Work Text:
It had begun in the most insignificant way, truly.
To be fair, Sirius always had the most annoying habit to speak French to himself, even in the goddamn middle of a conversation. It was just one of the subsisting tacky posh traits the Black heir had kept throughout the years. Though the high and dignified aristocratic accent had ultimately packed its bags after the fourth year, it sadly seemed that the French thing had survived even his settling at the Potters and his disowning. As the seven years arrived, they all had to face the horrible truth; the language of Molière was to stay. It was infuriating, really, the way the brunette would casually let a sentence slip out in the foreign dialect, and then simply dismiss any inquiry on what he had said, with an impenetrable « Oh, nothing. » It got on James' nerves quite easily, and soon enough, Prongs had plain and simple gave up. He now went for the convenient tactic of brushing it off whenever it happened, not pushing it any further. Peter, yet awfully curious, had ended up on the same path, not raising it anymore, rolling his eyes, and moving on.
Remus, on the other hand, had gone for a very much more underhand strategy. At the end of the fifth year, as it had appeared that his friend was not to stop his gibberish, he had purchased as many French manuals as his meager savings had allowed him, and had spent his entire summer – not that there was much else to do at the orphanage – learning. Thing was, the goddamn language was hard as heck, and two months had barely allowed him to cover the basics. Looking back on it, spending his entire sixth year learning an unnecessarily complicated language for the sole purpose to finally be able to understand the few words Sirius would sometimes mumble surely was a bit extreme. But by the time April came, the all-nighters and early mornings had paid off, and he finally could comprehend what his friend was saying. To be honest, the outcome had been a bit underwhelming.
Because the things Sirius was rambling in French were nowhere to be life-altering.
Until it was.
And Remus suddenly didn’t know anymore how to inform Sirius that he understood every bit of his words.
The first months, he had been ecstatic. Not that the things Sirius said were any close to be unearthed secrets. Actually, it was the very opposite; French seemed to be the refuge of any rubbish thoughts that would come to the mind of the great and noble Black heir, whether it was a comment about the food, the weather, or his boredom. Most of the time, the word burst out, in the most honest and plain way, as a child would talk. In this new light, it made more sense that the man kept the translations to himself; they simply didn’t have any point to be said in the first place. Yet, as trivial his remarks sounded, and as useless it was to be able to interpret it, Remus quickly got hooked on the feeling.
It was not the words in themselves, nor the irrelevant statements. It wasn’t even for the occasional time that Sirius would be funny ( it was sometimes really hard not to burst of laughter when Sirius commented on the failure of James to seduce Lily, and Remus had nearly choked on his pumpkin juice when the aristocrat once had observed their friend trying to invite the red hair on a date in Hogsmeade and asserted with the most utterly serious face: « Il a touché le fond mais il creuse encore. » [ He touched rock bottom but is still digging. ] ).
No, what made Remus heart’s sing every time his best friend would talk in the foreign language was the feeling of intimacy it sparked in him. Sirius was quite an honest person, and he had sometimes got personal with him. There had been a few nights, alcohol pouring in their veins, defenses crumbling bit by bit, there had been a few conversations, sheltered by the dark and inebriation, tongues loosening and secrets rushing out of the place they had been contained for so long. Pain, griefs, wounds, whispered in one breath, left to the wind and the moon. He knew unexposed sides of the man that not even James had caught a glimpse of. He understood the scars that no one else could even discern on the conveniently alabaster skin. Sirius Black wasn’t one for quiet suffering; he was the worst drama queen you would ever meet. He was as translucent as water and had the most utterly unnerving mood that could last for days if you let him sulk and wallow on his fate. But to sincerely talk, to sincerely say things as they were, without artifices or gimmicks, the young man was incapable of it – or at least in a sober state. It was all or nothing, in joy and sadness, skipping on the grass or brooding in a corner of the room. It just had to be grand and theatrical. Everyone knew when the pureblood was under the weather; it was almost a miracle that stormy clouds didn’t follow him.
However, even if the event bothering him never stayed a mystery for long – as baffling to Remus at first, the Black’s family business always seemed to spread quicker than Stink Pellets – their friend never bothered to give his thought about the said business. He just never talked about his feeling, not in an earnest way anyway. That was something only Remus was granted access to. Something he prided himself in, something that always had the aptitude to warm his whole body at the memory of it. Remus knew the depth of his best friend, he knew some of his secrets and damages, knew about his love for his brother, and his hatred for his mother – « I would kill her, Remus, I don’t care what they say about loving family no matter what, I would kill her if I wasn’t afraid she’d kill me first » – he knew about his admiration for James, and even about his gentle affection for Peter – « Of course I love his stupid ass, I just wished he would stop being so… so scared, ya know? Of everything, of being anything else than what we are taught to be… ». He knew about the way he would always stop in the middle of a phrase, trying to find the words, and just get lost in his thought only to finally get up and try to brush away the sentiments, with a stupid joke and a squeeze on Remus’s shoulder, fingers lingering, time fleeting, breaths… Anyway.
Yes, Sirius Black was quite an open person, and Remus knew a lot about his deepest fears and traumas. Yet, the things he blurted in French, despite not being private, still oddly felt like it. Like a window into the brain of the brunette, a brief aperture into his most personal reflections, the one he kept to himself. It wasn’t anything to be embarrassed about, nor hidden pieces of information, so it didn’t feel that much wrong to not tell his friend he understood him. As a matter of fact, it felt the exact adequate mix of wrong and exalting to keep him going on every time for a little bit more time.
He was going to tell him, one day, he even had planned the whole thing. How he would respond to him in French, and the way Sirius’ jaw would drop to the floor. He could hear James roaring laugh and Peter snicker. The moment held the promise to be priceless, and it was what initially made the months and months of studying worth his time and sweat. Every time, he swore to himself he would put an end to this whole masquerade soon. And every time, he postponed the revelation to a few weeks later. It could wait. It wasn’t that bad, right? If he had asked, Sirius would have told him he didn’t like beetroots. It wasn’t anything Remus shouldn’t know, there wasn’t any harm in keeping up the act for a bit longer.
He knew there was some level of vile in his behavior. It made him feel special, yes, but also like a voyeur, peeping into some private area that didn’t belong to him. Unfortunately, the more the year went by, the more it seemed harder and harder to confess without making things weird. And so he carried on, every time making it a little bit harder to come back from how deep he was in.
At the end of the sixth year, it had been nearly three months that Remus had French covered, and he promised himself that he would reveal it all when they would return to school. It was a great plan; it would seem like he had learned it during the summer, and no one would ask questions. His secret would remain unearthed, and he would avoid any embarrassment or awkwardness.
When the day of his comeback to Hogwarts arrived, Remus’ mind was quite set on the matter, and the young man felt ready to jump on the first occasion to get the whole case closed. The first sentence Sirius would drop in French, he would respond to it, preferably with some sass, and that would settle it. It was all he could think about, and he wasn’t going to chicken out of this one. It was time. At this point, guilt was eating him alive, and he didn’t know how much time he could stand the little white lies – he never said he didn’t take French, so it wasn’t that much of a lie, right? It wasn’t as if he was actively trying to cover it up. It just never had been brought up.
As always, he was one of the first to arrive – he was always the more eager to leave his residence, to be fair, not counting Sirius on the first years who lacked a say in the matter anyway – and he didn’t wait for the rest of the crew to settle in their usual carriage. James always took an eternity to kiss his parents goodbye, and it always made him feel itchy and out of place, even more now that Sirius had joined the family. He simply didn’t belong near the Potter. Their kindness felt unwarranted. Like he was taking advantage of the warm couple. He didn’t deserve it, didn’t know how to tell them that he was, in truth, a freak, a monster, and a danger to the wizarding world. It was easier to keep his distance and not letting himself get used to their terrible habit of spoiling him with love, baked goods, and gifts. He waved them hello behind the window, returning their smile, just so they would know he was grateful for their generosity, and got back to his book, waiting patiently for the rest of the group to make their way to him.
Lily and Peter were the firsts to join him. He felt his heart swell up with joy just by hearing their voices. Two months away from his friend were hell. Lily did not skip a beat and immediately came to his side, sinking on the quilted bench and settling her head on his lap, flaming hair pouring all over his legs and licking the floor. Her eyes closed, she exhaled and purred of contentment :
« I swear, summer feels like forever when you are stuck in the muggle world. »
He knew the feeling. Peter nodded with empathy, but of the Marauders, only Remus understood what Lily had just endured. He himself did not have any family to come back to, but her home gave little to envy. Her mom was badly ill, and magic was a continuous source of discord, as her parents were bursting with pride but could not help feeling excluded. As for her sister, she held so much resentment in her heart for the injustice the universe had forced upon her, that her once sorrow had turned into a foul hatred for a younger. To top it all, they both had had to cut themselves from magic for sixty days, which felt like torture when you knew the soft and comfy buzz of casting a spell. He hummed in agreement, running his finger in her mane, filling his sense of her scent, enjoying the appeasement she always brought with her.
The marauders were his family, but Lily was his hearth. A place where his mind could finally quiet down and find peace, somewhere to feel cloaked from the chaos and the anxiety. She understood him like none of his friends could: the confusion of coming from a non-magic everyday life, the stress of wanting to succeed in school, the angst of social interaction, and the dread of constantly feeling like a misfit. She was the best of his world. He breathed in the moment, relishing in the way her skull weighted him down to earth and how the soft babbling of Peter filled the silence without disrupting the tranquility of the instant.
At last, he thought, home.
But peace was quick to shatter, as the two most infamous pranksters of the school arrived, loudly, their excitement somehow achieving to exceed the turmoil of the first year. James had in some way accomplished to gain a few more centimeters, and Sirius, usually pale and bony, had managed to enjoy the sun for once in his life, looking just a bit less ashen than he usually appeared. His demeanor seemed a bit less rough and bony than last year, but physically, the difference wasn’t so impressive. It was the way he smiled, moved without restraint, laughed barely an iota louder, it was the way he stood without reserve. It was as if the last remnant of the Black austere legacy had finally left him as he stood there as a free man. Sirius looked more alive than ever, and it was the most beautiful sight. Remus thanked the gods that the great man that stood in front of them finally had found his place outside of the grimy manor he grew up in.
Foolishly, there was a tinge of jealousy in his heart that made him unease. In an ugly way, Remus would have wanted to be the one to make his friend happy and healthy. He would have hope to be enough to fix every piece of the broken boy, but really, it was James and his parents who had done it in the end. Not him. He had given it his best and had felt for a long time like he was doing alright helping the Blacks’ black sheep, but at the sight of him today, radiant, it was clear how far from succeeding he was. He shook the feeling away, ashamed of such thoughts when the only thing he should sense was gratitude for the state of Sirius.
Sirius, who smiled at him as soon as he entered. The whole world disappeared, as it always did when the brunette got into a room. It was one of his many gifts, to make you forget about anything else in the universe. He didn’t even notice Lily leaving her position, abruptly straightening up and fixing her hair, only remarking her absence as James's voice resonated in the tiny cart :
« Missed me, Evans?
– In your dream, Potter. »
The tone was fierce but didn't fool anyone anymore. Being a red hair gave you the disadvantage of a rather telling blush, and she was no exception to the rule. Their friend only smiled with connivance and sat on the opposite bench, not pushing the matter any further. « In her own time », he had mysteriously answered when Sirius had asked what he was waiting to make a move now that it was obvious that the girl wasn’t as hostile to him as she kept pretending to be. They had to admit that they all were impressed by his cool and patience. But again, relationship-wise, despite the clumsiness he could sometimes display when it came to Lily, James was probably the more mature of them.
Just like the redhead had done just moments sooner, Sirius didn’t think twice and dropped next to the werewolf, while James asked Peter about his vacation. Padfoot was an affectionate person when it came to physical touch, and after getting used to being in actual contact with another human being, Remus had come to appreciate the habit the other man had to always wrap his arm around him, or distractedly play with his hair while conversing. With time, the constant nearness had become a source of warmth to the werewolf.
« How was the summer, Moony? »
Long. Boring. Terrible without you. A fucking nightmare.
« It was alright. What about you?
– It was nice. James's parents are adorable.
– I can imagine that. » he softly smiled. The idea of the young man finally finding a caring family and a loving home filled him with bliss.
« You two must have been insufferable, he added for good measures. Euphemia must have been thrilled to finally get rid of you. »
Sirius brought an offended hand to his heart :
« I’m outraged and appalled. We were nothing but delightful to the woman. »
A chuckle escaped his lips. There. Sirius just had a talent for making him laugh in less than a minute. It was a curse, truly, to not be able to resist his gimmicks, whatever the circumstances were. After two months of withdrawal, it was almost frightening how quickly things were getting back to their usual.
« Ton rire m’avait manqué. » [ I missed your laugh. ]
He nearly choked on his air and had to pause for a second in order to keep his face straight and hide his bafflement.
« Sorry, what? »
But his friend only shrugged nonchalantly and served him the regular poker face he always pulled when someone asked him to translate :
« Nothing. Evans, have you seen Mary yet?– She’s in another compartment, probably making out with some Ravenclaw.
– Bummer. I should make sure she’s okay, he grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief.
– Leave her alone you knob. »
He stuck his tongue out, throwing his arm around Remus' shoulders. Before the poor werewolf could say anything, James already had caught the brunette in one of their countless conversation about quidditch and whose house they had to watch out for this year. Lily excused herself so she could find Marlene, leaving him alone with the three guys, hopelessly trying to focus on the discussion and not on the heat radiating from the limb wrapped around him, or the way Sirius’ fingers slightly dug into the soft material of his T-shirt. But as much as he tried to concentrate on the debate ( Petter thought Hufflepuff had their shot this year, whereas James and Sirius bet on the Slytherin, for a change), the sentence turned on repeat in his mind like a broken record.
There was not any confusion possible; french was hard however, the sentence left little room for interpretation. Ton rire m’avait manqué. It was the words, yes, but also the fondness in the voice of his friend, the tenderness in his eyes, and the despicable, aching feeling that blossomed in his chest. He didn’t know what was the weirdest; the remark or his reaction to it. He should have made fun of him, it was the perfect occasion – the one he had promised to seize – to divulge his fluent French. But something had held him back; the strange dull guts feeling that this was more than just an out-of-the-blue thought without any depth to it. Sirius had said plenty of exotic things since Remus had learned the language, but this was new. And somewhat terrifying.
It meant nothing, he repeated to himself. It was a friendly remark, some platonic affection. Still. Still, he could feel his blood boiling and his heart thumping by the simple memory of it. It was nothing, really, only Sirius being a mushy sop because it was their last year. So why did everything seemed suddenly much more complicated?
At some point, Sirius let go of him, and the cold struck him as hard as the realization that he already missed it. Looking at the window, he tried to dismiss his internal turmoil and stay rational. The most important thing to be considered was that he already failed to keep his commitment to disclose his bilingual skill. However, he vowed to himself to finally reveal he talked French the next opportunity he would get. This one had caught him off guard, but the next, he would be ready and it would be the end of the whole charade.
Or so he thought.
In reality, it only got worse.
It’s the sorting, their stomachs are growling impatiently, and they are killing time by snickering and laughing at the terrified firsts year, greeting the newcomers with a deafening welcome.
« Hey, Remus, you didn’t tell us you had a little bro’. »
They follow James’ eyesight, and there is a tiny human sulking at the end of the table, curly hairs tumbling on his frowned brows. He’s so closed off that no other new students dare try to start a conversation, leaving the seats next to him empty. Remus flips his middle finger at his giggling friends as an answer.
Later, when food is finally on the table and he’s too busy devouring mashed potato and shepherd’s pie to pay attention to anything else, James elbows him so he looks up, and then points at mini-Remus. Some daring little boy is trying to pull some words out of him, talking loud and waving his arms in every direction.
The werewolf can’t help but smile at the scene. He thinks about Sybill and her grand theory about history doomed to repeat itself until the end of time, in every pan of the universe, until everything blurs into one unique storyline. He always thought she’s a bit bonkers, but maybe she’s right about that. ( Hopefully, she’s not about the rest of her prophecies, mostly revolving around accidents, deaths, or wars. On some fortunate days, it can even involve the three. ) Maybe some things are meant to happen again and again, and in this case, he thinks it’s sweet. As if Peter can read his thoughts, he comments with fondness :
« Maybe they’ll become friends. »
James tops it :
« Maybe they’ll be best friends! »
And as Remus gobbles a mouthful of a Cornish pasty, he can only hear the voice of the third Marauders softly adding :
« Peut-être qu’ils seront amants. » [ Maybe they’ll be lovers.]
It takes every bit of his will to not chock on his food and let it go down the wrong pipe. He glances at Prongs, but his face only shows puzzlement. Sirius, on the other hand, is crimson, eyes staring awkwardly at his plate, which is fortunate for the werewolf, as he can feel heat crawling up his neck and gushing into his cheeks. If their friends notice the sudden flustering of the both of them, they don’t make any comments, and Remus prays that they’re as oblivious as they pretend. He’s not ready to explain to either of them what the aristocrat just said, let alone why it sets every parcel of his skin on fire.
What.
The.
Hell.
Is Sirius playing at?
And so it went on. Every time Sirius talked French, it dug the grave a bit deeper, until there was no turning back without making things awkward. How do you say to your best friend of seven years:
« Hey, by the way, I know the weird shits you say in French to me, with fucking heart eyes and so much affection that it makes me feel all jiggly and tensed. »?
It was a dead-end, he knew it, there were heading straight toward a disaster, but he couldn’t find the courage to pull the brakes yet. Well, the courage, but if he was honest, there was also something enticing in the whole experience. Something he wasn’t ready to face or admit, yet this something was eating him up and keeping him up at night, despite all his efforts pretending it wasn’t there. Somehow, it had filled all of the space left in his lungs and his bed. It had taken over his brain the entire day and his dream the rest of his time. It felt like an itchy area in his head, an area that should be left to peace so everything would fall back into place, and yet he couldn’t help scratching and scratching, until it swelled, bigger and bigger, and invaded his daily life.
Was his relationship with Sirius normal? Were they friends, really, or had it always been more complexed, or even worse, way simpler? Remus wasn’t gay. He wasn’t anything, in fact. He had kissed a bunch of girls, a few blokes, and had dated about a girl and a half – he was pretty much sure that four days didn’t count as dating in the grown-up vocabulary. But social interactions always had been a bit of a struggle to him, not to mention romantic ones. It felt unnecessary intricate, and too much time and effort for a single human being. Yet, he had consumed both in obscene amounts just to learn a stupid language that would only come in handy if he ever had any wish to go to Paris. All for Sirius.
Yes, it was definitively a slippery hill that he was engaging in.
For some reason, his best friend decided out of the blue to escort him to the library, and to work with him, even though Sirius Black never works. They settled to the first empty table they found. The place is quiet, the silence only disturbed by the murmur of quills on parchment and distant whisperings. Remus is trying very hard to concentrate on his paper, but he can feel his friend’s gaze burning a hole through his body. He jerks up :
« What ? he snaps.
– What ? » the brunette retorts. There's a muffled « shh » coming from behind a bookshelf, and so it’s muttered under his breath that he responds :
« You’ve been staring at me for I don’t know how long. What’s wrong?
– Nothing! »
Sirius seems rattled for a second, but it only takes him an instant to find his way back to his nonchalant demeanor, grinning at his friend.
« I am distracting you Mr. Lupin ? he slurs in an excessive flirty tone.
– When you’re looking at me like I’ve grown a horn, yes.
– I thought James was the horny one, he mocks, laughing at his pun. I’ll bugger off then, he resumes almost fondly, don’t want to be a distraction to my Moony.
– Don’t be daft and sit your tosser’s arse on the chair. »
Remus lets out a breath before adding :
« You know I like having you around. »
To that, the pureblood has nothing to reply, and so he stays, not even bothering to feint working. His eyes get lost in the void, then lingers on Remus, and when the sentence escapes his
mouth, he seems as surprised as the taller boy :
« Je crois que je ne me lasserais jamais de te regarder. » [ I think I'll never grow tired of looking at you. ]
Remus doesn’t respond and instead pretends he hasn’t heard it. The hammering inside his chest begs to differ.
And what if Sirius asked him why he didn’t tell him earlier he spoke french? Then what? Remus wouldn’t know what to respond, and for sure, Padfoot would see right through him. And what about trust? He was betraying it over and over, every goddamn sentence he pretended not to understand, every kind word in French that made his heart thump and his head spin. When it came to Sirius, he was weak. Always had been.
He always boiled it down to fact that the man was just that good. It did seem like it was a shared feeling with about anyone spending time with the aristocrat. Sirius Black was, it was indisputable, blimey charming. He certainly could have convinced a Niffler to give him his loot. Even McGonnagald was defenseless against his angelic face and devilish smile. In fact, Remus was probably one of the only people capable of denying him something, despite the brat batting his eyelashes at him and giving him the saddest puppy look ever created. Still, the damn boy could get about anything from him without any effort. Just like he could get on his nerves like no one else had the capacity of.
And besides, it wasn’t as if Sirius were courting him. Outside of the French bits, he was the same as always, flirting with every girl in his eyesight, fooling around at any occasion. It should even be noted that since the beginning of the seventh year, it had only worsened, if it even was possible, which made about zero sense. Remus was confused for the least.
« She’s pissed.
– She’ll get over it.
– You can’t keep shagging every girl in Hogwarts, Sirius. It’s ruining breakfast. I can’t enjoy my pudding with all those girls throwing daggers at us. I’m scared one of them will try poisoning you and I’ll end up a collateral victim. I can’t die now, I’m too young, I still haven’t snogged Evans.
– Oh! shut up, Potter! »
Lily’s screech puts an end to James’ complaint. He winks at her and she takes refuge in her plate, failing to conceal her blushing. He grins broadly, and Remus rolls his eyes. He would love for all of them to quit chattering and let him eat in peace. With time, he has found out that scrambled eggs taste better when they aren't served with shameless flirt and explicit conversation about Sirius’s hectic sex life – which is a way too frequent subject for his liking.
« I don’t get it, sighs Peter. Nancy is so pretty and so sweet… If it was me, I would date her. You’re not even going to give her a chance?
– When you’re the noble and great Sirius Black, you don’t date, counters James, his mouth full of bacon and sarcasm.
– I do date! cries out the said noble and great aristocrat, feinting to take offense – which he doesn’t, because he obviously doesn’t give a damn about his dating skill.
– Only you call that dating, Potter corrects him. It’s a curse you gave to the world. I wouldn’t even wish to my greatest enemy the treatment you reserve to your girlfriend. Heck, even Snivellus doesn’t deserve the affliction of having you for his boyfriend. »
Those are some big words, but even Remus and his never-ending affection for the man cannot disagree. When it comes to dating, Sirius is the absolute worst. Beware, the first days, he’s the most loving partner you can wish for. He showers them with gifts, attention, and affection. He’s considerate and caring. But it never lasts more than a week. He always loses interest too fast, forget – sometimes Remus suspects it to be on intent – about the meetings they had planned, dismisses them in front of everyone, only to get handsy with them in the most public space, preferably in an aggressive way.
Of all the relationships around him, Remus never witnessed such madness and perniciousness. It didn’t stop him from staring at the girls Sirius talked to with an icy tone before shoving them against a wall and kissing them relentlessly, hands bruising the precious skin, and wondering if he would like that. More than often, the thought was more appealing than it should. Since September, his mind was fucked up, and he hated it.
« I just haven’t met the right one, Sirius shrugged, his eyes dawdling on Remus, and the latter finds swallowing suddenly harder than usual.
– Well, who knows? Peter maintains with the earnest smile. Maybe Nancy is the right one.
– She does have a temper, concede James. You could use a girl with some fire to put up with your bullshits.
– And she’s smart, continues the first.
– I heard she hexed a seventh-year Slytherin because he had insulted a first-year in front of her.
– Yeah! And she’s a muggle-born, 'should piss off your family enough.
– Not to mention that she already slept with you, so she knows what to expect.
– Okay, now you two are just getting slighting. » Sirius interrupts them.
There is a small silence, during which he seems to think about the idea, and then he looks at the last of them who still has to give his piece of mind on the matter and ask :
« What about you, Moony? What do you think? »
Remus really doesn’t want to have to give his opinion on the subject. He would rather eat a box full of bogey and barf Jelly beans than to answer the question.
« About what ? he inquires innocently, praying the gods that the pureblood would drop it.
– About Nancy. You think I should give it a shot? »
He shoves as much food as he can in his throat, hoping it will choke him to death and spare him the affliction of responding. It doesn’t. He looks away because he can’t bear to look at him in the eyes when he says :
« I heard she’s nice. »
Sirius’ brows frown. There is a hint of disappointment in the way he slowly nods and agrees with a very apparently unconvinced tone :
« Yeah, I guess. »
No one pushes it further, and they all get back to clearing out their plate, to the exception of the two, seemingly incapable of tear off their eyes of each other. Remus really should look away if he doesn’t want his friend to be able to read into his soul and finally discover all the terrible thoughts and feelings he buried six feet under the ground. But Sirius doesn’t uncover anything, nor does he get back to his breakfast. He seems lost in a profound reflection, a soft smile curling upon his lips, and it’s in a whisper that sounds more like a comforting revelation to him than a remark to Remus that he observes :
« Mais elle n’est pas toi. » [ But she’s not you]
There’s a third reason that kept Remus silent. He plainly didn’t know what would happen next. What if Sirius wanted an answer to his silent pinning from the werewolf? Because the lycanthrope had no idea what he was to respond. He was lost in his feeling and the thought of it, the thought of Sirius, the thought of them. He had no idea how those things worked, and he never allowed himself to think of this before. All those years, it had been this huge place in his mind that he denied himself to explore, too scared of what he will discover. It was a lot to process, and he just had no idea of how he felt and how to deal with it.
Another possibility was that he had it all wrong, and it was all some misinterpretation on his behalf. That would be the easiest option. They would laugh about it, and they would move on. It would be the better way out, yes, however now that Remus had begun digging, there was no way back from what he unearthed. If Sirius didn’t fancy him even a bit, then he didn’t know what to do with the feelings that were surfacing.
It was on a rainy day, after hours of studying, that Lily suddenly loudly closed her book and asked with feigned nonchalance :
« So. When are you going to tell Sirius that you understand French and you fancy him just as much? »
Remus read the same sentence five times before computing what she had just said, and when he finally lifted his head to meet her gaze, he knew there was no point denying anything. What Lily lacked in social skills, she made up with her incredible sense of observation. It was foolish to underestimate when it came to perceiving any change in anyone’s behavior. In the muggle world, she would have made a formidable private detective. He arched an eyebrow and traded her question for another :
« You speak French too? »
She grinned, visibly happy to be proven right, and shrugged.
« Nah, I don’t have that kind of time on my hands, you weirdo. I found an old spell in a book to translate French. It’s a bit wonky, but it gives you a general idea. »
He couldn’t help but be impressed. A thing not many knew about Lily was that she wasn’t actually that clever. It took her quite his share of hours to understand and learn things, but she was also terribly stubborn and relentless when it concerned studying. She spent most of her free time reading and working until things made sense. She made a very talented wizard, for what she lacked in natural gift, she made up in passion and labor. Oddly enough, for a muggle-born, the only domain she showed inborn talent was potion, where she shun brighter than everybody, at the exception of Snape – something that wasn’t to be reminded to her if you wished to keep your head.
Anyway, he could easily picture a frustrated Lily Evans going through an entire bookshelf with the sole purpose of understanding what the wanky Sirius Black is saying.
« Since when? he asked because he still had trouble wrapping his head around it.
– Third-year.
– Third-year?! »
She smiled with malice, clearly proud of her little effect. Remus, for his part, was realizing all the things she had heard and slowly turned red, remembering all the flirty and sweet stuff that had been thrown his way.
« He was so smug, talking all-mighty with his noble French, it made my skin crawls. I wanted to prove that he wasn’t better than any of us. Anyway, when are you confessing? »
He blushed even more :
« How did you even found out I understood him?
– You just… you did this thing every time he talked French. »
Panic crept up. Did the others know? Did Sirius know? Was he that obvious?
« What thing? he shrilled.
– The thing you do when you’re hiding something.
– When I’m…
– You have a tell, she sighed.
– I have a tell.
– Yes.
– What is it? he yelped, hopelessly.
– I’m not telling you. Then you’ll stop doing it. »
He was about to protest, but there was no point trying to convince Lily of something she didn’t want to do. That girl was unshakable. Instead, he decided to came back to the primer subject of conversation. Somehow, he was thankful his friend had decided to step into it. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to talk about it to someone until she gave him the opportunity.
« I don’t know what to do, he admitted. »
She shrugged once again like it was the stupidest statement she had ever heard.
« Tell him you love him back, shag him and date his stupid ass. »
He hissed, skin burning and inside tangling.
« I’m not gonna do that, he outcried.
– Why not?
– Because I don’t know how I feel about him, Lily. I have no idea. He’s my friend, I have no idea if I like him this way. He’s just… I’m not… I don’t want to screw things up. What if it’s not what he wants? I thought… How do you know? How do you know you have feelings for someone? Maybe I’m just getting mixed up….»
He leaned on the table, picking nervously at the ink stains on the wood. He heard the red hair breathing in sharply and he felt her hand softly brushing his. He finally looked up, meeting up her fierce gaze, mouth shut in a tight line. He wished she hadn’t sat across the table because then he could have laid his head on her shoulder.
« Listen, she eventually said with much precaution. I’m not an expert on love, it’s really not my forte, but here’s what I do know: you’re the brightest of all of us when it comes to breeding spells. You could have done just like me but a thousand times better and cast the most astonishing translation spell on Sirius. Instead of that, you learned an incredibly convoluted language in less than two years –
– Less than a year, he couldn’t help but correct.
– Still prove my point, she went on, arching an impressed eyebrow. Anyway, you gave time and effort only so you could share a part of Sirius’ life. You didn’t want to simply know what he was saying. You wanted to be able to communicate on a human level and not through magic. So yes, I’m may not be the best when it comes to love, but that definitively isn’t something I would do for Marlene or Mary. »
He took the time to process the thought. She was right. As much as he loved his friends, he wouldn’t have done it for anyone else than Sirius. Because when it came to Sirius, things just were different. It wasn’t a good, nor a bad kind of different, it just was something entirely else. It felt like it wasn’t something he could compare to the rest of his relationships because it just had nothing to do with anything else he experienced. It was evident. Wasn’t like those story of pieces clicking into each other, it didn’t feel like they were completing each other, it was about something way more inexplicable.
If they were stars, it wasn’t about shining the brightest, or about being on the same constellation. In fact, they were thousands of light-years apart. No, if they were stars, then Remus knew that through the dark, through the end of time, he would still find his way to Sirius’ warmth, would always distinguish his light apart from all the others. He heard that love was easy, but things never felt easy with the aristocrat. There were difficulties, fights, and hurt. But if there was to be difficulties, fights, and hurt, he didn’t want it any other way than with him.
Maybe. Maybe he did have feelings for Sirius in a way that wasn’t platonic. A sharp pain awoke in his chest at the thought of losing him. No one ever looked at him this way, no one ever made him laugh, smile, feel like Sirius did, nothing felt as worth it than to be by his side. Fuck.
Aware of his distress, Lily squeezed his hand and slowly got her stuff together, smiling softly.
« If you need me, she gently vouched, I’m always there to talk. Don’t hesitate. »
He nodded, grateful. She got up, throwing her bag over her shoulder, and seemed to pause for a bit, uncertain if Remus wanted her to leave him alone or needed company. But since he wasn’t wincing at her departure, she deduced he indeed wanted some time for himself. A thought came over and without much thinking, Remus asked, because they could be two playing this game of confronting the other with their feelings :
« Would you do it for James? »
She stopped in her tracks and looked at him, both puzzled and startled, already blushing.
« Do what? she inquired anyway, twisting a fiery lock around her index,
– Learn a bloody whole new language in less than a year. »
He couldn’t keep from smirking at her distraught expression, as well as her nervous glances over her shoulder like the said boy could come in at any moment – which was ridiculous because James Potter never set foot in the library.
« I –, she spluttered. I don’t – »
She was now crimson, and as cruel as it was, Remus couldn’t contain his snigger, watching the well put together perfect come undone, desperately trying to find a repartee.
« You tosser!» she finally came to answer, pointing an accusing finger at him, earning some shushing from the students around. She turned her heels and left in a hurry, flaming hair flying behind her.
« You first.», he muttered under his breath.
The night is festive, alcohol is gushing, and music's blasting so loud that they have to check on the concealing charm every half hour to make sure McGonagall will not barge on their offhand party. Sirius had decided at the beginning of the afternoon that he wanted a knees-up, and as everyone knows: what Sirius wants, Sirius gets. Just like every time, the little get-together has turned into perfect chaos of Gryffindor singing at the top of their lungs and drinking till the end of the world. And just like every time, James is dancing too much, Peter’s pissed, and Sirius is sticking his tongue in the throat of some random girl. Remus loves parties but to him, the noise and the pandemonium aren't the best part of it.
No, his favorite moment, the one that makes those crazy nights so great, is the floating bit where exhaustion hits, music lowers. Then people slowly pile up on the settees and the flaming rug, close their eyes, and absent-mindedly trade cigarettes and profound reflections. Even if the common room is packed with people, it feels like it’s only the four of them, Marauders against the rest of the Universe, laughing and sharing thoughts about the stupidest topics. Remus loves those ethereal cracks in the rush of life, where suddenly every second seems to last hours and every hour seems to last a second. Stacked against each other, he draws comfort from the heat of their skins and the blend of their yet distinct scents. At his fragment of time, it feels entirely like home.
But tonight, their usual meeting isn’t met. Peter had passed out in his bed, Sirius is gone with a girl, and James is sitting at the window in charming company, ginger hair flowing against his chest for the first time in seven years. Remus can’t make sense of it, but somewhere along the way, Potter proved them all wrong and finally got one prophecy right. Maybe the stars have finally aligned. He can’t help but feel a tinge of jalousie biting his heart as he contemplates his two friends and the love irradiating from their entangled bodies. He wonders how it feels to have someone to adore you the way they do now. « Everybody loves Somebody » starts playing, and he has no time to wonder who put it on because immediately someone softly asks :
« Wanna dance? »
The raspy voice gets a shiver out of him that he fails to repress, and he turns over to meet rebellious locks, dimmed eyes, and a gentle grin. He doesn’t know when he got back into the room, but he’s offering a hand to him, and even though it’s Sirius Black and his whole body, down to his smirk, screams confidence, there is just a hint of vulnerability in his voice, and so Remus can’t help to seize it and interlock their fingers. They begin to swirl slowly, Sirius’ hand on his waist, the other one firmly holding Remus’ one, guiding him softly in a timid dance. It’s a very dangerous leap, he knows it, and the tiny voice that he can never get to shut up is whispering that this is all a very bad idea.
But firewhisky is burning down all of his concerns. Right now, the only thing that matters is to make Sirius happy. To make his friend happy, to feel him again his skin, to breath in his scent and forget for a song that he shouldn’t be so fervent about burying his nose in the crook of the alabaster neck. He does it. Even though it’s should feel weird and inappropriate, he does it, because it feels right, and he’s tipsy enough to pretend that it’s just in the spur of the moment and doesn’t mean anything.
He can smell spice, a hint of a wet dog kind of scent, and booze. Just a hint of fancy Cologne, which the aristocrat now hardly ever put on since he discovered about Remus’ sharp nose and the hell he was putting the werewolf through every time he would use it. He likes it, he realizes. He really likes Sirius’ odor. He always thought it was a lycanthropy quirk, to affectionate scents like he did, like a kind of recognition thing. He loves James’ and Peter’s odor too, as much as Lily’s one. He could distinguish them in a heartbeat. But that special mix, this very particular one, goes beyond relatedness, beyond fondness. This scent makes him want to taste it and fall asleep to it. He’s grateful that right now, his face is hidden to Sirius' eyes because he can feel his whole face burning up at the revelation. He’s no expert at friendship, even after six years of it, he’s still trying to figure it out, but he’s pretty sure you’re not supposed to think about licking the collar bone of a said friend. The once hesitant fingers on his waistline grow more firms, griping at him like they're afraid to let go, and he wishes for them to never go away.
« Je crois que je t’aime. » [ I think I love you. ]
It’s a whisper, a murmur, a secret only meant for Remus' ears, and even in the blur of his inebriated mind, he’s able to make sense of the French sentence. His chest tightens. « Me too », he wanna says. He doesn’t. He just stays there, drowning in the feelings of Sirius all around him, and against his flesh, drowning in the awareness of the pounding of his heart, drenching in the realization that he’s so fucking in love that it may be written somewhere on it.
After the party, every single day felt like hell on earth. Coming to the realization that he burned for his best friend was bad enough, spending every meal, lesson, free time, even the nights with him was another level of suffering. He wanted to tell him, truly, but it felt way too out of the blue. He was not ready to face it yet. He was happy with the way things were. He also really wanted to kiss him, which was a weird change, because he never thought of kissing Sirius before. Now, it was the only thing he was able to think when he looked at him, which quite added to the awkwardness. Okay, maybe Remus was not entirely happy with the way things were. Scared to alter it was probably a better way to put it. But everything has to come to an end, and surely enough, this time again, it wasn’t on his own initiative.
You would think that at this point, the werewolf would have learned his lesson and understood that he should take action before actions happened on their own. Remus was luckily born a fast learner, yet had failed anyhow to learn this very one. And so the sword fell.
The common room was peaceful, for once. It was the end of the afternoon, a weakening sun fighting against the clouds, only a few rays piercing through the veil, beacons of light striking part of the Forbidden Forest and some of the school grounds, but never quite reaching the windows. Therefore, most of the enchanted lanterns had already lighted up, filling the room with a comforting glow, only emphasized by the soothing crackling of the logs, blazing flames licking the woods, casting shifting shadows upon the velvety tapestries.
It was the end of November. Deprived of his girlfriend – Lily had insisted that she really ought to help Mary, who was dreadfully failing in Divination, James was left on his own devices and had decided to put his cleared schedule at use by preparing the strategy for the next match against Hufflepuff. He had been for the last hour waving his wand at the ceiling, carving and erasing diagrams, slouched across the sofa. Laying on the opulent red and gold rug, Sirius and Peter were disputing a chess game, surprisingly quietly, to Remus’ delight. Caught in his reading, he failed to notice the arrival of Frank Longbottom, nor did he heard him calling his name the first time. The second time was a charm, partly under the virtue of Prongs’ foot between his ribs to get his attention.
« Sorry, you wanted something? »
Remus liked Frank. He and his girlfriend were Ravenclaws, but they hung out regularly in Gryffindor's area, as Alice deemed Houses too restrictive and frequently sought out the company of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. With time, they all had grown accustomed to their comings and goings. He always found the couple quite charming, and he had come to appreciate them even further last December’s break when they had been the only sixth-year staying at Hogwarts for the festivities.
Alice had a great sense of humor and was one of the most clever people he ever met. She was utopian, with big ideas and specific opinions about how things should be handle. She was also very nice and made sure she never disturbed him. From what he had gathered, she came from an uptight pureblood lineage and didn’t share most of the viewpoints of her family. She had chosen to celebrate the holidays in Scotland rather than returning home and spend two weeks with her relatives. Her boyfriend– Frank – had decided to stay with her so they could celebrate together. He was a quiet man. He could be pretty sociable on some occasions but preferred keeping to himself most of the time, buried in his books and mostly preoccupied with his plants. He spent most of his time in the greenhouses or near the Forbidden Forest.
Though Remus didn’t understand Longbottom’s appeal for trees and bushes, he admired his dedication to the subject and never got bored of listening to him talk about it. He thought it was only natural to take notice of his passion. In exchange, they also shared long discussions about magical creatures, and the Ravenclaw abided about Remus' never-ending logorrhea. When he needed help with finding a book or references, he always came knocking at his door, and vice-versa. Together, in addition to Lily, they certainly had skimmed through most of the library.
Today, the young man was clutching a massive textbook, visibly worn out by time, yellowish papers sticking here and there from the whole, the green leathered cover lavished and softened by the years. The werewolf’s nose was already tingly from all the dust gathering between the pages.
« I hope I’m not bothering you?
– No, you’re not, tell me.
– Well, Frank began with a smile, I finally found a book that has information about the Spectacula Magenta, but it’s just my luck because it’s in French, so I thought you could help me translate it.»
Remus first thought was shit. He didn’t get to answer, because James took care of it personally, straightening up to face the other man and correcting what he took for a mistake :
« You got it mixed up, mate, it’s Sirius who talks French, not Moony. Ask him instead. »
At the mention of his name, Padfoot turned to them and seemed to pay attention to the conversation. Remus surprised himself by envying Peter and his ability to turn into a rat at any given time. He sure would have loved doing that and hide under a bookshelf rather than face the mess unraveling before his very own eyes. Frank looked puzzled for a second but didn’t lose countenance as he responded without a once of doubt :
« I mean, yes, but I asked Remus because he usually helps me with my research, and since he does talk French, I thought I might as well ask him.» He shifted his attention to the aristocrat and added :
« If you wanna help, though, it would be great.
– Remus doesn’t talk French, Sirius reiterated. He barely speaks correct English. »
The conversation was friendly, but you could feel the confusion tensing everyone. Frank smiled with bewilderment and laughed, most likely trying to dismiss the discomfort settling between the students :
« Well, I don’t know what he told you, but I’ve been trapped with him for two weeks last December, and let me tell you, he was a pain in the arse. He wouldn’t leave me alone with his French vocabulary, always asking me to make him recite.
– That’s not true, Remus croaked in pure despair.
– Yeah? »
The Ravenclaw arched a dubious eyebrow, clearly oblivious to the misery of his classmate, surely taking his objection for embarrassment.
« Alice, he shouted to get her attention across the room. Remember Remus at Christmas?
– Oh my god ! she lamented, walking towards them. I thought he would never shut up about his fancy language, I don’t know how I managed to get through the holidays without shoving his revision sheets up his –
– Yes, I think we got it. » interrupted Remus, mortified.
For the entire conversation, he hadn’t torn his eyes off his friend, as the realization slowly hit Sirius. His expression had dropped, bit by bit, until he looked nothing but neutral. Suddenly, steel orbs were on him, and the werewolf couldn’t help but jolt back a little in his cushion, unable to hold his prying gaze. A soft blush crept up softly on the alabaster skin, his mouth slightly opening like he was searching for words. If it could be of any consolation, Remus’s skin was burning just as much.
They could hear James baffled shout (« Moony, why didn’t you tell us ? ») and Peter squeaking (« We could have toke the piss out of Sirius »), but neither of toked seemed to care, as they both understood that their secrets were out in the open. He genuinely expected the Black heir to run out the door at any given rate, and he wasn’t sure yet if he would pursue him or let him cool off. He felt like whatever the brunette was feeling, he had every right to, and he wouldn’t try to go against it. But to his surprise, grey eyes obstinately pinned on him, his deep voice cut through all the squawking and exclamations, clear as water, with his typic chipped accent that only slightly gave away his British roots :
« Pourquoi tu ne m’as rien dit ? » [ Why didn’t you tell me? ]
Lupin swallowed hard, as the little group fell quiet, all attention on them, presumably awaiting to see how Sirius would be reacting to the news. He had asked it in the most utterly stern tone, but Remus knew him enough to know that on the inside, he was rumbling, ready to explode and storm off. He was giving him a chance, a chance to explain himself before bursting out of rage and hurt.
He just now realized how much his friend trusted him, earnestly. Sirius Black was the swiftest prick when it came to jumping conclusions and getting mad for the stupidest reason – being abused did that someone – and yet, in that situation, he was giving time and thought before giving him hell. He just was that much confident that Remus would never do anything to hurt him. And Remus was ready to explain himself, really, ready to explain to him every detail of the incident, why he hadn’t said anything, why he had learned it in the first place, how terrible and sorry he felt. But as Sirius’ gaze ransacked his inside, as the entire world was waiting to know his answer and yet it felt like there were the only two people alive in the entire universe, words just flew out of his mouth :
« Je crois que je t’aime aussi. » [ I think I love you too.]
There was a flash, across his delicate face, something that made the corner of his mouth flutter and his sharp features soften. Even though there were a few feet between us, Remus swore he could hear the breath his friend had been holding all this time being punch out of his lungs. He was about to add an apology, but Sirius briskly stood up and began to leave the room, not without giving a last look and whispering :
« Fucking come please. »
There was a fair share of worried looks on him, and, to be fair, it did appear like the beginning of a dispute; Sirius leaving the room with a hurried pace and slamming the door on his way. But to Remus, it felt like something entirely else, something that made him shiver at the urge in the voice, the despair in the irony iris. He only managed to gesture a vague sign to his friends, meaning to indicate that it was going to be okay before his feet moved by themselves and followed the same path as their predecessor. By the time he reached the door, he could feel his heart thumping and sweat rolling down his neck. There it was. No coming back from whatever awaited him behind. He slowly turned the handle and walked outside.
There he was, in all his glory, leaning against the cold wall, nervously – nervousness was an unusual quirk on him – running his fingers in his mane. Was it even legal to be this bloody gorgeous? Desire filled every inch of the werewolf’s body as he saw him, messy, unsure, and he felt like love was overflowing his entire being. It seemed unreal, that this beautiful, perfect, dazzling man could ever reciprocate his feelings. He didn’t deserve him, didn’t deserve to feel like the most important person in the entire universe as they locked eyes. It was like every inch separating them was filled with electricity, like they were magnets, both pulling them together and keeping them at a respectable distance. Remus’s heart was painfully pounding, his inside boiling, mouth dry. It didn’t help that his friend was nipping at his bottom lip.
« Are you serious? »
Sirius’s voice was so raspy and low that it was barely audible.
« I’m not serious, you’re Sirius.», he said, trying to keep his voice steady. Then because it felt like the other truly needed confirmation: «Of course I am, you wanker. »
It was all that the brunette needed to hear, and before Remus could say anything else, the other had obliterated the space between them and his mouth came crashing into his. He closed his eyes on instinct, gasping for oxygen, as lips moved against his, again, and again, their breaths mingling into one. He wanted to care about being seen, heard, but there was a palm cupping his cheek, another on his waist – resting the exact same place as when they danced, and it was as if nothing else mattered other than to finally touch.
His own fingers blindly found their way to Sirius' neck, then climbed to his scalp, tangling his index in one strand of dark hair, cherishing the way it made his partner’s respiration itch. He didn’t know how many time it lasted, teeth clicking, wandering hands, but at some point Black’s mouth began deviating, kissing the corner of his, then his jaws, his ear, his nose, his eyelid, and a giggle of pure bliss escaped from Remus’ throat. It quickly turned into something more indecent when hot and warm kisses trailed down his neck to his collarbone. When Sirius began gently nibbling at the mellow skin, he let out a hiss, trying hard to swallow the moan building up in his larynx, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of the brunette’s sweatshirt. Then the delightful torment stopped, and his torturer buried his face in the crook of his neck.
« You fucker, Sirius let out in a breath, air pleasantly brushing against his skin. Do you realize we could have been doing that months earlier if you just had said something? »
Remus didn’t answer. There was a lot of explaining to do, a lot of excuses to be said, a lot of things to be discussed, but it wasn’t the place for it. It felt fair to first enjoy a bit before getting into the talking. He would worry later. He played with the luxurious hair, his other hand reaching Sirius’s one, intertwining their fingers, relishing in the way it fitted perfectly together. Fuck. He should have been scared that anyone could walk on them at any given point, but it felt nothing if plain happiness and contentment. He inhaled the scent of smoke, wet fur, and fancy soap, hardly believing he was holding Sirius Black against his chest.
It was an eternity later – an eternity that had flown by like a minute – that said Sirius Black finally lifted his head to look at him, his precious eyelashes fluttering, beautiful eyes staring at the werewolf face. He was gently mapping his cheekbones with his thumb.
« Do you even have any idea how…», he began murmuring, more for himself than for his lover, but words died on his lips. He captured Remus’ hands between his, clenching at them, kissing the knuckles. When the animagus looked at him again, it was with so much adoration that Remus deemed he might as well die on the spot. He could get used to being looked at like this, he thought.
« Tu es magnifique. » [ You're beautiful. ]
Being looked at like this, he could get used. The French thing? He was pretty sure he would never get his heart to stop take a tumble when it happened.