Work Text:
Part Two - 1
Anger
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Remus wasn't sure he'd ever been so angry at Sirius for something before. He was angry at Sirius for leaving him. For dying. For going where Remus couldn't go out of fear and self-hatred and the idea that he must suffer through this because it was ultimately his entire fault --despite all logic and reason that it was not his fault at all. And surely there was a bit of vengeance soaked in there as well. He had to get revenge. He had to kill Bellatrix and all Death Eater and Voldemort and anyone that had ever dared to say a single bad thing about Sirius Black in their entire life.
Which included himself, really. He had said plenty of bad things about Sirius, and thought plenty worse things.
And now he remembered: there was a time he was this angry at Sirius. Perhaps even more angry. It wasn't a fond memory, but it was fitting. Sirius had betrayed him, just as he had now by dying, and there was no way to really forget that no matter how much time had passed, or how badly Remus tried to forget. It was perhaps what pushed the doubts away when Remus learned that Sirius had betrayed James. He had been angry then, very angry, but mostly just heartbroken.
That, however, was a memory that Remus was not ready to relive yet.
It was still too soon.
Fifteen years was still too soon.
So Remus focused, and thought quite pensively about the time Sirius had lured Snape to the Shrieking Shack. Had nearly gotten himself expelled. Had nearly gotten Remus exposed. How he had nearly gotten Severus Snape killed.
But above all else, how Sirius had betrayed Remus' trust, like a knife through their shared heart.
No, there was no time he was angrier than that. Even now, even completely alone, Remus wasn't as angry as he had been then.
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"I'm sorry."
Sirius apologized a lot more than anyone really gave him credit for. He was constantly apologizing. Not generally with words, mostly just with his grey eyes or his guilty smirk, and occasionally with an awkward pat on the shoulder to the offended party. Provided he was actually wrong (and believed he was wrong --two very different classifications), Sirius wasn't above apologizing in his own way. It was easy to miss, though, because Sirius didn't come out and give grand speeches about the wrong he had done. He didn't write a heartfelt sonnet about how sorry he was. Occasionally he gave out a candy. Mostly he just shrugged in a way that said, "It's done already, but I am sorry anyway."
And that was that, really. Sirius apologized in his silent, unsure way and things moved on. They'd be back to joking about and pulling pranks and it was like nothing ever trespassed between them.
But not this time.
This had crossed a line.
A thick red line with signs and blaring trumpets, warning all those that came near that there was no going back once the final purge was made across into new and uncharted and frightening territory. This was unforgiveable, but Remus couldn't bring himself to say that. He had always forgiven Sirius, for every stupid little thing he'd ever done, but this was too much.
Luckily, James had never had trouble bringing up such grievances.
"You could have gotten him killed, Sirius," James leant against a bedpost, arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankle, closing himself off in a very uncharacteristic way. They were all being uncharacteristic, though. It was like suddenly they'd all taken on these very serious, very adult roles, and it was so strange to even think of it now. They had grown up suddenly and dramatically, for a little while at least.
Peter was sitting quietly on his own bed, with legs brought up to his chest as he rest his back against the headboard. He didn't look afraid or even sad; he looked pretty blank, which was strange. Peter at least always looked a little something. His eyes always had some emotion there; often it was excitement, sometimes it was fear, occasionally it was sadness. Nothing there now, though. Just blank, as he stared at his shoes and didn't even fidget a little.
Remus perched uncomfortably at the window, staring out at the moon, pretending that he couldn't hear James and Sirius having it out, pretending that it didn't really matter. It did matter, though. It mattered too much to all of them, and that was just the trouble. If it didn't matter so much to the others, Remus thought that maybe he would be able to get over it. If it didn't matter so much to his friends, maybe it wouldn't weigh so heavily on his own shoulders.
But that was, of course, a lie. Remus would never forgive himself for what nearly happened, and he would never forgive Sirius for it either.
"Well what the fuck else do you want me to say?" Sirius rose from his bed now, angry and frustrated with the entire thing. He'd been lectured and scolded and told what an awful thing it was he had done. He knew. He fucking knew. "I said I was sorry, James. It was a joke, okay? But I guess you wouldn't remember what those are like," Sirius trailed off with an annoyed sound and had his arms crossed now too, if only to stop himself from striking out at James physically. They had gotten into plenty of brawls before, but this was different. This was much more serious an issue.
Tension and Knife had never been better friends.
"What's that supposed to mean?" James stood up straight now, arms going to his sides, fists clenching in bridled anger.
"You know damn well what it means!" Sirius broke first, shouting and taking a step forward with burdened shoulders and hardened fists now poised at his sides. He had that wild look to him, that one that meant he was truly angry, and truly sorry, and truly very many things that he couldn't comprehend and so he must strike out and hit and hurt more because he didn't know what else to do and couldn't possibly make any of it right.
James just saw Challenge.
Peter just saw Rage.
Remus just saw the moon.
And then Knife cut through Tension like a blood betrayal and it was all over.
It was Sirius' own fault for mentioning how James had changed since getting with Lily; it was the thing they all tried to pretend wasn't happening --most especially James. But James was getting lost in red hair and green eyes more often than he was in exploding chocolate frogs and ink that dried as swear words. The dynamic was changing, and nobody wanted to say anything about it. Nobody wanted to say anything about it because it was new and weird and wasn't supposed to be that way. Surely they'd all had dates and crushes and the casual meeting in a broom-closet while skipping out of Potions (most especially Sirius had these), but there were no serious relationships among Marauders. They were a band of boys with a very large hand-painted banner that explicitly stated 'No Girls Allowed', and now James wasn't holding up his corner anymore.
It weighed on Sirius the most, and it broke him, and it made him act out in foolish ways. He was losing his best friend to a girl; of course he was going to act out. But they all pretended like nothing was changing, like it was still fifth year and they were still just The Marauders and boys and friends and stupid little gits making pact and drinking a potion so that they might never be parted during a full moon again.
"Enough," Remus finally got up from the window, once he heard a significantly louder yelp from the mass of limbs and sharp points currently rolling about on the floor. Of course it didn't deter James and Sirius for a moment, and so Remus got loud. "I bloody said fucking stop it!" Remus was, by all accounts, the quiet one of the group, but now he was off on a shout, screaming at the two of them, face scrunched up in anger and hurt, hands waving about as if he were being attacked by invisible bees. It would have been comical if it wasn't so sad.
But it wasn't pretty and it wasn't poetic, Remus breaking. It was ugly and strange and he looked so wrong. His face got red and his eyes got wide and he was spitting as he spoke. James and Sirius had stopped; James' hands still grasping at Sirius' shirt collar and Sirius' hand threaded into James' hair, trying to pull him off. But those grasps went soft as Remus yelled at them. Screamed his head off at them. Swore at them and wished he had never met them. Either of them.
And poor Peter sat on the bed still, no longer blank but positively frightened. He curled into himself a bit more, pressed against headboard as if trying to meld into it so that he might go undetected in this rage. But he was not. Remus yelled at him, too, but Peter wasn't quite sure why. None of them were quite sure why, really. Even Remus wasn't sure why he yelled at Peter, for surely Peter deserved none of this wrath. But Remus was just so angry. So angry at them and Snape, and Hogwarts, and Fenrir Greyback and so fucking angry at himself.
It was over nearly as soon as it started, with Remus striding through the room with purpose, shutting the door behind himself almost too gently, and disappearing.
Remus stayed up all night in the library.
James stayed up in the commons.
Sirius stayed up in an astronomy tower.
Peter fell asleep against the headboard.