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He was young when the feeling first bloomed into his chest, wrapping around his heart and filling a warmth into his veins. Love was a foreign thing to Sirius, never having had a good example of it growing up, but it was the only word that could possibly describe how he felt toward Remus. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, liking one of his best friends. It didn’t help that the touch of Remus’ skin against his own was enough to send him speechless or that the sound of Remus’ laugh was all he yearned to hear. He had fallen hard and unwillingly, and—for a time—Remus felt the same. He would squeeze Sirius’ hand under the breakfast table, plant chaste kisses against his lips in the dark and hold him close in the dead of nights.
And then the prank happened.
Sirius was sorry, sorrier than he ever had been in his entire life. He wasn’t used to apologizing, his arrogance getting in the way before he could even admit he was wrong. But now, Sirius would plead on his knees until the end of time if it meant Remus would even consider forgiving him. He had acted out of pure selfishness, sending Snape to the shack, the consequences of his actions never crossing his mind until it was almost too late.
“You son of a bitch,” James had hissed at him when Sirius confessed what he had done, before promptly racing to the rescue.
For whatever reason, his friends had forgiven him rather quickly, but things were strained between Remus and Sirius. The werewolf insisted they just be friends and not dive into anything more like they had before. Sirius understood, but it did not make it any easier for him to get used to. It felt so lonely to have Remus within arms reach and to be unable to do anything about it. All he wanted was the taste of Remus’ mouth against his again. To run his fingers through those curly, golden locks one last time.
“It’s time for bed, love.” Remus said late one night without thinking and Sirius nearly broke. They weren’t that anymore. Sirius would never be that anymore, and he couldn’t bear to hear it tumble sleepily out of Remus’ lips.
Winter holidays came up fast, almost going unnoticed to Sirius who had been passing through each day in a haze. James had grown more and more concerned for his friend, repeatedly asking Sirius to just go home with him for the holiday, but Sirius felt as though Grimmauld Place would be the only place he could go to in order to get proper penance for his wrong doings.
“Padfoot. If you get sad or lonely—”
“I know, Prongs. I have the mirror.”
The train ride home was awkward with James’ hovering, Peter’s attempts at light conversation and Remus just being Sirius’ friend. He didn’t want Remus to be his friend, he wanted Remus to hold him and kiss him and just make everything better. But he couldn’t ask for that. Remus had his reasons for keeping his distance and Sirius wanted to respect them—had to respect them. He was the reason Remus had put his walls back up and now he had to deal with the consequences.
“Write me.”
“I will.”
“I mean it, Pads. I’m still your friend.”
I don’t want you to be my friend.
“I know.”
Life at Grimmauld Place was the same as it always was. Dark, cold, and lonely. It was arguably worse now, though. Sirius hadn’t written his friends once despite his promises to. An overwhelming feeling that he did not deserve them was crashing over him in waves but so was the intense feeling that he was alone. He had done it to himself, he knew that. He missed how things were with his friends and, most especially, Remus.
“You need to go.” Regulus whispered one night, and Sirius laughed, the taste of iron filling his mouth.
“Where would I go?”
“Anywhere but here.”
Making his way to Potter mansion as Padfoot helped ease his thoughts, allowing him to purely focus on survival instead of trivial emotions. He felt dead on his feet and the winter snow was not helping, numbing his paws and causing him to shiver despite Padfoot’s heavy coat. Soon, though, he could see the warm lights coming from inside James’ home. He could smell the spices of Euphemia’s cooking in the air and he collapsed in relief.
“Stupid of you to walk all this way.”
“I know.”
“We have the mirrors for a reason, Sirius.”
“I know.”
James called Remus, of course, much to Sirius’ protest, and the werewolf arrived as quickly as his parents would let him. There was a suffocating silence in the air and Sirius felt himself choking on it with each passing moment. He stared at the bed spread Euphemia had tucked him into, toying with a loose thread while Remus sat at the edge close to Sirius’ legs but never touching.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve already apologized, Pads. And I’ve already forgiven you.”
“It’s not the same though.”
“No. And for that I apologize. It’s quite terrible.” Remus whispered so quietly into the air that Sirius was unsure if he was even supposed to hear it.
“What’s quite terrible?”
Remus looked up, tears shining in his honey eyes.
“To be so lonely.”