The Origin Of Love

On the strength of James's good judgment, and the fact that his best friend was tired of alternately hearing him rave about Remus or mope because he was alone, Sirius had decided he was going to do it. He was going to tell Remus that he was in love with him. He was going to lay his heart open before the object of his affections and wait for judgment.

Sometimes he thought that he was quite foolish.

But James had insisted; Lily and Peter had as well, although they did so inadvertently. They only knew Sirius was in love - they had no idea that it was with Remus. "Unrequited love is a wicked place to be in," James had said knowingly. "At least this way, you'll know what's going on, and you won't be left wondering any more."

"But what if he says no?" Sirius had asked. James had not had any satisfactory reassurance for that, but perhaps there were none. At any rate, he had to do it, and while on his way home from training that December evening he had decided that it would be done tonight.

He entered the flat to find Remus directing his wand at a sink full of sudsy water, casting charms upon the dishes so they would wash themselves. He turned when he heard the door open and fixed Sirius with a mockingly stern expression.

"Forgot to do the washing up before you left, did you?" he asked, frowning. Sirius wanted to die of chagrin. The night he chose to tell his flatmate he was in love with him was also the night he'd left dirty dishes in the sink when he'd promised to clean them. What a wonderful way to start the confession.

"Sorry, Remus," he said, feeling his heart quicken already from nervousness. "Er - I'll do them next time?"

"You'd better," Remus said, turning back to the dishes. He didn't really sound angry, Sirius decided, but he certainly wasn't pleased. Then again, it wasn't an unusual occurrence; Sirius wasn't much of a housekeeper. Yet another reason he was unworthy of Remus Lupin.

"Er...Remus, do you think you could leave those dishes for a minute? I want to talk to you about something..." There. He'd said it. There was no turning back now, he thought as he sat down on the sofa. Unless he backed out at the last possible minute and offered up some lame explanation, and then Remus would just think he was stupid rather than--

"You want to talk to me?" The stern tone in his voice was definitely meant to tease, Sirius decided, as Remus joined him on the sofa and went on, "Good, because I'd like to talk to you about the housekeeping here. I think you need to learn to do laundry one of these days."

"No, Remus," Sirius said, his heart pounding. "I mean - just listen to me for a minute, alright? I - I need you to forgive me."

"Forgive you?" Remus asked, half-concerned, half-amused. "For what, not doing the washing up? Sirius, you know I was only teasing you about that--"

"No, I mean, forgive me...because I didn't know." Sirius took a deep breath, steadying himself, as Remus watched in confusion. "Because I was just a boy, and you were always so much more. You were more than...more than any god could ever plan, more than any woman or man. And now I understand."

All amusement was gone from the lovely amber eyes; Remus moved closer to him on the sofa and tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. "Sirius? Is something wrong?"

He shook his head. His heart was still pounding so hard that he could hardly breathe, could hardly think. He could not remember a time when he had been more nervous. "Nothing's wrong, Remus, I just - well, I feel like I have to tell you this, right now, or I never will, so could you just listen before I lose my nerve?"

"Of course." He sat back, but still watched him with those eyes, trying to see past the words to the heart of the matter.

"I've been feeling this way for a long time now," Sirius said, trying again, "and I never was sure how to tell you. But it's like - since we've moved in together, since graduation, I've realized so much. I feel like I've finally had to grow up, and I've seen a lot of things in my life for the first time. And...well, one of those things was you. I know what you're going to say - you'll say I've always had you, we've been friends for years, but you're wrong. I never understood how...how special you are. To me."

"...Special?" Remus asked uncertainly.

"Right. Like...oh, how do I explain this?" Sirius sighed again, frustrated, then settled on an answer. "Like - when everything starts breaking down, you have this way of taking the pieces off the ground and making something beautiful and new. And it always amazes me, you know?"

Remus blushed. "Sirius, I don't know where you got this idea, but--"

"No, Remus, please let me finish?" Sirius asked plaintively, interrupting his friend again. Remus nodded, half-smiling, leaving his sentence unfinished. "See, that's not all. I - well, you're one of the best people I know. I was really lucky, to have good people like you and James and Peter for friends. And I feel like I don't deserve it. I feel like you deserve luck and good things more than me. So when I tell you this, you have to know that I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"Right, because you deserve more than me and what I have to offer. I'm - I know you believe in soulmates and that stuff," Sirius said, feeling sick inside. "Remember that day in the dorm room, when you were telling me about the origin of love and that myth?"

Remus smiled again, gently. "I remember," he said softly.

"Well, I thought about that a lot. And I know - I know you've probably had someone in mind, or you've had this idea of your soulmate, the person you'd be in love with and be with for the rest of your life. And I don't know if I believe in that or not, and I know not many people would want me for a soulmate, but..."

He suddenly found himself unable to speak. After all, what was the point of explaining all this to Remus when the obvious conclusion was going to be that he, Sirius, was hopelessly in love with someone who deserved far better and knew that he deserved such? Why bother finishing the conversation at all, playing it out to its humiliating end?

But before he could find some appropriate means of running away and hiding, Remus asked simply, "What are you trying to tell me, Sirius?"

And he found he could not lie to the soulful amber eyes, the narrow lips and nose, the thin body, the warm voice that was Remus. He could not lie. So he swallowed hard and whispered, "I'm trying to tell you that I'm...I'm in love with you, Remus."

Remus froze where he sat. His expression was not frightened or disgusted, but it was not overjoyed, either. "You're what?" he whispered back, obviously stunned.

"I'm in love with you," Sirius repeated miserably. "I know you're not in love with me and you don't even want me to be in love with you, and that's okay. Because I'm hopeless. I love you so much that I'm going to let you go. But not before I humiliate myself even more and pour my heart out to you."

Remus, still shocked into silence from Sirius's confession, did not object; so Sirius went on, "See, you may think that luck has left you there. But - but maybe there's no higher power. Maybe there's nothing up in the sky but air. Do you understand what I mean? No mystical design. No soulmates - no cosmic lover, preassigned." He felt his throat tightening, but he had not lost his courage yet, so he leaned forward and gripped Remus's motionless hand in his own as he said, "There's nothing you can find that cannot be found. And one day, you'll find it. Because you deserve that kind of happiness and perfection and love."

Silence overtook them for a moment, sitting there on the sofa, Remus shocked speechless and Sirius holding his hand while fighting back tears. There were no more confessions to make, Sirius realized. He should have known that Remus would react this way. He didn't even cry when he let go of Remus's hand and stood up, preparing to leave so Remus could have some space to decide how long to wait before kicking Sirius out of the flat.

But he did not even make it three steps away from the sofa. "Where are you going?" Remus asked automatically, suddenly awakened from his shock. He looked up anxiously at Sirius, watching with large eyes.

"To James's," Sirius replied. "I...I guess you want me gone, for a little while at least. I thought I'd let you--"

"Stay here."

Sirius was not sure he had heard Remus correctly. "What?"

"I said stay here." Remus shifted so he faced him more completely. "You - you said you remembered that day in the dormitory, when we talked about the origin of love. Do you remember what I said about soulmates?" he asked in a rapid, nervous voice.

It was Sirius's turn to be confused. "What about them?"

"That we spend our whole lives searching for the one who will complete us. We care enough, we need them enough, to do anything to find them. And we're not whole until we're with them," Remus said quickly.

Thinking back for a moment, Sirius did seem to remember that phrase being said at some point in their conversation. He remembered more clearly, however, the easy feeling of lying on the bed next to Remus, the pleasure he derived at watching his friend talk about a subject he loved so much, the pure happiness at being near him. But there would be no more of that. He tried to clear the thoughts from his head and said simply, "Yes."

Remus stood up, but did not approach him; he clasped his hands nervously in front of him and said softly, "Didn't you know I was talking about you?"

Sirius nearly choked. "You - you what?"

"I always hoped you'd be my soulmate. If I ever found that person, that is," Remus said wistfully. "But you didn't believe in it...you didn't love me...so I dismissed it."

He felt a smile start to crack upon his lips. "So...all this time...?"

"Yes."

And then they were holding each other close, laughing, breathless and giddy and relieved and exhilarated and simply holding each other, shouting each other's name gleefully, in the most senseless and perfect celebration of their lives.

Remus pulled back and cupped Sirius's face with his hands, holding him steady. "Just breathe," he said blissfully, leaning his forehead against Sirius and bring them even closer together. "Just breathe."

So they breathed, together. It was the most intimate thing Sirius had ever done with anyone, more intimate than anything he'd shared with lovers in school, more meaningful than any ritual the Marauders had ever performed together. He and Remus were breathing the same air, inhaling and exhaling, in and out, until they were breathing each other. His body, for that moment, was kept alive by Remus Lupin; and Remus Lupin's body was kept alive by him. It was like they were two beings in the same body. It was like they were soulmates.

Breathing led to a kiss, soft between their combined mouths, still holding each other tightly. "I love you so much, Remus Lupin," Sirius whispered.

"I love you too," Remus murmured back. "I have for so long."

~*~

October 1981, two and a half years later

"I hate you, Remus Lupin," Sirius whispered into the wind as he flew his motorcycle towards Peter Pettigrew's house. "I hate you so bloody much."

The night was crisp and chill, with clear skies and a half-moon peering down upon the houses of the subdivision he was currently passing. He was supposed to check on Peter that night, Halloween, just to make sure that everything was running smoothly under the new Fidelius charm. But he was late - Remus had held him up at the house, asking questions about where he was going, pretending to be hurt that their relationship was not what it used to be, just generally stalling for time. Sometimes he got the feeling that Remus knew more than he let on.

He had tried to keep his suspicions a secret; he didn't want Remus to know that he, and several others, suspected him of being the spy within the Ministry. Because if he knew, and Remus knew that he knew, then everything would have to come out in the open. And that would be bad.

It had begun that summer, when Lily and James's son Harry had turned one year old. Peter had taken him aside at the birthday celebration, looked around nervously, and whispered that he'd heard rumors about Remus's true affiliations. Sirius had managed to restrain himself from hitting the smaller man, but had still vehemently insisted that Remus was innocent. But after that...well, he'd been forced to take a closer look at his lover. His soulmate. And he hadn't liked everything that he'd seen.

It was around that time that Remus began acting truly suspicious, watching him and demanding details about his goings and doings. He grew distant, then suddenly seemed to turn around and beg Sirius for forgiveness, trying to make up for something - as though he were guilty, as though he'd done something truly wrong. And Sirius had not trusted him at all in the past few months. He was surprised that Remus had not killed him already, truthfully.

He'd done his duty as an Auror and a friend, though. He'd helped talk James and Lily into using the Fidelius charm, he'd convinced Peter to be their Secret-Keeper, and now he was doing his best to keep up that façade in front of Remus. It was only a matter of time before he would find concrete proof and be forced to turn his lover in, anyway. Or, worse, before he and Remus would work out their problems at wandpoint at the scene of some raid or investigation.

He steered the bike to the right, taking the familiar turns. It still hurt him to think that Remus could betray them all, could betray him, so deeply. Sometimes it hurt so much that he felt like he couldn't breathe, like his chest was caving in without Remus there to breathe beside him. It hurt, but he had to accept it.

"It's a wicked little town these days, Sirius," James had said sadly one night. Sirius had been over at his house late, avoiding returning to Remus and their flat. Lily was asleep in their bedroom; Harry had fallen asleep in his father's arms, where James and Sirius sat in the living room. "Who do you trust? Who do you believe? Nothing's sacred, nothing's steady. It's so - dangerous. It's so hard."

Sirius had agreed, and had seen the sadness in his best friend's eyes. But James didn't know how hard it truly was. After all, Lily had not betrayed him. She was not the spy.

He had said something to Remus about it before leaving that night. He had been so angry, he wasn't watching his words as carefully as usual. And he'd shouted, "You know, Remus, with all the changes you've been through lately, it seems you're always a stranger. You want me to trust you? I don't even know who the hell you are."

And now here Sirius was: here at Peter's house, here alone in a wicked little town. What was he supposed to do?

He didn't know the answers, he thought despondently as he knocked on Peter's door. But he soon had far more problems than that.