coals. "Shit!" He shook his hand in the air. He needed either cold water or a wand to cool the burn.
Lacking the latter, he sought the former. "No kitchen, no kitchen sink." He opened the door tucked beside the cupboard on the back wall and found a bathroom with a large old soapstone sink. As he ran cold water over his red palm and fingers, he glanced around the bathroom. The bathtub had lion's paws for feet. The ceiling was either painted sky blue or was enchanted to resemble the sky. Sirius couldn't be sure without clouds. The room itself, although snug, was at least twice as large inside as the small addition had appeared outside.
"Padfoot?" Remus appeared in the doorway. "Are you all right?"
"I'm sorry, Moony. I was looking at your books and I burned the bread."
"You burned your hand. Let me see."
Sirius held out his branded palm. Remus cupped it his own hand as he used his wand to heal the burn. Remus's hand felt warm and slightly calloused. It felt wonderful. "It was worth getting burned," Sirius thought. "Oh God, I'm hopeless." Remus continued to hold Sirius's hand for a few moments before releasing it abruptly and going to the hearth.
"He's been here five minutes and you're already holding his hand," Remus scolded himself. "Hands off!" He crouched down and examined the charred food. "I think the bread is salvageable, just a bit blackened on the bottom. I found two eggs, and I've got some sausages in the cupboard that I was saving for you. I hope you don't mind breakfast for dinner."
"It's got to be better than raw rat," Sirius replied.
Remus looked up at Sirius with a
wicked grin. "Yes, but raw rat makes
such a satisfying crunch when the bones break, doesn't it?"
"You're a wolf after my own
heart, Moony."
Remus suddenly looked uncomfortable and didn't seem to know where to look. Sirius wanted to kick himself for unintentionally reminding Remus of those difficult years when Remus had loved Sirius and had been stung by Sirius's rejection. "And now you love him and he doesn't love you—turn about is fair play."
"Why don't you go take a bath, Sirius, while I get the food ready?"
"Is that your oh-so-subtle way of telling me that I reek?"
"Even to a nose less sensitive than mine. When was the last time you took a bath anyway?"
"With soap? About nine months ago, just before I came back. Dog paddling around in ponds and streams has had to suffice since then."
"Beats my record. Go."
Sirius didn't argue. He did want a bath, and he did want to finish quickly so he could eat. However, during dinner, he fully intended to find out what Remus's non-bathing record was. It was time Remus answered at least one question about their years apart.
The bathroom ceiling now had a few puffy clouds, purple above apricot—definitely enchanted. Sirius was in the tub as soon as he could strip off his robe. He didn't plan to soak, so he felt no compunction to allow the tub time to fill. As it was, the water was soon so murky that Sirius would have drained it and refilled it if he had wanted to soak. He washed his hair twice. He didn't usually—that is, when shampooing his hair had been a usual occurrence, he hadn't usually done it twice—but nine months of oil and dirt and hippogriff drool seemed to demand it.
He liked the smell of the shampoo. Time spent as a dog had made him more aware of scents, but not much better at naming them. This just smelled—clean, and maybe a bit like spring rain. Remus had never liked soaps and shampoos with strong scents. He said that he liked people to smell like themselves. The first time Sirius had worn cologne, he found that Remus kept finding excuses to move to the opposite side of the room. The girl he was seeing at the time—"What was her name?"—had liked it. Sirius had given the bottle to Peter within a few days.
Sirius dried off as he stared at the filthy robe in a pile at his feet. "I can't put that back on. I'll just have to pretend I'm still down in the tropics and wearing a sarong to dinner." He hung up his damp bath towel and grabbed the other large towel off the towel bar. Knotting it around his waist, he returned to Remus.
"I hope the etiquette police don't hunt me down for not dressing for dinner, but-" Sirius's explanation died in his throat when he saw Remus staring at him. He became uncomfortably aware of how thin and wasted he must look. His ribs weren't as obvious as they had been a year ago, but his arms and legs were still thinner than they should be. "I'm not quite the sexy teenager who seduced him anymore."
"I've got some clean clothes you can wear. I bought a few things at a used clothing store that should be the right length for you, but they might be a bit loose." Remus hurried into the bedroom and emerged a few moments later. "They're on the bed." Remus politely avoided staring this time and busied himself putting the food on the plates.
"Thanks."
The bedroom was small, cozy. A corner cupboard and a double bed filled almost every inch of floor space. Remus had lit the candles in two sconces over the head of the bed to give Sirius light to dress by. Muggle clothing, black trousers, a white button down shirt and a package of new boxer shorts lay on the bed. "He remembered my favorite color," Sirius thought with a grin as he touched the trousers. The boxers were a bit too big, but not too bad. Remus must have noticed how thin he was when they briefly embraced last year. The trousers were the same way. "I'm going to need a belt to hold these up. Maybe I can borrow Remus's wand and transfigure something into a belt." He was pulling on the shirt when he returned to the other room.
"I like the bathroom ceiling, Moony. You can be my decorator anytime."
"On clear nights, I like to lie in the tub and look at the stars."
"I'll have to try that some night."
Sirius took a seat at the table—the greasy, spicy smell of the sausages had pushed him from hungry to ravenous—but he realized that Remus had served him twice as much food as he had given himself. He offered his plate back to Remus.
"I'm not eating this much." His stomach threatened to growl at his treachery. "Take some back, Remus."
"I'm not very hungry tonight."
"Look, I want to be here, but if my being here means that you're going to starve yourself to feed me, I'll leave tonight."
Remus hesitated and then shook his head. "Really, I'm not hungry. I promise I won't starve myself. Go ahead and eat, Padfoot. You need it more than I do."
Sirius pulled back his plate and picked up his fork. "I don't believe you, but I'll pretend I do if you answer an important question."
"What?" Remus asked tensely.
"What's your non-bathing record?"
Remus laughed, relieved at the innocuous question. "Four months."
"How could you stand yourself?" Sirius asked around a mouthful of eggs.
Remus shrugged and began to pick apart a slice of burned bread.
"Why so long?" Sirius asked.
"Same reason as you. I was living somewhere where I didn't have a tub, or water, or soap."
"Where?"
Remus shrugged again and ate his small amount of scrambled eggs in two forkfuls.
"Where?" When Remus showed no sign that he intended to answer, Sirius dropped his fork on the plate with a noisy clatter. "I know you like your privacy, and I should probably just drop this, but—but I need to know something, anything, about the years I was—away. I was gone so long, Remus, and—just tell me anything. Your choice."
Remus looked up to meet Sirius's eyes. He wasn't ashamed of the difficult years that he had survived, but could he tell Sirius about them without Sirius pitying him? Or worse, blaming himself for the way Remus was left alone without the safety net of his friends? Probably not. Almost every letter he had received from Sirius had included an apology in some form. On the other hand, Sirius had lost so many years, and maybe he needed to know these things to get them back in some fashion.
"Where was I living? Cheap boarding houses when I could afford it, and when I couldn't, park benches, abandoned buildings, grassy fields if the weather was warm, a cave for awhile, some areas of the Underground that were pretty cave-like, public libraries are a good place to get warm, but you're only welcome if you've bathed recently. I was always searching for a safe place to spend the next full moon. I found this place about seven years ago. It had had a fire and had been abandoned for years. It was barely fit habitation for the local field mice. I made a deal with the owner. I'd make it habitable again and be responsible for all maintenance. She agreed to a token rent and a long lease. When I didn't have the money for the rent, she let me do odd jobs around her house instead. She died a year and a half ago and left me the deed in her will."
Sirius closed his eyes and bowed his head as a sudden realization struck him. "The last six months—before—that's why you wouldn't tell us where you were living. You didn't have a place to live."
"Yes."
"You should have told us. We would have helped."
"I didn't want help. It's your turn to answer an uncomfortable question, Sirius. Why did you suspect me?"
Sirius looked up in surprise. "Isn't it obvious?"
"Tell me anyway."
"Peter framed you. Yet another thing we have in common, Moony."
Remus was momentarily stunned. He had been so sure that he knew the answer to that question. He hadn't even planned to ask. "You mean, it wasn't because—" Sirius looked puzzled. "I just assumed, but I should have realized that you were never afraid of me. It was both one of your most endearing and your most infuriating traits."
Part of Sirius wanted to scold Remus for believing him capable of that kind of bigotry, but the fact was, Sirius had suspected Remus of being the traitor, and if he was brutally honest with himself, the fact that Remus was a werewolf may have subconsciously played a part. He finished eating in silence.
"I have a present for you," Remus announced as soon as Sirius finished. He rose and went to one of the bookcases. From the highest shelf, he took down something wrapped in fabric, something shaped like a wand. He put it on the table in front of Sirius as he banished their plates to the bathroom sink with his own wand.
"It's not as good as having one custom fit at Ollivander's, but—"
Sirius unwrapped the fabric carefully. His wand had once been almost a part of him, and now it had been so long since he had held one. Deep dark brown and a fine dense grain, it was almost identical to his two previous wands.
"Mahogany."
"And a dragon-heartstring core. It wasn't an easy combination to find in the shops I went to. I didn't dare go to Ollivander's and ask for that combination. He knew we were friends, and he would have remembered that's what your other wands were. He would have realized who I was shopping for."
Sirius gave it an experimental wave. He didn't see any sparks, but his hand felt warm. The wand felt 'right.' "You remembered."
"Of course I did. Mahogany like James, and dragon-heartstring like me."
Sirius stood up and looked around the room, deciding what to do first. His gaze settled on the threadbare wingchair in front of the hearth. "A sofa, so we can sit together in front of the fire, like we used to do." He imagined his favorite squashy sofa in the Gryffindor common room. He waved the wand and the chair stretched into match for the sofa he imagined.
Remus felt a warm glow all over his skin as he watched Sirius perform his first wand-magic in fourteen years. The smile on Sirius's face as he saw the imagined sofa become reality was infectious. How many times had Sirius been the one to make Remus smile like that? Remus would willingly spend the rest of his life doing whatever it took to make sure that Sirius smiled like that every day.
Sirius slowly ran one palm over the red fabric, as if making sure it was real. He turned and almost lunged at Remus in his eagerness to embrace him. "Thank you, Moony." Remus stood locked in Sirius's arms, lost in Sirius's scent, and unaware that Sirius was as unwilling to let go as he was.
Nearing Midnight
Sirius was trying to solve a puzzle. He felt it would be cheating to ask Remus for the answer, but if he didn't ask, it would probably keep him up all night.
"Remus, there are photos missing from your album, but you have photos of me, and you have photos of—Peter," he spit the name out, "so, it's not that you destroyed those because you couldn't stand to see them or something."
Remus was sitting beside him on the new sofa, reading a book and enjoying the quiet companionship. He had noticed Sirius turning the pages back and forth, continually returning to the pages where photos had clearly been removed, but he knew that Sirius liked to try to solve his own puzzles.
"Which photos are missing?"
"One from James and Lily's wedding, and one from late seventh year, and one from around when Harry was born."
"A wedding picture, James holding the Quidditch Cup, and one of James and Lily with Harry. Besides you and I, who do you know who would want those three photos?"
"Harry."
"Hagrid wrote to me, and to several other people, near the end of Harry's first year. He wanted to put together a photo album for Harry, one filled with photos of his parents."
Sirius had paused on a page in which a teenaged Sirius kept trying to push a nervous James toward a group of girls in the background of the photo. A girl with red hair smiled at the boys only when they were not looking. As Remus looked down at the photo, a tear splashed onto the younger Sirius's robes. Sirius hurriedly rubbed away the tear and closed the album.
"It isn't fair. He shouldn't have to know them only from photos. They should be here with Harry, with us. I miss them so much, Moony."
Remus pulled Sirius close and let him cry into his shoulder. He felt no embarrassment, no hesitation, about holding Sirius close now, about stroking his back, about kissing his hair. This was friendship; this was the love Sirius was willing to accept from him. When he felt Sirius's sobs slow, he pulled away from him just slightly, just enough to see Sirius's face. With his hand splayed behind Sirius's head, he kissed away the last tear. Before he could pull away further, Sirius's lips were on his own. The briny taste of tears mixed with the taste of Sirius's mouth, a taste, a warmth, he thought he had forgotten. So much he had tried to forget surged back into his sense memory, fueled by the one kiss. And it was just one kiss. Sirius pulled back and put distance between them again. A flush of embarrassment colored his cheeks, matching eyes and nose made red from crying.
"It's late, Sirius. We both need to sleep."
Sirius nodded. "I could sleep out here. I could change the sofa into a bed."
Remus had planned on sleeping separately, avoiding temptation. But now, having been kissed, he realized that was not what he wanted. He had stopped sleeping with Sirius sixteen years ago in hopes that he could fall out of love. It had not worked. He would spend the rest of his life in love with Sirius Black whether or not they ever touched again. And if Sirius needed the comfort of touch, he would not deny it to either of them.
"No, Padfoot, come to bed."
He extinguished the fire with a wave of his hand and then reached his hand out to Sirius. Sirius allowed himself to be drawn after Remus, into the bedroom. They both undressed silently. Remus had his back to Sirius as he removed his robe. Sirius suddenly became very still. Remus knew that he was staring at the unfamiliar scars that had joined the ones he knew so well. Remus turned so Sirius could see the ones on the front of his body as well. No, the wolf had not been kind to him in the years Padfoot was lost to him. Sirius gently laid his fingers on a wide band of scar tissue encircling Remus's right wrist, the scar of a silver burn. The wolf hadn't done that. He looked up at Remus with the question in his eyes.
"Don't ask, Sirius. Not tonight."
Sirius nodded, and they slipped into the bed. Each had left on boxers as if by mutual consent. Even this wisp of concealment was downright prudish compared to how they had once shared a bed, but neither wished to assume. Sirius lay flat on his back, tensely staring up into the darkness that filled the room when Remus extinguished the candles. He was torn between turning toward the man he loved and craved to touch, and turning away. He had already hurt Remus so much. He couldn't bear to do so again.
Remus lay on his side, facing Sirius. He draped an arm across Sirius's stomach. The contact was love and familiarity, but it was not sexual. Sirius relaxed at the feel of the familiar warm weight.
"I'm glad you're here, Padfoot. Good night."
"Good night, Moony. I'm glad I'm here too."
Sirius had not rested more than an hour or two in several days. Lying here, cocooned in the warmth of Remus's bed, he felt safe and protected. He spooned back against Remus's body and fell asleep. Nightmares did not trouble him that night.
SunriseRemus slowly awoke in the midst of a familiar dream. Sirius was with him, in his bed once more. He breathed in Sirius's scent, felt the warmth of his skin, slid his fingers through the silk of his hair. As he kissed and teased with his teeth the place where shoulder met throat, he realized that this time, it was not a dream.
Sirius rolled back into him, tipping up his head and offering his throat. This canine gesture of submission was one he had made to Remus, both man and wolf, many times before. Sirius had a faint smile of pleasure, but his eyes were still closed, and Remus did not know if Sirius was fully awake or merely responding to what he believed to be a dream.
The wolf did not care. He had been apart from his mate for too long, and at the sight of that beautiful throat trustingly laid bare for him, a low growl broke free. He bit Sirius's neck, tasted the salt of his skin, and felt the beat of his blood pulsing under his teeth. He did not bite hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to make it clear that he could.
Sirius moaned. The sound drove Remus from merely aroused to nearly frantic with need. With one move, he pushed Sirius back, pinning his shoulders against the mattress while he himself rolled up onto his knees, roughly shoving Sirius's thighs apart with one knee. He hovered just inches above him, staring down in the icy blue eyes, now open wide. A low sound in his throat, half dominating growl, half pleading whine, was the only way he could ask, entreat, beg. Human speech seemed impossibly complex.
Sirius
stared up into Remus's eyes, vaguely glinting gold in the early morning
light. At this moment, he didn't care
which Remus wanted him, man or wolf.
"Yes, Remus, please."
Remus awoke for the second time that morning with a vague feeling of unease. Something was wrong. He reached out for Sirius but felt only cool sheets. Panic squeezed his heart, and he bolted upright. Sirius sat at the foot of the bed, arms wrapped around his legs, and his face buried against his knees.
"Sirius? Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"
Sirius shook his head slightly, but Remus wasn't sure which question he was answering. He crawled forward and touched his lover's shoulder.
"Sirius?"
Sirius rubbed his cheek against Remus's hand and then sat up to face him. His eyes were troubled.
"We need to talk, Remus."
"You always were the master of understatement," Remus replied with a slight smile. He sat cross-legged at Sirius's feet. Sirius smiled back, but worry was still in his eyes. Sirius didn't seem ready to take the lead in the conversation, so Remus tried to reassure him.
"This morning was whatever you want it to have been: a one time thing, a mistake because we've both been alone for so long, or it could be the start of going back to how it was before. I'll be here for you until someone better comes along. And given your present circumstances, Padfoot, that may be a while." Remus hoped that Sirius would choose the latter.
Remus's words were not reassuring to Sirius. He winced inside at the word "mistake" and felt nauseous as Remus said they would continue only until "someone better came along." He almost missed the implication of Remus's final words. "Someone better for—me?"
"Time out," Sirius said, shaking his head in confusion. "Why are you willing to start again? Are you just desperately horny, Moony, or do you—are you—"
"Am I still in love with you?"
Sirius nodded and worried his lower lip between his teeth.
"Does it matter?" Remus asked as he stroked his fingers across Sirius's cheek, bristled with several days worth of beard. "I absolve you of all responsibility for my potential broken heart. I'll settle for however much time you give me: just today, a week, this summer." He started to pull his hand away, but Sirius caught him by the wrist and kissed his palm.
"How about the rest of my life, Remus? Could you put up with me that long?"
Remus sat still for a moment, his brow wrinkling as he tried to decide if Sirius was truly saying what he seemed to be saying. This time, it was Sirius who reached out to touch his lover's face.
"I'm saying what I should have said years ago. I love you, Remus."
Remus pulled out of reach, scrambling backward toward the pillows and shaking his head. Sirius felt his heart struggling to beat as an enormous hand squeezed it. He couldn't bear to see the horrified look on Remus's pale face, but he couldn't look away.
"You're just lonely, Padfoot, and you're glad to see me, and then I confused things this morning. That's all. You don't love me. I know you don't. Please don't say that you do." His voice dropped to whisper. "Please, don't make me believe you love me. I won't be able to bear it when I lose you."
The monstrous hand unclenched. Remus did still love him. Now he just needed to convince Remus that he felt the same way.
"No, I'm not confused, Remus, not anymore. On that ski trip, when we decided to go back to just being friends, James told me that I wasn't ready to be in love. He was almost right. I was in love; I wasn't ready to admit that I was in love, to myself or anyone else." He saw hope in Remus's eyes. "And then by time I realized that I did love you, things were starting to go so wrong, and Peter was framing you, and—I'm so sorry, Remus. I knew you could never do those things, but I was afraid that I wasn't seeing things clearly because I loved you. I was afraid to trust my heart, and I wanted to err on the side of caution, and—"
"You're sure? You really do love me?"
Sirius held out his hand. Remus looked at it as if afraid to touch it.
"I wouldn't say this if I weren't sure. I've hurt you too many times. I don't want to hurt you any more, Remus." Sirius suddenly pulled back his hand and said, "I do have one warning for you, though." Remus watched Sirius warily. "I've decided that there are only two things I really need in my life. First, I need to do everything in my power to make sure that Harry is safe and happy. So far, I've done a lousy job of it. I need to make it up to him. I promised."
Remus nodded. "You promised James and Lily."
"Yes, but I was thinking of the promise I made to Harry when he was a baby. Second, I need you in my life, how ever you'll have me. The rest, like killing Peter or clearing my name, they'd be nice but I don't need them. I'd still love to kill him, but I was wrong to make it number one. Everything kept going wrong when I did. I hope you don't mind being second."
Remus smiled. "I think you've got your priorities exactly right."
Remus finally reached out for Sirius's hand and pulled him toward himself. Sirius walked on his knees until he was beside Remus. They sat side by side but facing each other, fingers entwined, their free hands touching and stroking each other's faces, hair, backs, arms. Rediscovering each other. Remus threaded his fingers through Sirius's hair again and pulled him in for a kiss. It was not their first kiss. It was not even their first kiss that day, if their hungry devouring of each other that morning could be called kisses, but in some ways, Sirius considered that it was their first kiss. This kiss was a beginning.
"I love you too, Sirius," Remus said at last. He chuckled. "I've waited a long time to say that.
"Then say it again," Sirius said with a smile. "I won't mind."
Instead, Remus nipped the soft skin just behind Sirius's ear and whispered, "How ever will we celebrate?"
"I've got a few ideas, but you'd better tell the wolf to heel. Padfoot's turn to be the top dog."
Author's Note: A Wizard of Earthsea is the first in a trilogy of novels by Ursula K. LeGuin. Read it yourself, and you'll understand why Sirius believed it would have special relevance for Remus.
Why did I give Harry priority over Remus in Sirius's life? It's canon! Sirius spends his first two years after escaping from Azkaban staying close to Harry and trying to protect him. But I really don't think Remus would object.
-Posted February 2003