Keeping Secrets

Leaden voices fell to the floor in the unseasonably frigid October air. Remus fancied he could see them falling right through the thick kitchen door to land on the threadbare carpet at his feet--expensive, Persian, probably an old flying carpet tamed, but worn through where countless generations had paced across it in worry. He'd never really noticed it. Beside him, Lily squeezed her hands together and shivered; the room was very cold. Peter stood near the mantle, his big hands cradling baby Harry as he crooned to him. A frozen tableau, Remus thought, disjointed words all he could call to mind in the present atmosphere. His own hands longed to shake but he refused to grant them the privilege; instead, he listened through that door and followed the words across the floor. He wished he could understand what they were saying.

James's voice was quiet; Sirius's a shouting growl that rumbled up from the floorboards and straight into Remus's belly. It reminded him of the hum of amps before a show started, of the nervous tension in the guitar string that would make it vibrate long after it was tuned. It made him feel uncomfortable and anticipatory. Then something slammed down; Peter jumped and then smoothed his hand across the unruly black hair on Harry's head as if to comfort himself. The baby was stoic, only an occasional whimper or squirm. Remus put his head in his hands and wished he didn't have to hear James and Sirius tear each other apart, wished that it wasn't October 27^th and Lily and James hadn't decided to go into hiding by Halloween. Those voices, unified even in anger, shattered on the floor like icicles falling off a roof.

A bang like a spell gone wrong, and Sirius had embedded the doorknob to the kitchen door into the wall. He stalked out of the room and toward the fireplace, making an abrupt turn when James followed him and throwing himself onto the couch beside Remus. Remus reached for Sirius's hand--not sure if the gesture was more for his own comfort or for Sirius's--but Sirius was burning a hole in the wall with his eyes and did not notice.

"Remus," James said. He stood in the center of the room, fists clenched at his side, nostrils flaring as he tried to calm himself. Lily raised her head from her study of Harry and regarded her husband with tears in her eyes. Peter snapped away from the mantle and crossed the floor to stand beside James. Another tableau, as they all froze in position, and only Remus seemed to be moving forward in time or space as he watched these people--the people he loved most in the world, the people who he would give up his life for, who he fought Voldemort for--and he wondered how these people could remain static and still tear each other apart.

"Yes?" Remus asked. His voice was hoarse from the waiting.

James ran a hand through his hair as Sirius's hand caught Remus's. "When Dumbledore came here this morning, he took Lily and me aside and told us that the safest way for us to go into hiding was to have the Fidelius Charm performed on someone we trusted. Immediately."

Remus frowned. The Fidelius Charm, good God. Was that what it had come to? Keeping secrets from one another just to survive?

"Lily and I have decided that Sirius is too obvious a choice. Peter is too important to the Order to go into hiding."

"Not that you aren't important," Lily added. Remus realized that all the time they'd sat next to each other, she'd known what was coming. He was too tired to feel betrayed. "But your secret work has tapered off, and now you can do your Order work from almost anywhere."

Remus's secret work, that Dumbledore had forbidden him from telling anyone--Dumbledore had in fact forbidden all of the members of the Order from telling anyone what they were doing, and the unspoken implication was that if one of them was captured, and tortured, they could not reveal anything about the rest of the Order--was to work with London's myriad Dark Creatures. Most of them lived in a loose conglomeration of gangs ranging from threatening to openly murderous, and had rejected all contact from the Order, despite three years of Remus negotiating with them. The Ministry had offered them nothing, and they had thrown in their lot with Voldemort with very little thought. Eventually, Dumbledore had declared Remus's mission hopeless and had assigned him to use his knowledge of Arithmancy and Ancient Runes to decipher the Death Eaters cryptographic communications. Another job at which Remus was failing miserably, because codes changed constantly and by the time he broke one there was another in place, and they seemed to follow no magical algorithms or even vague patterns. He'd given himself a headache every night by reading through various stolen correspondences and trying to decipher any small part of them. He understood what Lily was saying: His work wasn't going anywhere and he could easily be their Secret Keeper. He squeezed Sirius's hand and said, "You want me to do it."

Lily took a deep breath and James said, "Yes. You're the best choice, of the three people we trust to do it."

"Why not Dumbledore himself?" Remus asked.

"He suggested it," James admitted. "But as much as we trust him, we wanted it to be one of you three." The words unspoken were, and everyone in that room except Harry knew it, that they could trust only each other. That there were spies everywhere, and only bonds like theirs withstood the seduction of betrayal anymore.

Remus stood, gently releasing Sirius's hand. "I need to think about it." He looked up to the clock on the mantle, ticking away the seconds of their lives. It seemed that in the dusk-darkened room he could hear them falling away fasting than normal. "Give me until tomorrow morning."

James opened his mouth, and Lily said, "Of course. Come back at half eight and I'll even cook you some breakfast." She offered Remus a little smile and he returned it.

"Right, I'll see you then." He crossed the room and entered the foyer. Out of their sight he allowed his hands to shake as he took his robe down from a hook and pulled it over his shoulders. Outside, a drizzling rain fell, absurdly cold for the season. Remus wasn't ready for winter--most of the leaves still clung to the trees, barely turned, and for a man so attuned to the regular change of moon phases and seasons the chill was unnatural and unsettling.

A hot hand settled on the junction between his neck and shoulder. "Sirius," he said, not turning. Another hand settled on his waist and pulled him back against a body so warm it was like touching fire. Sirius had always burned, and Remus could not decide if it was metabolism or passion; both were likely candidates. Sirius's hip bones dug into Remus's back as he buried his face in Remus's neck.

"Sirius," Remus repeated. He finished buttoning the robe and slid one hand down to rest on the hand at his waist. "I've got to go. I've got to think about this."

"Moony."

Remus waited until the whisper fell into the cobwebs in the corner. No time for even a simple cleaning spell anymore, not with the baby and the war... Then he cleared his throat and turned in the embrace to face Sirius. "Yes?"

Sirius's mouth opened and Remus could read the effort on his face as he tried to apply some impulse control. It had recently become a familiar expression. Remus wondered what exactly Sirius wanted to say but was fighting against. "I love you," Sirius said after a long pause. "Just... Moony, I love you."

Remus bent forward and let the hand that had been on his neck come to his hair, stroking it back in the most soothing gesture imaginable. "I love you too, Sirius. I just need some time to think."

Sirius didn't say anything. He stepped back, his hand still tangled in Remus's hair. It was suddenly the only spot of warmth that Remus felt. Sirius's eyes had dark circles under them and his skin was as pale as Remus's; he could have passed for a werewolf, subject to being torn apart once a month. Sirius had looked weary ever since his brother died in August, and every day seemed to bear down on him until night came and left deep black shadows clinging to his face.

Remus felt the way Sirius looked.

He jerked back from Sirius's hand. He needed to get out; he couldn't look at that face anymore. He flung the door open, moved into the hallway, and had Apparated before he heard the snap of it closing behind him.

Surrounded by the gnarled trunks of the trees and their branches--leaves still clinging to the naked wood--Remus surveyed Hyde Park. A lone jogger shot by, his breath coming in jets of steam, and Remus waited until he was so far down the path that he could not see his retreating back before turning and walking deeper into the trees.

The trouble with the Park was that no matter how far he walked, someone would always appear over the next rise. Often there were children screaming. Remus wished that he could Apparate to the little cottage in north Wales where he'd grown up and spend the night there, among the rolling mountains and their shadows, but he couldn't leave London in case there was a signal, an alert, an attack.

Leaves crunched under his feet and he kicked at them as they swirled on the wind's eddies. He wished he could escape the dark alleys inside his head, too. When he shut his eyes he saw the tracks of runes on parchment and they reminded him of the scars he'd once seen on a junkie's arm at a show in Camden. They were just as nonsensical. He stopped in between two benches and put his hands to his temples. Lily and James had asked him to perform the Fidelius Charm, to be their Secret Keeper. He remembered James saying that Sirius was too obvious a choice, but he thought there were other reasons for not choosing the godfather of their child. Sirius was cracking, like thin ice over a lake, like a sheet of glass with too much weight on it. Remus, who had loved him forever, for their entire lives it sometimes seemed, had been the first to notice. Then, slowly, with every new battle and every new loss, first Peter (whispering to Remus, "I don't think Sirius is all right,"), then James, then Lily, had seen the way that Sirius was suddenly fragile with worry. Remus watched him moving among them like they were ghosts already and saw the way that desperation tinged every flick of his wand.

Not to mention, James no doubt remembered that Sirius could do some awful, stupid things when he was upset.

The wind stirred up and smelled like musty leaves. Remus pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and wished he'd done it sooner. Rain ran down his neck from his hair and, instead of drying, became clammy and irritating. Remus didn't know why he'd gone to the Park on a day like this; he should have gone to Hatchard's and shut himself up on the history floor. He could have propped a biography of Napoleon open on his lap and thought in a warm, dry environment. Why, he asked himself, do I always make things harder than they are?

There was a crack, and then: "Knew I'd find you here."

Remus tilted his head down, unaware that he'd been staring up through the branches at the sky. The water that ran down his face felt oily. "Hey, Peter."

Peter shoved his blond hair out of his eyes and pulled the hood of his robe up. "Bloody freezing out here," he said, or something like it, but his voice was muffled. Remus hummed in agreement. "You always come to the same spot. Even when you're wandering around, you always wind up here."

Remus looked away from Peter and noticed his surroundings. He was near the bridge over the Serpentine, in a slightly wild patch of grass that no one ever thought to mow. The trees looked terribly familiar. "You know, I think you're right."

"A first," Peter said lightly.

That's not right, Remus thought. Peter might not have been a gifted wizard, but there he was, fighting against terrible evil and never thinking of it. Or maybe he was always thinking of it, and the other four didn't know because he hid it. Maybe Peter is the best of us. The bravest.

"Sirius just walked off into the rain after you left," Peter said. "Just walked straight out the door, didn't say goodbye to anyone."

Remus wasn't surprised. "He's..."

"I know," Peter said. "I know, so worried. I think he's driving himself mad with this spy business, trying to figure out who it is. He's always distracted, always wandering off and not talking to anyone. At meetings he just sits there, doesn't say a word--he's completely changed since we found out there was a spy."

Has he? Remus thought. Or have we only noticed it since then? Doubt felt like the rain: uncomfortable and oily. A polluted thing. He loved Sirius so much, maybe he was blind. Maybe Regulus's death had made Sirius realize something about family that he hadn't shared with Remus. Maybe Sirius thought he could win his way back into the Blacks... Which was a ridiculous thought.

"What are you going to do, Remus?" Peter asked. His spoke tentatively, like he was scared not of the answer but of Remus's reaction to the question. "Are you going to perform the Charm?"

Feet on the leaves. That was all Remus could think about : those leaves and how they fell off the trees no matter how hard they clung to the branches. Winter's coming was inevitable, and no matter how much it seemed like a slow slide into gloom, maybe this year it would come with a sudden freeze. Remus didn't want to admit it, but he was terrified for them all. "I don't know."

"It's a lot to ask," Peter said. "You'll have to go into hiding."

"I know."

"And we don't know for how long..."

"I know."

They were walking aimlessly, and somehow they'd wound up on a dirt path lined with massive trees. They were near the spot where James had proposed to Lily, in the Rose Garden. Remus remembered his visits to London as a child, holding his father's hand as they walked down this lane. He never remembered what it had been like in St. Mungo's and the other hospitals, but he did remember how he'd imagined that the queen of the faeries lived in those trees. That there were wolf packs roaming through them just out of the sight of all the silly Muggles who thought they'd tamed nature by building a city inside of it. He thought of the way London looked from the back of a broom, just a lot of tiny lights that blurred at the edges before being consumed by the darkness of space uninhabited by humans.

Remus stopped in the middle of the path. "What do you think I should do, Peter?"

Peter stopped too, and opened his mouth, but he did not speak for several seconds. Then: "Do you think you're the best person for it?"

"In other words," Remus said, "do I think that you and Sirius are the wrong people for it?"

"I suppose that's it, yes." Peter shrugged. "You're a better wizard than I am, Remus. And we can't trust Sirius."

Remus jerked his head around from his study of the trees. "What the hell do you mean?"

Peter looked startled, and Remus realized that he was baring his teeth. He forced himself to stop.

"I mean..." Peter looked away from Remus's eyes. "He's just so... worried. He can't..." Peter seemed flustered. He seemed like he didn't want to tell Remus something and was hiding it in the pauses. "He's got so much on his mind already, I don't think we can give him that responsibility too." He paused again. "You know--of course you know--what happened when he was... when we were..."

Peter left it hanging: Sirius's one and only previous betrayal, telling Snape where to find Remus on the night of a full moon. In many ways it was foul play to bring it up, because it had nearly destroyed things between the four of them once and they made it through that and didn't talk about it anymore. But Peter was right, and it wasn't like any of them had forgotten, least of all Remus.

Remus turned away to stare into the trees. The clouds hung lower and the rain gave a slight shift from drizzle to downpour. It soaked through his thin cloak and a detached section of his mind registered discomfort. Peter was shivering. Remus said nothing, only turned around and started off towards Hyde Park Corner. Peter caught up a minute later, and when he spoke again, his voice was pleading.

"Remus, think about it. You are the most logical choice for being their Secret Keeper."

"Why not you?" Remus demanded. Sirius is not the spy, not the spy, not the spy.

"You're a better wizard than I am--"

Remus shook his head. "Stop saying that." There was a weariness inside of him that tugged on his soul. He could see the glowing light of the Underground sign in the distance.

"It's true--"

"It's not," Remus said flatly. He didn't know if he was telling the truth, but he wanted Peter to stop saying that. Peter had a potential that Remus couldn't quite grasp, and he wanted to express it, for no reason other than for Peter to know how valuable he was. "Just because Sirius and James always acted like it when we were at school doesn't mean anything. You remember how they were." Of course Peter remembered how they were; it had been Remus who'd always stopped them being complete arrogant bastards where he was concerned.

There was a long pause, and then Peter said, "Thanks." He lowered his hood and caught Remus's eye as they stepped under the arch. "Thanks, Remus," he repeated, reaching out and touching Remus's arm. "You've been the best friend anyone could have."

Remus blinked and said, "Stop talking like we're going to die."

"I just wanted to tell you that," Peter said doggedly, "in case it was ever too late."

"It's not going to be," Remus said. "I swear, Peter, it's not." But there was something in Peter's eyes that Remus guessed meant, Of course it could be. It already has been for so many others. Remus looked away from it and gestured to the steps leading into the Underground. "We're soaked. Let's go warm up."

Peter frowned down into the fluorescent lighting. "Where are we going?"

"Just to ride around," Remus explained. It was another of those things he did, whenever he needed to think. He liked the anonymity of it, and the sense that he was going somewhere at high speed but it wasn't too far from home. From Sirius.

Once they were seated on the train, there was little time for conversation. In the tunnels, the sound of the train on the tracks was too noisy and in the stations there was all the bustle of people moving in and out. Remus stared fixedly at the map on the wall and Peter fiddled with the buttons his shirt cuffs. It was comforting to Remus, in a way, to not be riding alone for once, even if they didn't talk.

They reached the end of the line and got out onto a windswept aboveground platform. Rain blew in horizontal gusts across their faces and they leaned into it, huddling beside another of the ubiquitous tube maps as they waited for the train to take them back into the city.

"Remus," Peter yelled over the wind. "I've got to go to... a meeting soon. Near St James' Park. How can we get there?"

Remus glanced at the map, even though he didn't need to, then wondered for the thousandth time what it was that Dumbledore had Peter doing. No one asked questions anymore; they knew that the answer was always, "I'm forbidden to tell you."

"We can transfer to the District Line," Remus said.

The train car was empty except for them, which was strange. Peter sat across from Remus and the second after the doors shut he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and said, "Do you think that you can be the Secret Keeper, being a werewolf?"

Remus didn't answer. Instead, he folded his cloak and laid it on the seat beside him as the train picked up speed. The whining of it on the tracks began almost immediately and Peter leaned back, a worried look on his face, as new thoughts swirled in Remus's tired mind. The Secret Keeper needed to be available and in control all the time, and once a month, Remus was not. Once a month he was completely beyond the range of control, and Peter had a point. If I can't keep my mind all the time, how can I be responsible for their safety? What if I... what if I escaped and someone captured me? He met Peter's eyes, reflecting pools of worry. The train slowed but there was no time to talk, and a few stops later they switched to the District line. It was drawing close to midnight, when the tube would close, and Remus didn't want to have to Apparate. He shook Peter's hand at his stop and said he would think about it, and was halfway across the station before he realized he should have told Peter that he was a good friend too, that in many ways he had been Remus's best friend all those years that James and Sirius had been completely inseparable and insane. It suddenly seemed imperative that he tell Peter that right then, and he pelted back through the late night crowds in the station, past the punks and the drunks, until he saw Peter boarding a train. Remus came to a halt, panting slightly, in front of the stairs. He watched the train pull away until he couldn't see its red lights in the black tunnel anymore.

The rest of the night, Remus walked. His feet ached and his cloak was wet and cold, but the rain stopped around 2 am and he stood under the shelter of an overpass with a large group of homeless men and women for a while, hands over a fire in a barrel. Peter's words rang in his head, and James's face, Lily's smile. He thought about Harry's newfound interest in learning to be a canine just like Uncles Pads and Moony and how together they'd taught him to crawl in circles before laying down to sleep. He thought about the night that he and Lily had gone to a coffee house together, just the two of them, and sat at the table holding hands like lovers and confessing to all their fears over the cheapest drinks in the shop.

When he left the shelter of the underpass, his cloak was dry again and he walked up to Southwark Bridge and stood looking out over the black Thames. He wondered how it had come to this and if the Muggles asleep in their houses had any indication of the war coming to a head beneath their noses. He wondered what Dumbledore was not telling them that had led to James and Lily's decision to go into hiding. He wondered what he had done to deserve friends such as he had, and what Sirius was doing. Where Sirius was, where he went when he stormed off into the rain. How these cracks had appeared between them. Whether or not Sirius was the spy...

In the coldest hours of the night, before dawn, as the clouds to the east began to tinge with green, Remus walked back to their flat. London was still and almost silent, which unnerved him; he felt he was walking through a graveyard. He passed by the dark spire of a Wren church and came out onto the street that they lived on; broken glass littered the ground outside a café and there was a dirty man asleep in the doorway. Remus stepped over him and opened a door; up a flight of stairs and then another and he was opening their flat door. He didn't know what to expect, but it was empty. The fire was mostly ashes and the slightly pathetic mattress they called a bed wasn't warm. Several days' worth of Daily Prophets lay on the floor, and the kitchen table only had a book and two empty tea cups on it. All of his work from the morning was gone, so Sirius must have come back and banished it. That was almost too suspicious. Remus sank onto the chair and laid his head down on the scarred wood, shutting his eyes. He couldn't sleep; his mind was impossibly full and endlessly roiling like a stormy sea...

And then the morning sun pierced his eyelids. Remus sat up and twisted his arm to read his watch--just a little after eight. He pushed himself up from the table and walked to the shower, shedding clothes the entire way and pausing only to check in the bedroom and see if Sirius was there. He wasn't. Remus stepped under the hot water and let it wash the remnants of yesterday's oily rain off his body. He felt strange, sick, too hot in the water and too cold if he adjusted the tap. He was uncomfortably aware of the scars on his body and he stepped out before he was refreshed and toweled off. He wanted Sirius to be there and was angry that he wasn't, but he refused to think about where he could be.

He Apparated into the mews alongside Lily and James's flat. It was raining again. The street looked so dingy that Remus was appalled that they thought they could raise Harry here. London was no place for a child, not in these times. No, they should move to the country where they could have some greenery that wasn't in a park and they wouldn't have to worry about cars and kidnappers. The thought of Lily and James worrying about something that quotidian almost made Remus laugh aloud.

He put out a hand to ring the buzzer and the door swung open. Lily stood there, in a dressing gown, looking like she had barely slept.

"Remus," she said. Her voice was oddly flat.

"What's happened?" he asked automatically. His heart didn't bother to speed up.

She shut her eyes temporarily and then said, "Where did you go last night?"

"For a walk around. I rode the tube for a while. Why?"

"Because your boyfriend has been here since four this morning. Worrying. Very loudly." She raised her eyebrows. "I told him you were fine, but he insisted that you'd been ambushed and dumped in a gutter by a group of Death Eaters, or something similar."

Remus winced and let his hand drop. "Is he angry?"

"I have no idea what he is," Lily said. She sounded angry herself, although Remus didn't know why. "He's in an emotional state."

Remus nodded, tried to make it a joke. "Well, I'd better go in and reassure him I'm alive and unharmed."

Lily nodded back and stepped aside. "Just thought I'd warn you," she called as he walked up the stairs.

The flat door swung into the kitchen area, which was very bright and had white tile and cabinets that Lily and James had painted together in happier times. Remus stepped inside, not sure what to expect. He found another tableau, and thought, I'm sick of this.

James leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing a dressing gown too. Peter sat at the table, holding Harry again and looking terrified. Sirius stood behind him, fingers clenched into fists at his sides, and his smoldering gray eyes rose to meet Remus's as soon as the door opened. Remus thought he saw relief in them, and he let the door slam in Lily's face and surged across the room to touch Sirius. The clock on the stove ticked loudly.

Impulse was not something that Remus often gave into, nor was denial. Occasionally these two forces came into conflict, and impulse inevitably won. Remus would never allow himself the luxury of denial because he knew that curses were often blessings in disguise; for example, he knew that to become a wolf once a month was a terrible thing but that it brought with it a whole host of senses that he wouldn't have given up for anything. When Sirius had first kissed him, in the kitchen of his family home during Christmas of their sixth year, he hadn't gone through any lengthy denial of his suddenly obvious sexuality. And when Sirius had asked him to move into the tiny flat he'd bought with his inheritance, Remus had followed his first impulse and simply accepted that he was going to spend the rest of his life in love with Sirius. He hadn't bothered to think things through, and four years of living with the force of nature that called itself Sirius Black had taught him that thinking things through was highly overrated. He excused his lapses by thinking, in the war, there was simply not time for lengthy contemplation.

So Remus gave into impulse, and threw him arms around Sirius, without heeding Lily's warning. Sirius's arms came up and wrapped themselves around him for a second and Remus opened his mouth to apologize for worrying Sirius when he was pushed back by those same arms.

"Where the hell have you been?" Sirius demanded. His voice was very cold and one of his hands flew to his wand.

Remus stepped back, startled. "I went for a walk to think," he said.

"All night?" Sirius asked. His voice would have frozen the Thames.

"Mostly," Remus said. "I went--"

Sirius cut him off. "Where did you sleep?"

Remus blinked. "What do you mean?"

Sirius's voice rose. "What the hell do you think I mean?"

"I came back to our flat and--"

"No you didn't."

"After you'd gone," Remus said, starting to get angry. "Lily said you'd been here since four--"

"Convenient, that," Sirius snapped. "No one to tell for sure. You could have been anywhere."

"What exactly are you saying?" Remus asked, his voice quiet and deadly. "You don't believe me?"

Sirius didn't seem to hear him. "You could have been at someone else's place, you could have been--"

"Are you accusing me of--"

"You could have been with someone else--"

They were both shouting suddenly, and Harry started to scream. They froze and looked over at the baby, whose tiny fists were clenched. Peter was staring at them with his mouth hanging open.

"Shut up, both of you," James said suddenly. He reached out and took Harry from Peter, bouncing the baby up and down and saying, "They didn't mean it, they're just upset. Don't cry." Lily stood leaning against the door, looking as shocked as Peter.

"Don't you tell me to shut up," Sirius snarled. His voice was quiet now, but his cheeks were extremely red and his hand was clenched around his wand. "I want to know where Remus has been."

"I told you where I was," Remus said, forcing his voice into normality as Harry quieted. "If you don't believe me, ask Peter. He saw me--"

"Not all night," Sirius said. "He told me already, he left you at 11:30. That leaves a lot of time unaccounted for."

"I'm sorry," Remus said coldly. "I didn't know I had to check in with you for all activities."

"Its common courtesy to the one you love, I'd think," Sirius snapped. "To tell me where you're going. So I won't worry that some Death Eater's cornered you in an alley."

"Is that it?" Remus asked, relieved. "I'm sorry, Sirius, I will next time."

Sirius stared at him. He was breathing very hard. "I don't believe you."

"What?" Remus asked, thrown.

"I don't believe you. About where you've been. I don't believe that you really were just wandering around the streets of London. I don't know where the hell you have been--"

"Why would I lie to you?" Remus asked, even more confused.

"Think about it," Sirius said. "Think about it. Just think, you think about everything else, so think about this."

"What the hell--"

"You used to go off to all these secretive meetings. You used to do things that no one else in the Order could do, you said. You used to be the one who was always gone, and I just let you go, because I trusted you. You'd come back with injuries, you wouldn't tell me what happened--you'd try to hide them from me--you wouldn't tell me anything--" Sirius's face was entirely red now, his words sputtering out as he fought to keep his voice level so Harry wouldn't start crying again. "I trusted you, I love you, I'd let you get away with anything. And then suddenly you were around all the time, your job had ended and you had something to do that kept you close to home so you could--you could--" Sirius stopped and stood there, gasping as if he'd run a race. His eyes were very bright.

Remus stared at Sirius and felt like he'd never seen him before. "Say it," he spat out. "Say what you want to say. Accuse me."

"No," Sirius whispered. "I can't."

"Do it," Remus growled. He had a burning desire to sink his teeth into Sirius's neck and shake him until he bled. "Don't be a coward. Say what you want to say."

Sirius blinked furiously and Remus could see the tears caught in his eyelashes. "You never would tell any of us what your mysterious work was--"

"I was liaison to the Dark creatures," Remus said in a rush. There was no point hiding it anymore. "Dumbledore wanted me to persuade them to join our side rather than Voldemort's. It didn't work though, because the Ministry won't offer them anything except discrimination. It didn't work at all. And sometimes I would go to meet with them and they would--they would do these tests to see if I was--to see if they could trust me. They would make me slit my wrist and see how fast it would heal, that sort of thing. And I didn't want you to know because I knew you would worry, and I knew you had enough to worry about without that too. I met with vampires, with goblins, with hags and--and others--and that's what I did."

Sirius stared at him for several long seconds. Peter's mouth still hung open, although he was now staring at Remus. Then Sirius said very quietly, "No, the Ministry never offered Dark Creatures anything. Any reason not to fight against Voldemort. And so you met with them--the ones you won't even name, because you are one." There was a savage look on Sirius's face now. He whispered the last word: "Werewolf."

It was absurd, that words like that could be flung across the falsely bright and cheery kitchen by two people who were supposed to be in love. Temporarily, Remus had no feelings left, anywhere. A werewolf. Sirius had just called him that, so softly, so seductively, and that made it worse. Something dark and broken started in Remus's stomach and traced its way up his body. He could feel his throat starting to hurt, tears racing into his eyes. He reached behind him blindly for a chair and sank into it, covering his face with his hands.

"Get out," Lily said, her voice shaking. Remus glanced up and saw her pointing at Sirius, who was staring down at Remus with a shocked look on his face. "Get out of my kitchen," Lily repeated, stronger this time.

Sirius started towards Remus, hand off his wand and reaching out, but Peter stood up and took Sirius's arm.

"Come on," he said quietly. "You've done enough damage for one day, don't you think?" And Sirius uncharacteristically allowed Peter to push him out the kitchen door and shut it behind them.

James crossed the kitchen and sat opposite Remus. Lily put her hands on Remus's shoulders and squeezed, then sat down beside him. Remus was furious with himself for crying but couldn't seem to stop.

"He didn't mean it," James said quietly. "You know how he gets. Doesn't think, ever. He didn't mean it."

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself," Remus said savagely, taking his hands away from his face.

James sighed and adjusted Harry. "He's just so--"

"Worried, I know," Remus said. "So everyone tells me."

"Don't tell me you suspect him too," James started, but Lily cut him off.

"We all know Sirius never thinks about anything. But you didn't see him before you got here, Remus. He was worried sick. He'd convinced himself that you'd been attacked and were dead."

Remus took a shuddering breath. Still he was crying. He wished one of them would slap him back to reality. Fuck them for being so understanding. "I don't know what to do. I walked all night and I talked to Peter and I don't know what to do. I don't know what the right thing to do is or if I could even do it. I know you have to choose your Secret Keeper soon, but I can't. I can't. Not if Sirius is going to be like this. I'm a werewolf, don't you understand? One night of the month I'm not trustworthy. I'm not in control. I can't--"

"Stop it," Lily said. She was suddenly clutching his hand, pulling him around and pushing his face into her neck. He tensed into it, trying desperately to regain control, as she said, "It doesn't matter that you're a werewolf."

"It does," Remus said. "Sirius--"

"Isn't thinking straight," Lily snapped.

"Peter said it to me too," Remus said. "He said it to me last night. He asked me if I wasn't worried about how that would affect it. I didn't know what to think then, but I see now that it wouldn't work."

He managed to calm down and pulled away from Lily. James was frowning at him. "Remus, I don't think it matters. It's not like you can tell them anything when you're a werewolf. It's an added protection, in fact. No one will be able to get near you."

Remus shook his head. "I'm not in control, James. I can't do it. I'm sorry. Choose Peter."

"Peter?" James repeated.

"It should be him," Remus said. He wiped his nose on his sleeve. "He's not the best wizard, he's not the strongest, but he deserves it."

James and Lily were staring at one another over the table. Harry tugged at a lock of James's unruly hair until his father looked down at him, and Remus ached. He loved them all so much. He reached out to touch Harry's hair and the baby twisted, smiled, and said, "Nuncle Moony!" before grasping Remus's finger and sticking it in his mouth.

From behind the shut door, something shattered, and they heard Peter yell. A second later the door flew open and Sirius stormed in, his hand bleeding. He looked wildly at the table, at Remus, and opened his mouth to speak.

"What did you just throw?" Lily demanded.

Peter entered, holding the remains of a vase and several dripping roses. "God, Sirius, you could have taken my head off. It's not my fault you're such a--"

"Don't," Remus said. He was infinitely weary. "Just don't." He stood up and took the broken glass from Peter, throwing it methodically into the rubbish bin and vanishing it. Lily took the roses and put them in a milk bottle full of water.

"Remus--" Sirius started, but Remus shook his head and said, "Don't," again. He took Sirius's bleeding hand and whispered healing words over it, watching the pale skin re-grow, stretching across blue veins.

"Can we just have a minute?" he said to the room at large, and James, carrying Harry, led the other two out of the room. Sirius raised his eyes from his hand and gave Remus a doleful look.

"I didn't--"

"Mean it, I know, I know, Padfoot," Remus finished. "You never do."

Sirius closed his mouth and looked at Remus with an inscrutable, despairing look. "But I didn't mean it. And I'm so sorry."

"There are some things," Remus said quietly, "that you can't take back." He'd only said that to Sirius one other time--after Sirius had betrayed him to Snape--and Sirius looked scared.

"But Remus--"

"I know you're sorry," Remus said. "You're always sorry." He sat down on the floor and Sirius followed, clutching at his hand. "And I know that, and it's all right. We're all at our breaking points."

Sirius whispered, "We are."

Remus put one of his hands on Sirius's leg. He wanted to ask Sirius if he'd meant it, if he really suspected Remus, but he was terrified of the answer. He could ask him later. He could ask him after the war was over. Right now he needed someone to cling to and someone to cling to him and he couldn't risk losing Sirius even if it meant lying to them both. Instead he tried to explain, so he wouldn't have to ask. "When I said that werewolves have no reason to join the Ministry, I was right. I have no love for the Ministry myself. But we're not fighting for or against the Ministry. We're not even fighting for or against Dumbledore, or Voldemort." Sirius looked up as if he wanted to say something and Remus rushed on, "I'm not, at any rate. I'm fighting for the people I love, and I'm fighting because I do love them, and that's how I can keep doing these things, can keep secrets from you and can see people die and do hopeless tasks, because I know that there is such a thing as love." He paused; he wasn't expressing himself well. "I love you so much, Sirius. I love all of you so much, James and Peter and Lily and Harry, but you most of all. And Voldemort stands for the... the forces of darkness, I suppose you could say, even though it sounds so simplistic. He stands for things which deny that a love like this exists. And that's what I'm fighting against, and why I'm fighting: because I know it does exist. And because it deserves to continue existing, because it's the most powerful force I know of." Remus stopped. He was babbling and Sirius was staring at him in something like wonderment.

"Moony," Sirius said. He put a hand over Remus's mouth. "Oh, Moony."

Remus took Sirius's hand and twisted it so that the fingertips were resting on his lips; then he kissed each one gently. When he looked up again, there were tears in Sirius's eyes.

No one talked about the fight. Peter said he had a meeting with Dumbledore and went to it; Sirius fell asleep with his head in Remus's lap on James and Lily's couch and Remus fell asleep shortly afterwards, half-sitting and half-slumped over a pillow. Neither woke up until late that night, when James shook Sirius's shoulder gently and told him that he had to go on patrol. James and Sirius left, together, and Lily and Remus sat in the kitchen drinking tea silently and watching Harry sleep in his bassinet. Remus didn't want to go back to the flat. He didn't want to leave Lily and Harry unprotected. He waited until James and Sirius returned, just before dawn, and still he didn't want to leave, but the clock over the mantle kept ticking and he knew that he had a lot of work he needed to do.

It was October 29^th, but it was so bitterly cold that Remus's hands went numb as he and Sirius walked together back to their flat. They were both too tired to Apparate without fear of splinching themselves. Sirius was silent, subdued, but when they were alone on a path through the park he suddenly pulled Remus into a fierce hug and kissed him. A second later they broke apart and strayed consciously to the edge of the path; two men should never have touched like that in public and they had to keep their secret. Back in the flat Sirius fell asleep in the shower and Remus went in to wake him up; then Sirius fell asleep curled in a blanket on the couch while Remus worked on translating the newest Death Eater correspondence until no amount of tea could keep his eyes open.

He woke up on the morning of October 30^th, slumped over the table again. There was a note from Sirius beside his hand, a blanket around his shoulders, and three expensive chocolates on a plate beside the note. The note said, "I hope you slept well. Urgent business. Don't know when I'll be back. I love you. Pads." Remus folded it and put it inside Bleak House. All of his books were thick with little notes from Sirius saved up over the past six years. He liked to be rereading an old favorite and come across Sirius's handwriting; he liked to feel that Sirius had infiltrated every corner of his life, even his imagination. Remus made some tea and then Peter Flooed in and they talked for a while about aimless, meaningless things. Remus told Peter that he'd decided not to be Secret Keeper and Peter nodded and said he knew, James had told him.

"It's going to be Sirius, I think," Peter said. "I told them it should be Sirius."

Remus sighed and put his head in his hands. "How long will he have to..."

"No one knows," Peter said. He looked miserable. "We won't see James and Lily for a long time, though."

"Or Harry," Remus said.

"Or Harry," Peter agreed.

Peter left soon after that. He had more business for the Order, he said.

Remus did not see any of them until Halloween night. The night before, he had worked for twelve hours straight, hunched over three separate letters, all in the same hand and all written in the space of the last week. The thing about them was that the writing looked familiar, and Remus wound up tearing out all of his old school things and digging through his Ancient Runes notes, trying to see if someone else had written on them whose handwriting looked similar. Lily and Sirius had both been in that class with him; James and Peter had opted for Muggle Studies instead. Remus found a silly note that Lily had scrawled into the corner of his notes for January 29^th, 1977, but it didn't match the handwriting and it was absurd to think of her as the spy anyway. Eventually he decided that it was something in the way that the curves and lines were drawn that made it look familiar; he could tell from the way the ink blotted how the author had laid them down, and he knew that somewhere, he had seen someone write like that...

He reached for Bleak House to see if the handwriting matched Sirius's, but couldn't force himself to open the note inside. He went to bed with the book in his hand and stared out the skylight at the sickle moon until he drifted asleep, fully clothed and freezing.

A hand on his face woke him. The sun was already setting and he sat up, annoyed that he'd slept through the entire day. Sirius was sitting on the floor beside the mattress, one hand sliding up Remus's cheek to tangle in his hair.

"Good evening," Sirius whispered. "Sleeping with your books again, Moony? Better than sleeping with me?"

Remus realized that he was still clutching the book and dropped it like it was a poisonous snake. "How have you been?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level. He knew not to ask where. "I was worried."

A shadow passed over Sirius's face and he drew Remus down and kissed him deeply. "I had a lot of things to do," he breathed into Remus's mouth. "I can't stay long, but I missed you."

Remus drew back slightly and slid off the mattress to sit beside Sirius. "Did you... are you... the Secret Keeper now?"

Sirius swallowed and nodded. "We had to do it quickly, or we would have told you. Dumbledore was... he told us that we didn't have any time to waste."

"Of course," Remus whispered. "And we don't know how long they'll be in hiding."

"No," Sirius said. "No, we don't. But they left London. They're safe." The way he said it, he didn't sound convinced. He pulled on Remus's shoulder until Remus crawled forward and settled himself between Sirius's legs, his head leaning back on his warm shoulder.

"Give them my love, will you?" Remus asked.

Sirius's voice wavered. "Sure. I will." Then he buried his face in Remus's hair and ran his tongue from the curve of his earlobe all the way down to his collarbone.

"Thank you," Remus gasped, one hand grasping at Sirius's thigh. Sirius was as mercurial as the autumn sky. "Thank you, thank you."

After they were done, but before Remus's breathing had even slowed, Sirius was standing and tugging his pants back on with one hand, supporting himself against the wall. Remus sat up on the mattress and rubbed his collarbone; Sirius had bitten him there hard enough to puncture the skin and Remus felt marked, possessed. Some part of him liked it. Teeth were better than a tattoo parlor's needles to a man who was half-canine.

"Where are you...?" he began, watching Sirius, who seemed to be having a hard time tying the lace on his boots.

"Got to go back," Sirius said. "I'm so sorry, Moony." He straightened up and looked directly into Remus's eyes. Remus wished he were a Legilimens so he could read the truth there. He was suddenly furious that Sirius was leaving now.

"Why? Why can't you just stay the night here?" Remus demanded.

Sirius shook his head and looked away, out the window. Rain trickled down the panes, relentless, like someone was squirting a garden hose onto them.

"Just stay until I have to go on patrol," Remus said. "That's only six hours. We can just sleep here, together."

Sirius shook his head again, and Remus hated himself for begging, for getting emotional, but he said it anyway: "How can you leave right after... after... we make love? How can I even call it that if you just walk out the door right after--"

"Moony," Sirius said. "Moony, please," and suddenly he was the one begging. He knelt down beside the mattress and put his forehead on Remus's knee. It burned hot against Remus's naked skin. "I'm sorry," Sirius said again, his voice muffled. "I have to do what I have to do."

Remus ran his hands over and through Sirius's hair and curled his fingers behind his ears, petting him. He didn't mean to be gentle, but he couldn't help himself. "Then go. Do what you have to do," he whispered, and a second later Sirius stood, kissed his lips chastely like a goodbye, and disappeared out the door. Remus heard the front door of the flat slam shut a minute later.

He turned to the wall and put his fist through the plaster, then went to the shower and stood under the hot water until his knuckles stopped bleeding.

When the single phoenix feather appeared over the kitchen table, two hours later, Remus was standing in front of the stove drinking tea from a chipped cup. He stared at the feather--it seemed frozen in mid-air, suspended on updrafts--and then dropped the cup and Apparated before either it or the feather hit the ground.

Dumbledore stood outside the Order headquarters with the most serious expression on his face Remus had ever seen. He looked up when Remus appeared and held out his hand before Remus had opened his mouth.

"Do you know where Sirius Black is?" he asked.

Remus shook his head. "He left our--the flat--" Remus checked his watch, "two hours ago."

Dumbledore's face darkened and Remus continued, "The feather--the warning--what--"

"Voldemort has lost his powers," Dumbledore said simply.

Remus stared at him; turned away and stared at the rubbish bin in the adjacent alley; turned back and swallowed. He couldn't seem to feel anything. "Why am I the only one here? Where's the rest of the Order?"

Dumbledore's shut his eyes for a moment and then reopened them. "Lily and James are dead, Remus."

Still Remus couldn't feel anything, except maybe vertigo, which didn't make sense because he wasn't high above the ground, but he couldn't seem to stand up. He felt behind him for the wall of the building and sank down it. "What happened?" he asked.

Dumbledore crouched before him. "I am not sure, just yet. Voldemort came for... them. They died to defend Harry. Voldemort--"

"What about Harry?" Remus whispered. His trouser leg was in a puddle and the freezing water was soaking through. "Oh God, is Harry...?"

"Harry is fine," Dumbledore said. "I took him to Lily's sister and her husband."

"He should go to Sirius," Remus said. "Sirius is his godfather. Is that why you were asking me where he is?"

Something flickered in Dumbledore's eyes. He paused before he spoke, and then he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "When Lily died, she gave him the protection of the blood in her veins. Harry has to stay with her blood relations."

"Oh," Remus said stupidly. "Oh, I see." He didn't see. If Lily and James were dead, that must have meant that Voldemort had found them, despite the Fidelius Charm. How could that be? His mind seemed to be lumbering towards something, but he couldn't quite grasp it...

"Sirius was the Potters' Secret Keeper, wasn't he?" Dumbledore asked.

Remus jerked his head up and stared wildly at Dumbledore. "He was the..."

"The spy," Dumbledore said, very quietly. "Yes, that's what it seems like."

Remus would never deny, so he had to give in to impulse. He stood up. "Have you told Peter yet?" he asked.

Dumbledore stood as well and shook his head.

"I'm going," Remus said, and before Dumbledore could say anything, put out an arm to stop him or even just offer words of comfort, he had taken off at a dead run across the square in front of headquarters. He couldn't trust himself to Apparate, not when he was shaking like this, not when he thought he might be sick in the bushes at any second. Sirius was the spy. Sirius, who had been--who he'd--they'd made love not three hours ago--Sirius, whom he loved--

He sprinted all the way to the pub that Peter lived over and tramped up the stairs, pounding on the door. He heard a lot of rustling and yelled, "Peter, it's Remus, Peter, open the bloody door!"

Peter appeared at the keyhole. He was white and trembling. "Remus--" he gasped, but Remus cut him off.

"James and Lily are dead," he yelled. "Sirius was the spy." He stood in the doorway, doubled over with his hands on his knees. He couldn't seem to catch his breath. "Sirius was the fucking spy."

"Come in," Peter said, opening the door. His voice was higher than normal. "Don't stand in the hallway." Peter's hands were clammy when they took Remus's and pulled him inside the flat. "I know," Peter said. "I know. I got--I found out."

Remus did not ask how. He leaned on Peter and tried to breathe. He tried not to think. "Harry's with his aunt and uncle," he said. "He's--he's safe. For now, I think."

Peter nodded, held onto Remus. "We can't stay here," he said. "What if Sirius comes for us?"

Sirius, Remus thought. Oh God, Sirius. He put his hand on Peter's shoulder and pushed himself upright. "Would he come for us?"

"We're the ones who know he's guilty," Peter said.

"Dumbledore, too," Remus said.

Peter stared at Remus with wide eyes. "But if... if... He's been defeated, then won't the Death Eaters come looking for Sirius? Won't they blame him for... for killing...?"

Remus stared back at Peter. He didn't seem to have a heart anymore, just logic. It was cold and hard and he clung to it like one drowning man clings to another. "We're going to find Sirius," he said. The words surprised him, even as they came out of his mouth. "We're going to find him and turn him in... they'll take him to Azkaban--"

"No," Peter gasped. "What if there's a trial and... Azkaban--what if he escapes? What if he has Dark powers that we don't know about?"

Remus frowned. "What do you suggest?" he asked.

Peter reeled back, sank onto a chair. He put his head in his hands and did not speak for several seconds. Then he said, "We'll find him. We'll confront him. If we both search--if we go separate ways, use tracking spells--it'll work best for us, better than for Aurors, because we know him so well--"

"And what happens when we find him, if we're not going to turn him in?" Remus asked. His mouth was dry. "What then?"

"I don't know," Peter said, desperately. "But we can't stay here, Remus, we've got to do something." He stood up and took his cloak from where it hung on the wall. He checked that his wand was in his pocket and then rolled it between his hands.

"We've got to do something," Remus repeated. So long as I'm moving, I don't have to think. "Good. Right. Tracking spells." He moved abruptly to the door, then turned back to Peter and held out his hand. "Until we meet again," he said. He wasn't ready to say goodbye.

Peter took his hand and shook it once. "Remus," he said, "you're a good man."

Dumbledore found Remus again, the next morning, and took him to the Ministry of Magic. He didn't seem to know what to say, which infuriated Remus deeply. Remus had spent the entire night wandering London, watching as the sun rose in a brilliantly clear, blue sky, sometimes casting tracking spells but mostly stopping to sniff the air, but he hadn't found Sirius first.

Peter, the Aurors explained, was dead. All they'd found was a bloody robe and a finger. He'd be awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, of course. His actions had been that of a hero. He was a brave man, he'd died so nobly. Remus stood in front of the Aurors and listened to them talk and thought, Yes, Peter had been a hero, and I wish I could have been one but I could barely bring myself to cast an effective tracking spell for fear I wouldn't be able to kill Sirius when I found him.

Sirius had been taken to Azkaban, and there would be no trial. The Ministry had the power to do that; had taken a page from the Muggle government's leaf in dealing with the IRA and had given itself power to intern prisoners without any process of justice. Remus was glad. He didn't want to have to testify against Sirius. He read the testimony of the Muggles who saw what had happened and listened to a Junior Minister relate to Dumbledore in a horrified voice that they'd found Sirius standing in the middle of the ruined street, amidst all that carnage, over a crack in the earth a foot wide.

"He was laughing," the little man said. "They didn't even have to fight him; he just came with the Aurors, laughing hysterically." And he shuddered.

Remus wrote a eulogy for each of them, and delivered the eulogies at all three funerals. He took all of Sirius's things and threw them into boxes and left them in the cottage he grew up in, and then he left the country.

He didn't return for twelve years, until he opened a local wizarding newspaper in a dusty cantina in northern Mexico and saw Sirius's face like a death mask glaring back at him and he thought, Oh God, he's coming for Harry.