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Remus looked up from where he’d been struggling to turn the page of his Herbology textbook with his gloved fingers when he became aware that someone had stopped in front of him. Dorcas looked down at him, a hand on her hip and eyes narrowed. Her broomstick was slung over her shoulder, and she looked entirely too cross for someone who supposedly flew to calm her nerves.
“Sit with me,” Dorcas demanded before walking away from the stands Remus had already settled in, heading towards a higher, more private bench. With a deep, resigned sigh, he gathered up his things haphazardly and shoved it all into the crook of one arm, grabbing his cane with the other. As he started to climb after her, he heard a shout from across the pitch.
“Trouble in paradise, Remus?” It was James, freshly showered and grinning well-naturedly at his friend, who he clearly thought was in hot water with his girlfriend. Remus forced himself not to wince, a stab of guilt shooting through him.
Over the summer, Remus had, on a whim, spent a day in Cardiff and slipped into a bar known to cater to a certain crowd. As a sixteen-year-old who’d just discovered the term bisexual thanks to the god that was David Bowie and felt the buzz of being understood for the first time, that little pub had cracked Remus’ worldview wide open. And he hadn’t been the only one—Remus had been absolutely shocked to bump into Dorcas Meadowes that day, never expecting to come across a pureblood in a Muggle pub—much less one known to be frequented by the queer community.
Remus’ attitude regarding his sexuality was tricky—it wasn’t something he advertised and he hadn’t voiced it aloud before, but he didn’t go out of his way to hide it—and if he had to choose between his schoolmates knowing he was queer or a werewolf, well. It wasn’t a hard choice.
But Dorcas had felt differently. After threatening his life if he breathed a word of their encounter to anyone—which he thought was ridiculous seeing as he was in the pub, too—Dorcas had confided that this was a secret she couldn’t share with anyone. They’d gotten to talking about shared experiences, and soon enough, Remus had learned that Dorcas had a short-lived crush on Lily Evans in third year and was now dangerously in love with Marlene McKinnon. After much needling, Remus admitted that he might be a little (a lot) in love with one of his dormmates, and had been immediately offended when Dorcas assumed he meant James bloody Potter.
A week later, he’d received a long letter from Dorcas despairing because Marlene was dating some bloke on the Quidditch team and she felt like she could never have what she really wanted. She’d said she was lonely and wanted to know if he felt the same (he did). She asked if he’d be up for being her fake boyfriend so they didn’t have to field any more questions from friends and family.
So, when Remus and Dorcas had walked onto the Hogwarts Express that September, they did it hand-in-hand and blew the minds of their friend group.
“Right, so, James thinks I’m in trouble with you,” Remus said through a sigh as he sat heavily beside his fake girlfriend, “and I… am not convinced he’s wrong, actually, now that I’m looking at you properly.” He squinted at her. She looked pissed, and she kept fiddling with the green tie at the end of one of her braids.
Dorcas dropped her head into her hands. “It’s just agonizing,” she growled, a sound Remus had never heard from her before. Dorcas was normally so cool and collected—unflappable and terrifying. Remus wasn’t sure how to react, so he just sat patiently and waited for her to continue. “Watching them both on the pitch. Wishing it was me and not fucking Davey Gudgeon she’s smiling at—knowing she never will look at me that way—”
Remus flinched, uncomfortably familiar with that particular heartbreak. “Dorcas…”
“I thought this would help.” She gestured between the two of them. “I thought it’d make things easier.”
“You said it got your mum off your back,” Remus hedged. “So it’s not a complete waste.”
Dorcas clenched her jaw and looked away. “I don’t care about my mum. I wanted Marlene to see me with you and realize that she—she was missing out on me.”
“You thought Marlene McKinnon would be jealous of me?” Remus couldn’t help his laugh.
Instead of the smile Dorcas would have cracked on another day, she whipped around with humiliated fury in her eyes. “At least I’m fucking trying something!” she shouted, and Remus was glad that they were high enough that her voice would be swallowed by the wind long before it reached the ground. “At least I haven’t been pathetically pining in the shadows for the same boy since I was thirteen!”
Remus’ face flushed, his own ire finally rising to the surface. “Are you seriously judging me right now? You asked me to pretend to date you to make your best friend—who is in a relationship, mind you—jealous!”
Dorcas cast him a look of such despair that Remus almost wanted to take the words back. In a tone one would normally reserve for the most devastating news, she said, “But it worked for one of us, didn’t it? Or are you so used to suffering in silence that you haven’t even noticed?”
Remus stilled, hating that a traitorous hope flooded him at those words. He was terrified that Dorcas was lashing out cruelly, but if she actually meant them… “What does that mean?”
Dorcas turned her face towards the overcast sky. It would snow soon, Remus realized distantly, but that was a fleeting worry as he leaned forward, holding his breath as he waited for Dorcas to explain herself. She did so reluctantly, jealously, but Remus didn’t mind because she told him, “It means that Black shot me dirty looks the entire practice, and more than one bludger my way. And he kept looking to see if you were watching.”
“He’s only ever dated girls,” Remus said carefully, wanting so badly to believe that Dorcas was right. “And he’s always been a bit of an attention seeker—”
“For your attention. Potter’s, maybe. But he always circles back to you. And as for the girls—I’ve only dated boys, but that clearly doesn’t mean much.”
Remus looked down at his knees and let himself indulge in the fantasy for a few moments. It hadn’t been easy the last few years, watching Sirius snogging countless girls. He didn’t seem to have a type, which was worse—it made Remus think that really could be him, if only Sirius had even a passing interest in blokes. “He doesn’t like it when James dates, either. Thinks it takes up too much of our time together.”
Dorcas rolled her eyes. “Don’t be daft, Lupin.” Then, after a beat, “Potter dates?”
Remus shrugged. He supposed elaborate one-man operations to show Lily Evans that he was single and available wasn’t really dating, but it was copious time spent (sort of) alone with a girl. “In his own way. And I’m not being daft—if Sirius was interested, he’d tell me. He’s never been one to hide what he feels.”
“Fucking hell, Lupin. Fine—Black doesn’t like you and your love is hopeless, is that what you want to hear?”
Remus stiffened. “I know you’re upset, Meadowes, but I’m not interested in being your punching bag.”
Dorcas deflated. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Remus, I just…” She screwed her eyes shut. “I can’t hold myself back anymore, you know? Seeing her in class, at practice, in our dorm, and not being able to hold her the way I want to… Or worse, wondering if she’d give me the time of day if she knew how I really felt…”
Dorcas trailed off, but Remus understood. Hiding an identity like this was like wearing a disguise that ate away at your soul; the ruse snaked its way into every facet of life until it was impossible to tell where the lies began and where they ended. He knew what Dorcas feared with Marlene, because he’d feared the same with his friends—he was certain that they wouldn’t cast him out entirely (easier, again, to swallow a mate being queer than a mate being a werewolf, and they’d managed that), but what would shift between him and Sirius if the extent of his feelings were known?
“I didn’t think of that. I know it’s hard, Dorcas, but… there are worse secrets,” Remus said quietly. Dorcas shook her head, and he was startled to see her eyes glistening. He’d never seen her cry before. He wished that he could ease some of her burden, but it was impossible.
“We don’t have to pretend anymore, Remus,” Dorcas said after several minutes. “It’s not… This isn’t doing what I’d hoped it would do. It just proved that I’m destined to be alone.”
“Not alone,” Remus corrected. “Just… maybe not with Marlene.” He hesitated. “You could always… you could try telling someone. Anyone. Sometimes just sharing it helps. Mary, maybe? Can’t imagine she’d have a problem with it.”
Dorcas turned to him slowly, watching him like he’d grown an extra head. “I told you, Remus.”
“Secret kinda came out when we ran into each other,” Remus pointed out. “Do it on your terms. It’s different—it will make a difference. I don’t know if I’m the best person to ask about these things.”
“You make it sound so easy.” Dorcas’ expression was half-fond, half-exasperated as she looked at him. “Just tell Mary and feel better, huh?”
“No,” Remus admitted. “But it’s—look, speaking it aloud and receiving acceptance from someone who can’t really relate but will empathize is freeing. I want to help you, but I don’t think I’m what you need.”
“You’ve been a good friend,” Dorcas argued, but she looked thoughtful. “And a decent fake boyfriend, all things considered. Speaking from experience, are you? Who’ve you told?”
He was about to be branded as a hypocrite, he knew. He squirmed uncomfortably. “No one about this,” he said carefully. “About… something else.”
Dorcas huffed out a laugh and shook her head as she looked away. “Tell you what—I’ll take your advice after you follow it yourself.”
It was supposed to end the conversation. Remus was supposed to curl up, apologize, and ask about Quidditch practice. But Dorcas looked so angry, so miserable, and Remus had been contemplating doing this very thing for a month or two now—not confessing who his feelings were for, but finally confiding in his friends about the new label he’d found for himself. So, in a rush of Gryffindor recklessness, he said, “Okay.”
Dorcas’ head whipped around so fast he was surprised she didn’t get whiplash. “Okay?” she repeated as the sky opened up and snow finally began to fall. Remus swore and gathered his things back up before the snow could melt all over his homework. “You can’t possibly mean—you’re going to confess to Black?”
“Merlin, no,” Remus hurried to say, “I meant—I meant I’ll tell the lads about—about liking both. Being bisexual.” The word felt a little odd in his mouth, but not in a bad way. He’d like to say it more, he thought, and really get used to speaking it.
“Look, I know what I just said, but you really don’t have to do that.” Dorcas reached out and grabbed his wrist, halting his efforts to stuff everything back into his bag. “I was blowing off steam, Remus. Don’t risk it just to prove a point to me.”
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while now,” Remus admitted. “It’s nothing to do with you.” He paused. “Although, we should come up with a breakup story because I’ll be hearing about it otherwise.”
Dorcas looked unsure. “You’re really going to tell them?”
“Yeah,” Remus decided, blinking the snow out of his eyes. “Yeah, I am. I don’t like keeping secrets from them, and they—they’ve always supported me before. They won’t abandon me.”
It was a statement of confidence that he was trying desperately to fool himself into believing, but he’d spent the last few years being smothered in so much unconditional acceptance that, well… he believed them when they said they’d stick by his side no matter what. Dorcas wouldn’t have had the same experience—Remus didn’t blame her for being cautious. He wouldn’t blame her if she never uttered a word of it to anyone while they were at school.
Dorcas’ grip on his wrist tightened. “If… if it goes wrong.” She swallowed. “I’ll be here.”
Remus nodded and grabbed his cane. Dorcas followed him down the stands, wordlessly took his bag when he started struggling in the heavy snow. She was watching him, contemplating, and Remus tried to smile. His stomach swooped and churned the closer they got to the common room, but he pressed on.
When they entered through the portrait hole, James, Sirius, Peter, Marlene, Lily, and Mary were the only ones in the vicinity. James was mid-overzealous gesture when he locked eyes with Remus, and he paused whatever dramatic tale he was regaling the others with and broke into a grin. “Remus, Dorcas! Sorted out your lovers’ spat, then, eh?”
“Mind your own business,” Dorcas said at the same time Remus said, “We broke up.”
In hindsight, he might have broken that news a little differently. He was a little horrified (and very guilty) by the way everyone’s faces dropped, and Remus hastened to explain as Dorcas nudged him hard in the ribs. “No, no, it’s fine—mutual—Dorcas just likes them a little more, er…” Remus fished for a way to describe Marlene without actually describing Marlene. “...Rugged than I am.”
Dorcas’ left eye twitched. “Right. Rugged.”
Sirius snorted loudly while James and Lily looked unsure about how they were supposed to react. Marlene just laughed. “I did think you were an odd choice, Lupin.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Marlene,” he said dryly. “You always make me feel so good about myself, you know?” He turned his attention to his dormmates, jerking his head towards the stairs. “Talk to you lot for a minute?”
Without hesitation, the boys stood to follow Remus up the stairs to their dorm. Remus heard the girls crowd Dorcas they left, peppering her with questions about how she was really feeling about the breakup. Remus knew that his friends would do the same once the door was closed, and they were persistent enough that any attempt to redirect them would be in vain. Remus decided the best thing to do was cut them off before they could begin, so as soon as Peter had started to pull the door shut, Remus rounded on them.
“Look, I just wanted to—to tell you all something I’ve been thinking about for a while.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, feeling incredibly awkward now that he was standing in front of them. He pressed on, though, because he was a Gryffindor, damn it. “Nothing’s wrong, I just… learned something about myself over the summer.”
The other three looked at each other. James looked like he really wanted to press about Dorcas, Peter looked intrigued, and Sirius’ face was strangely blank. Remus lingered on it for longer than he meant to before he lowered himself to the ground, knowing his friends would follow suit. He set his cane down beside him and fiddled with the cuff of his shirt, trying to figure out where to begin.
“It’s not talked about so much in the wizarding world,” he began haltingly, “and not really discussed in the Muggle world either, I ‘spose, but I…” He took a breath, steeled himself. “I like blokes the way I like girls. It’s the same for me. It’s called being bisexual. And you’ve probably got questions, and that’s fine, but I wanted you to know because I might, you know… date blokes. In the future.”
Remus forced himself to shut up then, suddenly awfully self-conscious. No one said anything for a moment, and terror seized him for a second as Remus considered that maybe he’d miscalculated, maybe he had ruined everything—
“Merlin, Moony,” Peter said suddenly, “you look pale. Bisexual, you said? So, what, you’d be just as likely to go after Prongs as Evans? That’s—that’s fine!”
Remus wrinkled his nose. Why did everyone think he was in love with James? “Technically speaking, that’s… accurate. But neither of them are my type, thanks—”
“Oi, you’d be lucky to have us!” James interrupted, sounding genuinely affronted, but then he crawled across the space between him and Remus and drew him into a brief, tight hug. “But thanks for sharing, Moony. We’re happy to know you, you know?”
We’re happy to know you. Remus, overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, cleared his throat roughly. “Thanks, Prongs, Wormtail. It… it really means a lot.”
His gaze drifted over to Sirius, who hadn’t said anything yet. He was watching Remus thoughtfully, but Remus couldn’t get a read on what he was feeling. Finally, after several tense moments, Sirius’ face broke out into a lazy grin. “Like Bowie.”
Peter and James shared a confused glance, but Remus laughed a little breathlessly. He hadn’t realized Sirius had heard about that. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Like Bowie.”
Sirius shook his head fondly, his dark curls tumbling over his shoulders in a way that left Remus’ mouth dry. “You a rockstar underneath those jumpers, Moons?”
“I’m not nearly that exciting, I’m afraid.”
Silver eyes looked Remus up and down slowly, and Remus remembered what Dorcas had said about the dirty looks he’d been sending her. He tried to reel in his own desire so he didn’t interpret this the wrong way, but bloody hell, it was difficult when Sirius was looking at him like that. “Selling yourself short there, Moony.”
Remus’ brain short-circuited there, and he missed whatever James said to redirect the conversation, but the next thing Remus knew, he was reassuring James over and over that yes, he was fine with the breakup and he and Dorcas had really only been having a bit of fun. Peter was concerned things might be awkward between them and girls, but Remus swore it wouldn’t be. He only hoped Dorcas had told the girls something similar.
They played a game of Exploding Snap then, and Remus marveled at how normal he felt—and how much lighter he was. He’d have to tell Dorcas when he next got the chance, maybe give her a bit of hope. She deserved some.
When they finally decided to go down for dinner, Sirius hung back with Remus while he grabbed his cane. “Moony,” he said suddenly, “did you mean it when you said Meadowes didn’t mean anything to you?”
Caught off guard, it took Remus a moment to gather his thoughts. “Er… sort of? I care for her, of course, but we decided we’re better as friends. Did the benefits thing for a while” —lies, lies, lies— “but I wasn’t ever in love with her or anything.”
Sirius almost looked pleased. “And are you? In love with anyone else?”
Remus hesitated, wondered if he was that brave. “Nah, mate,” he lied. He’d used up all his courage for the day, apparently. “Prongs is the only one pining in this dorm.”
He’d thought Sirius would crack a laugh at that, but something complicated twisted in his face. Before Remus could decipher it, it was gone, replaced by a cocky grin. “Fair enough, mate. Come on, best get to dinner before it’s gone.”
He disappeared down the stairs then, leaving Remus dizzy from the sudden switch of demeanor. He shook his head slightly, thought that’s Padfoot for you, and started his descent. It was odd; he felt both lighter and like he was missing something important.
When he climbed out of the portrait hole, Sirius was still in sight down the corridor, walking backwards slowly enough that Remus could catch up. When he noticed Remus watching he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Hurry it up, rockstar!”
“Fuck off!” Remus shouted back, but the effect was ruined by his laugh. He hastened his pace, closing some but not all of the space between them.
And that was fine. Everything was completely fine.