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Remus stood at the edge of the Astronomy Tower, leaning his arms on the half wall as he stared up at the stars. Out of reflex, he found Canis Major first. Sirius’ constellation. The dog star. It wasn’t shining as brightly as it usually did. If Remus put any stock into Divination using the stars, he might have thought there was meaning in that.
He heard a sound on the stairs behind him and quickly turned toward it.
“Hi,” Sirius mumbled. He stared at his feet and kicked at a brick with one of his heavy Muggle combat boots.
“Oh, Padfoot,” Remus breathed, unable to help his heart from pulling at the sight of him. Remus had done his best not to spare a glance at Sirius over the past two weeks, but now that he was looking, he couldn’t help but have sympathy for him. Sirius’ usually sleek and carefully styled long hair was dull and uncombed, he seemed paler than usual, and he had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep.
Sirius’ head snapped up at the nickname. His eyes filled with tears, and he rushed toward Remus, babbling. “I’m so sorry, Remus. So, so sorry. I’m such a fuckup. Fuck—I’m just—I hurt everyone around me. I don’t mean to, but I do because I don’t think things through and I’m impulsive—”
“Pads—”
“No—I don’t deserve that nickname. I don’t deserve you. You’re so good. Merlin, Remus, you’re so good and so kind and patient. And you’ve been there for me through everything, and then I just go and completely shit all over that—all over our friendship and—” he buried his face in his hands, “And now I’m just making this about me and I’m so sorry.”
Remus pulled Sirius’ hands away from his face. “It’s ok.”
“But it’s not, Re—”
“Sirius, please let me talk.”
Sirius stared down at him, tears streaming down his face.
“I talked to Lily. She told me that Snape has been going on about me for weeks. He already suspected that I’m a werewolf and just didn’t know how to prove it. He wanted something on me—I guess to get me kicked out,” Remus paused, “or more likely you since he suspected that you, James, and Peter were up to something, too. So, honestly, it’s his own fault that he was bloody stupid enough to go down a tunnel he believed led to a monster—”
“You aren’t a monster—” Sirius protested out of a habit he had to always correct Remus when he was being self-deprecating. “And I’m still the one who told him how to get past the tree,” he said, staring down at his feet.
“I know, but I absolutely believe that he goaded you into it. Snivellus is a slimy git who knows exactly how to push your buttons. I know that you didn’t mean for him to go down there.”
“You don’t know that. Hell, I don’t even know that for sure.” He looked up. “Remus, what if somewhere deep down I knew what would happen—”
“No,” Remus said firmly, putting his hands on Sirius’ shoulders. “I know where you’re going and no. You are nothing like your family. You’re a good person who would never intentionally hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it.”
“I hurt you though. I didn’t mean to, but I still did,” Sirius said with a sniff. “You’re the person who means the most to me in this whole bloody place, and I fucked that up.”
As he watched more tears fall from Sirius’ grey eyes, Remus couldn’t stop some from escaping his own. He couldn’t be the person who meant the most to him. There was no way. James was Sirius’ best friend. Remus always knew that. They were attached at the hip, had a secret language that not even he and Peter understood. But he couldn’t protest that, not right then. All he could say was, “You didn’t fuck it up. You’re still my best friend. We’re alright.”
“I’m still so sorry.”
Remus moved to caress Sirius’ face, wiping away his tears with the pads of his thumbs. Sirius exhaled sharply and grabbed at Remus’ wrists to hold his hands in place. “I forgive you,” Remus said.
Sirius let out a choked sob and pulled him in for a crushing hug. Remus let out a little “oof” in surprise, then sighed and wrapped his arms around Sirius’ neck, lifting on his toes so he could rest his chin on his shoulder.
Sirius sobbed again and squeezed Remus tighter, almost as if he was afraid that he would disappear. “Thank you,” he mumbled. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Remus hugged Sirius with everything he had and let himself be hugged. They were probably standing in their embrace longer than any ordinary pair of friends’ embrace would. But he didn’t care. He missed his best friend. Missed his warmth, the way he somehow always smelled of a campfire, the way he made Remus feel at home.
“You’re welcome,” he whispered.