A/N: I feel really hesitant about publishing this piece. It's my first attempt at slash; an experiment, if you will. I don't think it's written all that well; it's kind of abrupt. See, recently I stumbled upon a story that contained slight Remus/Sirius slash, and discovered that the way the author wrote it, it seemed — well — right. And I liked it. So I started exploring a little more well-written R/S, and realized that it's really not that bad, after all. I originally was writing this just for practice, for exploring. I didn't intend to publish it. But then, I kind of liked it, just a little bit, and was feeling daring, so decided to go ahead. Here you are. And of course, you have been warned: if you dislike slash, you can leave at no cost whatsoever. This is very mild, though, so I don't think it should be a problem. Oh, and just one more thing — I don't think Remus and Sirius were/are in love with each other. I simply think that it's an interesting idea to explore, and kind of fun to write.
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling.
Sirius digs through his trunk, looking for a shirt, and watches Remus out of the corner of his eye. The quiet boy looks exhausted — there are deep shadows beneath his eyes, and every movement bespeaks weariness. Right now, he's catching up on the work he missed yesterday while he was in the hospital wing. He keeps rubbing his eyes as he stares down at the page, and Sirius recognizes the condition in which one does not absorb a thing, not even realizing this for a paragraph or so — common among those who are tired. Sirius suspects that Remus hasn't slept for two nights. And of course, his transformation the night before last was far more difficult than they have been in quite a while. After all, it's been nearly a year since the werewolf's three friends succeeded in becoming Animagi, and since then, they've accompanied him on every transformation.
Except this one.
Why did I do it? Sirius berates himself mentally. What was I thinking, to intentionally let it slip to Snivellus? To tell him how to follow Remus? What was I thinking? He wasn't thinking, though, and he knows it. He was angry, and he chose the worst possible way to vent his rage.
It was a mess, of course. James saving Snivellus's life. The ungrateful prat babbling on about how the "beast" should be put down. Being caught by McGonagall, marching up to Dumbledore's office. It was late before the lecturing was finished and the punishments were assigned. Sirius has detentions for longer than he cares to remember, a ban on Hogsmeade visits for the rest of his time at Hogwarts (not that it really matters — he is a Marauder), and a hundred points from Gryffindor. Snape has a mild punishment for simply being an idiot; James has thirty points to Gryffindor for saving Snape's life.
But detentions and house points don't mean anything. Not compared to the feeling in Sirius's stomach as he thought of Remus, facing a transformation alone. Not compared to James's tight-lipped silence all the way back to Gryffindor tower, and his shouting once in the privacy of their room (Peter had the presence of mind to cast a quick Silencing spell before retreating to his bed to watch, wide-eyed). But worst of all was visiting Remus in the hospital wing the next day — his skin dead white, making the scars and slashes stand out all too vividly. The way his eyes widened, half in fear and half in anger, as he saw Sirius. The way Sirius tried to apologize, only to be cut off by a long, shouted tirade from the normally quiet boy. The way Remus's yelling broke off into a coughing fit, and droplets of blood spattered from his mouth onto the sheets.
That was the worst of all.
It was a little better when things calmed down enough for Sirius to give his apology, and for Remus to quietly accept it, but looking away all the while. Sirius still felt awful, though, even leaving the hospital wing that night with Remus in tow, looking tired but glad to be with his friends again, in some semblance of normality.
But Sirius knows that Remus lay awake long into that night, and even when he himself fell into a fitful slumber, his friend's breathing had still not evened out into the long, gentle sighs of sleep.
This morning, James and Peter both left early, James in hopes of getting a seat near Lily Evans at breakfast, and Peter because he was hungry; Peter is always hungry. James and Peter, happy that the events of two nights before have been resolved, blissfully unaware of the undercurrent of tension that remains between Sirius and Remus. Completely oblivioius to the awkwardness of leaving them alone in a room.
And so the two are silent, as Sirius searches for his shirt and Remus finishes his homework. Finally digging out the desired article of clothing, Sirius dons it triumphantly, then sobers as he casts a glance at Remus, wondering whether to stay.
"You can go down to breakfast," the boy says wearily, without looking up.
"No." Sirius isn't quite sure why, but he suddenly feels that he needs to stay here, needs to show Remus that he still cares.
"Suit yourself," Remus responds with a slight shrug, gaze still fixed on the same paragraph.
Sirius sits down at the foot of Remus's bed, his weight making the mattress creak slightly. Remus pretends not to notice, leaning further over his homework. A lock of hair falls into his eyes; he ignores it.
It is silent, the strange sort of awkward silence where each motion feels desperately conspicuous and distracting, where you struggle to make your breathing soundless. Sirius watches Remus, whose gaze remains determinedly fixed on the parchment. As he watches, Sirius finds himself strangely aware of the shape of his friend's face, the delicate curve of his lips and the quick darting motions of his eyes, half-obscured by the unruly lock of hair.
Unconsciously, Sirius reaches out and brushes back the strand, fingertips gently brushing Remus's jaw. He doesn't even realizes what he's doing until Remus's head raises, and his eyes lock with Sirius's in surprise and maybe even a little fear. Sirius reddens slightly and begins to withdraw his hand, but Remus's comes up and catches it. They stare at each other for a moment, not quite understanding.
"I'm sorry," Sirius whispers, and this time he really means it, sincerely and from the depths of his soul.
"I know." Remus's eyes remain locked with his own, and then the faintest hint of a smile appears on his face.
Sirius feels his own mouth hesitantly form a matching smile. And then, simply because it feels so right, they both lean forward, and their lips meet.
Sirius doesn't know what's happening, or what he's doing. He merely knows that this feels right, so right, more right than anything else he's ever known.
And that is enough.
When
something goes wrong
I'm
the first to admit it
I'm
the first to admit it
But
the last one to know
when
something goes right
Well
it's likely to lose me
It's
apt to confuse me
It's
such an unusual sight
I
can't get used to something so right
Something
so right
Paul
Simon, "Something So Right"
A/N: Well, there you have it. My very first experiment with slash, and a somewhat lousy piece of writing. I want you to review anyway, but maybe if you're nice you'll go easy on me. Heck, I don't care if you go easy on me or not — just please review?
