Any Way the Wind Blows

A Sad, and Often Lamentable, Tale

Part VI: Why, logically, James is God

Remus is tired. The full moon is in a week, and already his entire body aches and groans as he goes about his daily routines. The daily routine is mostly what made this incessant lethargy and pain reduce itself into something far more tolerable.

Kissing Sirius Black was not, and had never been, a part of Remus' daily routine. This was more or less the reason why he found himself pushing Sirius away, stumbling back into the sofa as he tried to find his balance.

Kissing Sirius Black had knocked his entire world askew.

Kissing Sirius Black had knocked the wind from his lungs.

Kissing Sirius Black felt really, really good.

Kissing Sirius Black felt really, really bad.

Kissing Sirius Black in the common room was really, really stupid.

Above the din of his heart (which was beating quite rapidly, thank you very much), Remus could pick out the snickers, gasps, and astounded noises of the other inhabitants of the common room. His face reddened twelve shades of pink, before all of the color drained completely, leaving him sickly white.

Sirius was staring at him, unflustered by the looks they were getting; unbothered by the laughter and the cat calls; uninhibited by the inevitable weeks of torment to come. Rather, he was simply staring at Remus, as if Remus was the only thing there was to look at; the only piece of sanity left in a world gone without.

It made Remus nervous, so he looked at the floor. The floor made Remus nervous, so he looked at the wall. The wall made Remus nervous, so he looked at the ceiling. The ceiling made Remus nervous, so he looked at Sirius.

"Please don't ever do that again!" It was a pleading and desperate cry to not be ridiculed. It was a pleading and desperate cry to stop the hurting – because it did hurt!

"What?" Incredulous, Remus could pick out. Sirius' voice was utterly incredulous. Obviously, he had not been turned down often.

"Don't kiss me again. Please." Incredulity, the kind that was so obvious in the boy's voice, planted itself firmly in Sirius' gaze. Remus looked back at the floor, but had turned and left the common room before any nervousness could return.

***

Couldn't he just accept a sodding good thing when he got one? Remus had never regretted anything more in his entire life than this moment; the moment, not three minutes after the rejection, when he'd slammed the door to the dormitories, and flopped down on his bed.

It had now been an hour. Two, maybe. Remus hadn't left the dorm, and no one had come in. Obviously, Sirius was sulking, James was helping him, and Peter was helping James. Remus would soon be confronted by the stag and his rat, and there would be a thick layer of guilt spread over him like the lake water. Cold, and filled with undesirable things. (But hopefully not Merfolk, as the Mermaid in the Prefect's Bathroom was bad enough. You never could tell, though, what James would bring in.)

Remus thought they ought to skip the stage of guilt trips, as Remus already felt guilty. Sirius had kissed him. Kissed him in front of at least eight other students, as well. Risked his reputation, his credibility, all future dates, everything! (Ironically, his reputation, credibility, and cache of dates were everything.)

The homework in Charms had been an essay. Remus decided that practical experience was more important. Thus, he'd have to remember to write his mother and tell her that he'd be needing a new uniform, books, and chocolates (he'd eaten them all) before the end of the week.

There would be problems if he didn't. Reparo could only do so much.

***

For five seconds, and maybe not even that long, Remus had been Remus J. "I'm Dating Hogwarts' Biggest Hunk" Lupin. Unofficially, of course, but it had still happened.

Now he was back to being Remus John Lupin, which wasn't nearly as exciting. Or motivating.

"What's wrong with you?"

Remus, splayed across his bed as if he had been dropped there from a great height, groaned. "I hate my middle name."

James raised an eyebrow so loudly that Remus was almost deafened by it.

"Shut up," he added when the eyebrow refused to.

"Er, I didn't say anything, mate."

"Don't look at me like that."

"You can't even see me, and I'm not the pillow."

"A boy can detest his middle name."

"Never said he couldn't."

"John is boring."

"Better than Godric."

"But is Godric boring?"

"Well, er, not exactly, but Godric! I mean, come on! A nickname for that'd be like God or something."

There was a pause, during which James seriously considered using the nickname God, a profession that he always thought himself worthy of, and Remus considered changing his middle name to Jay. Or simply leaving it at J.

"There is no way in Hell I'm calling you God."

James made an indignant noise and then started to speak, but Remus cut him off. "Make any remark about Hell and God, and I will personally make sure that you experience Hell before you experience God. Do I make myself clear?"

"If you're going to call me anything other 'n James, call me Merlin."

***

Sirius is angry.

No, Sirius isn't simply angry. Angry implies something along the lines of extraordinarily pissed off. No, Sirius isn't just angry; Sirius is livid. Sirius is livid because he has been utterly humiliated in front of his peers. Sirius is livid because he has been rejected. Been rejected by Remus, no less, which stands as something more insulting than he'd like to admit.

There are sniggers behind hands and books as he leaves the common room; his name disgraced, his reputation ruined.

He was now a ponce, a poof, a pansy, a queer, an arse pirate, a shirt lifter, and had just labeled himself as such in front of an entire room filled with his classmates! (It would have been an honor to be a ponce, a poof, a pansy, a queer, an arse pirate, and a shirt lifter, if he and Remus were still in the common room snogging each other senseless.)

After hitting his head against the cold stone wall of an abandoned corridor, thoughts suddenly began to mingle together in his dazed mind, and Sirius realized his mistake. Or, at least, his own perception of his mistake.

First of all, and this was the only semi-accurate part, Remus was quiet. Remus had always been quiet, and Remus would always be quiet. It was half the reason why the boy was so incredibly enticing, and half of why they'd become friends in the first place. (After Sirius had set off dungbombs in Remus' trunk, anyway. But that was James' idea, really – they wanted to know if Remus could even speak. It was discovered that, yes, he could, and with excellent emphasis on swear words. They were fast friends three minutes later.)

Remus would never go snogging random boys – or anyone, for that matter – on his own accord, and especially not in front of people. Sirius had obviously made him nervous or scared. It was understandable, and obviously Remus would come to his right mind in a more secluded environment.

Second of all, and this is where Sirius' "logic" came into play, Remus was obviously madly in love with Severus Snape, and somehow that was Snape's fault, so Snape would have to pay. Clearly, he'd had some sort of potion with him when he kissed Remus, so counters to love spells would have to be conjured up immediately. James and Peter were to know nothing about this.

It would be embarrassing.

But the matter at hand was what to do about Snape, and Sirius' mind was whirring with ideas when one struck him directly in the gut.

He grinned, and went off to find Peter.