The Origin Of Love

September 1995, two months later

The owl from Dumbledore came in September, when the new school term began at Hogwarts. Sirius had stayed with Remus for two months, quietly coexisting in Remus's flat since July. It had been a cool summer, uneventful and hushed, not quite peaceful but blessedly uneventful.

Remus seemed to have taken it upon himself to reeducate Sirius. Whether Dumbledore had suggested this to him or it was a gesture of goodwill, Sirius did not know. He did not ask, either. Even if Remus's kindness and patience was not a symptom of forgiveness, even if it was merely his obedience to Dumbledore and his dedication to the defeat of darkness, he was still grateful for it.

For two months now in the grayest summer Sirius could ever recall, Remus had unwearyingly reviewed spells with him, preparing him to defend himself as a human. He healed Sirius's tired body, neglected for years; he sat with him at night when he woke himself up with his own nightmares. He had even gone so far as to buy Sirius his own wand.

It had not been a light-hearted or particularly pleasant time, not by any stretch of the imagination. The entire world seemed to sense that it was headed for dark days, and began to steel itself accordingly. When the full moon came, Padfoot and Moony did not play, but waited out the painfully slow night together. Time with Remus was safe, and calming, and good - but it was not the same. When they were together in the evenings, silent, there was no music or laughter, no talk of visiting their friends, as might have filled their old flat in evenings years ago. These evenings, there was amiable silence, or a lesson in some form of charms or defense. There was a dedicated avoidance of any subject that might remind them of all that they had lost.

And then the owl came, requesting that Padfoot make a trip to Hogwarts to see Dumbledore. The letter seemed to imply that there was some sort of mission for Sirius to undertake, which would both keep him away from London and the Ministry and put his skills to use.

Remus had let the owl in the window, untied the parchment, and seemed surprised when he read the envelope. "It's for you," he said, curiosity evident in his voice, handing the letter to Sirius.

As Remus looked around for an owl treat, Sirius broke the familiar Hogwarts seal and read over Dumbledore's note. He was done reading by the time the owl had been fed. "Er - any paper, Remus?" he asked, looking around for something on which to scribble a reply.

"Of course, hang on..." Remus opened a drawer and extracted paper and pencil, and pushed both across the counter towards Sirius. He watched him write a single line back to Dumbledore - 'I'll be there' - and cryptically sign 'P'. Sirius then folded the parchment and handed it to him, and Remus wordlessly tied it to the owl's leg and sent him out the window again.

Sirius turned to him, unsure of what to say, but thankfully Remus guessed it anyway. "He's sent for you, hasn't he?" And Sirius had nodded and shown him the letter.

They had not discussed it for the rest of the day, nor during dinner or that evening, when they waited out the hours before they went to sleep. At first Remus had forced Sirius to sleep in his bed, taking the couch out in the interest of Sirius's well-being, but Sirius had soon insisted on taking turns, if not simply returning Remus's bed to its rightful owner.

Sirius had begun the next morning by gathering the few possessions he had and preparing to leave for Hogwarts that evening. It was a busy day, full of Remus's last-minute instructions on certain spells or defensive maneuvers. It was a day full of ignoring the fact that neither of them were sure how to say good-bye to each other when that evening finally arrived.

It ended up that it took place in the living room of the flat, with Sirius and Remus awkwardly standing face-to-face, quiet and nervous. This time, it was Sirius who stated the obvious. "I guess...we'd best say good-bye."

"Right."

"So..." He stopped, unsure of what to say, unsure of whether there actually was anything to say at all.

No, that was a lie. There was plenty to say, more than could ever be said; what he was unsure of was whether it should be said after all.

Remus, fortunately, saved him from that dilemma by blurting out, "Wait, don't go!" Sirius must have looked at him strangely, though, because he added, "...Please? I have...I have to tell you something."

"Is something wrong?" Sirius asked, concerned.

"No, just..." Remus paused, then seemed to find courage and went on, "I need to just - tell you something, before you leave."

He nodded, and the tawny-haired man wrung his hands and said softly, "I...I know what it must be like, to be out. I know what it's like to be a prisoner. It's like the sun is in your eyes, all of a sudden, and it's wonderful - but it's painful as well."

He glanced down at his feet, unable to watch Sirius as he spoke. "And this is just the start of it all, this letter. They need you. Harry needs you. They're going to have you running up and down their hills. You've always been strong - you turn yourself on and off at will, you know, and I know you can handle this. You'll make it. You'll succeed. And maybe...maybe after all this, there's nothing here to thrill or bring you down."

"What do you mean?"

"That - well, that nothing here...nothing of, of me, and our past...can do anything for you anymore."

Sirius's mouth fell open in surprise and indignation. "Remus, how can you say--"

"No, just let me finish," Remus said quickly. "I heard you out, all those years ago...now you can hear me out."

And for once Sirius was quiet, standing obediently silent before Remus as his old friend tried to form words.

"It's as though Lady Luck has led you here - but they're so twisted up, they'll twist you up, I fear."

"Who? Who's so twisted up?" Sirius asked quietly.

Remus frowned. "All of them. The whole world, it feels like. Everyone who wouldn't or can't understand. You know them - the pious, hateful, and devout. They'll have you turning tricks, til you're turned out, of course." He turned his light gaze to Sirius. "I want you to be careful. Alright? Really..." He swallowed. "I - I just got you back, I can't have you running out into the wind again, not yet..."

"Remus, I would never leave you."

"But you did, once," he pointed out, his voice small. Sirius looked down at the floor as Remus clarified, "But it wasn't your fault - or maybe it was, but then it was mine too... it was - like fate, Sirius. Like Fate." But Sirius still did not seem to understand; he was still downcast, not looking at Remus. "The Fates are vicious, and they're cruel," Remus said emphatically, reaching out a hand to touch Sirius, and then stopping.

"I know that," Sirius whispered. "And you always learn too late that you've used two wishes already, like a fool."

"Yes," Remus agreed, and they fell silent for a moment, thinking of the wishes they had used and wasted, until Remus began speaking again, passion in his voice. "But when you're someone you are not - Sirius, just remember Mrs. Lot and when she turned around, will you?"

"Mrs. Lot?"

"Biblical myth. Forced to leave everything she had to save herself and her family... but when she looked back, she was turned to a pillar of salt," Remus explained.

"That's a bit silly..." Sirius mused sadly.

"Well, it's just a myth."

"...You always did love mythology, didn't you?" The black-haired man smiled sadly.

Remus's face mirrored his expression. "Yes. I did."

Finally he did what he had been meaning to do, and stepped forward to take Sirius's hand in his own. Holding it gently, squeezing a little, he waited til Sirius looked up and their eyes met to say, "Don't forget this... please? If you've got no other choice... you know you can follow my voice through the dark turns and noise of this wicked little town."

"It is a wicked little town..." Sirius agreed, feeling his heart break all over again at the sadness on Remus's face.

"But it's time to say good-bye..."

But there were no good-byes. Instead, they were in each other's arms again, hardly knowing how they got there. It was just as things had been years ago, when they had stood in another shabby flat they had shared and held each other and kissed, laughing and crying all at once; only now there were more tears, and less laughter. There was just as much love, though.

Remus cupped Sirius's face in his hands, tilting their foreheads together again. "Breathe," he said in a rush of air, exuberant and mournful all at once. "Just breathe."

So they breathed, together, at last. It was not blissful as it had been in their younger years; it was fringed with pain, sorrow, suffering, the weight of the years. But it was just as beautiful as it had been before. More so, for having withstood the test of time.

Then they seemed to remember who they were and broke free of each other, standing apart. Sirius watched him where he stood, steps away from him in the middle of the room. He swallowed past the tightness in his throat. "What are you thinking about, Remus?" he whispered once he regained his voice.

Remus seemed to be having the same problem speaking. "That the last time..." he began, and stopped to inhale deeply. "That the last time I saw you before you were sent to Azkaban, I knew what would happen. I knew it would be like this."

It made no sense. "What are you saying? You mean the night that - that Lily and James died? You knew it would all be like this?" He shook his head, as much to deny the thought as to dispel the images. "Remus, that's not--"

"No," the tawny-haired man interrupted, quick to explain himself, "I meant - at your sentencing. When you saw me there."

Memories always came back more slowly these days, but after a moment Sirius recalled the instance in question. "I remember," he said softly. "We'd just split in two."

"You didn't see me, at first," Remus said, as though telling a sad narrative. "But when they walked you out you were looking at me. At any rate, I was looking at you. And it was so familiar - watching each other like that - but I couldn't recognize it. I couldn't recognize everything that I felt."

"I was so empty, Remus, I couldn't feel a thing..." Sirius stopped and shuddered slightly.

Out of habit, Remus tenderly brushed a strand of trademark black hair out of Sirius's face. His hand lingered by the soft cheek for a moment, fingertips touching untouched skin, before he said, "But I could swear by your expression that the pain down in your soul...that it was the same as the one down in mine."

His voice broke, and something within Sirius understood how monumental that moment must have been to Remus. The exchange of glances, the emotions, the realizations - whatever it had meant, it had affected Remus ever since then. "What was it?" he asked. Then something occurred to him, and he guessed, "That's it, isn't it? That's the pain that cuts a straight line down through your heart?"

"The pain that we call love," Remus answered weakly, nodding.

Sirius finally saw it, and the comprehension took his breath away. "And - and that's what you mean. That pain. What you saw when you were looking at me. That's it, isn't it? That's it."

"Yes," Remus replied, "that's it. It's love. Even then, even when I hated you and you hated me, even after Lily and James died - I remembered that I had loved you."

"That we were soulmates," he echoed.

They looked at each other, and then they were in each other's arms again, as they had been so many times before. Neither was sure exactly how it happened, who started it or whether some signal had passed between them - they simply knew that it was right to embrace each other again.

Remus was speaking quickly, hiccupping, trying his best not to stumble over the words. "Do you remember? The last time we made love, before it all happened, before we suspected each other and everything went wrong? We wrapped our arms around each other and tried to put ourselves back together with making love. We tried to become one again, because we were soulmates, because that's how soulmates put themselves together again after being torn apart by the gods. It was a cold dark evening, such a long time ago, when my body handled yours. Do you remember it? We were like one then, we were almost one soul in two bodies. Do you remember it?"

"We were always one soul in two bodies, Remus," Sirius said painfully, forcing the words out. He leaned his face against Remus's hair and said again, "We were always one soul. Didn't you know that?"

Remus could not speak. So Sirius finally said it.

"I love you, Remus."

He exhaled against Sirius at the words; a long, shuddering breath left his body. "Love you too," he muttered, "love you too, love you so much..."

"You're my soulmate."

Remus raised his head to look at Sirius, smiling past the tears in his eyes. "I thought you didn't really believe in that."

"You made me believe," he said, still holding on to the slightly shorter man.

He was still smiling at Sirius. "It was a sad story, you know. So sad. How we became lonely, two-legged creatures. But our lives have been a sad story too."

"But it's a story of the origin of love," Sirius said, finally feeling the beginnings of tears.

"That's right," he agreed. "It's a story of the origin of love. Friendship," he said, beginning to recall the myriad of emotions they had experienced in their lifetime. And through Remus's simple words, Sirius could recall them as well. "We were friends, after all. We did love each other. All of us."

"Families. James and Lily - they would have been good parents," Sirius said haltingly.

"But now you love Harry just like they would," Remus said firmly. "And so do I."

"Love of - of what's good. Of believing in something so strongly that you'd fight for it, you'd die for it."

"And romantic love - although it's much more than that, much more."

Sirius leaned his forehead against Remus's, closing his eyes. "You were right, you know. All those years ago, when we were children. It was the origin of all love."

"That's our life," Remus said in agreement, holding Sirius a little tighter. "That's the origin of love."