Written for:
Tear My Heart Out Event at Hogwarts
Valentine-Making Station: Glitter – Write about a big mess that is difficult to clean up.
If You Dare Challenge: 847. Beyond All Repair
Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge: Manticore – Write about any part-human creature. (Spoiler Warning: Remus is a werewolf)
Words: 2650

When Love Loses

"Lily, can I have a word?"

I turned to see Remus stood in the otherwise empty corridor behind me, shuffling his feet and avoiding my eyes. His hands hung awkwardly by his sides, and he was toying with the sleeves of his robes.

"Er, yeah, sure," I said with narrow, uncertain eyes.

It was late, past curfew, and I was exhausted. A long day – filled with NEWT classes, Arithmancy homework and patrols with a Ravenclaw Prefect I didn't particularly like – meant all I wanted to do was crawl into bed with a good book. But whatever this was looked important, at least to Remus, so as he turned, heading towards the empty classroom closest to Gryffindor Tower, I took in a deep breath, summoned my friendliest attitude, and followed him.

I entered the dark room, lit only by the light of the moon, and saw him stood in the middle, his hands behind his head, facing away from me. I leant on the door to close it, feeling more and more anxious by the second.

"What is it?" I asked, curious, but already feeling as though it was something I didn't want to know.

He turned to face me, fixed my gaze with sad eyes, and sighed.

"This is kind of awkward. I don't know how to say it, really, but here goes," he began, but he paused.

I was feeling rather uncomfortable, which in itself made me feel guilty. Over the years, Remus had become one of my best friends. We'd spent hours in the library together, pouring over homework, which sometimes would turn into us merely pretending to work as we chatted and laughed. We shared the same ideals, me and Remus, and we often found each other's eyes just so we could roll them at Sirius and James' latest antics. Being uncomfortable around him was foreign, and the idea that he could say anything I didn't want to hear preposterous. At least, it was until that moment.

"You're making me nervous," I told him with a shaky giggle, still leaning against the door as if it could somehow ground me.

"Sorry. I'm nervous. Didn't mean to pass it on." He attempted a smile, but even in the dim light, I saw through it. "We've been mates for a while, yeah?" I didn't respond; I had a feeling he'd continue anyway. "I mean, we started chatting about schoolwork in first year, and I think we really became friends in second year. We always got on, but not like I get on with James and the rest. It was always different with you, you know. Calmer. And then, in third year, you worked out my whole family wasn't really suffering from a whole host of horrible diseases. And you… you told me you knew what I was, and – do you remember what you said?" His words were slow, considered. Like he wanted to make sure they were right, but still thought they were falling short.

"Er, not exactly," I lied. I remembered exactly what I said, word for word, and I remembered the way I bit my lip before I spoke. I could recall how I'd spent three days choosing the right words before I said them. It was important I got them right, for our friendship's sake. I knew, even then, that I didn't want to lose him.

"You said, 'I know what you are. I know you're a werewolf, okay, but don't panic. I know that's a part of you, and it's a part I'll never share, but I'm not afraid of it. I'm not afraid of you. I still like all the parts of you I can share, and I still want to, if that's alright with you.' And it's quite possibly the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me, you know? Because when the other three found out, they told me with grins on their faces, like our continued friendship was just assumed, and it was to them. But you knew. You'd not only put two and two together about what I was, but about how I felt about it, and you knew I didn't want people to know. You didn't just assume we'd carry on as normal after that. You offered it to me. You gave me a choice. No one else had ever done that before."

He wasn't looking at me anymore, but into some far off corner of the past, through rose-tinted glasses, and he was rambling; the words were tumbling out now like a waterfall. And as I stood there, my heartbeats came faster and I felt a prickling on the back of my neck. All my senses were heightened like I was aware of every breath, every little movement I made, the feel of the door on my back and a gentle breeze against my legs. It was like I just knew what was coming next. I think… I think I wanted to run.

"I think I started to see you differently after that day. You weren't just my friend Lily; you were Lily who understood; Lily who saw. I didn't know anything about girls and boys and relationships and feelings then, at thirteen, but I knew something was different," he said, and looked at me, as if he was trying to gauge my reaction as he hinted at what was coming next. There was fear in his eyes as if he was waiting for me to run away or stop him.

I wanted to stop him. I wanted to tell him to shut up, to pretend this had never happened, even though it hadn't happened, yet. If I let him carry on speaking, things would never be the same between us again. But I couldn't find the words. I didn't know what I was supposed to say that wouldn't hurt him in some irreparable way.

As he began to speak again, it struck me that there weren't any words.

"But that was about the same time James started asking you out, wasn't it?" He looked at me with a wry smile. "That was, I think, when we all started looking at girls differently for the first time."

Whatever I said would break a part of him, and it was a part he'd never let me see again.

"The four of us made a pact, then. It was a silly, childish thing that James and Sirius made us swear to. If any one of us fancied a girl, the others would stay away. Thinking back, it was a bit unfair for the girls, I know. We never thought of things like, you know, them having a say in the matter. It never quite worked out in practice the way it was planned in theory, but the plan never had much work put into it." I bit my lip, looked around me for an escape, but the only escape was the door I was leaning against. I closed my eyes against his words as if I wanted nothing more than for this to be a dream. Just a dream.

It was like, over the years, we'd given each other all these little parts of ourselves. He'd given me his humour, his trust, his friendship, his kind smile and his warmth. I'd taken them with gratitude, pieced them all together and made a version of Remus all for my own. He'd done the same with me.

"But that wasn't the point of it, anyway. The point was that we wouldn't let anything come between us. We would be friends forever, and apart from a few bumps in the road, it served its purpose there." I felt tears spring unbidden to the corners of my eyes; tears for a boy who'd struggled so much with himself that the very fact he was saying these words deserved some sort of medal. Tears for a friendship, for years of comradery burst into flames, soon to be nothing more than a pile of ash and memories too bitter to relive.

Because he'd taken those pieces of me I'd given him and he'd rearranged them in a way that I never intended. He'd made a version of me that wasn't real, that wasn't quite me. He'd chosen to see me in a different way than how I saw him.

"But we didn't understand the world at thirteen. We didn't understand love. And I think that when you find love, that one thing, that one person, that you want to be a part of your life forever – not just a part but the main part, the one that you want to build your whole life around – well, surely that should come first?" It should, Remus, it should, but not the way you want. With someone else, Remus, anyone else. Please.

I'd taken the pieces of him and I'd built a friend.

"What I'm trying to say is…" His words trailed off as he plucked up the nerve to finish his sentence. I opened my mouth as if to speak. I wanted to speak. I almost did. I wanted to break whatever spell we were under and stop it, stop him, now, before he finished. Before he said what he'd brought me here to say.

He'd taken the pieces of me, and he'd fallen in love.

"What I'm trying to say is…. Lily, I'm in love with you." I closed my eyes and forgot how to breathe. I wanted so desperately to smile, tell him everything was going to be okay. Make some stupid joke so we could laugh about it later. I wanted to cut the tension with a knife, shatter the atmosphere like it was an atom bomb waiting to explode. I wanted my friend back, by my side, and I would have done anything.

And I didn't have a choice. I had to break his heart.

We stood there in silence, and I looked at him as he looked at me. I don't know what he saw in my face – if it was pity, or guilt, or just plain old sadness – but I could see his hope shatter before I'd even opened my mouth.

"I'm sorry," I heard myself say, but I didn't remember thinking the words. "I… I love James," I told him, and it was only as I said the words that I realised they were true. I wasn't even with James. He'd stopped asking me out last year. We were just friends, no different than my relationship with Remus, I guess.

I told him I loved James, trying to fight back my own tears, knowing now wasn't the time for my own pain, and I looked him dead in the eye.

I'd never seen a heart break before.

His mouth dropped open in surprise; his eyes grew wide. The pain he felt was written in every line on his face, even in the moonlight, I saw his eyes glisten. The stoop in his shoulders and the heavy way he stood told me everything. The weight of my words, of what I said and what it meant, was crushing him, his hopes and dreams. Everything he'd hoped for from this moment had been turned to ash in his ears as my words set fire to his heart.

I heard my first sob escape my throat rather than felt it. I was hardly aware of myself, but all I knew next was that I was crying, really crying, like it was my heart that was breaking. But it wasn't.

"Don't… don't cry," he told me, rushing to be my rock even now, but his voice betrayed him in the way it broke over the words. He leant forward, his eyes drooping at the corners as if all he wanted to do was rush over and wrap his arms around me, to comfort me. But he just stood still, rooted to the spot. The longing in his eyes made me worse. I should not be the one seeking comfort right now, and I did not deserve it.

"I'm so… I'm so sorry," I told him over the tears. "I didn't know." My voice was a whisper, but he heard. "I didn't know."

"I know," he told me, whispering back as if there wasn't half a classroom between us. "I thought you did… I thought you'd guessed. But I know… I know now that you didn't."

I didn't understand the importance of that in the moment. I didn't realise what he was trying to say. I was too busy, too wrapped up in the tears I saw fall down his own cheeks. He wrapped his arms around himself, defensive. He was defending himself against the pain I'd caused him.

What he meant was that he'd thought I loved him, too. He'd seen my friendship and taken it as a sign of reciprocation. It was probably the only reason why he'd admitted it. Because he thought I'd say it back.

He began to turn away from me, moving for the first time since I'd cut his chest right open and ripped out his heart. I didn't remember deciding to move towards him, but I'd taken two steps before it registered. I stopped, froze, wondering if it was the right thing to do, or if it would make things worse. I threw that thought away and, against my better judgement, continued my journey across the room to him. I caught his arm, forcing him to turn back around towards me. Up close, the pain in his eyes was almost too much for me to bear.

I'd done that.

It was my fault.

I wrapped my arms around him and he froze against the gesture, stiff and awkward in such close proximity. Soon, he began to relax, and I felt him let go of the tension. I felt his arms wrap around my waist as clearly as I felt his breathing tell me he was still crying, and I was, too.

He leaned his head against my shoulder for just a moment before he was looking up.

"There's nothing I can say. Is there?" he asked, but it didn't sound like a question. He already knew.

"Remus, if I could change my heart, I would do it for you," I told him through the tears that had come unbidden at his question. They made his face all blurry before I blinked and chased them away, and the look on his face… I almost wished I hadn't blinked at all, or I'd kept my eyes closed, or something.

"Does… does James know?" he asked, trying to steady his voice and failing miserably.

I shook my head, drawing a breath up through my nose. When they play scenes like this in the movies, it's the part you never see. It's not pretty, heartbreak. You don't hear stuffy noses full of snot. You don't see the way tears cling ugly to chins, or the clamminess of shaking hands.

"No, no I… I don't think I knew until just now." I shouldn't have said that. I knew the moment the words left my mouth that I shouldn't have said them. Even as he nodded in understanding, I knew I'd only gone and made things worse.

"Perhaps…" he began, and he was stepping back, claiming his arms back from my waist and closing himself off, tucking himself in on himself and I knew as he drew away that I was losing him as surely as he'd lost me. "Perhaps you ought to tell him."

And then he was walking away, and I began to panic. I knew what was happening. I knew he'd walk away and it would be weeks, months, before we truly spoke again. He was heading for the door with certain steps.

"Remus, wait!" I called out, desperate for something more, for my friend, for Remus back.

His pace slowed for a moment, for just a moment, and then he was gone.