Chapter Text
Remus woke up to some noise in the corridor.
The sound lingered in his ears as the night’s dream slipped away in a haze.
His head throbbed a little and his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. Sirius, it seemed, had thrown an extra blanket over him again, because he insists that Remus gets cold during the night. Allegedly, Remus’ teeth chatter all damn night, you can’t possibly be warm!
That day was the last day. They were leaving for good.
He breathed in until his lungs couldn’t take in any more air, pushed the covers to the floor, feeling the cool air hit his sleepy warm skin, and made one very brave and quick movement to stand up.
He walked to the window with his bare feet, little specks of dirt and crumbs of the digestives James eats every night sticking to his soles. He opened the curtains and outside, all the colours existed in plum and raspberry tones.
He turned around, blinked several times before his eyes had adjusted to the new lighting and was surprised to see he was alone. The room was eerily quiet and everything was very still.
Their things were all tucked next to the door, and the room didn’t feel like the one he had lived in for the past seven years. In a way, it was all a bit funny. Why did they have to leave their room?
There was something absurd in thinking that other people would be there next year, sleeping in their beds, filling their shelves with things that didn’t belong. Get out of my fucking room! he would say to the face of a scared 11-year-old-boy when he arrived again in September. But he wouldn’t.
He had seen the room empty several times before, but this time it all felt a bit too definite. It was.
In the end, if everything felt like it was falling apart, it was only because time keeps moving forward and we are forced to go with it, and that was the truth growing up revealed.
He pushed one arm inside his trunk to pull some clothes out and changed in the bathroom.
In the mirror, he saw the pillow had left creases marked on his face that intertwined with his scars in a funny way. His reflection looked back at him through a dirty and faded glass.
Remus sat on the toilet and waited for a few minutes.
/
"Morning, Moony!" Peter spotted him first.
The light came in softly through the Great Hall’s ceiling, casting an almost mythical atmosphere into the space and the few people that still lingered in the tables. He supposed that’s what happens to places you know you’ll never be in again.
"Hiya!" he gave them a very tiny wave. "You got up early." he said matter-of-factly as he sat down beside James and poured some pumpkin juice into a cup.
"If you didn't sleep like the dead you’d have woken up early too!" Sirius answered with mock-grumpiness, sticking his tongue out. Remus wrinkled his nose and stuck his own tongue out back at him.
"Tilden stuck something obscene to his wall with a spell he made up.” Peter said with enthusiasm, happy to be the one sharing the news.
But said news quickly lost its interest as Sirius caught someone's eyes past Remus’ shoulder and waved them with gusto. Remus briefly fought the urge to look back and check who it was, but Sirius had already fixated on him again before he really had the time to grow any curious, “Yeah, Minnie threatened to have him carry everyone's trunks with his bare hands if he didn’t have it fixed by 8.” he smiled a pure and childish thing, and Remus stomach flipped a bit.
“And he started throwing things at it at like… half past five!” James put his hand on Remu’s face, showing him five fingers as if to prove it was indeed a precarious hour (You see, the hours fit all in a hand, that’s demonic!) “How in Merlin’s name did you not wake up, Moony?!"
He shrugged with indifference and, "So, odd’s he’ll make it?" he muffled a yawn in the crook of his elbow. He started spreading strawberry jam on a toast. The cold from the metal knife felt harsh against his fingers, still warm from bed.
He could feel Sirius watching him, waiting for Remus to catch his eye and smile at him, eyes twinkling with knowledge of a private joke. He really wanted to look back, but the truth is. The shameful truth is, Remus can’t look Sirius in the eye. To be completely honest, he hasn’t for two weeks.
Because two weeks ago, it was just Sirius and him, walking back to the castle, the fields burning orange in the afternoon, and the sun hanging so low that their shadows stretched for miles in front of them, and they were laughing of some stupid stupid joke Sirius made, and, and Remus looked at Sirius and he had the terrifying feeling that Sirius could see right into his brain, could read between the lines of his smiles. And everything was falling apart with that possibility.
And that’s the truth. He got scared of the realness of his own feelings and now he couldn’t find it in himself to look at Sirius, afraid he’d reveal too much. He hates it. He wished every time he looked at Sirius, he and everyone around would look away or go blind or the apocalypse would happen, so that Remus could look unabashedly at him as much as he pleased.
Sirius, of course, knows all of this. It’s not the first time Remus felt like he was at the edge of something and drew back, afraid to break the only thing he ever really cared about. But Sirius plays along, patiently waiting for Remus to get his shit together, because he’s too good and because, for some unfathomable reason, he cares about Remus. At least, until he finds out that he is actually quite boring and not worthy of his friendship. Or worse, that Remus has feelings for him.
Sirius hummed as though giving Remus’ question sincere thought and then, “I think he was seriously considering the idea of vanishing the wall, but we should have some faith in the lad. He still has…" Sirius pushed his sleeve off his left wrist with a flourish to steal a glance at his shiny watch, "27 minutes!" he smirked devilishly.
"Has he tried to do ah—a disguising spell or something to cover it up? It doesn’t have to last long, it’s not like he’ll be here next year.” Remus rambled in between bites “McGonagall can’t do anything then.” he stopped the cup he held in his hand midway to his mouth “Er, at least I think she won’t?" he braved eye contact with Sirius and then quickly looked at Peter and then back at his toast.
He saw James out of the corner of his eye exchanging glances with the other two “Even when you’re starved and half awake, your keenness for rule corruption never fails to terrify me, Moony!” he clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“Yeah-yeah, you lot are just a bunch of idiots.” he said, rolling his eyes and trying to hide his smile behind the cup.
As James poked him in the ribs and called him a cheeky bastard, Peter kicked him in the shin under the table and Sirius threw him a tiny piece of bread that got stuck to his hair. "Oh, sorry-" he said looking a little embarrassed and reaching his hand up across the table, leaning forward. Remus desperately ran his fingers through his hair, the idea of Sirius touching it feeling like a little unethical or sinful at the moment. "Alright” Sirius said, pulling back his hand, “It’s gone” looking more embarrassed.
Remus wanted to disappear. Maybe he would ask Tilden to make him vanish with the wall while he was at it.
James cleared his throat "Alright lads, I'll go give Tilden a hand. We can't keep our master's wisdom all to ourselves, now can we?" he jumped to his feet.
"What? Prongs?! Come on, you're too good mate, let him suffer a little bit, eh?” Sirius stood up on the bench like a cat “Revenge should have no bounds!” he recited as if he was about ready to regurgitate the entirety of Shakespear’s work, which nothing did to impress James who walked towards the door waving them goodbye with his back turned, “Oi, he woke us up at five!” he cried, but James had already disappeared through the Great Hall’s door.
“Big softy, that one…” Sirius mumbled. Remus felt their shoes bumping under the table as he sat down with a huff. He didn’t move his foot, and neither did Sirius.
He felt like crying.
“Where are the girls?” he rubbed his eyes.
“They were all helping Lily do some Prefect nonsense.” Peter said as he cleaned spills of porridge off his cheek. “Actually, didn’t you also have something to do?”
“Probably.”
“Ha. Watch for McGonagall, or you’re as good as dead.” Peter then put his hands on the table to lever himself up with resolve set on his eyes “Alright, I’ll go too, actually. I want to find out what the thing is. Wanna come, Padfoot?”
Sirius shook his head as he reached for a clean knife, his dark hair – which had been neatly tucked behind his ears – coming undone, “I’m keeping Moony company.” he tucked his fringe back in place with the back of his hand.
“Alright, see you later then.”
A conversation he had with Sirius popped in his memory. It was late at night after a party in the common room, they were a bit drunk. A bit happy and sad. I think one of the most tragic things there is, is having to eat a meal alone, Remus said nonsensically. I get it. I think I really get you, and Remus had thought then, that Sirius really did.
The thing is, Remus has always felt a little lonely growing up.
He puts the blame on being half-Welsh, half-blood, half-human. He is all cut out of parts and has always felt utterly incomplete and fairly inadequate.
But he met Sirius.
At eleven, Sirius was this posh boy who didn’t know what going to a muggle school was like, didn’t know how painful werewolves transformations were, how hot summers in Portugal can get, or how it feels to watch a rugby final cheering for your team. If he’s being honest, he resented him a little.
But then it all felt like being slapped in the face unnoticed, like knowing how to ride a bike and still scraping your knees: the realisation that he could no longer stay the same.
With the cold autumn of 1971, Remus changed with the foliage in the woods.
Because Sirius was completely whole and full of life, and his existence was more inspiring than any poem, any painting, any artist could ever be.
He too wanted to become whole. Not in the ways he couldn’t fix, but in the ways life needs to feel complete.
Remus has come to realise early in life that maybe, everything is about our connections with the people around us, to try and expand oneself to the limits, get as close as possible to others.
If light and sound take time to reach our senses, then he wanted to get really close to Sirius and have the realest version of him, be the first to always perceive him, and get so close he’d wonder sometimes if they weren’t mingling into each other. (Briefly: someone sticking a microscope to their intertwined hands “Ah! You see, atoms don’t touch”, “Bollocks!” Remus would spit on their face.)
He was 18 now, and he was in love with Sirius Black.
He didn’t feel very alone, and he thought the world to be rather small.
“Moony, you okay?” Sirius asked rather quietly, so much it wouldn’t be strange if he decided to pretend he didn't hear it. What? he'd ask, and Sirius would repeat a little louder You okay?, maybe he'd say alright instead, or even change the question or say Nothing, forget it. But Remus was greedy and Sirius was spreading orange marmalade on a toast for him.
“M’fine. Have I ever told you the name for marmalade comes from Portuguese? In Portugal it’s mostly made with quinces, which translates to marmelos, so they call it marmelada there” he watched as Sirius spread it on the toast, he always did it so gently. “My mum’s recipe’s quite good.”
“Oh, of course. I too keep a deep and concentrated expression every so often that throws people off, making them wonder if I might be thinking of the solution to world hunger, when I’m just actually diving into the intricacies of the English language and its corresponding etymology” he could hear the amusement in Sirius’ voice, though he hadn’t yet looked him properly in the eye.
He hid his face on his hands and let out a groan “Fucking insufferable” he peeked through his fingers to see Sirius half-grinning knowingly, “You’re far too wordy for so early in the morning.”
Remus couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips as well. Sirius focused again on the toast as if he got what he wanted and was now moving onto greater matters. Remus found his commitment to his nutrition quite endearing and his heart clenched a little.
He kept stealing glances at Sirius, noticing his chipped nail polish and the ring he had on his middle finger with a green stone attached to, that sent colourful rays across the table whenever the knife caught the sun just right. Everything about and around Sirius just seemed to happen in a very generous and tender way.
He then wondered what he looked like to Sirius, what he thought of his appearance, if anything about Remus had ever stood out to him. He was not one to dwell over his looks very often, but right there, he hoped—he wished Sirius would think of him as a beautiful person, a beautiful boy.
Sirius was beautiful.
He cautiously peeled his hands from his eyes and held the smile on his face, looking at his stretched face reflected back at him in the spoon in front of him.
Sirius didn’t say anything for a moment, sweeping the knife along the toast, and then, sobering his voice “Really, are you going to tell me what’s going through that thinking mind of yours, or do I have to bribe you with more of these marmelada toasts?” he handed him one.
Remus took it and gave it a big bite. He didn’t realise it until then, but he was very hungry. “No, thanks. I’m too sleepy to handle your mockery” he gave it another bite.
Sirius opened his mouth, scandalised “Ah! When did I ever make fun of you, Remus Lupin?”
Remus gave him an unimpressed look and shoved the remains of the toast into his mouth. He then stretched his hand, palm up, waiting for his next toast. Sirius looked at it and then at Remus, thinking. He smiled, his eyes shining with mischief and then he licked the toast from top to bottom before placing it in Remus’ hand.
Remus had no real trouble eating it.
He finished his breakfast and they both walked outside to sit by the lake. They both agreed on the fact that it would be an insult to every dead and living Scotsman to waste a miraculous event such as 20ºC in the Highlands, especially on a day such as a June morning. And they weren’t ones to offend the nation, no.
Most Hogwarts’ students must have felt the same way, as all the shades casted by the trees were taken by groups of students. They ended up sitting in the sun, away from everyone.
They were quiet for a while, taking in the gentle breeze. Remus watched as it fanned the trees and as the sun pierced through the leaves to create dancing pools of light on the grass. He suddenly felt like looking at the sun. He did. He held the glare for a second but quickly closed his eyelids and let them be that way for a while, taking in the dancing red shadows.
Sirius was humming a song he didn’t recognize and suddenly, like a thunder, Remus felt immensely fed up with his own feelings of embarrassment, and frustrated, and so he opened his eyes. Sirius was laying in the grass, one hand resting on his chest, the other making light and precise movements in the air with his wand, creating some sort of cloud that casted a soft shadow above their heads. The bright spots burnt in his retinas didn’t let him make up his face. He tried to blink them away.
How stupid he had been, to force himself to miss Sirius before they were even apart. He misses catching the details. His hair, that slips softly back and forth, back and forth. The sun that catches on his eyes and makes them impossibly lighter.
He should’ve spent the last two weeks trying to commit these things to memory, but now they’re all just distant memories in his brain. In a way, he thought that keeping these details of Sirius close to him would make his feelings obvious, and maybe they would. But now he misses Sirius so much. And there’s nothing he can do.
“I’m going to my grandma’s house for the summer.”
Sirius stilled his wand, “Your mum’s mum?”
“Yeah.”
A loud silence.
“My grandma—she’s very old and ah…you know.” he shrugged. “My mum just wants to spend time with her. And so do I, I guess.” his vision came back and he focused on plucking the grass. “So I’ll take her home. I’ll pick a gig at my uncle’s cafe when I’m there, you know, make some money.” he didn’t know what else to say.
“...When will you come back?”
“September. It’s a beach cafe, it’s open in the summer only.” his eyes were warm and humid, like he was feverish. The cloud above their heads was slowly disappearing.
“And where—when you come back, are you going back to Cardiff?” Sirius rushed the words, as if he was trying to have the conversation in the past. Remus too wished they talked about it earlier.
“No… I don’t know—I don’t think I want that.” he removed his hands resting on the grass behind his hips and placed them closer to his thighs.
Sirius sat up with his legs crossed, placed the right elbow on his thigh and his head on his fist. He too was picking at the grass between them with his free hand now, but he kept his eyes on Remus, brows furrowed like he always does when something feels important. They stayed this way for a while and then “What do you want to do?”
He wished they could stay there forever . “I wish we didn’t have to leave.”
"Mm." Sirius contemplated the sky for a second, let out a sight and then let himself fall on his back, spreading his arms wide, his hand now centimetres away from Remus’. He thought idly of Jesus. “What about the full moon?” that was not what he wanted to ask.
“My grandma owns a corn field next to the woods. I figured I could cast some spells” Remus felt an inexplicable feeling of guilt and shame rise inside.
He watched a group of girls giggle in the distance, trying to fetch something that must have fallen in the lake. He wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers.
He knew Sirius had something he wanted to say by the way he kept fidgeting with his hands, and the complicated curves of his mouth and brows. It made Remus' heart thumb anxiously.
“Remus,” his name sent a shiver down his spine. Sirius shifted his body to fully face him, landing his weight on his left forearm “you’re not…going to leave us, are you?” his grey eyes had a glassy quality to them.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he breathed in and Remus knew he was troubled with the words, “you do this every year. We go home for the summer and suddenly you disappear. You rarely write back, you don’t show up on Pete’s birthday, even if you promise every year you’re gonna try to, and you never… the only times we hear from you is because Lily manages to somehow call you, and that—that’s rubbish. I know you’re in fucking Wales and—and that’s far, alright! But—you know… But at least I know you’ll come back.” he pushed some air into the lungs and moisted his lips gone dry with his tongue, “I know that you might not answer letters and show any signs that you’re alive at all, but I know at least we’ll see you again in September. But not anymore, ‘cause we won’t come back, and you’re going even farther away and I don’t even know if you—shit, if I’ll ever see you again! And actually, that sounds like the shittiest thing that could happen to me and I hate you a little bit for it.” Sirius sounded mad and frustrated, and a little betrayed.
Remus wanted to crack himself open. He wished he could peel himself completely like an apple or a tangerine.
Sirius was pulling out the grass with sharp nervous tugs and the image of him creating a bald spot on the grass kept repeating in his mind, so Remus laid his own hand atop his to stop him without much thinking.
“You’re right.” Remus wished he was better with words. He also wished he could hug Sirius “I will write, I promise. I’ll come back… I didn’t think you- I’m sorry” he said quietly. He felt Sirius’ hand twitch and blood rushed to his cheeks “I wouldn’t want to stay away” even quieter.
It suddenly felt difficult to look at Sirius again. He focused on their hands. Sirius’ is very soft. His skin is pale and smooth. His own is scarred and freckled, and more tanned. When he imagines himself compared to Sirius in his mind, he feels as if he’s made of some sort of scratchy and hard material. It feels like they shouldn’t coexist. He also thinks that he should probably move his hand away, but-
“Merlin…” Sirius’ voice sounded breathless “You can’t—I’m just… fuck. Fuck you!” he ducked his head to his chest. Remus looked at the top of Sirius’ head, saw as the dark hair spilled from the centre like water and had a sudden urge to touch it. And then Sirius looked right back up at him, searching, his eyes pained and desperate, as if he might cry. His face was flushed and he slightly moved his pinky, shaking and slowly, to stand on top of his.
And Remus felt the unbearable sun on his head that now felt so heavy. He just wanted to lean on Sirius, because he was so beautiful. So he did. So slowly. And he was desperate too, and really wanted to find out how it felt to kiss him. Because maybe that’s all it ever was, and will ever be: a kiss from Sirius. The end of life.
(What a liar. Remus had always wanted to kiss him in a simple way, and because of an even simpler reasoning.)
Did Sirius know? Did he notice? Sometimes Remus thought Sirius knew it all. And sometimes, when he’s feeling hopeful, he tries to fool himself into thinking that maybe it’s not just him, that Sirius might feel it too, even if thinking such things always turns out to be self-destructive. Like right now, when he thinks that maybe, maybe Sirius is moving closer too, inching upwards. So, so slowly. Maybe...
“PAAAADFOOT! MOOONYYYY! We need to gooooo!” James' voice echoed from afar.
And so they left.