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The Gryffindor Tower was asleep. Or almost all of it.
The common room's pendulum clock had long struck midnight, and the fire crackled alone, fading into embers that flickered as if they, too, wanted to rest. But upstairs, in the fifth-year boys' dormitory, a bed was trembling.
Sirius was not crying. Sirius was not crying.
He repeated this like a litany between clenched teeth, his jaw pressed into the pillow and knuckles white from gripping the sheets so hard. He wasn't crying. He wasn't screaming. But his chest hurt as if fire were trapped beneath his skin. The nightmare had been brief and brutal: his mother, his room, the locked door, and the silencing spell from outside. He was there again. He always returned to that image.
He wasn't going to wake anyone. He wasn't going to show weakness. He was fourteen damn years old, for Merlin's sake. He was Sirius Black.
The bed creaked under the weight of another.
Sirius turned sharply, like a trapped animal, until a familiar voice instantly calmed him.
—It's me —Remus whispered.
His silhouette had slipped between the shadows with the softness of someone who knew every inch of their shared space. He wore his rumpled pajamas, his hair messy, and a serene expression, as if he had just woken and wasn't surprised at all to find Sirius like this.
—Moony... —Sirius tried to laugh, or feign annoyance, or say something mocking, but nothing came out. He had no strength to act this time.
—Did you have another nightmare?
Sirius shook his head, but it wasn't convincing. His lips pressed tight, and his eyes were shiny, though he stubbornly fought back tears.
Remus didn't insist. It wasn't his style. Instead, he did something unexpected: he lifted the blankets and climbed into Sirius's bed, with the naturalness of someone who had done this a thousand times—even if he hadn't.
Sirius stayed very still, as if any movement would break something sacred. Remus said nothing else. He simply stretched out an arm and wrapped it carefully around him, as if knowing exactly how much pressure to use so it wouldn't feel invasive, but relieving. Sirius didn't move at first. But then... then he pressed his forehead against Remus's shoulder. He didn't know why. He just did.
Silence settled between them, warm and heavy.
Then, in a low, sleep-roughened voice, Remus said:
—You're not alone. You know that, right?
Sirius didn't answer.
—There are people who love you. Who see you, Sirius. And they won't let anything bad happen to you while they're near.
You don't know how much it hurt to hear that until you do. Sirius swallowed hard. He felt that if he spoke, he would break.
Remus didn't press. He just began to hum. It was a soft melody, nothing Sirius could recognize, something seemingly made up right then. A simple, imperfect tune that sometimes lost its notes and started over. But it was beautiful because it was his. And because it was for him.
Sirius closed his eyes. And at that moment, he knew.
He knew in the most brutal and silent way possible.
He loved him.
He truly loved him.
With everything he was. With everything he didn't dare to say.
And he couldn't say it. Because Remus was the only thing in his life that wasn't broken, and Sirius was afraid of ruining it all. If he said it out loud, he would lose him. And he couldn't bear to lose him.
So he just stayed there. Forehead against his neck, feeling his breath.
And promising himself that he would never, ever lose this man, even if that meant keeping his feelings a secret.
The party was at the perfect point: not wild enough for any professor to notice, but enough for everyone to pretend the world was just floating lights and enchanted glasses that refilled themselves.
It was the last week of sixth year, and James, of course, had convinced the house-elves to help with some "little details." The Room of Requirement smelled of sweets, perfume, butterbeer with a splash of firewhisky hidden inside.
Sirius was leaning against the drinks table, pretending to listen to Mary. Or at least trying to.
—"...and then Marlene tells me she's going to dye her hair green, can you believe it?" she said, drinking from an overly pink cup. "Still, I think it'd suit her. She has that 'I can do whatever I want' vibe and..."
Sirius nodded without hearing.
The girl from before—he didn't even remember her name—had invited him up to the dormitory. She had smiled, come closer, even joked about something vulgar. The usual. But when she took his hand and placed it on her waist, when her lips moved toward his, Sirius froze. His body didn't respond. It wasn't nervousness. It was emptiness. So he pulled away with a quick excuse and went back to his drink.
Because that was easier. Because kissing just for kissing no longer worked.
Not when someone else had gotten under his skin.
Sirius swirled the cup in his hand, the amber liquid catching the light of the enchanted lanterns. In the background, the magical music grew more rhythmic, more immersive. It was almost irritating. Almost everything was, until Mary said something that cut through the noise.
—Remus is really having a good time tonight, isn't he?
Sirius blinked.
—What?
Mary nodded toward the opposite corner of the room.
And there he was.
Moony.
But he wasn't alone.
Remus was leaning against one of the columns, half-hidden by hanging plants. He was laughing. That genuine laugh that made his eyes close and his nose crinkle. He was leaning toward a girl. Blonde. Short. With a kind face and bright eyes. She was laughing too. They touched arms as if it were natural.
Sirius felt a knot in his stomach.
Slow, deep, unlike anger.
It felt like fear.
—Who is she? —he asked, voice lower than usual.
Mary looked at him, a bit confused by his expression.
—Izzie. Izzie Holloway. She's in Ravenclaw. Don't you remember? She's been in Remus's study group for months. Sometimes she sits with us at lunch.
Sirius didn't answer.
Because in his mind, there was only one image: Remus, blushing, looking down when she brushed his hand.
Remus, the one who never got nervous around anyone.
Sirius looked away as if the scene burned him. He took a long sip from his cup, wishing the firewhisky would fill his chest with something other than sadness. But it didn't.
Mary said something else about them being a cute couple.
But Sirius was no longer there.
He was somewhere between the music, the dizziness, and a certainty that hurt his bones:
He was losing him.
And he didn't even know when he had had him.
The train whistled once more, impatient. White smoke slipped like thick fog between platforms, sneaking through last hugs from parents and the bustle of students running not to miss the Hogwarts Express.
Sirius was already seated in the usual compartment. The one they'd claimed as theirs since third year like it belonged to them. James entered first, Lily followed, and Peter arrived minutes later carrying a whole bag of chocolate frogs.
Sirius was anxious but didn't say it.
He'd spent the whole summer at the Potters' house. It had been a quiet summer, with Quidditch afternoons in the garden and late nights laughing with James. But the best part, without a doubt, had been the letters. Letters from Remus. Long, full of nonsense, underlined with black ink and little jokes written in the margins. They had talked almost every day. Sirius had counted the minutes to see him again.
Because it was his last year.
And he wanted to make the most of it. He wanted his Moony near.
Fifteen minutes passed. Then twenty.
And Remus didn't show up.
—Has anyone seen Remus? —Sirius finally asked, crossing his leg with feigned nonchalance. But his voice betrayed a bit of anxiety.
James, who was trying to convince Lily he'd mature this year, looked up.
—Oh, yeah. He's around. We saw him in the corridor a little while ago.
—Why didn't he come? —Sirius asked, frowning.
Lily smiled with something that seemed like tenderness but also complicity.
—He was with Izzie.
Sirius's stomach tightened.
—Izzie Holloway? —he asked, a tone he couldn't fully hide.
—Yes —Mary answered, who had just come in—. Didn't you know? They've been seeing each other a lot. This summer too, apparently. Izzie told us they met at a bookstore in London. Isn't that adorable?
Peter laughed and nudged Sirius's elbow.
—Moony with a girlfriend! Never would've imagined. Who would've thought?
Sirius didn't answer. He only looked at the empty seat beside him.
The one he had saved without realizing it.
The one he had imagined filled by Remus, as always.
And he felt anger.
Not at Remus.
Not at Izzie.
At himself. For being so stupid. For expecting something that was never promised. For getting excited over the letters, the "I miss you" in twisted ink, the inside jokes. For reading between lines where there was nothing.
When Remus finally opened the compartment door, his laughter came before him.
—Hi! —he greeted, with that sparkle in his eyes that Sirius knew by heart.
Beside him, Izzie. Blonde, smiling, with a book in hand and cheeks flushed from the cold.
—I hope you don't mind if I sit for a while —she said.
Everyone made room. Everyone smiled. Everyone welcomed her as if she was already part of the group.
Sirius didn't.
Sirius stayed silent. Didn't say a word. Just looked out the window, with Izzie's reflection floating on the glass.
And Remus's, who now held her hand.
As if it had always been meant to occupy that place.
The party wasn't bad.
Soft music, warm lights, the usual people gathered in the common room with an enchanted cake that sang by itself every time someone passed by. There was laughter, presents, inside jokes. Marlene had made a sign with floating letters saying "Happy Birthday Moony," and James hadn't missed the chance to accidentally set it on fire.
But Sirius didn't laugh.
Not today.
Remus had just turned seventeen.
And he had kissed her.
Her.
Sirius had seen it.
He'd been looking for another bottle of mead, with the perfect excuse to disappear from the conversation. He didn't want to keep hearing the jokes about how adorable Remus and Izzie were. He didn't want to keep pretending he didn't care. So he went down the stairs, passed the common room... and there they were.
By the sofa.
Remus was caressing her cheek. Izzie whispered something.
And he kissed her.
It wasn't a clumsy or nervous kiss.
It was tender, intentional. With eyes closed and soft lips. As if no one else existed.
As if Sirius had never existed.
He didn't know how long he stood there. He only remembered the pressure on his chest, as if his heart wanted to scream something and had swallowed it all at once.
He went up to the dormitory unseen.
Locked himself in. And sat on the windowsill with a trembling cigarette between his fingers.
He wasn't crying.
Sirius wasn't crying.
But that night, for the first time in a long time, he felt like that thirteen-year-old boy who wrote farewell letters in his head every time his mother raised her wand.
The door opened.
—May I?— It was Remus.
Sirius didn't turn. Didn't look at him.
He just took a deep breath and nodded.
Remus sat beside him, too close for Sirius's broken heart, but he didn't push him away.
He brought that usual calm, that kind expression. Tousled hair, still swollen lips.
Sirius noticed everything.
Every damn detail.
—I didn't see you much at the party —Remus said, like a soft reproach.
—I was busy —Sirius replied, emotionless.
—With who?
—With myself.
Silence. Remus took the cigarette Sirius hadn't finished and took a drag.
—I haven't seen you with anyone lately —he commented without looking at him—. Not even at the party. Before, always... you know.
—I left that behind.
Remus nodded.
Sirius looked at him then, for the first time since he went up. Moonlight came through the window, lighting Remus's face with a pale glow. He looked unreal, like a painting. Like something you could look at, but not touch.
Then Remus asked, in a voice so low it was barely heard:
—Have you ever fallen in love?
Sirius felt the air leave him.
He could lie.
He could laugh.
He could say "of course" and name one of his conquests, let it pass.
But he didn't.
—Yes —he answered, with the most dangerous sincerity he'd let slip in months.
Remus looked at him.
And for a second, Sirius wanted to believe he knew.
—I think I have too —Remus whispered.
And Sirius felt something break inside him.
Because he knew who he meant.
Because he had seen it.
Because he still had the taste of Remus and Izzie's kiss burned into his retina.
Because that confession, said with the low and excited voice of someone discovering love, was not for him.
Not for Sirius.
He wanted to tell him: You can't say that after kissing her. You can't look at me like that if you're not going to love me.
But he said nothing.
He only nodded.
And smiled. One of those fake smiles he had learned from his mother.
One that hurt his lips.
And that night, while Remus slept meters away, his body wrapped in the blankets Izzie had knitted for him over the summer, Sirius made himself a promise:
You have to stop loving him.
Now.
Or you won't survive.
But he lied.
He lied with every fiber of his being.
Because he already loved him too much.
And it was already too late.
Weeks passed.
Then months.
And Remus didn't stop smiling at her.
It wasn't immediate.
At first, Sirius still hoped.
There were moments of doubt in Remus's eyes, long silences when Izzie spoke, distractions Sirius recognized.
But hope is a slow poison.
And silent love, a wound that never closes.
In October, Izzie began wearing Remus's sweaters.
In November, he held her by the waist without thinking.
In December, they kissed in the library, in the hallways, under the snow falling in Hogwarts' courtyard, as if the cold couldn't touch them.
Sirius saw them all the time.
Because Sirius was always there.
He had always been.
Sitting across from them in the Great Hall. Walking a few steps behind when they went to Hogsmeade. Watching them laugh together in the common room, while he forced himself to focus on anything else. Sometimes reading the same paragraph for half an hour. Sometimes scratching his wrist until he left marks just so he wouldn't look anymore.
Sometimes, just sometimes, he thought about screaming.
Standing up. Saying: I saw him first.
But love doesn't work that way.
It has no fair rules.
And no one can claim what was never theirs.
—Are you okay? —James asked one afternoon while they played wizard's chess.
Sirius moved a rook without thinking.
—Perfectly.
James looked at him carefully.
He didn't ask more.
Maybe because he knew.
Maybe because seeing Sirius like that broke his soul, and he didn't want to break him more.
Remus entered then, Izzie's hand linked with his, hair messy and Gryffindor scarf loosely wrapped around his neck. They carried chocolate in their hands and cheeks flushed from the cold.
Sirius looked away.
Every gesture between them was a dagger.
Every smile, a stab.
Every shared caress, a brutal reminder of everything Sirius never had.
And the worst part was that Remus didn't do it out of malice.
He wasn't cruel.
He was just happy.
And that was the cruelest part of all.
Because Sirius didn't know how to hate him for being happy.
But he did know he couldn't bear it much longer.
One night, he saw them asleep on the common room sofa.
Remus with his head on Izzie's lap. She stroked his hair.
And Sirius felt something break for good.
He went up to the dormitory.
Locked himself in the bathroom.
And vomited.
Not out of disgust.
Out of sadness.
Out of love that had nowhere to go.
And when he came out, face washed and eyes dry, he looked at himself in the mirror.
—Stop loving him.
Once and for all.
He said it softly.
Like a spell.
As if it could be real.
But the reflection gave back the same old lie.
And Sirius knew he couldn't.
In January, Sirius kissed someone else.
It was at a small Gryffindor party, in a corner where no one was watching too closely. The boy was older, one of the seventh years. He had an easy laugh, light eyes, and he laughed at the same jokes as Sirius. Everything fit.
Until Sirius closed his eyes.
And felt nothing.
Later, he tried with a Ravenclaw girl. She was beautiful, intelligent; they talked about Muggle music and poetry. She touched his hand, and Sirius wanted to imagine that the touch made him feel something.
But no.
Nothing.
He felt a little broken.
A little lost.
As if every possible path were locked with the same key.
That night, he went down to the Hogwarts backyard. It was freezing. He sat on one of the stone benches, hands in his pockets and head tilted back.
That's when Marlene found him.
—Are you avoiding someone? —she asked, wrapping herself tighter in her coat.
Sirius didn't answer.
Marlene sat beside him without asking permission. She had that particular way of not needing it.
She handed him a warm thermos.
—Hot chocolate. Stolen from the kitchen. Don't waste it.
Sirius held it without drinking.
The silence stretched.
—I don't want to talk —he finally said.
—You never want to. But here you are.
Sirius swallowed. His lips were cracked. His lashes dusted with frost.
—It's horrible to want something you can't have —he murmured.
Marlene nodded. She wasn't looking at him. She was watching the stars.
It was her way of caring.
—The worst part —he continued— is that it's not out of malice. It's not that he doesn't love me. It's just that... he doesn't love me that way.
The "that way" weighed like a secret he no longer wanted to hide.
Like a half-spoken confession.
Marlene turned her face toward him.
—Have you known for a long time?
Sirius laughed, without humor.
—I think I always knew. But I preferred to think that... that he felt it too. That he knew. That we were just waiting for the right moment.
—And the moment never came —she finished softly.
Sirius shook his head. He remembered all those times, before that night in his bed, thousands of moments when Remus looked at him a moment too long, when touches didn't feel friendly. And he didn't see it. Or maybe he was too afraid to accept it.
—I think it came. But I didn't know how to take it.
And when I wanted to, it was already too late.
The steam from the hot chocolate rose between them like a kind of shield.
Marlene's hands closed over his, no pressure, just company.
—Did it hurt when he brought her on the train?
Sirius lowered his gaze.
For a moment, he wasn't Sirius Black—the arrogant, the strong, the charming.
He was just a seventeen-year-old boy with a broken heart.
—You have no idea how much.
—I do —said Marlene, sadly.
And at that moment, they understood each other.
Because she also loved someone who didn't look back at her.
Because Hogwarts held more broken hearts than anyone wanted to admit.
—It will pass —she promised gently—. One day it will stop hurting.
Sirius pressed his lips together.
—What if I don't want it to pass?
Marlene didn't answer.
She just hugged him.
And he let himself be hugged, as if in that contact he could fool the pain for a while.
It was spring when they went down to Hogsmeade.
There was sun, laughter, butterbeer, and sticky fingers from pumpkin pasties.
It was one of those days when everything seemed to be alright.
Too alright.
Remus was laughing more than usual.
Sirius watched him from the corner of his eye, wondering if it was the effect of the alcohol or of Izzie, who was sitting at a back table talking with Lily.
James and Peter had left a while ago.
The air smelled like clover and smoke.
—We shouldn't drink any more —Remus murmured, stumbling on the edge of the sidewalk.
—Tell me about it —Sirius answered, taking his arm.
They walked toward the outskirts of town, passing an old rusty gate of a forgotten garden.
Remus laughed at nothing. He held onto Sirius's arm, and for a moment leaned against him, as if the weight of the day, the year, everything, had slipped to one single point of balance.
—Do you want me to walk you back to the castle? —Sirius asked.
—I want to tell you something —Remus said.
—Uh-huh.
—No, seriously —Remus lifted his head. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes glossy from the alcohol... and something else.
—What is it?
Remus smiled, with that sadness he sometimes kept hidden beneath his skin.
—I liked you, you know?
Sirius stopped.
The phrase hung between them like a burn they didn't know how to touch.
—What?
—Not now —Remus said quickly, shaking a hand—. Not anymore. I think. Doesn't matter. I just... needed to say it. Because I never did. And I thought if I didn't say it now, I'd die with it inside me.
Sirius didn't know what to do.
Nor what to say.
He just looked at him, throat dry, heart pounding in his chest like something had woken too late.
—What do you mean?
—The year before. And the one before that. Probably even earlier. I liked you. —Remus smiled awkwardly.
Sirius looked at him without breathing.
—I'm telling you because now I have a girlfriend, and I love Izzie. And she knows, don't worry. I confessed it to her. Nothing has to change between us, isn't that funny?
Sirius wanted to say something: scream, hug him, run away.
But he couldn't. Instead, he asked:
—Why didn't you tell me? —his voice a whisper, a possibility of a lake that could have been, something lost without knowing it was once there.
Remus frowned, —Why? You're Sirius. My best friend. I didn't want that to change anything and...
—And what?
Remus's eyes shone as he looked at him.—And you would never look at me. I mean, look at you. You're Sirius Black, everyone adored you. Myself included. So I never thought... I didn't think it was worth losing you.
Sirius felt tears threatening behind his eyes. He felt weak and wanted to cry.
—Why would you lose me? —he asked.
—Because you went out with so many girls. You never looked at me... when all I did was look at you. Didn't you realize?
Sirius blinked. —No. No, Moony, I...
—It's okay. I told you. It's over.
Anyway, I never thought you'd look at me the way you looked at them.
There was silence. Then, barely a whisper:
—I'll never look at anyone the way I look at you.
Remus laughed, but it was an empty laugh, one of those that break more than they heal.
—Yeah, because I'm your best friend. I know.
He brought a hand to his stomach. Closed his eyes tightly.
—I have to go vomit.
And he did. He bent down beside the path, under the shadows the sunset already cast between the trees, and threw up everything. What was said. What was unsaid.
Sirius crouched beside him. One hand on his back. Put his coat over his shoulders. Said nothing.
They walked back to the castle in silence, under a violet sky.
And although the next day Remus acted as if nothing had happened —he had breakfast with the others, kissed Izzie hello, asked Sirius if he had finished the Potions essay, sat beside him at breakfast.
As if nothing.
And Sirius smiled.
As if nothing.
Though since that night, something inside him broke.
It all started with the looks.
Then with the silences.
And later with the excuses.
Sirius started arriving later to the common room.
He skipped breakfast, faked homework.
Avoided group dinners.
Avoided her.
But not him.
He couldn't stop looking at Remus. At Remus with Izzie.
Remus giving her his coat when she was cold.
Remus absentmindedly stroking her back while reading.
Remus laughing softly when she whispered something in his ear.
Remus touching her with a tenderness that destroyed him.
And Sirius thought, swallowing his anger,
that could have been me.
He would have known how to hold him. He would have known how to love him better.
He should have tried.
In the hallways, Izzie smiled at him like nothing was wrong.
And that drove him crazy.
—Good morning, Sirius.
—Uh-huh.
—Do you have your Divination essay done?
—That's none of your business.
The answer hung in the air like a badly cast spell.
She blinked. Then gave him an awkward smile and kept walking, but said nothing.
Not at first.
The others started noticing the change.
Lily frowned when Sirius left without waiting for anyone.
Peter quietly said everything had been "weird" lately.
James looked at him seriously, as if he knew something but didn't know what to do with it.
Izzie, however, confronted him.
One afternoon she found him alone in the library, flipping pages without reading.
—Can we talk?
Sirius looked up wearily.
—Now?
—Yes.
He sighed. Closed the book. Didn't want to, but knew he couldn't keep avoiding it.
They went out to the stone hallway. No one passed by at that hour.
Izzie crossed her arms, with that mix of sweetness and firmness that made her impossible to ignore.
—Can I ask what I did to make you hate me?
Sirius raised an eyebrow.
—Excuse me?
—You don't talk to me. You ignore me. You cut me off mid-sentence. You look at me like I'm a nuisance.
—Maybe you are.
Izzie looked hurt.
—If you have a problem with me, tell me. But don't treat me like I don't deserve to be with you all. I'm not a stranger.
Sirius clenched his fists.
—No, of course not. You're perfect. The perfect girlfriend. Sweet, kind, smart... always there, at just the right moment.
Always ready to kiss Remus on the cheek. To laugh at his jokes. To hold his hand like... like you know what you're doing.
—Don't I?
—No, you don't.
His voice sounded more broken than he intended.
—You don't know anything, Izzie. You don't know where we come from, what we went through together. You don't know what it's like to have been there every time he... You don't know what it's like to hold him when he didn't even want to hold himself.
You came when he was already whole.
She listened in silence. No tears. No trembling.
—You're right —she said softly—. I wasn't there. I didn't live what you lived.
But that doesn't give me less right to love him.
And if you love him so much... why did you never do anything?
Silence.
—Don't answer. I get it.
And she left.
She didn't cry. Didn't run. She just left.
Sirius leaned his back against the wall and closed his eyes.
Too late.
As always.
There was a list, folded into quarters, hidden at the back of the drawer.
Sirius had written it in third year, one night when none of them could sleep.
The promise was simple: "When all this ends, we'll live together."
An apartment. A living room with an ugly sofa.
A tiny kitchen. Impromptu lunches.
Laughter. Freedom. Them.
The four of them.
The Marauders, grown-up version.
But the list no longer made sense.
James and Lily would move to Godric's Hollow.
Not too far, but not close either.
Peter was okay with staying at his mother's house a bit longer, while he figured out what to do.
And Remus...
Remus had Izzie.
And a new future.
—We'll look for something small, but with light —he'd told Sirius one afternoon, unaware his words were a dagger.
Sirius only nodded.
He said nothing. Showed nothing. But inside, something broke.
He stayed longer in the tower at night.
Looking at the sky from the window as if he could find an answer, an excuse, a way out there.
The idea of the shared apartment was the only thing that had kept him whole for years.
The future he had imagined.
A way not to lose them.
A way not to lose him.
"If only I had said something..."
But he didn't.
Because Sirius Black was many things: brave, reckless, loyal to the end.
But not with Remus.
With Remus, he was cowardly.
"Don't you think it's strange that we're already finishing?" Remus asked one random afternoon as they walked back from Charms class.
Sirius shrugged.
—I guess.
—Everything's going to change.
—Yeah. I guess.
Remus smiled, as if he didn't know what that meant to him.
As if he didn't know his smile hurt more than any open wound.
—We'll be fine —Remus added, as if he needed to convince him.
Sirius nodded. Lie after lie.
We. Will. Be. Fine.
That night, Sirius opened the drawer again.
Pulled out the list.
The paper was wrinkled and yellowed, full of names, plans, ideas written with smeared ink.
"Coffee near the apartment."
"Breakfasts at eleven."
"Peter will take care of the plants (can he handle that?)."
"Big armchair, for everyone."
"Remus falls asleep in the middle of movies."
"James cooks. Don't let him try."
"I'll take care of the keys."
He read it all with his heart in his throat.
Then, he crumpled the paper.
Threw it into the fireplace.
He watched it burn.
Like everything else.
What if he had said it?
What if he had dared to say the "I love you" that got stuck in his throat?
Maybe it would have been worse. Maybe Remus would have walked away. Maybe the group would have broken.
Maybe he would have lost everything.
Or maybe not.
Maybe he'd be looking for an apartment with him.
With them.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Sirius clenched his teeth.
Enough.
He told himself he had to stop loving Remus.
Had to rip him from his skin, from his memory, from his heart.
Had to forget him.
Because Remus was no longer his.
Because he never was.
And now it was too late.
Music played muffled in the kitchen.
From the hallway, laughter, clumsy footsteps, clinking glasses could be heard.
But inside, only two breaths remained.
Izzie closed the door behind her. Sirius was already turned away, holding a half-full glass he didn't seem to have touched. The dim lights cast long shadows over his shoulders. She didn't speak right away. She watched him. She had done it many times without him noticing.
Now she did it on purpose.
Izzie opened the cupboard looking for more glasses. She wore a dark blue dress and her hair was loosely tied.
They were at the Potters' house, celebrating the end of the school year. It was a big party, a moment of celebration, but for Sirius it didn't feel like that, because after tonight, he would have to accept reality.
Now Izzie was there, both alone in the kitchen, where it was supposed to be their hideout. He leaned against the doorframe. He was looking at her. Or rather, trying not to look at her.
—I don't like you —she finally said, calmly, without anger, without fear—. I can tell. I think everyone can. But I'm here now. And I wish you could keep it beneath the surface... at least in front of others.
Sirius didn't answer. The silence was not indifference; it was contained noise.
—Yeah, well —he said, crossing his arms—, you're everywhere.
—What does that mean? —Izzie turned to look at him sharply, maybe finally fed up.
Sirius tried to hold back, but miserably failed, alcohol was in his veins and he couldn't hide it anymore. —It means you weren't supposed to last this long. It was supposed to be us. The Marauders. Moony, Prongs, Wormtail and me. Maybe Lily, even Marls and Mary... but not you.
—I'm Remus's girlfriend —she clarified, as if Sirius didn't already know that.
—So what? They'll break up anytime.
—You think so?
—I know.
—The others are my friends too.
—Yeah —he replied, sharp—, because you're Remus's girlfriend. You said it yourself.
Izzie looked at him with a mixture of compassion and disappointment. She didn't back down.
—Why are you so cruel to me? I've been kind. I always have been. I just want to be with him. I want to make him happy. Be happy. Does that bother you so much?
Sirius looked down. Clenched his teeth. Then exploded.
—Because it's you! —he said, voice trembling—! It's you! Do you understand?
She looked at him, still waiting for a real answer. And she got one.
—Moony loves you. And I...
Silence.
Izzie's eyes softened, as if they had just seen the light.
—And you love him.
The air changed. Everything stopped. Sirius held his breath, as if he still had the option to deny it. But he didn't. Not in front of her.
—You love him —Izzie said. It wasn't an accusation. It was the truth finally spoken aloud.
Sirius closed his eyes as if the confession broke him a little more. He placed both hands on the counter as if he needed to hold onto something. Or someone who wasn't there anymore. He breathed deeply but couldn't fill his lungs. As if every word he'd swallowed got stuck inside.
—I liked him all along. At night. In the halls. In the laughs when I thought no one noticed. And I never said it. Never said it because I was afraid. Because he was good and I... I was the mess. I was afraid of ruining him. Of losing him. So I let him go. I let him go.
And now he's with you.
—And you hate me for that.
—Let it be —he murmured.
—No. Because he loved you too, Sirius.
—Let it be —he repeated, harder, more choked.
—How could you let him go?
—I didn't! —he shouted, desperate—! I didn't know! And I was afraid. Afraid of losing him. So I said nothing. And when I wanted to... it was already too late.
Silence.
—Why didn't you tell me before? —she asked, voice barely a whisper.
—And what was I supposed to say? That the boy you kiss in the hallways is the same one who breaks me inside every time he smiles?
The glass trembled on the counter.
—I never wanted to hurt you —Izzie murmured.
—And you didn't. —Sirius really looked at her—. I don't even know why I'm telling you this.
—Because it hurts. Because... because you love him.
—Don't think it's a problem, okay? He... Remus loves you. He likes your blond hair and mine is black. He likes your soft voice and your warm hands. I'm noise and impulsive and full of rage. You are calm. You're everything I'm not. And I hate you for that. Is that what you wanted to hear?
Izzie's eyes shone. But there was no hate in them. Just a deep sadness. A silent acknowledgment of something that cannot change.
—I'm not your enemy, Sirius. And I'm not going to apologize for loving him.
—You shouldn't. He's lucky.
Sirius looked away. There was no anger in his eyes. Only a sadness so deep it seemed bottomless.
Izzie stepped closer, not to comfort him, but to let him know she had seen him, completely, even at his worst. And still, she did not hate him.
—You're an idiot —she said, without irony. As if resigning to something.
—Yeah. I know.
And for the first time, he said it. Without masks. Without games.
—I love him.
Izzie stepped closer, now only a table separated them. She wasn't crying. Didn't flee. She just held the pain in her hands with a maturity that completely disarmed him.
The door opened from the hallway. The music crept back in, along with voices and the smoke of candles slowly dying out.
No one noticed them.
No one understood that there, in that kitchen, they had just said things that could never be undone.
Izzie stepped back. Her gaze was lowered and she looked like someone who had lost something. Sirius didn't understand what.
—Don't make him suffer. Not again.
—He's not mine —Sirius whispered, more to himself than to her.
She nodded.
And left.
Sirius stayed alone.
With the empty glass.
With cold hands.
With a love he could no longer deny and yet couldn't let go because without it he couldn't live.
The room was silent upstairs, while the party slowly died downstairs. Izzie sat on the edge of the bed. Remus entered and closed the door behind him.
—Are you okay? —he asked, cautiously approaching her—. I looked for you at the party... you were gone and I didn't see you.
Izzie nodded. But didn't look at him.
—I needed air.
Remus sat beside her, but not too close. He knew her. Knew her silences. This one wasn't usual.
—Izz?
She took a breath. Then let it out.
—I talked to Sirius.
Silence. The awkward type that hurts.
—Is that bad? Is he okay? What happened?
—Nothing... and everything. We didn't fight, if that's what you think. It was sadder than that. It was... honest.
Remus frowned.
—Did he say anything?
—Yes. He said a lot.
Remus lowered his gaze, as if he already knew what was coming. As if he'd feared it his whole life.
—Izzie...
She interrupted him, gently.
—I'm not going to yell. I'm not angry. This isn't a jealousy scene, Remus. I'm not that person.
—Then?
She finally looked at him. And in her eyes was something harder than anger: understanding.
—You love him. Sirius.
Remus opened his mouth but said nothing. Couldn't. The words got stuck between his teeth, like they hurt.
—You've loved him all along —she continued—. Even if you buried it. Even if you denied it. Even if you loved me, which I know you do, you never stopped loving him. And he... he loved you all along.
Remus breathed deeply, breaking just a little.
—I shouldn't be the one to tell you this. But it's the truth. You love him and he loves you, isn't that so clear?
—Izzie... I don't understand. I'm here now.
—Is that what you want?
Remus couldn't answer. Instead, he just said:
—He doesn't love me.
Izzie laughed, not mockingly, a small, careful laugh. —He does. He can't say it, but the fact that he can't say it doesn't mean he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to hurt you.
—But I love you.
—I know. But you know? You can be with someone and be happy beside them and just not love them. You don't need to love someone to want her. But he loves you, and you love him, and... love is too beautiful to let go when you have it in front of you.
—It wasn't the plan, Izzie. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
—I know. And yet it was.
Silence.
—I don't blame you, Remus. I think I knew from the start and just... tried.
He frowned, confused.
—What do you mean?
Izzie smiled, faint, nostalgic.
—Sirius. I guess I knew you loved him, so I... tried to make you look at me the way you looked at him.
Remus didn't know what to say. The knot in his throat became unbearable.
—Izzie...
—Shhh —she said, taking his hand one last time—. This isn't a cruel goodbye. What we had wasn't a lie.
It's just that you were waiting for something you couldn't name. And I... I was only the bridge.
She kissed him gently on the cheek.
—You're free, Remus. Not to leave. To go to him.
And then she left.
Remus sat on the bed, eyes closed.
For the first time in years, he felt like his heart wasn't betraying him.
It was late. The Potters' house was almost empty. Everyone preparing to leave. Izzie was already gone.
The dim lights cast long shadows down the hallway. Remus walked silently, as if afraid to break something. He found Sirius in the backyard, sitting on the steps with an unlit cigarette between his fingers.
Remus stopped. Watched him for a moment.
Sirius didn't turn around. He just said:
—I knew you'd come.
Remus sat beside him. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. It was dense. Full of all the things they hadn't said for years.
—I talked to Izzie —Remus finally said.
Sirius closed his eyes. Took a deep breath.
—Yeah. I figured.
—She told me what you said. Well... what you didn't say, actually.
Sirius smiled, without humor.
—I've never been good with words. At least not the important ones.
Remus looked at him. And for the first time, he didn't run away.
—Why?
Sirius looked at him.
—Why what?
—Why didn't you say anything before?
—Because I was terrified. Because you were the only truly good thing I had and... I didn't know how to live with you, but I didn't know how to live without you either. Because I was an idiot. Because I was afraid. Because I was seventeen and everything hurt.
Silence.
—And because I thought you were better off without me.
—I wasn't.
Remus's voice was barely a whisper.
—I haven't been okay since you left. Since you left me thinking I was the only one who felt it. That I imagined it all. That I invented the looks, the nights, the words between lines.
Sirius looked at him. There was something desperate in his expression. Something that had been caged for too long.
—You never imagined anything.
—Then why?
—Because I'm a coward —Sirius said, with a bitter laugh—. Because I preferred to hurt you with silence rather than face what I felt.
Remus nodded slowly.
—You're an idiot.
Sirius looked at him with glassy eyes. —I know.
—A huge idiot —Remus repeated—. And clumsy. And egotistical. And exasperating.
—Uh-huh.
—And I love you.
Sirius stayed still. As if that phrase hit him physically. As if he couldn't believe it was meant for him. As if he had waited his whole life for it and still didn't know what to do with it.
—What did you say?
—I love you —Remus repeated, looking straight into his eyes—. And I've always loved you. Even when I shouldn't have. Even when you didn't want me to. Even when I tried to stop.
—Moony...
—No —he interrupted—. Don't say anything else. Don't keep this silent again. Don't make me live with the words you didn't say. If you're going to love me, say it out loud.
Sirius threw himself at him. Not roughly, but with the trembling urgency of someone who's held something inside for too long. He hugged him like he was the only solid thing in the world. Like Remus was solid ground.
—I'm sorry. —Sirius said over and over, between breaths and sobs—. And I love you.
Remus hugged him back. Said nothing else.
It was no longer necessary.
It was morning. Soft light entered through the half-open window, gilding the dust in the air as if particles of a memory floated. On the bed, the sheets were messy. One leg outside, a shirt hanging on the chair that didn't belong to either of them.
Remus sat on the edge of the mattress, a steaming cup of tea between his hands. He looked out the window, where the day began slowly, without hurry. Behind him, Sirius stretched, half asleep.
—What time is it? —he murmured without opening his eyes.
—Very early —Remus answered, without turning.
Sirius crawled up to lean against his back and wrapped his arms around his waist. He rested his forehead between his shoulder blades, as if he had belonged there forever.
—Why are you awake?
—I don't know. I just look at you and keep believing it's not real.
Sirius smiled against his skin.
—It is.
Remus nodded. Took another sip of tea, resting in the warmth of that familiar body.
—What if I told you I'm in love with you? —he asked quietly, with a smile.
Sirius blushed, that kind of morning blush only Remus could see. —Then I'd say I've been in love with you all my life too.
Silence. But a new one. A different one. The kind of silence that settles like a blanket over your chest. That doesn't squeeze. That doesn't suffocate.
Remus turned his face slightly. Just enough to reach Sirius's lips with his own. A slow kiss, without urgency. The kind of kiss you give when you've stopped running.
—And I have news for you, —Sirius said, half-smiling—, that I love you, you love me, and I won't ever be silent again.
Remus nodded.
—Never again.
And the world finally started turning again.