Finding Home
(the sequel to "No Better Mistake")
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, or any other related characters from the world of Harry Potter. I also don't own the setting, plot lines, relationships, etc. ANYTHING ASSOCIATED WITH HARRY POTTER BELONGS TO J.K. ROWLING, not me.
NOTES:
warning. Possibly, this is the saddest chapter ever.
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15
Crash.
Groggily, Remus opened his eyes, blinking as it trying to fill the dim room with light. He sighed, but he wasn't overly surprised to find himself where he was; laying, spread-eagle on the second-floor mattress, stirred from his accidental nap by whatever—Sirius, he assumed—was making so much noise downstairs. After leaving Matt, and the store in town, he had only meant to lie down for a few minutes, hopefully to clear his pounding head, and, clearly—as Remus now struggled to sit up somewhat—he must have fallen asleep. From the sounds downstairs, and the absence of all light from the room, Remus estimated he had been out for quite some time.
"Sorry!" Sirius' familiar voice called from downstairs, and Remus shook his head, curling up against their pillows and letting his eyes close once more, feeling the seemingly empty space in his chest began to fill up with dread as he heard him begin up the stairs.
Remus hardly dared to believe, or ever listen to what Matt had been saying. The only truth he had been able to draw from their discussion was his last statement—that Sirius had changed. Sirius had grown up. And Remus, who was still sickly, still dangerous, still a werewolf… had not. Now was the time to apologize. Now was the time to tell Sirius that, all those many months ago, when Remus had first given in to his desire for love… he had been wrong.
Delicately, he pulled himself up a little in bed, back against the wall. Sirius' footsteps had slowed now, as he reached the top step. Sirius clearly thought Remus asleep, as he was making more efforts than usual to remain silent. However, as Sirius stepped quietly in, the two locked eyes, each as surprised as the other.
"Sirius…" was all he could say, his mouth agape. As the man moved in beside him, switching on the bedside lamp, Remus realized just how late in the evening it was; the light casting the only dim glow in the room. Sirius stood awkwardly beside the bed. "You… you…"
Sirius sighed. As if were just as shocked, he ran a hand over his dark hair, which was now cut shorter than Remus had ever seen it before.
Surely as an act of rebellion when he was younger, Sirius had always had long, dark hair. By the time they were teenagers it had bypassed his chin, and now, at eighteen, he had kept it even longer, growing past his shoulders. He was a rare sort of person to look masculine with hair long enough to pull into a ponytail, but Remus loved it—the dark locks falling down on his face as Sirius leaned over to kiss him, running his hands through the waves of hair to pull him even closer. James had given him endless grief about his appearance (though, with his mop of jet-black hair, he really had no room to talk) but Remus had never seen Sirius any other way… until today, at least.
"Why?" Remus found himself saying, "its just—why?" Sirius had loved being different than everyone else; he loved the way he looked. Not once, in all the years they had known each other, had Sirius doubted his appearance. His confidence was what enabled him, as a younger student, to date whatever girl he pleased, and even Remus found himself drawn to Sirius' unfailing assurance… standing in the shower, not bothering to close the door; coming downstairs in the morning with bed head and morning breath, and still managing to look sexy…
Sirius shrugged, sitting down on the bed beside him. As it had when it was longer, his hair swept across his forehead, but now, it ended so soon that Remus could see his ears; his neck. "I needed to look more… professional."
"Somebody told you that you had to change the way you look?" Remus asked him, horrified.
Sirius shook his head. "No—not directly, anyway, but… well, you should see them, Remus. It's amazing how much I stick out."
Remus didn't know what to say. Never before had he heard Sirius speak about not fitting in, at his new job or in any other situation. He had always been independent, always an individual, and never, never had he cared what others had thought about him. Sirius had never let anyone tell him to do anything, especially not when it came to how he felt about himself… but obviously… something had changed. The question that Remus really felt like asking—"who are you?"—died in this throat, though, as he continued to watch Sirius, who was still sitting beside him, averting his gaze. His hand was still running over the back of his neck, and the somewhat dull, flat look in his eyes suggested to Remus that he had just suffered a great personal loss.
Now was the moment. This was not the Sirius he knew.
"Sirius…" Remus said, again, and finally, Sirius looked into his eyes, and Remus felt the sense of panic rise in his stomach, clawing to get out. However, before he could say another word, Sirius exploded.
"I'm an asshole, Remus," he murmured miserably, "I've been such an idiot."
"What are you saying?" asked Remus, his curiosity getting the best of him, "you're not, you're—"
"I am." Sirius looked as thought he were a wild animal; he was gripping the sheets below him with such an intense hold that Remus thought they might tear. "Look at me, Remus. I've been… selfish."
"You haven't been the selfish one," Remus insisted, "I—"
"No, I have," Sirius cut him off again, "look at how I've changed for them. Look at my clothes! Look at my hair…" he let out something of a moan, grasping the short, dark locks in one hand.
"You've just had to… look more professional… Like you said, Sirius…"
"But it's not just that," Sirius seemed almost feverish now. He didn't want to say, but he had too, he had to tell Remus about the lies. Looking at the boy before him—arm in a sling, dark circles under his eyes—he felt as though he might combust. How could he have done this? How could he have hurt the boy any more than he already had—physically, emotionally…?
"I've been lying," he said hurriedly, and horribly, feeling the words fall out of his mouth as if they were heavy weights. "And not just a little, Remus. They think… they think I have money, and—and a house, and…" he sighed heavily, "a girlfriend and… I didn't tell them about you."
"Why would you?" Remus found himself saying. His own confessions were aching to get out; his guilt, and his shame, pouring into the room, filling it an almost unbearable degree. "Certain things are… expected with your job, we both know that—"
"No, Moony, listen to me!" Sirius said, frustrated. "I made up a new life. I didn't need too, but I did! All because I was stupid—and selfish—and, for some dense, fucking reason I actually cared what those Ministry drones thought of me! I wanted to be like them!"
"It okay," Remus muttered, "I don't care—"
"You have to care!" Sirius yelled, "Remus, I was so late the other night because I was too afraid—too, bloody selfish to tell them the truth, and look at what happened as a result!" He grabbed Remus' cut arm in one hand. "Look at your arm! Look at your neck! I did it, Remus. I had to do it, because I made you angry. I love you more than anything, and yet look at what I've done… Lied about us, forsaken you… and," he cleared his throat, clearly trying not to succumb, "beaten you up… I—I've broken your bones…"
"No," said Remus, before he could think, "No, Sirius, you're the one who doesn't understand. This is wrong. All of this, this is all wrong. I shouldn't have let it go this far. I… shouldn't have forced you to be this involved."
For once in his life, Sirius seemed at a loss for words. He gaped at Remus, not daring to believe that he was saying these words, after he had just confessed his sins, after he had admitted how he'd thrown Remus, and his love, away like some sort of discarded trash. Remus took advantage of this momentary silence, pressing onward, now unable and unwilling to keep his thoughts only to his head.
"I don't… blame you, for lying," he reiterated, "Or hurting me, at all. I know why you had to do both of those things. I'm the one who put you in this situation, Sirius. I'm the one who forced you to change. I told you—I told you last year, I told you this wasn't being fair to you. I should change like this… you need to change like this. You should have a life, Sirius… a better life. I told you then… I can't let you give everything up like this."
"No—Remus, this is my fault!" Sirius bellowed. He seemed unable to control his voice, his reactions, as his gray eyes were burning bright, more fierce than Remus had ever seen them before. "How can you talk like that? Be angry with me! I fucked up, not you! I don't want to change, Remus, I want you."
Remus shook his head, but Sirius pressed onward, "Please, please, I know I've been so stupid, but you can't think like this!"
"I don't deserve you," he said tonelessly.
"You deserve someone better than me!" Sirius grabbed his face, holding him there, "have you been listening to me at all? I'm a liar, Remus—a fraud!"
"You don't understand—the guilt, I feel, every day, in forcing you to be with me—"
"REMUS!" Sirius seemed to complete lose control now. Tears were running down his face like rivers, but he did nothing to stop their flow, nothing to tidy himself up in the least. "I know I've made mistakes—I'm making mistakes, but you've got to believe me. You deserve someone who loves you. I know it doesn't seem like me right now, but I swear, I swear I do, and I'm begging you… please, give me that chance, Moony… I can make it up to you…"
It was, once more, a tornado of emotions in Remus' chest. Sirius was crying, but Remus' eyes were dry. He wanted Sirius more than words could ever say, but now that the truth was out, he could hardly go back. He was almost relieved to know that Sirius had a new life, a double life, because it was something he had been feeling, been wondering about, for a long time, and now, finally, he knew. He hadn't been lying. He didn't blame Sirius for not telling the truth…
"Do you want this to end?" Sirius asked him, in barely more than a whisper.
"No," said Remus honestly, "no, I don't, Sirius, but I—"
"I messed up," repeated Sirius, "don't go putting this guilt on yourself. I promise, I can fix this."
Now, the tears were beginning to run down Remus' pale cheeks, and he looked up into Sirius' face. They were still sitting beside each other on the bed—Sirius had his hands on Remus' face. He looked frantic, desperate for something to happen. It was impossible to resist—Remus lifted his face toward Sirius' and kissed him, tasting the salt of their mingled tears, feeling the desperation of his embrace, the undeniable need of his kiss…
As they drew apart, Remus stared into his dark, gray eyes—so full of need, of hope that, maybe, possibly, they could work this all out. Sirius' eyes, willing him to believe that he was worth it, that he really did care, despite his lies, his betrayal…
"You can't fix me, Sirius," he whispered, and, despite his better judgment, felt himself pulling him into an embrace once more.
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Just cried a little.