Brighter When Broken

Remus watched idly as the wind played with the hem of his coat. As they walked, he tried not to think about how close he and Sirius were to Todd's tube stop and the likelihood that they'd pass each other on the street, especially given Todd's penchant for horrendous timing.

Beside him, Sirius was recounting an incident from the pub involving a drink with a name that was no doubt hilarious, provided one was drunk enough, and a young wizard who had apparently imbibed enough of the beverage to find the name highly suggestive. He'd hit on everything in sight, including Sirius.

"It's amazing, really, the number of people we get who turn into poufs after just a couple of drinks. They can get quite friendly, which is rather funny in a non-pouf bar, wouldn't you say?"

Remus bit his tongue and kept walking, hoping that he was laughing in the right places.

"Remus?"

His head snapped up at the sound of his name coming from behind him. Oh no. Not now.

He turned. "Todd," he said, a genuine smile forcing its way to his face, despite Sirius.

Todd's smile was warm as they hugged, the embrace lasting slightly longer than was probably absolutely necessary. As they separated, Todd's smile turned apologetic.

"God, I wish I could stay and chat, get a coffee or something, but I promised Mum I'd ring her tonight because she yelled at me through my sister for not keeping in better touch. Why she couldn't ring me herself I can't imagine," he took a breath, "and this must sound incredibly lame and like I'm blowing you off."

An outright grin had spread over Remus's face as Todd rambled on. "Not at all. My mother's a bit overprotective, too."

"I thought you'd understand. We're still on for Friday, right?"

He nodded. "Looking forward to it."

"Good. See you then, then."

Todd looked around furtively at the passing Londoners, all too intent on getting wherever they were going to focus on the strange trio standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Deciding it was safe, Todd closed the distance in a kiss which, while brief, made Remus blush.

Todd waved and continued toward home, leaving Remus with a slightly stupid grin on his face. Though, as he walked away, Todd took with him the pleasant Todd-bubble that made Remus forget that there was anyone else in the world.

A knot began to form in Remus's stomach as he realized that Sirius was staring at him, his face unreadable. Remus's mouth fell open, but a complete lack of words made him close it after a moment or two. His head bowed, his eyes dropped, and he rubbed his brow, hoping that Sirius would not elect to comment on the sight of his flatmate kissing another man.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Remus continued walking toward their flat, desperately working out his end of the inevitable conversation that he still wasn't ready for.

It took Sirius a moment to convince himself that he wasn't dreaming. His brain, generally fast on the uptake, had stopping working entirely.

Remus . . .strange man . . . kissing . . . dear god, was that tongue?!

Maybe the other man was just some insane Londoner who went around kissing other people on the street for the hell of it. But one glance in Remus's direction told him otherwise. Sirius's flatmate -- his straight, uninvolved friend of nearly ten years -- was glowing. Sirius had seen that glow on the faces of countless enamored girls caught in his embrace. He watched as the two departed and watched as the wave of happiness suddenly washed from Remus's features. Remus began walking again and two steps behind him, Sirius followed. As they neared their flat, his brain finally kicked, and utter shock gave way to fury.

He stayed behind Remus as his flatmate struggled with the locked door to their place, seething yet completely silent. Remus finally made his way inside and began hanging up his coat, careful not to look back. Sirius followed, simmering with anger, relishing in the precious seconds of stillness before the battle. He slammed the door behind him. It echoed like a gunshot, and locked itself with an annoyed wave from Sirius's hand. He leaned against the back of the door deliberately, blocking Remus's only exit.

"Who . . . the hell . . . was that?"

Remus's hands were still shaking as he hung up his coat, the knot in his stomach rapidly becoming more of an intestinal tangle. The sound of the door slamming made him jump, and he set his shoulders. Not even Severus had ever gotten Sirius as angry as he sounded now.

The frantic search for the right words hadn't gotten very far. Wearily opting for blunt truth, Remus sighed and turned, looking his flatmate squarely in the eye.

"That was my boyfriend . . . I'm gay," he said quietly, refusing to drop his gaze.

"You're . . . you're what?"

"Gay, Sirius," he replied, not dropping his eyes, "a pouf, a queer, a homo. . . whatever name you want."

Sirius blinked at him. "But . . . but you like girls. In Hogwarts you always -"

"No, I didn't. It was never . . . right with any of the girls in school. None of those relationships ever lasted more than a month, and none felt . . . right. I only worked out why at the end of seventh year." He shrugged. "I like men."

Sirius's voice was flat and disbelieving. "You like men. That's it. Simple as that."

An eyebrow quirked upwards warily. "Well, it wasn't quite that simple a realization to come to, but . . ." he spread his hands, palms up, not knowing how to explain.

"But you came to it." Sirius took two steps to the right, beginning to circle him. "You figured all of this out two years ago and you didn't tell me. You never said a word." His voice had sunk into little more than an accusatory whisper.

Remus held his ground, body tensing. The tone of Sirius's voice had raised the hair on the back of his neck, but he was determined not the show it. "And I'm sorry about that - but I didn't know how to. The whole thing was a very frightening prospect, and I wasn't ready for it to be out in the open, and mostly, I'm still not."

"You don't share a flat with someone for two years and fail to tell them something like that!" His hands had clenched into fists.

"I didn't know how you'd react," Remus replied evenly, his tone still quiet, "You bring home these stories about 'poufs in the pub' and you blame me for not knowing how to tell you that I'm one of them even without a drink in me?"

There was half an instant where Sirius was simply shocked that Remus had argued back at him instead of backing down. This was quickly followed by the realization that he had no idea how to respond. It wasn't as if he hated the ruddy poufs at the pub. Hell, they were good customers. They usually spent plenty before they worked up the nerve to hit on Sirius for the rest of the evening. He could deal with the drunken gay wizards at the pub just as easily as the drunken straight ones. But this . . . this was entirely different.

His flatmate was waiting for a reply. Heat and fury prickled along Sirius' skin, mixed with a tinge of desperation. He picked up the nearest thing he could find, an old sneakoscope, and not knowing what else to do hurled it directly at Remus's head.

Remus ducked and the sneakoscope narrowly missed his head, crashing instead into the coat rack. It broke into two pieces, which rolled away in opposite directions. He straightened up, still staring at the ruined instrument.

He met Sirius's eyes again, rare anger suddenly sparking in his own. "You can handle the fact that your flatmate craves blood every twenty-eight days, but not that he happens to fall in love with people of his own gender?" Remus's quiet tone now had a steel edge.

"Well, maybe I could handle it better if my flatmate had taken five minutes to fill me in! Remus, do you have any idea what's happening to the poufs out there? They're getting sick, they're dying. . . the Muggles don't know what it is and neither do we . . . how do you know that this what's-his-face isn't . . . isn't . . ." He broke eye contact unconsciously, putting his hands over his face in sheer frustration. When he looked up again, Remus was still there.

Remus sighed and looked at his feet. "I guess I don't," he answered, anger draining away, "but we've been together for four months and neither of us are sick. Neither of us know anyone who's sick . . ." he trailed off, raising his eyes again.

"Were there others before him?" Sirius snapped. "Seeing as you were able to sneak around fucking a man for four months without my knowing, it would hardly be surprising - "

"Excuse me?" The anger returned, barely contained in Remus's voice. "You are hardly one to imply that I'm some kind of whore! You bring home a different woman - and I use the term loosely - every week and I don't say a word! And no, there were not others before him."

"At least I'm bloody honest about the people I'm involved with!" Sirius took a step closer and a framed photo beside him started shaking dangerously. "In case you've forgotten by hiding in those damn books of yours, there are Order members -- hell, even innocent wizards and Muggles -- being slaughtered daily out there. Everyone's under suspicion, Remus. You were one of the few people I thought I could still trust!"

"You're implying that I'm some kind of spy because I was afraid to tell you that I'm gay." Remus's voice had gone dangerously quiet. "If that's what you think of me after ten years of being my best friend, I'm not sure . . ." He broke off, pushed Sirius aside, and left, slamming the door behind him.

Sirius screamed wordlessly at the back of the door and the shaking photo frame shattered. Bits of glass scattered along the coffee table and rug, gleaming more brightly in pieces than they had as a whole. "He's going to come back . . . any second now, he's going to come back through that door." But Remus Lupin didn't come.

Remus ran down the stairs and out the door, not stopping until he was a few blocks away. The brisk air gradually froze the anger out, leaving cold guilt in the pit of his stomach. Sirius's words echoed in his mind, driving home the truth that Remus hadn't seen -- he'd put the Muggle Todd in danger simply through association. The guilt gnawed farther as he thought of Sirius.

What have I done?

Making amends seemed futile, but the cold was beginning to seep into his bones and it seemed unfair to involve Lily and James by asking refuge for the night. By the time he reached their building's front steps, he had gone numb.

Remus found the door to the flat locked again. He glanced over both shoulders, and unlocked it with a wave of his hand. He scanned the inside -- Sirius was sitting on the couch, his back to Remus -- and it appeared that havoc had been wreaked upon several small breakable things around the living room. Turning, he locked the door by hand and took a deep breath, back still to the room.

"Look," he began slowly, choosing his words carefully, "I know how much danger the Order is in and how dangerous it is the trust anyone," he paused, "and I know I should have told you sooner. But please understand my position here -- I'm not ready to open myself up for double ostracism as both a werewolf and a gay man, and I'm not -- I wasn't -- ready to risk losing friends over this. I have few enough already." His voice was barely above a whisper.

He turned to face the room. Sirius hadn't moved, and Remus sighed. "Not that you really wanted to hear it. If you want me to move out, I understand," he said, crossing to his bedroom. He shut the door quietly behind him, fighting back tears.

Sirius kept his eyes forward until Remus left the room. The picture frame was still in pieces. Usually the photo showed the two of them, grinning broadly, posing on a corner in Bristol. Presently, however, the tiny image of Remus was doing its best to hide under a remnant of the frame, while Sirius's image paced the photo menacingly, scowling.

Finally, he forced his gaze elsewhere -- to the broken bits of things scattering the room and the half-emptied bottle of wine keeping him company. Neither of his ingenious solutions for coping with this had really helped any. He had a mess to clean up and walking would probably take a little more focus than usual, but Remus's confession was as clear and as terrifying as it had been an hour before.

He set his glass down on the table, sighing aloud. Sirius had never really thought of himself as a prejudiced person before. Hell, if something was taboo that was usually all the reason he needed to support it. Sirius's anger slowly began to recede as he tried to work out exactly what this revelation meant, and what to do about it.

Why the hell didn't he say anything to me?

Because he probably anticipated that you'd react the way you did.

Sirius winced as guilt began to take hold of him. Remus was being disturbingly quiet in his room, and Sirius had to fight the sudden, overwhelming urge to go check on him. He couldn't do that, not yet. A part of him was now terrified that his actions might be somehow misinterpreted. What if I go to put my hand on his shoulder and he thinks I'm making advances on him? What if he tries to make an advance back?

What if I like it?

Sirius swallowed the tremendous lump in his throat. No, he was definitely not willing to deal with any more of this at the moment. Standing carefully, he wondered if he was sober enough to drive the motorbike. Had he been any tipsier, he wouldn't have cared -- but the wine hadn't quite done its job, and his judgment remained painfully sound. He took his gloves and old school scarf from the hook by the door and left as quietly as he was able. If he couldn't smash or drink his thoughts away, maybe he could walk until he'd left his conscience behind.

Remus's tears didn't last long, but they nevertheless left him exhausted and numb as he sat and waited for Sirius to throw him out. His waiting was ultimately in vain, and apprehension was gradually overshadowed by gnawing guilt.

He stared at the wall blankly, considering his only option regarding Todd. He was no longer looking forward to Friday, was in fact already grieving for the now-doomed relationship, but he knew that his conscience would not allow him to keep Todd in the danger he was already in.

His mind began to race, railing against the injustice of it all, considering the mess he'd made of it thus far, and generally creating a chaos of self-pity until another, older part of his mind silenced the eternal "why me?" that usually only surfaced an hour or so before moonrise.

His head hung as he attempted to slow down his thoughts, concentrating on finding a way to let Todd down gently. Everything he came up with sounded flat and dishonest, and he sighed -- for all his ability to keep secrets, he could be a terrible liar.

So that's two people I will have hurt this week.

He shied away from thinking any more about Sirius. Thoughts about his flatmate seemed to always lead down dangerous roads these days.

The sound of the door to the flat closing made Remus move to poke his head out his bedroom door. Sirius appeared to be re-entering the place -- Remus hadn't even heard him leave.

Their eyes met briefly and something in Sirius's made Remus lower his own and quietly shut himself back in his bedroom. It wasn't the anger of earlier, but Remus could tell that Sirius still wasn't keen on speaking to him.

Sirius sighed with annoyance and hung his coat. Fine, let him stay in there all week if he wants to. See if I care. He went to the refrigerator to look for something to distract himself with, but instead caught himself staring inside blankly. His conscience wasn't going to let him enjoy another drink, under any circumstances. And besides, he wasn't really thirsty.

The narrow hallway looked unnaturally dark with Remus's door closed over. Sirius paused with his knuckles a half-inch from knocking and listened. No sound emitted from his flatmate's room, but it had been fairly obvious that Remus was crying earlier. Shoving back pangs of guilt, Sirius pressed his ear against the door, "Moony?"

Silence.

"I went to James' place to gripe at him, an' Lily overheard and looked about ready to decapitate me. Should have guessed you would tell her, and I guess James found out too. Would have been nice if one of them had filled me in, but . . . well, I know now, I guess." He cleared his throat awkwardly. Normally, Sirius was dependant on being able to read a person's body language when he was speaking with them -- to gauge what to say or how to act -- but closed doors didn't give much away. He picked at a loose thread on his shirt, buying a few extra seconds' time to think, "Anyway, you know Lily. She yelled at me for at least half an hour, about how you'd wanted to tell me for a long time and didn't know how because you figured I'd freak out and how I was a horrible friend for going ballistic like I did . . . James wouldn't even defend me. He would barely even look at me. It was like the willow incident all over again." Sirius grimaced and kicked himself for accidentally bringing that up -- but truthfully, the last time he'd felt like such a git was when that whole fiasco had gone down.

He felt instinctively that he should say more, but the words wouldn't come. His conscience, which had somehow taken on Lily's voice, was nagging him to apologize. Sirius silenced his inner monologue firmly. He was not willing to apologize, not yet. Remus had still been lying, after all. As far as Sirius was concerned, his reaction had been at least partially justified.

Hadn't it?

Yes, yes, of course it had. Sirius pressed himself to the door again. "Are you listening, Moony?" His brow furrowed, his right hand unconsciously resting on the door knob. "Are you all right?"

Remus quietly stripped to the boxers and t-shirt that served as pajamas. Not that he'd sleep much that night, but he could at least be comfortable while he stared at the ceiling.

"Moony?"

He froze at the sound of Sirius's voice, turned to look at the door, incredulous. A half-smile, colored now and again with bitterness, crept to his face as Sirius talked about Lily's tirade. He could hear her voice very clearly and was, not for the first time, grateful that he'd never been on the receiving end of her formidable wrath. The mix of emotions on his face faded to a wince as soon as Sirius brought up the time when Remus had almost . . .

"Are you all right?"

In answer, Remus unfroze and opened the door, meeting Sirius's eyes briefly, then sat on the edge of the bed, drawing his knees self-consciously in towards his chest.

"Yeah, I told Lily. I was at a point where I had to tell someone and she . . . well," he shrugged, "sanest one of our lot." He paused. "James . . . well, Lily and I were having lunch and he walked by and assumed the worst. Telling him was the only way I could make him believe that Lily and I weren't," he gestured vaguely, "you know."

"Are you . . ." absolutely repulsed by me? He swallowed, tried again, "Does this. . ." change our friendship irreparably? He sighed, frustrated at not being able to get the words out. "Padfoot. . . Sirius, I can't apologize for what I am, nor can I make you accept it. I just hope I haven't destroyed our friendship because of it." His eyes moved back down to regard his toes, afraid to know what they'd read in Sirius's face.

For a moment, Sirius had to restrain the instinct to wave his wand and murmer Reparo. He was in the habit of doing so when he made mistakes -- when a bottle spilled or a glass fell, or a pub chair broke. But Marauders were not made of glass. They would not shatter so easily, and in exchange, their relations could not be so simply fixed. Sirius's wand hand had to do something and he occupied it with an itch on his neck that didn't really exist.

The seconds ticked on, the silence between them growing deafening as Remus patiently awaited a reply. He looked like a man on trial, relishing each passing second which delayed the news of his fate. Sirius finally settled for sitting a comfortable distance from his friend, which, given the current situation, was a solid twelve inches away. He cleared his throat, wishing suddenly that there were more layers of clothing between them. "It's all right. . . I guess. I mean, as long as you aren't secretly madly in love with me or anything like that." He grinned and punched Remus's arm playfully, but wound up hitting him a little harder than he'd meant to.

Remus tried to suppress the sigh of relief that welled up within him, and grinned at Sirius's playful punch, at least until the second half of what Sirius had said sunk in. That punch had been just a little too hard: it belied Sirius's flippant tone.

Suddenly, Remus wished that there were a few more layers of clothing between himself and Sirius. He couldn't deny his slight infatuation with Sirius which persisted despite Todd, nor could he just tell Sirius about it: the punch told him how bad of an idea that would be.

"Right Sirius, I'm madly in love with you," he managed, infusing all the flat sarcasm he could muster into his tone. He turned to Sirius then, quirking what he hoped was a good-humored eyebrow upwards. "Hate to burst your bubble, but not everyone you meet finds you irresistibly shaggable."

And he doesn't have to know that I fall into the category that thinks him quite shaggable indeed. He turned forward before his look could become coy and betray him.

"Hmh . . . if I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous of my boyish good looks and charm. I'll have you know that the girls at the pub consider me to be the epitome of shaggability."

"Is that before or after they've had a few drinks?" Remus replied, rolling his eyes.

"Er . . ."

"Thought so."

Sirius snorted good-naturedly and glanced around for the nearest pillow to bean his flatmate with. There was only one within easy reach, but as he began to lean towards it, something made him stop. One pillow thrown could easily lead to two or three, which could easily lead to actual physical contact, the implications of which were now far more complicated than they had been yesterday. He stopped himself midway, leaning back on the bed awkwardly.

Remus, now grinning, glanced over at Sirius. His smile faded as he tried not to stare at the picture of a half-reclined Sirius on his bed.

"Erm, Sirius?" He tried desperately to keep his tone light. "What on earth are you doing?" 'Cause it looks like . . . couldn't be. Straight friend! Straight!

Sirius practically leapt back into the sitting position. "Nothing! I was just . . . nothing." He swallowed and quickly pushed himself from the bed, feet landing on the floor with a soft thump. "Listen, I guess I'll go, y'know, and let you get some sleep. I know you have work in the morning."

Remus blinked at him. "Tomorrow's my day off, remember?"

"Oh. Well . . . just the same." Sirius backed up until his hand had found the doorknob. A slight frown ghosted over Remus's face as he watched Sirius edge away. "Okay," he said slowly, "good night then, I guess." What happened? What did I do?

At least he's not throwing things any more.

"G'night." Sirius forced a bright grin to his face and made a hasty retreat, shutting the door more loudly than he'd intended.

Remus blinked at the door, confused and a little worried. Eventually, he shrugged and lay down, staring at the ceiling as he watched his world break a little more.