Any Way the Wind Blows

A Sad, and Often Lamentable, Tale

Part IV: Eternal Damnation

James Potter was the second Problem in Remus Lupin's life. It wasn't because Remus was madly in love with him – he wasn't. At all. It was more that James was always there to make sure that Remus got his daily dose of Bad Luck. Or, more specifically, his daily dose of Bad Black Luck. Or, even more specifically, his daily dose of Act like an Idiot in Front of Sirius Black and Make Him Think You Are a Submissive Little Pushover. Because You Are. No Offences Meant, Of Course.

In any case, James Potter was the main reason that Remus was still Remus, and not Remus J. "I Am Dating Hogwarts' Biggest Hunk" Lupin. It was distressing. Mostly it was distressing simply because there were many other people who were. And they were all females.

Which left Remus in a rather tight spot.

Actually, if he was going to be true to himself, he'd note that Sirius hadn't actually dated anyone in quite a few months. (Though it wasn't for lack of interested clients; far from it, in fact.) Remus fancied being at the top of this list, but he knew that his name wasn't even on it. Hell, he hadn't even seen the list, and as far as either party was concerned, it had nothing to do with anything Remus should ever involve himself in.

But at least he could follow Sirius into the showers without anyone suspecting. Not that he ever did, but it was fun to think about. Not that he ever did that, either.

Much, anyway.

"You fancy him, don't you?"

Remus tore out of a daydream, quill stuck tip-side-up into his mouth. He registered the bitter tang of India ink, and pulled a face.

"Well?" It was only then that Remus noticed James was sitting atop the desk, perched lovingly on Remus' notes. Remus looked quizzically at him, and wiped his mouth with the back of a hand. "Well if you don't, which you do, then prove me wrong."

"What are you on about, Pr—"

"What do you take me for, Moony?" James cut in, sliding off the desk and taking Remus' parchments with him. "I'm not an idiot, you know."

Remus made a skeptical noise at the back of his throat. James glowered at him. "And I don't fancy Sirius!" Lies. Blatant lies.


Remus felt rather worried.

James raised an eyebrow. "Right. Then who do you fancy?"

"As if I'd be caught telling you!" This was true. Remus stood up, hurriedly gathered his things, and turned around to dump them in his open trunk. He turned and faced James again. "And since when is my love life an interest to you?"

"'S not," James said noncommittally, shrugging to look even more detached. "Just curious, you know. What with, you know, the incident and all. Your nose. Still feel bad about punching you, but really. Had to be done. I mean, I wasn't aiming for you, but I think it knocked some sense into you."

Remus went crimson.

James smirked. Remus wanted nothing better than to slap him into next Tuesday.

***

Sirius and Remus and James were playing chess in the common room. Actually, Sirius and James were playing chess, and Remus was strategically positioned on Sirius' side of the board, in order to help him win.

"No, Sirius," Remus said, looking over the top of a Muggle novel he was reading whilst perched on the large arm of the overstuffed armchair Sirius was slouched in. "The rook. Move the rook." He turned a page and went back to reading.

Remus was beginning to realize something rather unfortunate, however, and it was making his hands shake. James had been staring at him for the past ten or fifteen minutes. Well, not solidly, of course, but every time he'd take his turn or finish talking to Sirius, he'd look up at Remus and just stare. Remus hoped that he hadn't written 'I love Sirius Black' on his forehead. It would be so like him to do something like that without having noticed.

"Sirius," James said suddenly, making Remus start and nearly drop the book. "All right, Remus?" Remus nodded, but James had already turned his attentions towards Sirius. "Sirius," he said again, with a little more conviction this time.

"What?" came Sirius' nonchalant reply as he brushed a few stay black hairs out of his eyes. Remus didn't watch. "Did I win?" Remus dutifully turned another page as if he'd been reading – he hadn't.

"No, Padfoot."

"Oh."

"SIRIUS!"

"WHAT?!"

"Bet you'll never guess what Remus was doing yesterday when, er, I accidentally punched him," James said, looking smug as Remus lowered the book and proceeded to look horrified. Sirius made a distracted noise at the back of his throat before the words registered. He looked up sharply.

"What?" he asked sounding quite curious.

Remus could already feel the blush taking control of his face. He sank down lower on the arm of the chair.

"Things you'd never guess ole Moony here was capable of doing!" James looked even more smug as Sirius whipped around to look at Remus, who nearly fell off the chair. "He was kissing someone!"

There was a loud thud as Remus hit the floor.

***

"I swear, James Potter, if you've gone and killed him—"

"I have not bloody gone and killed him!"

"Look at him!"

"I am!"

"Looks dead if you ask me!"

"Well, no one asked you, did they?!"

"Shut up! Both of you!"

And they did.

***

Remus hadn't asked for the bruise on the back of his head, or the splitting headache, or the woozy feeling he got when he stood up. He hadn't asked for Potions and his textbooks, or the jumper his mother had sent him for Christmas. He most especially hadn't asked for Sirius and James to deliver all of these items to him as he lay on, what Sirius thought of as the Death Bed.

"I'm not dying," he told Sirius for the twelfth consecutive time in the last thirty three seconds. He groaned aloud when Sirius just gave him that annoying parental look that says; you're obviously suffering from bouts of hallucinations. Sleep for the next few weeks while I force feed you chicken broth.

"Fine, fine!" Remus gave in. "I'm dying. Happy now?"

"Good boy."

Remus wondered what sort of a sadistic society he had been thrown into.

Perhaps this was Hell. Yes, that was it. This was Hell, and Sirius was the Devil, and James was that door-to-door salesman whom you'd shot with one of the rifles he was selling. (It had been an accident at the time, but later you came to realize that those dreams you'd had -- the ones about guns and salespeople -- had finally stopped. And unfortunately, this particular door-to-door salesman hadn't been used to pave any roads.)

So that was it. Remus was eternally damned.

"You snogged a boy."

Hell was a thousand times worse than Remus could have ever imagined.