Chapter Text
The first time Remus coughs up a petal, he doesn’t notice.
There are hands on his shoulders, hands on his waist, hauling him up. They’re slender and warm and accompanied by a soft voice in his ear.
“You’re alright, moons.” Sirius’ breath is hot on his cheek. “Hey, can you hear me?”
“Mmmm,” Remus sighs. His arms and legs feel like they’re being pulled down by weights. So do his eyelids. He has to fight past a cloud of exhaustion just to blink them open.
Sirius’ face comes into view. The moonlight from the cracks in the wall illuminates him in a glowing halo, alighting on that sharp jaw, those sparkling silver eyes, that mischievous smirk. The boy watches him back, chuckling at whatever expression he wears.
“Completely out of it,” he mutters to someone else.
James’ disgruntled face pops into view. “That’s what he gets for chasing a rabbit through half the bloody forest.”
“And he didn’t even catch it,” Peter complains from somewhere else.
Remus wants to defend himself, but his eyes slide shut, a groan slipping from his mouth. Sirius chuckles again before dragging him over to the rickety bed across the room, gently depositing him in it.
“Pomfrey won’t be here for a while,” he whispers, tucking the blanket around Remus. “Get some sleep, yeah?”
“Mmmm… stay?”
“Can’t, sorry.” There are fingers in his hair, gently pushing it back, sending sparks through his skin. “Gotta catch our own sleep. We’ll see you when you get back.”
Remus hums, and the fingers withdraw. There are footsteps leading away, and whispered voices, then the soft thunk of a shutting door. A small itch starts in his chest and Remus lifts his head slightly to cough, just once.
He’s asleep before the little blue petal hits the floor.
***
The second time it happens, Remus blames it on coincidence.
It’s spring. The marauders are sitting under their usual tree next to the lake. Wildflowers litter the ground around them, filling the air with their sweet scents. Remus has his arithmancy textbook on his lap and a very agitated Peter next to him.
“For the last time, use the bloody formula!”
“I don’t know which one to use!” Remus complains.
Peter looks like he wanted to drag him to the lake and drown him. Or himself, maybe. “Have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying?”
“I have!” Remus protests. “It just– it doesn’t stay in my head.”
“Bloody hell.” Peter bends over, smacking his forehead onto his knees. ”Why’d you have to choose this subject if you’re so fucking bad?”
“I’m not bad. You’re just freakishly good.”
“It’s math. It’s easy, you just need to be logical. And not a single one–” he points at Remus, then at Sirius and James, who are locked in a duel with branches they’ve snapped off the tree “--of you are.”
“Wow, Wormy.” Sirius stops mid-fight, clutching his chest. “Why the sudden shade?”
“Because you’re stepping on my fucking bag!”
“Oh– whoops.” he quickly hops away, sheepishly scooping the bag up and dumping it on Peter’s head. Then he pads over to Remus and, in one smooth movement, yanks the book off his lap and plops his head there instead.
“Um,” Remus says, smartly. Sirius’ black locks are draped over his legs, his head resting precariously high on his thigh. His eyes shine like stars as he stares up at him, those disastrous lips tipped in a slash of a grin.
“You’ve been studying for ages, Moony,” the boy sighs. “It’s time you take a break.”
Remus doesn’t reply at first, too busy figuring out what to do with his hands. Eventually, he places them on the ground and leans onto them. “Some of us aren’t born smart, you know,” he says mildly. “We have to work for it.”
Sirius makes a pshhh noise. “You’re already brilliant. Keep going at it and you’ll leave us looking like bumbling idiots.”
Remus' heart pounds with the compliment, but his voice is steady as he quips, “Isn’t that what you are already?”
“Oh, you–”
Sirius wriggles to whack him on the chest, accidentally kicking Peter. The boy yelps and retaliates by throwing Remus’ textbook in his face. Sirius gasps and launches himself upright, tackling Peter. James, who’s been listening to it all with a fond smile, lets out an ear-splitting battle cry and jumps on them.
Remus tries to fight back at first but quickly gives up, letting them roll all over him as they wrestle. He winces as Peter’s knee digs into his ribs, gasps as James’ elbow hits his stomach, goes perfectly still as Sirius falls onto him and his neck is right there in front of Remus’ lips, the smell of his cologne making his head spin and heart feel like it’s about to take a trip into his throat.
“Ah, that’s– hey, pads! Gerroff!”
“You’re admitting defeat??” Sirius pants, which shouldn’t be hot but really, really is. “You’re a disappointment to our house!!”
“No, Lily is right there!”
His tone is urgent enough that they all scramble off, making Remus groan again as he’s trampled. When he manages to push himself up, all three boys are sitting straight-backed, watching the group of girls pick their way towards them.
“Alright, Potter?” Lily arches a brow at him. Her hair is tied in a thick braid down her back, little wildflowers poking through in different areas, courtesy of Mary. It makes her look soft and pretty, like a fairytale princess.
The brown skin on Jame’s face has discolored to crimson. “Hi, Evans. I like, um. I like your hair.”
“Do you? Well, thank you.” Lily’s voice is calm and distant, and James blushes further. To anyone else it might seem as though he’s got no hope with her whatsoever, but her tone is such a contrast from the scathing looks she used to shoot that Remus, Sirius and Peter trade an incredulous look.
Remus, in amusement, can almost swear that James blacks out for a second when she sweeps past him, close enough that her robes brush against his back. She steps towards Remus, taking a seat between him and Peter, a true smile blooming on her face. “Hi, guys. Whatcha doing?”
“Helping Remus with arithmancy. He’s hopeless,” Peter grumbles.
“Arithmancy?” Lily wrinkles her nose. “Why on earth do you take it?”
“That’s what I’ve been asking him!”
Peter starts showing her all the stupid mistakes Remus has made. Meanwhile the other girls weave their way between them: Marlene and James start talking about quidditch, Emmeline comes to sit next to Peter, and Mary approaches Sirius.
Remus can’t help but watch as she flops down on his outstretched legs, her head on his thighs, hair tossed over his lap. Just like Sirius had been on him just moments before.
The only difference is, Sirius doesn’t seem flustered. He smirks down at her, twirling a hair into her finger as they start chatting, too low for him to hear.
Even Remus can feel the charged air between them, see those secret glances and quick touches. He remembers what Sirius had said when they’d first seen her after summer break: Is it just me, or is Mary looking like an actual girl?
The tone with which he’d said it had made Remus’ throat close up, his stomach churn uncomfortably. He feels some of the same effects now, watching them shamelessly flirt in front of their friends.
“They’re going to be together before the weekend, at this rate,” Lily sighs.
“You think?” Peter frowns.
“Yeah, she’s been pining after him for ages.”
Okay, Remus’ throat isn't just metaphorically closing up anymore. It contracts as an aching cough forces its way past his lips, followed by another, and another.
Everyone is looking at him. Lily’s hand is warm on his back. “You alright?” She asks.
“Yeah—“ cough. “I’m f-“ cough. “F-fine…” he trails off as he glances down at his palm. Two petals sit there, bright and blue.
“Remus? Remus, hello?”
Remus starts, facing Lily with wide eyes. Her concerned eyes are on his face. She hasn’t noticed what he’s holding. He quickly drops them in the grass before anyone can, clearing his throat. “Sorry, did you say something?”
She trades a glance with James. Suddenly Sirius is there, his hand on Remus’ forehead and a frown on his face. “You’re not sick, are you?”
He’s so close, Remus can see the light play on his sweeping eyelashes. Which also means Sirius is close enough to see his eyes widen at the action. Panic flaring, Remus shoves Sirius off him.
“I’m fine,” he insists, leaning away. “It was just a cough, Jesus. You guys are overreacting.”
Lily is still frowning. “You totally blanked for a second, though.”
He shakes his head. “I was just thinking. It’s fine, I’m fine.”
She looks like she wants to say more, but whatever’s in his expression makes her drop it. The group settles back to how they were. Sirius keeps an eye on Remus, but he doesn’t notice it, too lost in his thoughts.
The petals are a slash of color at the edge of his vision. Where did they come from, he wonders? There’s no way he coughed them up. That just– that just isn’t possible. Desperately, he glances around, and what he sees makes him sigh in relief.
Of course, it’s spring. There’s wildflowers blooming all around them. Petals of all different colors littler the area. He’d probably accidentally picked some up when he’d rested his hands on the ground, which explained why they were in his hand when he’d coughed.
Yes, that’s a perfectly acceptable reason, Remus decides.
Never mind that none of the wildflowers are blue.
***
The third time it happens, Remus can’t deny it.
“DANCE WITH ME, REMUS?” Lily shouts over the laughing, chattering crowd.
“James would kill me,” Remus tells her. His head swims pleasantly, his entire body warm from the inside out. It’s nice.
In the dim party lights, Lily squints. “WHAT?”
“James would kill me!”
“REPEAT THAT?”
“JAMES WOULD– nevermind.” Groaning, he stands up and holds out his hand. With a delighted grin she takes it, dragging him to the dance floor.
Remus isn’t a good dancer when he’s sober. But somehow, get a few drinks in him and those gangly limbs become fluid, cutting through the air with surprising grace. Lily leads him to the center of the room and the closer he gets, the more he leans into the music, hips swaying to the beat.
He dances with Lily, then with Marlene, then Emmeline, then all of them together. Mary and Emmeline split off to get more drinks which leaves him and Lily to sway together, his hands on her waist and her hands over his shoulders.
“James is staring at us,” Lily slurs at some point. Her cheek presses against his chest.
“Glaring, more like,” Remus responds. He’s felt those daggered eyes on his back for the last thirty minutes.
“Hmmm.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
He smirks. “If you wanted to change partners, you should have just told me, love.”
A horrified groan leaves her as he twists around to gesture James over. The boy’s face goes from furious to confused. When Remus’s movements become more impatient, he drags himself over.
Remus grabs him and spins around to take his place with Lily. Then he grabs her arms and throws them around his neck, pressing them together. “Thank me later,” he says, and promptly leaves.
He hears Lily cursing him out, but it only makes him chuckle. As much as she denies it, everyone has seen the slow softening of her shell, the way she’s warming up to the unshakable force that is James Potter.
A finger trails down his arm, Remus turns to find Benjy at his side, his friendly smile edged with something more.
“You didn’t say you can dance like that,” he says quietly, taking a step closer, eyes alight. There’s a drink in his hand and he raises it to his mouth, those plump lips curving around the rim.
Remus stares at them unashamedly. Benjy is one of the few people who know that he’s into guys. Because Benjy is the first one he kissed.
Remus smirks at the memory, gaze half-lidded. “Oh, yeah?”
“It’s hot.”
The compliment makes him laugh. “Wanna join me, then?”
Benji’s answer is to drain half his drink, offer Remus the other half, and then whisk him back into the crowd. Everybody is too drunk to see the way they dance a little too close together, watching each other with a little too much heat.
Except for one person, that is.
Remus knows the feel of those eyes like the back of his hand. Once he realizes it, he stumbles, heart leaping. Sirius looks annoyed, his eyes alight with flames as he stares him down. It burns.
Then he’s turning away, towards the girl at his side, who he has an arm slung casually around. It’s Mary, of course. They’ve been dating for the last two weeks, and she looks positively lovestruck. Remus watches him pull her close, watches him smile down at her, the softness a startling contrast to whatever the fuck he’d been looking at Remus with. He kisses her quickly on the mouth before dragging her out of the portrait-hole.
Probably to find some empty classroom where he can put his mouth on her, worship her, show her why everyone knows him as the Sirius Black.
Remus feels like throwing up.
“I gotta… I gotta go!” He shouts over the music. Benji looks concerned but he doesn’t stop him from darting away, making a desperate beeline for the dorms. The word goes strangely hazy around him, but not from the alcohol. He hasn’t felt more sober in his life.
His body heaves, and he rushes to the toilet. But instead of vomiting, he coughs. And coughs. And coughs, until his lungs and spine feel like they’ve been rubbed raw with sandpaper.
There’s something lodged in his throat. He pounds at his chest, he cries, he gags until stars cross his vision and finally, with trembling fingers, he reaches into his mouth and draws out the little blue petal.
It sits in his palm. Small and innocuous. It smells sweet like summer. Like sugar, like apples, like cherries. Like dewdrops on leaves, like sunlight over the water, like gold rays across tanned skin, rosy cheeks, onyx hair, plump lips on his.
Remus stares at it. He opens his sticky, tired eyelids, touches it with the pad of his finger. Blue smudges onto his finger, bright and real. Bright as his eyes.
He sighs.
“Fuck.”
***
Remus knows the story. Everyone does, actually. Every wizard child has had it told to them by their parents, who were told by their parents, who were by theirs, and so on, as a lesson: don’t play with people’s hearts, they warn, wagging their fingers. Or you’ll end up like they did.
They, being the ones who bear the curse.
Remus grew up in a muggle orphanage, so he didn’t hear about it until first year, when the Daily Prophet announced that someone had died due to it.
Gasps and shocked murmurs fill the Great Hall. The boys crowd around the paper in James’ hands, trying to figure out what has brought such a reaction. Remus stands slightly away from them, waiting patiently for his turn.
“Hanahaki,” James says after a moment, shaking his head. The corners of his eyes are tight with sympathy. “I thought it’d died out ages ago.”
“Poor guy,” Peter says mournfully. “That’s gotta be one of the worst ways to go.”
They all look so pitying, Remus can’t contain his curiosity. “Hanahaki?” he questions, leaning over their shoulder for a better look.
All three boys turn to stare at him. “You haven’t heard about it?” James says incredulously.
“Not everyone was raised with magic, Potter,” Lily says primly from down the table.
James flushes. “H-hi, Evans.” Remus has to withhold a snicker. It’s hilarious how the boy’s brain melts down to mush every time she’s around.
It’s even more hilarious how Lily wrinkles his nose at him before turning to the other boys. “I haven’t heard about it either, so why don’t one of you explain it to us?”
Sirius is the one to step forward. “Have no fear, the all-knowing Sirius Black is here!” He sweeps into a bow. “So you want to know the story of the Hanahaki disease, huh?” he grins theatrically. “I must warn you, it is a grim tale!”
“Just get on with it, idiot.”
“Fine, fine! Okay, so long ago, a witch called Hanahaki came across a small town in the middle of nowhere, Ireland. It was during a wild storm, and her only hope for survival was the small inn in town, run by a muggle man. She didn’t have any money on her but he was kind enough to let her stay. You know how it goes, now– she stayed a few days, fell in love, they messed around.
The thing was, he wasn’t in love with her. He actually loved another girl, who he was too scared to admit his feelings to, because she was also already married. The witch eventually found this out and boy was she mad. She decided to cast some ancient curse on the town so that if someone was suffering from unrequited love, they’d spit out flowers.
The thing is, she was so mad that the spell went a little haywire. It was supposed to be harmless– like, a sign or something– so the person would know their love wasn’t being returned. From then on, anyone who fell in love with someone who didn’t love them back, or didn’t tell them that they loved them back, would have flowers grow out of their lungs until they choked on their own petals and blood and just… die.”
“That’s terrible,” Lily says, aghast. Remus would agree with her, if he isn’t shocked into silence. “If it wasn’t what she intended, why didn’t she reverse it?”
Sirius shrugs. “No idea. Probably because it went out of her control. I read something about that– sometimes our spells get influenced by our souls or something, and then it becomes like a living thing and you can’t do anything about it. I heard she died from it too not long after.”
“Most people in the town died out,” Marlene supplies from beside Lily. “Turns out, lots of them didn’t love each other like they thought.”
“But if it was ages ago, why did someone die from it now?” Remus finally finds the voice to ask.
“It’s genetic,” Sirius replies. “Most survivors from the village have reproduced enough that the blood’s been diluted and most of their offspring don’t get it. But sometimes it pops up and usually…” he gestures towards the paper. “It doesn’t end up good.
Remus has to chuckle at the memory. Funny, how the one who explained it to him would be the one to kill him with it.
The sound makes the small group gathered at the end of his bed startle, glancing over. Each of them look worried– even McGonagall, who he’s never seen wearing any face apart from her flat-mouthed, stern one.
“It must have come from John’s side,” Poppy Pomfrey frets, her hands twisted nervously in her healer’s robes. “His grandparents migrated to Wales from up north, around here, didn’t they? He told me himself, way back then.”
Well obviously, Remus thinks. His mother was a muggle and Italian so it couldn’t have been her. But he doesn’t speak. Instead, he coughs, and this time it’s two petals that fall into his hands.
In an instant, they’re all there. “May I see it?” Dumbledore asks. At his nod he plucks the petals from his palm, studying it with an impressive intensity. “Forget-me-nots,” he says at last, dropping them onto the bedside table.
“Huh?” says Remus.
“The flower type.”
“Does it– does it mean something? What they are?”
“Perhaps. Little study has been done on Hanahaki, so it can’t really be said,” Dumbledore says, not unkindly.
“Oh.” Remus slumps back onto the pillows. “That means there isn’t much study on a cure, huh?”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Madam Pomfrey placates, which he knows basically means no. “First of all– this person, are they one of our students?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you been in love with them?”
Love, huh?
Now that’s something. Remus hasn’t ever given a name for what he feels for Sirius. He’s never understood it, really. Sometimes he feels like he could bask forever in the light from the stars in his eyes, other times he hates him so bad he can’t breathe. But even then, it fades quick, drained by the fondness he can never shake.
A small crush, he’d thought it was. But love must be what it is if this is happening.
“About a year,” he answers at last. “But, um, I’ve always sort of liked them.”
The three adults trade a glance. Wow. Talking about his crush to his headmaster, his head of house, and his healer. This isn’t weird at all.
“And there’s no way you could fall out of love with them?” McGonagall presses.
“I don’t think so.”
“And there isn’t a chance that they could reciprocate your feelings?”
Remus laughs, sadly. “Definitely not.”
“What if you were to confess to them, would that–”
“No!” Pomfrey bursts out. At their confused looks, she explains. “One of the most dangerous effects of Hanahaki is that if the victim were to confess and the other rejected them, the illness would flare up and immediately kill them.” She takes Remus’ hand, looking him straight in the eye. “You cannot, cannot tell them unless you are one-hundred percent sure they love you back, or it’s sure death.”
I think it’s death either way, Remus thinks. Outwardly, he just nods.
Pomfrey lets go of his hand, schooling herself back into calm. “We’ll do our best to find a way to stop this. For now, try to distance yourself from this person, alright? And quit smoking– yes, I know about that– we don’t know what kind of effect it’ll have on you. If it hurts too much, come find me, I have some potions for coughs that will probably help.”
“Perhaps we should send you home for a bit,” Dumbledore muses. “It might get easier, with time away.”
Remus is shaking his head before he finishes speaking. “Please don’t. That’ll make it worse, trust me.”
The man dips his head. “As you wish.”
It was very late when the group finally disperses. Pomfrey offers to let him spend the night in the Hospital Wing, but he declines. He feels jittery and agitated, and looks almost desperately forward to the long walk back to the tower.
He has to do an extra loop through the school before he feels tired enough to go back. The room is dark but for the moonlight filtering through the open window, lighting upon the prone forms of his friends.
He glances at each of them as he passes. James is huddled deep in his blankets, curled up like a baby, a fact that they’ve teased him relentlessly about. Peter is sprawled upside-down across the bed with his head hanging off the bottom, mouth open, filling the room with his soft snores.
And then there’s Sirius. And he’s– well.
The closest word Remus can come up with is angelic, and even that doesn’t seem to capture all of his glory. His alabaster skin gleams in the darkness, moonstone against the shining locks that spill like ink across his pillow. The panes of his face, the hard line of his lips, are cold and edged but at the same time soft as a summer evening and just as inviting. He is one breathtaking work of art, born from the hands of a benevolent god.
Sadness pricks in Remus’ chest. He lets his eyes linger for longer than he should, much longer. But this is the last chance he has to do so. On his walk, he’s come to the conclusion that he has to learn how to do without Sirius. He must fall out of love with him and fast, because he refuses to let love be the end of him, after all he has ever faced.
Even if it feels like his heart is being twisted and torn from his ribcage. Even if it hurts more than his other scars ever have.
Remus takes that still moment and commits it to memory, storing the painting in the back of his mind to wither and fade. A beautiful echo of something that could’ve been more.
He climbs onto his own bed and pulls the curtains down. Plunges himself in darkness.
It feels like a tomb.
***
Sirius has done something wrong.
He doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t know why it matters, but Moony hasn’t looked at him once in the last two weeks.
He’s fine with the others. He laughs with James, plays chess with Peter, sits with Lily around the fireplace. But every time Sirius draws near, he turns away. He stands and walks out with hands clenched and emotionless eyes. Sirius has tried to confront him multiple times but he always brushes him off, saying, We’re fine. Everything is fine.
Which is absolute fucking dogshit.
At first, Sirius is angry. What kind of arse ignores someone and doesn’t tell them why? But after the first week the anger twists into concern. Moony never stays angry at him, not for anything. Every time they have a spat, he sulks for a day or two until Sirius charms him back into his flushed, smiling self.
He hasn’t seen that smile in what feels like forever.
Nobody else knows what he’s done wrong. James, during their night meetings–which have been happening every day now–tells him that they’ve been trying to wheedle the answer out of Remus, but to no luck.
“What the hell does he have to be angry with me about?” Sirius says. He doesn’t bother to hide the desperation in his voice anymore.
“He doesn’t look angry, exactly,” James murmurs. “Just… sad.”
“Sad??”
“Yeah.”
“Shit.” Because sad is way, way worse.
Sirius doesn’t want to hurt Remus. He’s never felt so fiercely protective over anyone else save his brother, in fact. Whatever he’s done to make him sad, he needs to fix, right now. But that means he has to talk to him, and seemingly the only way he can do that is by trapping him.
He finds his opportunity later that week. The sky has decided to release a downpour on them halfway through Quidditch practice and after a third grader literally starts drowning in it, James lets them go early. He stays behind to do some captain-y stuff, so Sirius heads back to the dorms alone.
And finds Remus sitting on the window seat, head resting on his knees. The sight reminds Sirius of one of those paintings of a damsel staring wistfully out the window of her tower. The ones where you can tell she’s wishing desperately for freedom. It’s beautiful but hauntingly sad.
He’s so out of it that he doesn’t notice Sirius until he shuts the door behind him. That’s when he jerks upright, eyes wide like a trapped animal.
It feels like a stab in the chest, that sheer panic that flashes across his face before he schools it into ice. Sirius forces himself to ignore it and pastes a cheery smile on his face as he flops down next to him.
“Hey,” he starts.
The way he’s sitting means Remus has to climb over him to get out, which he’s too proud to do. So, “hey,” the boy replies tightly.
That’s the first word they’ve shared in at least two days. Sirius counts it as a victory.
“Practice got cancelled,” he declares without being asked. “I couldn’t see shit in the rain, I almost bashed Michael’s brains out with my broom. Not that it would’ve made a difference, he’s denser than a brick wall… did you know he tried to teach James how to throw a quaffle?? He’s lucky the guy’s a saint. If it was me, he would’ve been off the team before– you know what, I should have just let it happen. Nobody would blame me if it was clearly an accident, right?”
A small noise leaves Remus, an exasperated half-sigh, half-laugh like always when he listens to Sirius rant. Sirius grins at the achievement, a grin that quickly slips as Remus claps his hand over his mouth and starts coughing into it.
That’s another thing. Somehow, Remus has come down with a cough that just won’t go away. Which is strange because one potion from Pomfrey should be enough to stop it. Everyone has been trying to convince him to go visit her but he keeps dismissing the idea, claiming it’ll go away soon enough.
Which it hasn’t. So, here they are.
“Maybe it’s time to cut back on the cigarettes,” Sirius muses after the fit stops.
Remus leans back, chest trembling and face pale. “I guess,” he mutters, glaring out the window. “Do you need something?”
“Do I need to have a purpose to speak with you?”
He tries to keep his voice casual, but it’s been so long and he’s so tired of this. At least Remus has the decency to look a little guilty at the pain in it. Still, it doesn’t last long and he goes back to zoning out, eyes slipping over Sirius as if he isn’t there. As if it hurts to look at him.
Sirius swallows. “What happened, Remus?”
“What do you mean?””
“Did I do something wrong?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sirius glares at him. “Why are you being such a prick?”
“Why won’t you leave me alone?” he retorts.
“Because I fucking care about you! And if I did something wrong, I’d like to know what it is!”
“You did nothing,” Remus says immediately.
“Then why won’t you even look at me??”
“Because I can’t!”
“Why the hell not??”
“Because it hurts!” Remus cries. “Because I… because I fucked up. And every time I look at you, I get reminded of it, and it fucking hurts!”
What?
“You fucked up?” Sirius asks, baffled. “How?”
“I can’t– I can’t tell you.” Remus sags into his seat. He looks exhausted, arms shaking slightly as he curls them around himself.
“Why not?”
“…Because it’s dangerous.”
Sirius straightens, tension seeping into his bones. “Dangerous how? Is someone threatening you?”
“No, no. Nothing like that.” Sirius watches as he bites his lip, his eyes glazing over slightly. “Its— its kind of a curse, in a way. And it’s not that I can’t tell you guys, it's that I know you would do something rash, which would… be bad.”
His eyes shoot open. “You’re cursed?” he echoes in alarm. “When? How? By who??”
“It wasn’t a specific person. It just sort of– happened. Magic, you know how it is.”
“Well, what kind of curse is it? Does it hurt? Are you…”
But Remus is already shaking his head, and Sirius deflates. “Right, you can’t tell us.”
Remus nods, looking relieved that he finally gets it. “I’m really sorry,” he offers.
“It’s alright,” says Sirius. Fat fucking lie, but he can’t press, not when Remus looks like he’s about to shatter. “You’re not in imminent danger though, right?”
“Nope.”
“And Dumbledore’s looking for a solution.”
“Yup.”
“And you don’t hate me.”
Remus whips around, alarmed. “Of course not! Why would you think that?”
Sirius shrugs. “You’ve spent the last two weeks treating me like I have the plague. What else was I supposed to think?” he chuckles weakly.
Remus runs a hand through his caramel curls, biting his lip like he does when he’s agitated. “No– Sirius, no, I don’t hate you! I could never,” he says earnestly. “It’s just that you’ve always been able to read me so easily, I was afraid you’d notice it. The curse. I didn’t want to worry you.”
“You were worried about me?” Sirius shook his head, laughing softly in relief. “Moony, you’re the one who’s cursed.”
“Can’t help it,” Remus says in a way that’s meant to be teasing but comes out weirdly soft and sets Sirius’ stomach clenching for reason he himself doesn’t know. What he does know is that it makes him severely uncomfortable in the awkward silence that follows. He shifts in place, mind whirring as he grasps for a topic to change to.
It comes to him. “I, um. I broke up with Mary,” he blurts.
Remus almost falls off the window seat. “You what?”
He’s so startled that Sirius startles. “Why are you so surprised?”
“I thought you guys were going well!”
“Yeah, we were.”
“Then what– what…” Remus shuts his jaw, composing himself. “Sorry. When was this?”
“Right before quidditch,” Sirius responds, fingers tugging at the edge of his robes. “You’re the first person I’ve told, but I suspect she’ll have informed the whole school by tonight.”
“You haven’t told James yet?”
“Haven’t had the chance. And I know what he’d say, he’d try to make me give it another go. He still believes in true love, isn’t that so stupid?”
“Erm, yeah. So stupid.” Remus clears his throat, a hint of pink on his tanned cheek. “Why did you break up with her?”
Sirius shrugs. “It just wasn’t going to work out, I could feel it. You know how I am, I don’t like commitment. But she… she wants someone like James is for Lily. Hopelessly devoted. Someone she can spend the rest of her life with, ya know? Or at least the next few years. She kept talking about all this future stuff, like where she wanted to live and I just.” he shakes his head, eyes sliding shut. “I can’t imagine anything she said. It’s not the kind of future I see myself living in.”
“...I’m so sorry,” Remus says softly.
Sirius shakes his head, bemused. “Why? If anything, I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t want to do it. But, like, better cut it before it grows too deep to hurt, right?”
Remus is silent for a moment, back to staring out the window. He looks… contemplative, Sirius thinks, and wishes desperately that he would turn around and face him so that he could actually tell what he was thinking.
But Remus doesn’t turn around. Not even when he whispers, breath fogging on the glass, “what kind of future do you imagine, then?”
“Hmmm.” Sirius leans back onto his arms, kicking his feet up onto Peter’s bed. “It’ll be fast, and bright. I’ll live right in the middle of London, on a street with lots of bars so I can go clubbing whenever I want. I’ll live in a flat and knock all the walls down except for the bedrooms so it’ll be super open. I’ll get a shit ton of plants– fake ones, you know I’m pants at herbology… Oh, oh, I’ll have a music room, with all my records and I’ll buy a guitar and I’ll play at stupid hours to annoy all the neighbors. I’ll also get a dog, obviously.”
Remus still isn’t facing him, but Sirius can see the reflection of his smile on the window. “A dog, huh? What’re you gonna name it?”
“I think you should decide that one.”
He arches a brow. “Wow, what did I do to deserve such an honor?”
“I mean, I’ll be the one picking the dog, so the least I can do is let you pick the name.”
“It’s your dog, though.”
“No? It’s our dog. We’ll be roommates.”
Remus freezes at that. He turns around finally, slowly, and Sirius feels confusion at the surprise in his gaze.
“You want me to live with you?” He asks incredulously.
“I mean, yeah?” For some reason, Sirius feels his cheeks heat. It’s always been an assumption in his mind, he’s never thought he’d have to explain himself. “Right after school ends, Lily and James are gonna settle together, and Peter will have some nice girl to be with—Emmeline, probably—and that leaves me and you. Hot, single bachelors for life. Unless you don’t want to…?”
“No, no! I do want to,” Remus assures him.
Relief washes over Sirius, strong enough that he blinks in surprise. And then he grins, letting his happiness beam from his face. “So you wanna be roomies after we graduate?”
“That’s what I said, right?” He tips his head. “Though you do have a lot of confidence that James and Lily are gonna get together.”
“Because they are. I’m an expert wingman, Remus, just you wait.”
“Hmm.”
***
Remus is so fucked.
He’d made his peace with it. He’d made his peace with having to give up Sirius for his survival, and for weeks had been working on distancing himself, shoving all his affections into the dusty backrooms in his mind, never to be found again.
And then he busted in with that stuff about the future and living together, forever. Which— seriously, what the fuck??
So yes, Remus is back to being hopelessly in love with him. Maybe even more than before. Sirius is still painfully oblivious, and Remus must get used to the fact that he is going to die for being in love with an idiot.
I’m going to die, Remus repeats in his mind. The first time he’d thought it, he’d almost had a breakdown. Now it’s a passing thought, merely a fact he’s memorized. Like, Peter loves pie, Sirius hates wearing his tie, I am going to die.
Remus giggles. It’s a little hysterical.
“What’s so funny?” Sirius’ breath brushes his hand, which he’s got his head propped on. Remus glances at him without moving, taking in those mascara-coated eyes quirked in curiosity, those luscious locks piled in a falling-apart bun, that pale skin slashed with sun rays from the window.
“Nothing,” he mutters back.
“Liar.”
“I mean it.”
Sirius nudges him. “Fine, don’t tell me, Mr. Mysterious.”
Remus tilts his head back to relieve the ache in his chest that develops from even that small amount of contact, annoyance flaring. Their skin isn’t even touching, for god’s sake, and he can feel the petals stirring.
The disease is getting worse and worse. At some point, just a look from Sirius is going to set him hacking enough that his lungs will fly out and splatter all over Professor McGonagall’s clean blackboards, showering body juices all over the cage of rabbits they’re supposed to transfigure this semester.
Oh, joy, now that’s a great image.
“Hello? Helloooo, Earth to Moony?”
Remus snaps out of imaginations of lung fluids and panicking rabbits. “Sorry what?”
“Class has been over for, like, a minute,” Sirius huffs, pushing him out of his chair. Gently of course, because that’s all he ever is these days. “You okay? Are you thinking about tomorrow?”
Remus stares at him. “What’s tomorrow?”
“The moon, silly.” Sirius’ face lights up in excitement. “I was thinking we’d take you down to the river, try to catch some fish. We weren’t very successful last time, but you seemed to like it. Though Pete almost drowned like three times…”
He continues to chatter on, about all the hunting and running and swimming he plans to take Wolf Remus to do. Remus listens intently. He won’t remember any of it once he transforms, of course, but this way he’s sort of included.
Wolf Remus isn’t affected by the Hanahaki, he’s found. He’s also not affected by the emotions and wants of his human counterpart. He doesn’t know a Sirius, and if he did, he’d probably try to eat him.
Maybe Remus should just let that happen. Accidentally kill the love of his life so that his love won’t kill him.
Okay, he needs to stop.
He snaps back to attention as an itch crawls its way up his chest. He’s learned that he can repress his coughs, but this one is different. This one hurts. He barely has time to smack a hand over his mouth before he’s bent over and shuddering with the force of it. He would notice Sirius’ hand on his back and the concerned furrow of his brows if he wasn’t so occupied with the feeling of petals falling into his hand. No, not petals. A whole flower, minus the stem.
Shit.
The fit is over as quickly as it started and he clears his throat, whisking the flower away into his pocket. His voice sounds wet and ragged as he mumbles, “Sorry.”
“You good?” Sirius’ eyes search his, and Remus quickly snaps his gaze to the ground.
“Fine,” he nods vigorously. Obviously fucking not, and Sirius definitely feels that way, judging by the semi-glare he shoots him. But last week, Remus managed to come up with a good excuse for why he’s been coughing like he’s trying to eject his soul from his body:
“I’m degrading,” he explains.
James blinks. “What.”
“It’s a werewolf thing. Getting ripped apart and shoved into a new for once a month isn’t good for your health.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “My organs are sort of failing. Don’t worry, it’s normal, Madam Pomfrey told me all about it.”
“So you’re– what, you’re dying?” Peter exclaims.
“I mean, yeah. But Pomfrey’s working out a treatment. I’ve got a good many years left for me, so you don’t have to worry about arranging my funeral anytime soon,” he says cheerily. “But just in case, I want to be cremated. Not buried.”
“Shut up,” Sirius slaps his arm, too hard to be merely playful. “Don’t you dare talk like that.”
“I just wanted to warn you guys.”
“Wait, years…” James frowns. “How many years are we talking?”
“Not sure. Don’t expect too much.”
“I said shut up!” Sirius snaps. Remus flinches at the genuine anger in his voice. He takes a cautious step back and Sirius’s expression visibly falls. “I– I’m sorry.”
“Whatever,” Remus mutters. He adverts his gaze to the ground, lips tugging into a rueful smile. “Just– I’m not going to be here forever, okay? You need to get used to that.”
“Remus,” Peter whispers.
And then there are arms around him, squeezing him tight and he’s clasping Peter’s arm and burying his face in Jame’s neck and he’s muttering “I’m fine, guys, it’ll be okay”. While Sirius is just standing there, watching it all, and Remus is too scared to look up and see his face because he doesn’t know what he’ll find.
The three of them were super clingy for the next few days, but it’s as a small price to pay for the lies.
Remus hopes that the conversation can get through to them. That they can make a little preparation, even if that good many years he’s told them is actually a few short months. Maybe it’ll make things easier for when he passes on. Maybe they’ll listen and burn his body.
Towards the end he will mention that he wants his ashes scattered somewhere meaningful. Perhaps they can do it in the forbidden forest during the full moon, so his spirit can continue to hunt and swim and tumble among the trees for the rest of eternity.
Yes, that would be quite nice, he thinks, and then snorts. Never thought I’d be planning my own funeral before my sixteenth birthday party.
Anyway, back to the present. Sirius is still watching him, eyes swirling with pity and concern. Remus ignores it, ignores the pang in his heart. “What do you say we skiv off potions and go raid the kitchen?” he says cheerily.
Sirius snorts. “Oh, Moony,” he sighs. “Whatever you want.”
***
“Moony. Moony? Remus, open your eyes.”
Remus releases a low groan. He feels a hand pat his face. “C’mon, Rem,” says Peter. “You’re creeping us out.”
“Wuh?” he mumbles, fighting to peel his sticky eyelids open. It feels like someone’s poured honey all over his face, and after a bit of sluggish struggle, he finally manages to squint around.
James, Sirius and Peter all sit around him, faces etched with concern. Sirius is holding his head in his lap and gently stroking his hair, which he would freak out about if he wasn’t so dazed.
“Finally,” James exhales in relief. “Hey, can you hear me?’
“What– what happened?” Remus slurs.
“You were passed out for a long time,” Sirius tells him. His face is drained of color, eyes dark. “After you transformed, we tried to wake you, but you just– wouldn’t.”
“Fuck.” he tries to sit up, but its like his muscles are made of lead. He can barely lift his head up and even that makes his head swim with exhaustion. Defeated, he falls back onto Sirius’ lap. “What time is it?”
“Almost time for Pomfrey to get here,” answers Peter.
“You guys should go, then.”
“No fucking way,” Sirius snaps.
Remus frowns at him. “Do you want her to catch you?”
“We’ll just go upstairs. We’re not leaving you alone right now.”
“I’m not going to fall apart.”
“You can barely even keep your eyes open, for fucks sake,” Sirius hisses.
Remus can’t argue against that. No matter how hard he tries to ignore it, dread digs a pit in his stomach. He knows why he’s like this– it’s the disease. He’s been feeling its effects a lot, feeling his body weakening and breaths growing shorter. As much as he’s been expecting it, he has to shut his eyes against the tears that spring up at the thought that every transformation is going to get worse, as if they aren’t already bad enough.
And as if the thought summons it, a cough builds in his throat.
No, Remus thinks in horror. No, no, nonono–
Too late. He bursts into a violent fit. Petals fill his mouth and he chokes, eyes watering as he gags, entire body jolting with the force of it. Fingers grip his shoulder as he’s wrenched upwards, a slim hand on the back of his neck forcing his head downwards.
“Breathe, Rem,” Sirius murmurs. He kneels before him, breath fanning his forehead. He sounds anxious. “Remus– cough it out, it’s okay. Breathe.”
“N-no,” Remus gasps. There’s petals on his tongue, in his teeth. He can feel pollen against his lips. He coughs again and more comes up, until–
Sirius grabs his jaw. Surprised, Remus opens his mouth.
And there is nothing he can do but watch as the blue petals tumble out to land right between Sirius’ knees.