Victory March

Love is not a victory march;

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah.

-Jeff Buckley

Remus touches the tip of his wand to a corner of the parchment, held lightly between his thumb and forefinger, and whispers, "Incendio." He barely sees his carefully penned words disintegrate into ash and smoke. He knows by now exactly how burning parchment looks, curling and blackening from that corner outward.

Remus imagines that he could make his body do the same thing - bleed death from its deepest corner out. He used to toy often with the idea. He has envisioned it too many times to count: a wand turned inward toward its master, a simple Avada Kedavra.

The incantation would caress his lips as he practiced it over and over for the grand performance. He has tried screaming it, whispering or weeping it, but the words sounded hollow coming from him. Eventually he stopped pronouncing them at all, and in his imagination their essence bursts instead from his weary brain and out through his limbs, pulsing out of his skin to the poised wand.

Now he wonders if he would even need the wand and imagines that he could force death into his body through sheer force of will.

He is also well-practiced in the art of the suicide note, or at least in the beginning of one. The letters are invariably abandoned after the first few lines, if Remus even manages to continue past the salutation. He always ends up feeling incredibly foolish and smirking at the parchment, and reaches for his wand.

He knows he'll never kill himself, not when he knows how much a man can take without breaking. He likes to think that Sirius would quite agree.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Lupin, Remus!"

He nearly chokes on his stomach when it jumps into his throat, but his legs move automatically to carry him to the stool. He lifts the hat with his childish, shaking hands, slides onto the stool, fixes his eyes firmly on the cracked stone floor, and pulls the hat over his tidy hair.

In the darkness and silence, he feels almost as though he's left the hall and is suspended in some void, far away from the staring teachers and whispering students. The disembodied, gravelly voice that speaks directly into his ear only increases the feeling of isolation and detachment.

The voice chortles about a fine mind, determination, and something about "remarkable strength." Remus barely hears over the ever louder roaring in his ears, combined with the noises of his own swallowing and sniffling.

"Stop fidgeting, boy, and listen up because I'm only going to tell you once. GRYFFINDOR!"

The jubilant shout sends Remus hopping off the stool and yanking the hat off hastily. He sucks in a calming breath through his nose and forces a tiny smile before setting off toward the cheering table to the left. Anxious to be seated so as to make the other students stop watching him, he takes the closest seat he can find, between an older girl, who welcomes him politely before turning back to the ceremony, and a dark-haired first year boy.

Remus sits down very quietly, wanting not to disturb the boy, who is fidgety himself and looks rather nervous and sour. He spends the next minute glancing between his golden plate and the continuing ceremony before the other boy startles him by asking, "So, are you glad to be in Gryffindor?"

Remus looks up at the boy. His expression is genuinely curious and a little apprehensive. Remus forces himself to keep looking back and replies, "I, er, don't really know. I suppose I'm glad just to be here." He lowers his eyes back to his plate. "I wasn't sure I was going to get to come." He immediately bites his tongue regretfully. He'll never be able to keep the secret if goes on talking that way.

"Oh, are you Muggle-born, then?" The boy's face clears a little, and he leans forward. "It's just I've never met one before."

"No, halfblood," Remus mutters, glad that his mistake has gone unnoticed.

"Oh, I haven't met many of those, either," his neighbor chatters, his volume rising. The girl to Remus's left turns in her seat and gives them a stern look, but the boy lifts his eyebrows at her and doesn't miss a beat. "At least, I haven't ever been friends with one before. To put it delicately," he rolls his eyes, "Mum was never too keen on that idea."

Remus smiles timidly again, this time unforced. "I suppose she isn't too keen on the idea of you sharing a room with the likes of me, then." If only he knew what else there was for his mother to dislike about Remus.

The boy grins widely, and Remus blinks at how his face glows. "Well, she wasn't expecting me to have to live with many halfbloods. I was expected to go to Slytherin. Just wait till she hears where I really ended up." His smile is infectious, and Remus cannot stop himself from returning it. They are comfortably silent for a moment before the boy sticks out his hand. "Oh, and I'm Sirius. Of the noble and most ancient house of Black." His voice and expression are grave, but his eyes are soft and laughing.

Remus puts his own hand out and allows it to be firmly shaken once before replying, "Remus. Of the humble and most tidy house of Lupin." Sirius Black's eyes crinkle even more.

They are finally distracted when a smaller boy climbs into an empty seat diagonally across from them, all nervous panting and rustling robes. His eyes flick around him and settle on Remus and Sirius. He gives a small wave. "Hullo. I'm Peter. S'pose we'll be all together, then?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Remus cannot help watching him. He drinks Sirius in, graceful for a boy, as he saunters into class two minutes late, flicks his hair out of his eyes, and swings his bag off his shoulder before dropping into his seat with a huff. Remus also watches Sirius when he stretches in his chair, lifting his right elbow up and his left one back, or when he tiptoes up behind Peter to poke him in the back of the head, or even when he tugs his shirt off over his curving back before crawling into bed at night.

Remus tells himself he must stop staring or Sirius will notice one day, probably while in some state of undress, and then he'll get the wrong idea. They are in fourth year when this possibility first occurs to Remus. By the same time fifth year, he has begun to think that it wouldn't be the wrong idea at all.

They are practicing Vanishing Spells in Transfiguration when Remus first notices Sirius looking back. Sirius and James have been attempting to Vanish each other's clothing when McGonagall isn't looking. Remus himself is taking notes while reflecting on how Sirius's smile goes lopsided when he's glancing around surreptitiously for McGonagall. He looks up from his work and meets grey eyes, uncharacteristically serene and grave, watching him. The expression is gone in half a second; Sirius immediately grins and waggles his eyebrows before lowering his head to his own task, but Remus thinks he catches him blushing slightly at his half-Vanished mouse.

It happens again at dinner two days later. Remus watches Sirius for a bit, then pretends not to watch Sirius watching him. Finally they catch each other's gazes, and Remus's breath stops, but Sirius looks away and does not watch him again for the rest of the night.

Remus allows this game to continue for another week before he comes to a decision. One night at dinner, he takes James's customary seat to the left of Sirius. Sirius goes very still, Peter raises his eyebrows, and James gives him a mock-affronted look when he comes in from Quidditch practice, but no one mentions the switch. Remus waits for Peter to request that he pass the butter, and when he sets the dish down and brings his right hand back toward his body, he allows it to fall on the bench beside him, right on top of Sirius's hand.

Sirius freezes, but miraculously doesn't pull away, so Remus leaves his hand there. Sirius eats his stew with his right hand, Remus holds his bread with his left, and neither of them moves the other hand until Sirius begins to stroke his thumb along the side of Remus's palm.

They talk and smile normally as the meal concludes, and the four boys make their way to Gryffindor Tower with the usual teasing and laughing. When they enter the common room James is summoned by his Quidditch teammates, and Peter follows James as usual. Sirius glances at Remus briefly as he strides toward the dormitory stairs. Remus takes a deep breath and follows.

When he reaches the top, Sirius is standing in the middle of their room, facing the doorway with hands in pockets. He is slightly pink in the face and breathless, and Remus knows he must look the same. Very slowly, he begins to step forward, swallowing and clenching his jaw. He is only two feet away now, but Sirius isn't stopping him, so he keeps inching forward until he feels foreign body heat. Their eyes remain locked, both unexpectedly calm, as Remus gently rests his hand on Sirius's waist and leans forward.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The ringing emptiness of the hospital wing does nothing to help Remus sleep soundly, not when the full moon is still suspended out in space, invisible in the daylight but no less present than the night before. He awakens easily when he hears the curtain behind him drawn aside, scratching metallically against the rod. The intruder says nothing, but Remus can tell who it is immediately by the sound of Sirius's breathing, quick and shallow. Only Sirius would breathe that way at a time like this.

Remus is lying on his side between crisp white sheets, staring at the equally spotless curtain that remains undisturbed in front of him. For a full minute, Sirius still does not speak, while Remus ponders the wisdom of feigning a potion-induced sleep when Sirius will inevitably attempt to talk to him. He lets his eyes fall shut again and listens.

He braces himself when the curtain scrapes closed again but is surprised to hear footsteps slowly receding away from his bed. He opens his eyes, swallows, and calls out, "Sirius." Even to his own ears, his voice sounds old and tattered. The footfalls stop, as does the panicked breathing. "Sirius, come here."

Sirius obeys. His soft footsteps approach the bed, and there is a slight rustle as he ducks back around the curtain without pulling it aside. "Dumbledore came earlier. He told me what happened," Remus says to the opposite curtain. Sirius clears his throat, and Remus waits, but nothing else comes. "Why, Sirius?"

Sirius's voice cracks a little when he finally speaks. "It was an accident. Snape was bluffing, acting like he already knew, and I didn't think he'd be stupid enough to actually go..." Remus sighs soundlessly. "You know I didn't mean it, you know I couldn't do that to you, Moony -"

"Don't call me that!" Remus finally snaps. He rolls over on his back and speaks to the ceiling now, calmer. "I don't want to hear it from you right now."

They are both silent then, and Remus cannot hear Sirius's breathing anymore. After a few moments he turns his head to see Sirius staring at the foot of the bed with one hand over his mouth. Whether he's trying to hold back words or vomit or both, Remus can't tell. The sight makes his insides stop writhing, but he knows he can't let Sirius off just yet. "Obviously you could do it," he says, trying to keep his voice cool and even.

Sirius slides his hand down so that his open fingers still rest over his lips. "It was an accident," he whispers again.

Remus watches him for several seconds as he clenches his hand back over his mouth. "I believe you," he allows himself to answer. The look on Sirius's face makes him slide over on the bed before he can stop to think about what he's doing, why he should keep his distance, and Sirius is shivering against him before he can change his mind.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It's not supposed to be this way, he thinks. It used to be different, better, Sirius all around him and in him; and it was always wonderful, if not perfect. It's still good, but there is nothing of that beautiful ache he used to get at the sight of Sirius's face when he came, none of that hazy bliss he felt when Sirius would curl around him afterwards and sigh into his neck, "Mine, mine," and Remus would reply, "Yes."

It began when he stopped looking forward to Sirius's efforts. He still loved pleasing Sirius, and found that he would much rather give than receive. He didn't start to worry until he realized that he was putting all his own efforts into making his partner come as quickly as possible. When he would walk into Sirius's flat at the end of the day, his first thought was whether he should initiate sex right away and get it over with or delay it as long as possible. The hard truth, he eventually admitted, is that he dreads sex with Sirius. He didn't want to consider what that might mean.

Now he tries to think of the coming afterglow as Sirius pants and groans into his shoulder, leans in for a heated kiss. It's almost over now, and soon he'll be able to wrap Sirius up tenderly and be still and quiet and stroke his lover's hair until he falls asleep.

Lying there with Sirius warm and content in his arms, he knows what he must do, and hates himself.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He leaves Sirius with a kiss.

They are leaning against the pillows on Sirius's bed, and Remus stiffens as Sirius tries to pull him closer, murmuring, "Mine." Then Remus knows it is time.

The words break out before he can stop them. "No, Sirius." I don't belong to you anymore. And Sirius understands immediately.

Sirius is quiet and controlled until the moment Remus makes to leave, and then he clings to him, quietly asking him to stay. Remus knows it isn't a request to recant his decision, but a simple plea to stay awhile longer, let me be with you, Remus, stay with me a little longer and we can pretend just for now... He tries to break away as Sirius presses chaste kisses to his unresponsive lips. "Don't, you shouldn't do that."

Sirius pauses, and Remus cannot see his face in the dark, but the next whispered word renders vision irrelevant. "Please."

Remus only hesitates a moment before he crosses the few inches between their faces and kisses Sirius desperately, trying to draw out the poison. Sirius's mouth is warm and familiar, and his kiss is hungry but uncertain. It lasts only a few moments before Remus pulls away gently, knowing he has made a mistake, because now he can almost hear Sirius begin to shatter.

Then he leaves, leaning in to brush his lips too briefly against Sirius's cheek, which may or may not be damp. Remus can't tell in the dark, and Sirius doesn't look at him as he backs out of the flat and softly closes the door.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On the night that everything changes, the night that James and Lily are lost to them both, the night that they are lost to each other, Remus is reading in his chair unable to sleep when Sirius arrives. Remus doesn't hear him enter and is surprised to look up and find him standing in the bedroom doorway. His face looks exactly the way it did that morning in the hospital wing after that night they never mention, like his soul is bleeding out through his eyes. Remus's breath catches at the sight, and Sirius crosses the room slowly, gingerly, like he's walking on spider silk.

He seems to be struggling for breath as he kneels on the floor beside Remus, who carefully sits forward. He shifts to the edge of the chair, trying to make himself as light as possible on the cushion, as though becoming physically insubstantial will make everything else less real, and Sirius leans forward to rest his head against Remus's knee.

Before Remus can even finish the first syllable of his name, Sirius is whispering harshly, "I want you to know that I did my best. It wasn't enough, but I gave them what I thought was the best I could offer." Remus doesn't understand and starts to say so, but Sirius continues, "And that I love you. Please believe that I never wanted to cause you pain. I love you." At that, Remus stops trying to speak, because the cold, quiet fear in Sirius's voice is far more than that morning years ago, when a prank executed in adolescent carelessness was nearly enough to break them both. They are adults now, more hardened to such hurts, and Sirius's fear at this moment is sufficient to drain the blood from both their faces.

They stay paralyzed like that, Sirius's face still hidden against Remus's knee, until Remus finds his voice again and breaks the spell. "What's happened, Sirius, why -" and Sirius is on his feet again like a startled animal, looking down at Remus with his bleeding eyes.

"I'm sorry, Moony, I'm so sorry," he breathes, and Disapparates with a soft pop just as Remus is reaching out for him. Remus feels the air shift into the space Sirius leaves and lets his hand drift down onto his thigh.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The three dots trickle across the parchment like water droplets racing to the bottom of a window pane, merging and flowing as one entity until they gently brush against the plane of "Hagrid's Hut."

Remus falls into a reverie, his eyes following the dots as they bounce around the hut. The lines and letters curl around his brain so that he isn't even reading anymore, but simply letting his eyes be dragged along in the dance, until the dot labelled "Hermione Granger" collides with a name whose sharp angles and vertical slashes yank him back into consciousness. For a moment Remus is motionless, his brain frozen, and then he is shaking and panting quickly through his nose as he bends closer to the parchment. His mind works frantically to reconcile two opposing, yet equally incorrigible truths: that Peter Pettigrew is dead at the hand of Sirius Black; and that the Marauder's Map never lies.

Remus can only stare, uncomprehending, while the three dots become four and resume their water-droplet voyage out of the hut. The group pauses for a moment, the newest dot vibrating a little on the page, and suddenly they are racing again, led by the new dot. One of the three followers collides with the leading dot, and the pair shudders and writhes until finally, finally, as though Remus has been waiting for it all along, a name that is all curves and sweeping diagonals is speeding in a straight, inexorable trajectory toward the struggling pair.

Remus watches the map just long enough to see Sirius pull Ron and Peter into the Willow, and then he suddenly finds himself running, sprinting through corridors and stumbling down stairs, and he can't quite remember how he got here, but now he is slipping on the polished floor of the Entrance Hall as he wrenches the massive doors open to burst out into the dusky grounds.

He doesn't feel the rocky ground under his feet or the rough stick in his hand or the sweet earthy scent of the tunnel. The only sensation he registers is the cruel tugging just below his ribcage, reeling him in. The hollow thump of his shoes against the floor of the Shack jolts him back to sensory awareness, and he doesn't know where he is going anymore. He opens his mouth to call out, but his voice will not come, and his feet are rooted in place.

A terrified shout startles him into motion, "We're up here, we're up here, Sirius Black, quick!" and then he finds himself standing before them, again unsure of how he managed to arrive here. His eyes slide over faces until they find Sirius, staring back at him from within a body that is more anonymous corpse than Sirius, a ghastly mockery of the beauty Remus once knew. He feels something in him splinter at the look in Sirius's eyes, wooden and shadowed. The old protective urge washes over him, and he summons the wands held by the children. He doesn't know how, but a new truth is glowing in his mind and soothing all the old truths into acquiescence.

"Where is he, Sirius?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Twelve Grimmauld Place is drafty and cold in the winter. During Christmas, the activity of guests and the glow of Sirius's relief warmed the whole place, but now the chill seeps into Remus's bones again. Sirius is more subdued now than before the holidays, and he spends hours each day sitting in Buckbeak's room. Remus usually leaves them undisturbed.

Sirius is also becoming increasingly quiet during Order meetings. He rarely speaks except for the occasional outburst against Snape, when his rage flows freely until Dumbledore or Remus reins him in. Sirius always gives him a look of utmost suffering and resentment on these occasions, but that look is meaningless compared to Sirius's face when Remus leaves for guard duty.

At night they both lie awake; Remus can see the light under Sirius's bedroom door during trips to the loo, hear him tossing restlessly on the other side of the wall. He waits for Sirius to come into his room, seeking company and comfort, but in the end it is Remus who goes to Sirius first.

"I can't sleep," he says, standing in the doorway in his dressing gown.

Sirius frowns at him. "I know," he answers, but says nothing more.

"Could I just sit and talk with you for awhile?" Remus asks, and Sirius quirks an eyebrow. "Really. I just need a little company to relax me." Sirius's face spreads into a smile for the first time in a week.

Remus wakes with the sun. A cool, damp nose snuffles against his bare forearm, and he squints blearily down to find a great black dog curled up beside him on top of the quilt. His chest constricts at the sight, both welcome and heartbreaking. He slips carefully off the bed and into the hall, where he leans against the closed door and breathes deeply. He only goes to make tea when the cold finally invades him, sharper than ever where the dog's touch warmed him minutes ago.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Several short barks of laughter wrench Remus's eyes toward the stone dais, where Sirius is taunting Bellatrix. Remus drinks in the sound automatically, but just as automatically feels his mouth open to scold Sirius for being so complacent, and that's a ridiculous thought because Sirius isn't fifteen years old and avoiding his homework, and anyway it's too late because that jet of beautiful red light has already caught him in the middle of his chest.

Remus's jaw is still slack as he watches the look of shock cross Sirius's face. Sirius is slowly bending backwards toward the tattered veil, and something in Remus is straining foward, but he is paralyzed as though he's in a dream. He is falling with Sirius, feeling the stone floor drop away and the voices around him blur and echo, and Sirius becomes his center, pulling him into orbit as only Sirius ever could, as Sirius has always done. In this moment of suspension, feeling as though his skin will tear off if he does not obey the tug of that familiar gravity, Remus knows he was wrong. He has always belonged to Sirius.

FIN