Title: Denouement, A Story in Six Acts
Team: Post Hogwarts
Author: thescarletwoman
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Summary: Five missed chances, one that is taken.
Wordcount: about 7,600 words
Prompt: "It's the fear of what comes after the doing that makes the doing hard to do. But you can almost always live with the consequences."
Genre(s): Angst, Fluff/Romance
Denouement, A Story in Six Acts
Prologue
We start by saying this story, like many others, does not begin happily. It begins with pain and ends in heartache, but in truth, the ending is not what is important.
This is a story about the journey, not the conclusion. It is a story about missed glances and awkward touches. About missed chances and ignored advances. It is a story about lost years and lost time that can never be regained. True, a time turner can be found or stolen, but what is the use of changing the future for all in the efforts to have a happy ending for two?
It is a story about two men and the attraction they shared for one another -- a lust that was present for so many years but for so long was denied to either of them. It is a relationship that, given the chance to start would have blazed across the heavens, hot and passionate, but was never given the opportunity to blossom. The ending was inevitable but was far too long in coming and the aftermath far too brief.
In the end, it is a story about love.
i.
The worst part about leaving, Remus realises, is not seeing everyone day in and day out. There is some saying that the friends you make now are the ones that will last a lifetime and as he looks at the four open trunks, clothing spilling out of the gaping mouths, he knows it's true. These are the friends who didn't leave him the moment they learned he was a werewolf, and instead learned how to become Animagi for the sole purpose of making his transformations easier. Remus doesn't doubt they figured an animal form would assist in pranks but the moment James turned into a stag, that plan became moot.
A rat is inconspicuous. A stag... not quite so much.
He is the last one to unpack his wardrobe. Everyone else is in the Common room, cheering about reaching the end of their tenure at Hogwarts. Remus sits cross-legged on the floor, carefully folding each pair of socks and each pair of trousers to lay in perfect rows in his trunk. He always has been neater than any of his roommates. And while they say they've packed, Remus knows the only reason their trunks are still here and open is the fact that the lot will undoubtedly have forgotten something.
"Moony? What're you doing up here?"
"Packing," Remus replies, lifting a pile of perfectly folded shirts to rest on top of the already packed trousers.
"Only you."
Remus turns his head to look at Sirius, who is leaning casually against the door frame. "Only me, what?"
"Only you would take the time to fold things when the rest of us are downstairs celebrating."
Remus shrugs his shoulders, turning back to his trunk and his packing. "It needs to get done regardless. Better sooner than later."
"But you're missing all the fun, Moony! It'll be ages before we see each other again. You're going back home to live with your folks for reasons passing all understanding. Prongs is taking up with his bird, Wormtail is entering his training as a Herbologist and I'm going to the Ministry. It'll be ages before we see each other!"
Remus ignores the way his stomach tumbles at the thought of it being weeks before he sees Sirius again. Sirius in his life, loud and boisterous, is one of the few constants he finds that he depends on. To deny the existence of Sirius in every day occurrences is to say the sun will never rise in the East again.
"Until the day you decide enough is enough and we're all going out drinking," Remus says, hiding a laugh.
"But it won't be the same, Moony!" Sirius says, moving into the room.
Remus listens to his footsteps grow closer as Sirius crosses the hardwood floor. Judging by the sound his heels make, Remus knows Sirius is wearing the dragonhide boots he gave him last Christmas. It had cost him the majority of his meagre savings but to see the look on Sirius' face made it all worthwhile. Remus rotates his head to the side, glancing upwards when the sound stops, finding Sirius standing beside him.
"We're growing up, Padfoot," Remus says softly, beginning the arduous task of laying his books in the trunk. Clothing he doesn't care much about, it's the books that get the special treatment, each one laid on the bed of cloth his shirts and trousers have created. "Nothing's going to stay the same. It's all... changing."
Sirius draws in a breath as if to say something. Remus nods slightly, prompting him to continue. In the end Sirius waves the comment away, dismissing it He grins, lines forming near his eyes and while Sirius may be too young to have laugh lines, they suit him nonetheless.
"Nevermind," Sirius says, wrinkling his nose. "Don't stay up here too much longer. Else Peter, James and I will hog tie you and carry you down to the common room."
"Hog tie?" Remus queries, lifting an eyebrow.
"Fine. Wolf-tie. Just get your arse down there soon, okay?"
Remus nods and Sirius crosses the floor once more, leaving Remus alone with his clothing and his books. For the longest time he sits, books piled in his lap and staring into the trunk but not quite seeing its contents.
Sirius had been about to say something... but Remus is damned if he knows what it was.
It couldn't have been that important.
ii.
In the months after leaving Hogwarts, Remus has come to terms with several things. First of all, there's very little work he can hold for any extended period of time. Bosses get fed up with excuses and more tall tales used to cover monthly absences. Some are smart enough to figure out what he is, they can add the months and consult with the Ministry and that damnable Registry.
Second of all, he likes men.
The former is a realisation he had even before leaving school, once he was old enough to understand what prejudice was. The latter, however, still has him reeling. He, like everyone else, dated during Hogwarts -- if one could call holding hands between class and spending a Hogsmeade trip together 'dating'. Ever since their fifth year, James has been over the moon for Lily and it wasn't until the middle of their seventh year that she had begun spending time with him. Sirius had his birds and those seemed to change as often as he changed his socks. Remus too had been known to share the company of a pretty dame every now and again but he has always found solace in his books. Books are much better company than a bird ever could be in his most humble of opinions.
Though they have left Hogwarts and gone their separate ways, Sirius still keeps up with his revolving door of women. Remus, for his part, attempts to date women but nothing feels right. Soft curves and breasts are foreign objects in his hands and he finds that he craves something else. It isn't until, on a lark, Remus decides to go to a Muggle gay bar to see if that can satisfy his cravings. Homosexuality is something not talked about and it isn't until he's dancing groin to groin with some nameless face that Remus feels at home. In the back of his mind, he can picture Sirius here -- clad in leather trousers and a shirt hanging open to reveal a chest bronzed and toned by hours of Quidditch practise.
The thought that he's fantasizing about his best mate should disturb him more than it does.
The club becomes a haven for Remus, a place where he can be touched by another man without fear of anyone discovering his secret. A place where he can escape to a dirty back room and get his cock sucked by any of the faceless men who haunt the place nightly. It's his rebellious stage, determining his sexuality and throwing caution to the wind. Here, he can pretend to be anything but Remus J Lupin, out of work werewolf.
Here he is desired, wanted.
It's in the underground of London's seedier clubs that Remus has his coming of age.
He tends to lean towards men of an athletic build, dark haired if he can find them. Once in a rare while he even manages to find a bloke with eyes like liquid silver. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine it's Sirius' hands caressing his cheek, it's Sirius' fingers stretching him as he leans against a dirty, come-spattered wall in the men's room.
It's Sirius he wants and Sirius he knows he'll never have.
It is better to love from afar than to yield to temptation and lose him forever.
iii.
"See, Moony? I told you it'd make more sense for you to live here."
Three large boxes contain every possession Remus owns. Out of work longer and longer, Remus has found himself moving from place to place, each one more broken down and depressed than the last. It's the spring of 1979 and his club hopping days are beginning to die down, but Remus still goes out for a quick fuck in a dingy alley, hoping to god a bobby doesn't pass by their alcove. He's sold many of his belongings just to rent a small place while he's in a perpetual state of transition. Maybe moving would help -- to go some place that has never heard of Remus Lupin, the man who has had more jobs in the past three years than most wizards have in their lives.
Manchester is always an option.
Remus has continually made up excuses as to why he can'thave visitors. He had a date that night or there was a bit of research that had to get done and couldn't he drop by for dinner instead? He doesn't want any of them to see his current lot in life and doesn't want to accept a hand-out from them out of pity. Sirius, damn the man, had finally tracked him down in a cramped flat above a bakery in Whitechapel. That night Sirius had returned with boxes to pack up every belonging Remus owned.
'No more,' Sirius had said. 'You're living with me now.'
With an offer like that, how could Remus refuse?
"Moony? Light's on but nobody's home," Sirius says, waving a hand in front of Remus' face. Remus swats at him, ignoring the sense of longing that uncurls in his belly when their hands brush.
"Sorry, Padfoot," Remus replies, feigning a yawn. "I guess I'm just tired is all."
Sirius rumples Remus' hair in a playful gesture but the touch only serves to heighten Remus' arousal. He swallows hard, ducking away from Sirius' hand and hopes he's playing the part of the annoyed best mate.
"Should probably turn in then," Sirius says, his words punctuated by a jaw-breaking yawn. Remus wonders if that one was faked as well. "Come on. We'll get you a bed tomorrow, no sense in you sleeping on the couch."
Remus knows his eyes grow wide, thinking of sharing a bed with Sirius. Of course they shared a dormitory for seven years but that was before. That was before Remus had begun fucking men. That was before he realised he is in love with Sirius.
"Pardon?"
"God, Moony. Slow tonight, mate," Sirius says with a shake of his head. "You sleep in a bed. I sleep in the same bed so we're both comfortable. Tomorrow we'll get you a real bed. I'm not about to have my best mate sleep on the floor or the couch, nor am I taking either of them. What, are you afraid I'll jump you in the night?"
No, I'm afraid I will.
Remus covers himself well, giving Sirius another "Pardon?" that sounds more like a rat squeaking than any real word. Sirius sniggers and ruffles Remus' hair once more, laughing off the words. Remus attempts to join in the fun but his heart isn't in it. He's too worried about sleeping in any proximity to Sirius, too scared that his erection will give himself away. Sirius likes birds, Remus continues to remind himself. He doesn't fancy blokes and he sure as hell won't fancy me.
Entering the bedroom, Remus attempts to avert his eyes as Sirius drops his trousers and smalls in one motion. His curiosity gets the better of him and he steals a glance at the perfection that is Sirius' bare arse. Sirius runs a hand along his stomach, fingertips brushing the length of his cock before he pulls on pyjama bottoms. Cheeks blazing, Remus turns away and quickly changes into his own bedclothes, willing his erection to go away. Dumbledore in a thong. McGonagall in a string bikini. Hagrid fucking a Thestral... The latter thought works as a counter-aphrodisiac and he can feel his arousal ebbing. Thankfully.
Turning off the light, Remus slides into the large bed beside Sirius and forces himself to stay on his side. He cannot think of Sirius lying so close to him, an arm's length away. He cannot imagine how easy it would be to reach out and pull Sirius against his body.
The list of cannots begins to grow in his mind and it's the shouldn'ts he counts that night rather than sheep.
In the morning Remus awakens to find himself tucked securely against Sirius' chest as if he were an oversized stuffed animal. Closing his eyes, Remus takes the moment for what it is: Sirius has undoubtedly reached for him in his sleep thinking that Remus is nothing but his latest conquest. Remus snuggles closer, breathing in the scent he will forevermore equate with Sirius: musk and silk. If silk could carry a scent, Remus is sure Sirius would smell of it.
He wills himself back to sleep in the safety and security of Sirius' embrace, wondering if this is only coincidence that he's in Sirius' arms or if there was some truth to Sirius' words the night before.
In the end, it doesn't matter.
Tomorrow night, he'll have his own bed.
There won't be a repeat performance.
iii.
October of 1979 brings a small sliver of joy to an otherwise dismal time. The war is raging in earnest and reports constantly arrive regarding this murdered family or that tortured Muggleborn. The Order feels as if it's floundering and the dark days do nothing but breed discontent, even between the closest of friends. Lovers wonder if their partner is hiding things, if a current fling is a spy, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
In Remus' opinion, the distance between himself and Sirius has never been so great.
They aren't lovers, merely friends, and yet the tension between them is palatable. They may share a flat but it feels as if there's an ocean separating them from each other. Sirius works long hours at the Ministry and Remus attempts (but fails miserably) to hide his annoyance at yet another lost job. Once more, he has to live off Sirius' charity where housing is concerned and he hates his best mate having to shoulder the responsibility.
However, on this crisp autumn day, all the woes and troubles in the world are forgotten as Lily walks down the aisle in a gown of satin and lace. She's a vision, her auburn hair done up and captured in a clasp, tendrils trailing down her back and obscured by her veil. At the other end of the aisle, James tugs nervously at the cuffs of his dress robes, but his fidgeting ceases the moment Lily arrives at his side. The wedding is a small affair for they cannot risk inviting a traitor into their midst. Looking around the church and then, later, the small reception hall, the gathering of people is left to those closest to the newlyweds. Those they are certain are 'safe'.
Near the table laden with puddings and cakes, Remus can spy Peter chatting it up with a buxom cousin of Lily's. Remus spends a few moments talking with both the Potters and the Evans', avoiding the uncomfortable questions of why he hasn't brought a date to the affair.
The absences of Petunia and her new husband don't go unnoticed. Briefly, Remus wonders if they were even invited in the first place.
The proverbial wine is flowing and though the number in attendance may be small, they more than make up for it in enthusiasm. Laughter and merriment pepper the room, at times sounding louder than the music played in the background. Some are on the dance floor, swinging a partner around, others at a makeshift bar and as Remus moves through the room, he catches snippets of conversation where ever he treads.
"Remus! Oi! Mate!" Sirius shouts over the din, making his way to Remus, waving his hands as if Remus hasn't already spied him. "Why aren't you dancing?"
The scent of alcohol is strong on Sirius' breath and Remus wonders how much Sirius has consumed in the past few hours. Sirius' arms loop around Remus' neck so that Remus has no choice but to rest his own on Sirius' thin hips. His hands curl slightly, trying not to be too eager for this bit of contact between them. Sirius moves in time with the music, dancing to a heavy rock beat, his gyrations grinding his hips against Remus'. Remus may have enjoyed the close contact more had Sirius not been three sheets to the wind.
"You're drunk," Remus accuses.
"I'm enjoying myself," Sirius counters.
"You're still drunk."
They're too close and Sirius is in no condition to make any mental judgements. Remus has to hope that Sirius is drunk enough to not notice the erection pressing against his hip. The dance is too fast and their movements mimic sex too closely. Remus wants the real thing too badly that his body acquiesces to whatever it can have, no matter how desperate.
It has to be the drink Remus, reassures himself. It's the drink and the heat and the night of reverie that's causing Sirius' arousal. Not attraction.
One moment Sirius is in his arms, practically fucking him on the dance floor, the next he's pushing away, chasing after one of his old flames: a Ravenclaw chit a year younger than them who is one of Lily's closest friends.
Remus watches Sirius stumble away without so much as a 'by your leave' and laments the sudden loss of contact. He quickly moves from the dance floor, edging in the direction of the bar, needing a good stiff drink himself. Though he's loath to admit it, he's hurt by the sudden dismissal. True, Sirius may be drunk off his arse, but drunk and rude do not figure together. Sirius, in all the years Remus has known the man, has never been anything but a giddy drunk. He missed the opportunity to kiss Sirius and instead, in thanks for keeping his lips to himself, Sirius goes after some bird he won't remember in the morning.
Truly, what would have been the harm in kissing Sirius in that moment? The opportunity had presented itself and Remus had chosen not to pursue it.
The answer is simple: he is too afraid of the consequences. When it comes right down to it, Remus was a bloody coward. He will forsake a chance at happiness because he is deathly afraid of a negative reaction.
"You alright?"
Remus slowly turns, one hand holding a half-empty glass of scotch, the other resting against the edge of the bar. He abandons the drink when he sees Lily, pulling her close into a giant hug. Lily's body feels good in his arms, but it's the hug of two best friends. The gentle curves of a woman's body do absolutely nothing for him.
"You look beautiful," Remus says, lightly kissing Lily's temple. "And happy."
"You didn't answer my question."
"I was hoping you wouldn't notice."
"Since when has that ever worked?" Lily asks, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss Remus' cheek. "Don't be too mad at Sirius. He's drunk."
Remus' brows lift to his hairline. "You were watching?"
Lily giggles. "Yes, I was. I've been waiting for one of you to make the move for years now."
Eyes widening, Remus releases Lily and reaches behind himself blindly for his drink. He tosses it back and cannot feel it burn on the way down. The bartender refills the glass and Remus holds this one, staring into the amber depths. Lily watches him for some time but Remus isn't about to reopen the discussion unless she does. Sirius fancy him? Never.
"Well, neither of us made any sort of a move. We danced. He left and now..." Remus scans the dance floor, eyes falling on Sirius and the bint. He watches them long enough to see Sirius slip a hand under her blouse before she, giggling, takes his hand and leads him from the reception area. "And now he's off to fuck some bird," Remus says, the bitterness in his voice betraying his true feelings on the matter.
"You know he fancies you," Lily says softly, turning in the direction of the now closing door.
"Hardly."
"And you fancy him."
Remus sighs, tossing back more of the drink. "Am I that obvious?" He asks at long last.
Lily shakes her head. "No. But then again, women tend to have a nose for gay men," she says with a wink. "And why should he have all the fun?" Lily nods in the direction of the Prewett brothers. Gideon and Fabian seem engrossed in heavy conversation but the longer Remus watches the two, the more he notices Fabian glancing at him surreptitiously, as if afraid to be noticed by Remus.
"You're kidding me."
Lily wrinkles her nose, waving her fingers in Remus' face. "Would I do that to you?"
No, Remus answers silently. "Playing matchmaker?" he asks and is taken back by the impish look that flashes in her eyes. She quickly changes tactics, giving him a look that attempts to show innocence but Remus knows that couldn't be farther from the truth. "Which one?" Remus asks, resigned to his fate.
"Both of them."
Remus chokes on his tongue, launching into an extended coughing fit. He puts the drink down before he spills it on either of them, coughing so hard that it brings tears to his eyes.
"I said you should have a bit of fun," Lily says, batting her eyelashes coyly. "Don't tell me you've never..."
"I have and yes," Remus says shortly.
His cock is already beginning to come to attention at the thought of playing with not one man but two that night. With a hand on his back, Lily pushes him towards Gideon and Fabian. The two brothers light up when they see Remus approach and it isn't long before they're making their rounds to say goodbye. Lily kisses him goodbye with a knowing smile.
He leaves the reception, and waits a few minutes for the Prewett brothers to follow suit. The arrangements are made and Remus lets them have a head start to their flat before he accompanies them there as well.
Remus never sees Sirius trail behind.
He never sees the look of hurt on his best mate's face, shining clearly through the haze of alcohol.
iv.
Remember, remember the fifth of November.
The time Lily and James had together was far, far too brief. A little over a year, that was all the lifetime they had until they were parted by death. October 31st, 1981: the day that will forever be a turning point in his young life. It's now five days later, five days after the murders of his best mates, and Remus wonders if he has any tears left with which to cry.
Over the course of two days, he has lost everything. Everything. Lily and James murdered by Voldemort, their son sent off to live with the Muggles who couldn't care enough to attend Lily's wedding. Sirius, the man he has lusted after these past three years and the man who claimed to be James' best mate, was the one who delivered the Potters to Voldemort on the proverbial silver platter. And to add insult to injury, Sirius had to make that scene... kill all those Muggles and destroy Peter at the same time.
Two days -- and now he is the only remaining Marauder. The Wizarding world may have been in an uproar given the fall of Voldemort's reign of terror, cheering baby Harry as the Boy Who Lived, but Remus cannot join in the celebrations. The majority of witches and wizards are rejoicing in the first bright days after an eternity of darkness. Those who know what happened are plunged into mourning.
Remus is no exception.
He grieves, not only for James and Lily and Peter and Harry... but for himself as well. For thinking he could have trusted Sirius, for wishing the other man would take him to bed and for a few nights they could shut out the outside world and live as two lovers without a care in the world. He's now thankful for not giving into temptation. If he cannot shake this depression over the loss of his friends, how would he be taking the loss of a lover?
Sirius may be in Azkaban but he is dead to Remus. Even if he could visit, Remus isn't sure he wants to. He doesn't want to hear the lies attempting to sway him, the spin Sirius will put on everything to sound the innocent man. Remus knows what he heard, has seen the destruction.
Has stood by Lily's and James' grave sites. That alone is proof enough of Sirius' complete betrayal.
The Dementor's Kiss is too good for the bastard.
Nothing can shake him. He's living in the flat he once shared with Sirius only because it's paid for through the end of the year. By December, he'll be looking for a new place to live, selling what little he has left to scrape by.
All he can hope is that it gets easier as the days go on. He jumps, hearing the sounds of fireworks outside his window. Guy Fawkes Day. Remember, remember the fifth...
But it's the thirty-first of October that will forever be burned in his mind.
Pity nothing rhymes with October.
v.
Sirius is innocent.
Those words have become a mantra in Remus' mind, repeated over and over and over and over again, almost to the point of nausea. It's the realisation that Sirius is an innocent man that has Remus reeling, has his stomach turning somersaults to rival any Olympic gymnast. How could he have ever doubted Sirius? Because the evidence was there, comes the voice in the back of his mind. Because you needed someone to blame.
The phrases and curses he swore following the deaths of James and Lily and Peter come flooding back in an instant and Remus barely makes it to the bathroom before involuntarily discharging the entire contents of his stomach.
It's nearly a week later, a week after that night in the Shack and the admission of truths -- and Remus swears he can still feel Sirius' arms around him. He focuses on the arms, and the way it felt to be embraced after so long, not on Sirius' hygiene. It isn't as if showers are readily available in the caves above Hogsmeade.
Kneeling on the floor, Remus wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still tasting vomit on his lips. Remus grips the toilet seat, his stomach rolling once more though he knows there's nothing left to throw up. Remus rocks back on his heels, resting his head against the cool, chipped tiles that adorn the bathroom walls.
Twenty-four hours. That was all it had taken to turn his life completely upside down. No, Remus realises, it was even less than that. It had been a series of three events, each one connected with one another. It had begun with the forgotten Wolfsbane potion. If he had only remembered that, he wouldn't have turned into a feral beast and Sirius wouldn't have had to distract him. Then the map that led him to the Shack, and to Sirius, and to the new knowledge of what had happened in 1981. Of course, when Snape had lost his bloody Order of Merlin following Sirius' escape, he let slip the nature of Remus' condition.
By that afternoon, Remus had resigned his position and returned to his small cottage outside of Glasgow. Of course, Remus knows deep down that Albus would have done everything in his power to smooth things over with the governors and the distraught parents, but Remus was tired of relying on the charity of others. Besides, he couldn't trust that Snape wouldn't lace his Wolfsbane with a healthy dose of silver and instead of a tame werewolf transforming within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, there would be a feral monster and that wouldn't do at all.
His stomach seems to have settled down for the time being, but Remus is afraid of moving from his current position for fear of reawakening the nausea. He's comfortable enough on the floor and it isn't as if leaving the bathroom will let him leave his thoughts behind either.
And so he sits on the bathroom floor, curled up and wishing this was nothing more than a bad dream brought on by a piece of spoiled meat or moldy cheese. He'll wake up in the morning in his bed at Hogwarts and Sirius will still be in his cell in Azkaban and all will be right with the world.
It's a thought to give him solace -- and would have been much more effective had it not been a week after what he is now calling 'the Incident'.
Remus knows he has an apology to make, but with Sirius on the run, Remus doesn't dare contact him. He already feels like shite for condemning Sirius the first time without cause. It will kill him to be the one to cause his re-capture. And so, the letters sit, composed in his mind, but never placed to paper.
Hours later, Remus manages to move from the bathroom floor, his limbs stiff after staying in one position for so long. He hobbles to bed, almost limping, moving like a man much older than his thirty-three years. With the lights extinguished, Remus is on his back staring blankly up at the ceiling with only his thoughts for company. In the silence of his room, the mantra begins once more: Sirius is innocent. Sirius is innocent. Sirius is innocent. Sirius is innocent. Sirius is innocent. The words chant, boring into his mind and never giving him a moment's rest.
His guilt is too great.
Sirius is innocent. Sirius is innocent.
Even clamping his hands over his ears doesn't shut out the incessant buzzing of his inner monologue.
Sirius is innocent.
You didn't trust him.
You don't deserve him.
When sleep finally comes, it's fitful, filled with images of an accusatory Sirius, pushing Remus away for not trusting him. The scene melts away and they're in the Shack, Remus reaching for Sirius, trying to embrace him and all Sirius does is step away from Remus' outstretched arms. His eyes say everything: you didn't trust me. I never want to see you again.
He ignores the nagging voice that says Sirius has always rejected him.
And yet, through it all, Remus is still in love with Sirius. Deep down, he knows the truth: even when Sirius was in Azkaban, Remus never stopped loving him. He would never cross the line between friend and lover, even all these years later, he's afraid of the consequences. Now, coupled with that is his annoying inner voice, claiming that Remus doesn't deserve Sirius.
One day there will be an apology, Remus decides, rolling over in search of sleep once more. But that is all. He will never seek a relationship, even if the opportunity is presented. There's no need to fear consequences, Remus realises, he won't put himself in that position ever again. He didn't trust Sirius and he should have. He didn't listen to the tiny voice in the back of his mind that said Sirius was innocent. The voice that is now screaming at him.
He didn't listen, and that's reason enough to deny himself of the happiness he knows he not only could have but also deserves.
vi.
The first thing he notices is how dark the house is. Not counting the faulty electricity and the layers of dust that cling to every available surface, there is a feeling of, for lack of a better word, evil in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.
"Home sweet fucking home," Sirius says bitterly. "Welcome to hell."
"It's not... so bad?" Remus replies, though the way his voice pitches up at the end betrays his true feelings. He sighs, placing a hand on Sirius' shoulder. "It could be worse, you know."
"Oh really? How?"
"Your mother could still be alive." As if on cue, the old bat begins to scream from her portrait. Sirius darts forward, grunting with the effort required to pull the curtains back in front of the permanently stuck painting. "I... stand corrected," Remus says, shoving his hands into his pockets and attempting to duck away from Sirius' glare.
Two months of co-habitation in his small cottage had been good for them both, though Remus had to admit seeing a rain-soaked Sirius standing on his front step that night had taken him completely by surprise. Sirius, thinner than ever, had shown up with the claim that Albus had told him to lie low at the cottage for a time. In the back of his mind, Remus had wondered if Albus knew about his long-standing unrequited love affair with Sirius and was attempting to play matchmaker.
Remus wouldn't have put it past him.
A hot shower and a few hot meals later had seen Sirius into a warm bed. Unlike before, Remus took the couch. While he no longer had any designs that Sirius would try to seduce him or that anything would happen in that bed outside of sleeping, Remus wanted to remove all possible temptation. Months they lived like this, swapping beds and cooking details... slowly working through the problems of the past and Remus' guilt. Sirius had waved off the apologies with a grin and a wink, dragging Remus into yet another close embrace.
One that hadn't felt at all brotherly...
"Oi. Moony. You're lost in lala land."
"Hrm?" Remus asks, blinking and shaking his head like a canine. "Got lost in my own thoughts," he says quickly, biting his lower lip.
"If it was anyone but you, I'd say you were lying," Sirius teases, ruffling Remus' hair. "You, however, I'd think it strange if you weren't daydreaming."
Maturely, Remus responds by sticking his tongue out and Sirius laughs, the sound echoing strangely in the too still house. Not even the sudden appearance of Kreacher can put a damper on Sirius' good mood. To be honest, Remus is glad to see the smile on Sirius face. Azkaban (as it rightly should) has changed him and he truly is no longer the man he once was. Coupled with being forced to return to his hated ancestral home, Remus has half-expected Sirius to be suicidal.
A grin is more than welcome in Remus' estimation.
"I appreciate this," Remus says, shoving his hands into his pockets as he and Sirius climb the rickety staircase to the second floor. Remus makes a mental note to fix that first thing in the morning. None of them need to step on a rotting floorboard and fall god knows how far into whatever lurks beneath the house.
"Appreciate what?" Sirius asks, stomping on a rather large spider with his heel.
"Getting rid of that," Remus says, suppressing a shudder. "Seriously, though, letting me stay here."
Sirius pauses at the top of the stairs, glancing of his shoulder at Remus. "Moony, did you actually think I'd return here without my best mate?" Sirius' voice is hollow and Remus can see the pain etched into his features. "If Albus is going to force me to stay here, I said it was on the condition that you come with me. You were the deal breaker."
Remus' stomach does that all too familiar flip-flop once more. He swallows the Bludger-sized lump that has formed in his throat, slowly climbing the stairs to reach the second floor and Sirius' side. A half-smile comes to Remus' face, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly as he reaches out, resting his arm around Sirius' waist. He pulls the other man close, gently rubbing his back.
"You'll always have me," Remus says softly, ignoring the way his arm feels like it belongs around Sirius' waist. He ignores the small voice in the back of his mind that says to go for it, to ignore the consequences.
Sirius has forgiven you, this is your chance.
Shaking his head once more, Remus pushes the thought from his mind. Sirius has confessed that he needs Remus and in the capacity of best mate, not lover.
The air around them seems to crackle with tension and it's after a few moments that Remus realises the tension is purely sexual. Years of touches and glances and looks that were supposed to illicit some sort of reaction but never did. Remus wonders if, perhaps, this is the opening he has been brushing off for years. If, maybe, just maybe, Sirius wants this as much as he does and he's waiting for Remus. It isn't the act Remus is scared of -- it's Sirius' rebuke, his rejection.
Don't you both deserve to be happy?
The thought catches Remus off guard. Does he deserve to be happy? Of course he does. And after all Sirius has been through, Remus knows his best mate deserves it as well.
The thought catches Remus off guard. Does he deserve to be happy? Of course he does. And after all Sirius has been through, Remus knows his best mate deserves it as well.
For the first time in his life, Remus thinks to hell with the consequences. He ignores the dust billowing around his feet with every step he takes towards Sirius. He ignores the moth-eaten curtains hanging over dirty windows. His gaze is trained on Sirius and, without waiting for any invitation, Remus cups his hand around the back of Sirius' neck and pulls him forward.
The first kiss is far from gentle. It is more teeth and lips crushed against Sirius' mouth, Remus' hand effectively pinning Sirius and keeping him from moving away. It's only when Remus is about to pull away that he realises one earth-shattering fact: Sirius is kissing back. He isn't imagining the hands running down his back, cupping his arse to drag his hips forward. He isn't making up the feeling of Sirius' hands pulling his shirt from the confines of his trousers, cold fingertips dancing across heated flesh.
He isn't imagining the way Sirius' mouth moves against his, the way his tongue teases, entreating entrance. There is no mistaking the tongue that dances across his palate, tasting and exploring.
He isn't imagining the press of an erection against his hip either.
Remus finally pulls back, completely out of breath and stares shell-shocked at Sirius. There's a small smile on Sirius' face, but what makes the breath catch in Remus' throat is the positively primal look in Sirius' eyes. It's as if Sirius is watching him, enacting a fantasy in his own mind. Remus hesitantly runs a hand through his hair, wondering if the silence between them is supposed to be this awkward. If the animalistic look in Sirius' eyes is the calm before the storm... a breath before all hell breaks loose.
"I'm sorry," Remus says quickly. "I shouldn't have. I'll leave. I'll go back to my cottage. I shouldn't have--"
"Moony," Sirius interrupts. "I've been waiting for you to do that for twenty years."
Sirius' voice is so soft, Remus isn't sure he's heard him right. It's the look in Sirius' eyes, however, that removes the last vestiges of doubt in Remus' mind. His eyes are positively alight, sparkling in a way Remus hasn't seen in far too many years. His breath catches, seeing the slight darkening of steel, a tell-tale sign of lust. Sirius does want this and Remus' body cries out in relief the moment Sirius' arms encircle Remus' waist. Sirius lowers his head, his lips brushing over Remus' once more and Remus melts against him, throwing every fibre of his being into this one kiss.
"This," Sirius says breathlessly, resting his forehead against Remus', "is how I wanted to greet you in the Shack. Any number of times... I never thought you wanted me."
Remus reaches up, brushing the fringe from Sirius' eyes. His fingertips dance across Sirius' brow, mapping the lines that have appeared there over the years.
"Do you remember that day... the night before we left Hogwarts." Sirius nods, waiting for Remus to continue. "When you came upstairs, I wanted to kiss you. I didn't, too afraid you'd think me some daft poufter. Before you left, you looked as if you had something to say but you never did. What was it?"
Sirius frames Remus face in his hands, and Remus is keenly aware of the roughness of his hands, the presence of callouses that have formed on his palms and fingertips over the years. His thumbs run along Remus' cheekbones as if memorising every feature Remus possesses.
"I had wanted to say that we would always stay the same. That..." Sirius draws in a shaky breath. "That I'd always be yours if you'd have me."
Years. Twenty years.
Remus cannot help but wonder if those words had been spoken so many years ago if the outcome would have been the same. Would Sirius have wound up in Azkaban and would James and Lily still be alive today? The whatifs begin to take control as Remus looks at every moment in his life, wondering how it could have been different if nine little words would have been spoken.
Sirius kisses Remus again and the whatifs fly from his mind. They move slowly towards what must have been Sirius' old bedroom. They break long enough to clean the room enough, inspecting the bed to make sure there are no glumbumbles lurking between the threadbare sheets. For all his experience with men, Remus finds himself turning shy when faced with the prospect of sex with Sirius. He knows Sirius is damaged goods, carrying years worth of baggage. What if...
Remus' hands shake when they begin to remove Sirius' shirt. They grow stronger, more confident when he feels the hands at his waist, sliding his belt from the beltloops of his trousers.
Remus worries his body is inadequate, is too thin and too scarred to be remotely desirable. He sees the tattoos scattered across Sirius' chest and has to restrain himself from following the patterns of black ink with his tongue.
At long last, his brain ceases its incessant nagging when he and Sirius fall to the bed, a tangle of arms and legs. Remus' heart begins to race at the first tentative touch of a hand on his abdomen, running lower towards his cock. Their movements are slow, deliberate -- taking time with each other.
An unspoken understanding falls between them: they're trying to fit years worth of loving into one night. Remus pulls Sirius on top of himself, relishing in the body weight on his chest. His legs spread, welcoming Sirius home. They owe each other a lifetime and it begins here, tonight. Remus' breath catches, being spread so wide he's afraid he'll crack. With the first thrust, Remus ceases to think and, for once in his life, he lives in the moment. Nothing exists outside of the bed, nothing exists for him outside of Sirius.
There are no regrets, there are no consequences.
In Sirius' arms, Remus has found life.
denouement.
As we said in the beginning this was not a story that ends with our protagonist finding his happily ever after. Of course, he is given a few months of bliss with his lover and had he not been afraid of the consequences, there could have been years of bliss rather than these all too fleeting days.
Life is a cycle and just as those lovers in a time of war before, all he has is a year. A year that flies by amidst death and chaos, at least there is a pair of strong arms to curl up with at night. They are happy enough with each other, in spite of the odds that surround them.
Cloth. So unobtrusive. Threadbare and moving slowly, pushed by some unseen breeze.
Who would have known it could be so deadly?
There were no wedding vows exchanged, outside of the words groaned in the heat of passion or whispered softly at the break of day. And yet, they too are held to the same standard: 'til death do us part.
Life continues its cruel march forward, leaving only casualties in its wake.
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Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.