Three Weeks Outside Time

Chapter Six

The Lupins had a nice garden, Sirius thought. It was about a twentieth the size of the Lyntons', and it wasn't nearly as splendid, but he liked it. There was a small, flagstone-lined fishpond that did not seem to contain any fish, and it was by this that he sat. There were a few rhododendrons, well-cultivated by Sylvie Lupin, and a sundial, and a birdbath from which a swallow was currently drinking. Beside the shed, which looked small and dilapidated in the bright morning sunlight, there stood a gnarled, old apple tree. Remus had been climbing it, he'd told Sirius once, since before he'd been bitten, almost since he'd been able to walk. There'd been a treehouse in it, once, that Remus and his father had built together. A gale had knocked the treehouse down five years ago, and nearly killed the tree, but until then it had been Remus' haven, his pirate's lair, and in it, he'd kept his favourite possessions: his books, his maps, postcards from his cousins in France, little trinkets he'd picked up and fancied keeping.

Sirius had never had such a haven. Everything he'd ever owned had been subject to his parents' inspection, his room included. He knew that while he was away at school, his mother had Kreacher, their House Elf, enter his room and catalogue everything he found there. Sirius had long ago given up protesting this violation. There was nothing he could do about it, save keep everything of any importance to him in the dorm in Gryffindor Tower, and keep the promise he'd made to himself that one day he would have a place of his own, to which his parents would never be admitted.

He supposed he ought to be jealous of Remus, but he wasn't, even though he could not begin to imagine building a treehouse with his own father, in the backyard of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He had never been jealous of Remus, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Remus was poor or that he was a werewolf. He was jealous, sometimes, of James. But then, there were times when James did not seem to realise just how good he had it. Remus never took anything for granted. Maybe that was it. Remus' things were better off in Remus' hands, and Sirius could enjoy them vicariously. Or enjoy giving Remus things.

I will build my love a bower...

Merlin, not that again. He groaned and pushed the heels of his palms against his forehead, as though he could press from his brain that nagging verse. He was too tired for this. He wanted to sleep, but he couldn't until he knew Remus was all right, and the Lupins weren't letting him in to see Remus.

There hadn't been a row when they'd found him in the shed that dawn, cradling their son and trying, rather unskilfully, to salve and bandage his wounds. There hadn't been any accusations, or even any strong words. Nicholas Lupin had simply taken Remus from him--Sirius, numb with fatigue, had offered no resistance--and half-carried, half-led him to the house. Sylvie Lupin had remained behind for a few moments, watching him silently from the doorway. He had said nothing to her. There had been no point in denying what he'd done. Finally, she'd told him, in a tightly controlled voice, to wait, and then she had turned and started after her husband and son. She'd stopped after a few paces and glanced over her shoulder at him. “You don't have to wait in there, Sirius,” she had said, sounding more weary than angry, but far from gentle. Then she had really left him.

A few minutes later he had risen, with difficulty, and stumbled across the yard to the pond, and there he had sat down to wait.

He had been waiting, now, for about half an hour.

He wanted a fag. Unfortunately, the Lupins did not smoke--he doubted they had any idea their son lit up on occasion--and, he reckoned, would probably not appreciate it if he did so in their backyard. They probably did not appreciate his very existence, at the moment, he thought sourly. They couldn't know about Padfoot. Remus would not have told them about that. There'd been nothing in Mrs Lupin's tone to suggest that she knew or even suspected, that time she'd drawn Sirius aside and thanked him--and James and Peter--for all he'd done for her son. Nothing. Remus' parents must have thought he'd returned to their house sometime during the night and camped out in their yard--close enough to the shed to have reached it before they did and, therefore, close enough for the wolf to have smelled him. They must have thought he'd placed their son and himself in terrible danger. They must have thought he was an idiot. A dangerous idiot.

“Sirius.”

It was Mrs Lupin. He hadn't heard her approach. He glanced up to see her standing just a few feet away from him, a wooden tray in her hands. She bent and placed it, carefully, on the flagstones in front of him. “Eat,” she instructed, as he continued to look at her, quizzically. “You must be very hungry.”

There was toast on the tray, and what looked like raspberry jam, and scrambled eggs. There was a mug of hot chocolate, and a small dish of cream. His stomach lurched painfully. He was hungry. He hadn't eaten in... Merlin, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd eaten. The past few days had all blurred into one. Before he could touch this food, however, there was one thing he had to know.

“How is he?”

Mrs Lupin sank gracefully to the flagstones and tucked her knees up against her chest. “Eat,” she said again.

“First, tell me how he is. Is he all right?”

She wrapped her arms around her legs. “He said I was not to tell you anything until you'd eaten.”

Sirius was silent.

She saw the look he gave her, and her expression, which had been quite impassive, softened slightly. “He's going to be all right,” she told him. “His father is taking care of him. It was not so bad this time. Considering...” She broke off. “Eat,” she said sharply. “I'm going to tell you a few things, and you're going to listen, and not talk until I say you can, so you might as well eat. I don't want you to pass out while I'm talking.” She glared, and pursed her lips very tightly, and would not open them again until he'd taken a piece of toast, slathered it with jam, and begun to nibble at it obediently. “Where do I begin?” she said, then, almost to herself. “Could I have a cigarette, please?”

He almost choked on his toast.

She smiled faintly. “My husband and my son don't smoke. Sometimes, I need to. Do you have any?”

Wordlessly, he put down his toast, dug into his pocket, withdrew his mashed pack of cigarettes, and passed them to her. She took one and put it between her lips, which, he could not help noticing again, were thin and well-shaped--just like her son's. Remus had her long, graceful hands, too, and her rich, brown eyes. And her ears. Everything else, Sirius thought, he'd gotten from his father: the slender height, the light brown hair, the longish, sloping nose, and the firm, pointed chin. As for his personality, it was difficult to say. Sirius did not know the Lupins all that well. Remus' passion for learning and his calm reserve, Sirius supposed, came from his father, while his mother had, perhaps, given him his penchant for mischief. The wry good humour Sirius had not yet seen in either parent. He chose to believe that that belonged to Remus alone.

Sylvie Lupin was watching him, he realised, so he bent industriously back to his breakfast. At length, she said, “Remus was bitten when he was five. Whose fault it was--” She paused, and sucked determinedly at her cigarette. “It was no one's fault,” she said, finally. “I blamed myself, Nick blamed himself, and Remus blames-- But, really, it was no one's fault. We used to have a cottage in Wester Ross. Remus liked to go outside. At night. We thought it was safe. There was a fence around the yard, he knew not to wander off. We just weren't thinking-- The night of the full moon-- It was cloudy. We didn't realise. And anyway, werewolves are supposed to contain themselves. In facilities provided by the Ministry. Or approved by them. It's the law. But this one--” She smothered her cigarette against the flagstones, and drew another. There were tears in her eyes. Sirius saw them and wanted to say something, but she had forbidden him to speak. And anyway, what could he possibly say? He hated this other werewolf--passionately--and yet he could not help but remember the way Remus had used to plead with him--and James and Peter--not to let him out of the Shrieking Shack under any circumstances, even if they came to him in their animal forms. For the first time, he felt a stab of guilt. They'd cajoled, and finally he'd given in and he did not seem to regret his choice, but now Sirius found himself wondering.

“There was so much blood,” Mrs Lupin said softly, snapping his attention back to her. She was hugging her legs tightly, now, and her gaze was on the fishpond. “We thought he was going to die. The Healers we brought him to said it might be better if he did, but... I thought about it. I actually did think about it. I hate that I did. I'll never tell Nick or Remus. But...I decided I couldn't give up. That was when he was five. Well, nearly six. A little more than ten years ago, now. We didn't know what to do for him, at first. We went to look at the Ministry's containment facilities, Nick and I, and we hated them. We would not leave our son there, not even for one night. So, we built the shed. The first time he transformed, we thought it would help if we were near him. Not in the shed with him, but just outside it. So he could smell us. Yes, it's very stupid, but we thought-- We were his parents, after all. How could he not know us? No one told us how it would be. It was terrible.” She shuddered, and again Sirius wanted, desperately, to say something to her, but he felt constrained by her command. “We realised, of course, that we were not helping him. That we were actually making things worse. So, we went inside the house. That might have been the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. Nick and I... We stayed awake the whole night. We sat in the living room. We didn't say anything to each other. It was so quiet, because of the Silencing charm. We had to cast it, the Ministry said. So, until morning, we didn't know if Remus was alive or dead.” The tears that had been brimming for the past few minutes, spilled over, finally, and began to roll down her cheeks. She swiped at them, absently, with the back of one hand.

Sirius stopped eating.

Sylvie Lupin's tears did not embarrass him this time. Instead, they struck him like bolts and, unable and unwilling to defend himself, he accepted them and the pain that came with them.

Remus' mother said, “He almost died. That was the second time in two months that I almost lost my son, and that time, it was my fault. I'm telling you this because I want you to know, before you tell me what you were doing in my yard last night, and what you feel toward my son.”

He almost spoke, then. He opened his mouth, and a small sound that was not quite a word did emerge, but Mrs Lupin went on, quellingly, “That's the first thing you need to know. The second is that I love Remus. I told you, before, but I didn't really tell you.” She smothered her second cigarette, and did not take a third. She said, her gaze still on the pond's unmoving water, “I love him. I thought I understood love when I met Nick, in Avignon. He told everyone he'd come to write, but I found out he was there on business for Dumbledore. My parents and my sister are Muggles, but I went to Beauxbatons. I worked there the summer after I finished school, and I met Nick after one of his meetings with Madame Maxime. I accused him of spying. He asked me out for a drink.” Another dim smile touched her lips. “I fell in love very quickly. I knew many boys who were more handsome, but there was something about him. He was very quiet, but so passionate. He sang to me, when we went walking at night. And once, when we had supper with my parents, he wore his kilt. How could I resist?” Her smile deepened, though her tears did not stop. “We had three weeks together in Avignon. Three weeks all to ourselves. Nothing seemed to touch us. It was like we were in a different world. Outside time. Then he had to return to Britain. I had to decide, very quickly, what I wanted to do. There wasn't any decision to be made, really.” Before Sirius' wondering gaze, she held up her hands and pressed them together, palm against palm. “He said to me that, no matter what I decided, if we stood at the opposite poles of the earth, if one of us died, we would never be farther away from each other than this.”

She dropped her hands, and her smile fell as well. “How could I not go with him? I was aware of the danger. Dumbledore had sent him to Madame Maxime because the Dark Lord was gaining power and he wanted her help. I knew that if I went with Nick, I might have to fight in a war.” She shrugged. “I didn't care. I went. I thought that was love. And it was. But...then we had this child. We hadn't wanted to have children right away. Nick had wanted to show me Scotland. I had wanted to find a job. But I got pregnant, and we had Remus. From the moment he was born...” She shook her head, sweeping the long chestnut hair about her slim shoulders. It was a youthful gesture, and Sirius realised, with a small shock, that if she had married Nicholas Lupin the summer after she'd left school, she could only be about thirty-four or thirty-five--ten years younger than his own mother. He would have guessed them to be about the same age, though he thought Lavinia Black looked older than her forty-five years.

Mrs Lupin said, softly, “It was like I was under a spell. I knew, from the first moment that he looked at me, that anything I was willing to face for Nick, I was willing to face a thousand times over for Remus. Is that normal? I don't know. My husband is sick, now. We don't know what's wrong, yet, but we think it's probably very bad. We haven't talked about it with Remus, yet, but I think he knows...or senses. Nick is my soul.” She said it so matter-of-factly. “But...he's been with me so long that if I lost him, I think I would live, still. I wouldn't have my soul, but I'd...remember...how it was to have one. If I ever lost Remus-- It would destroy me, completely. That's how I feel. That's the second thing I want you to know.

“The third thing is that, as much as I love my son, and as young as he is, his life belongs to him, not me. I want to protect him. We both do, Nick and I. But there is only so much we can do. I don't always understand Remus, but I think it's all right that I don't. He can make his own choices. I trust him. So does Nick. We will never give up on him, or abandon him.

“That's all I wanted to say. Now, I want you to talk to me. I want you to tell me what you were doing last night, in my yard. I want you to tell me why you were there and how Remus managed not to tear himself or you to pieces. I would like to know what sort of friend you are to him. It would also help if I knew why, two nights ago, he came home and announced that you had left and that he was gay, and then went to his room and would not come back down or talk to us or eat anything for an entire day.”

She looked at him, finally. He met her gaze, and held it frankly. He hadn't thought about what he could possibly say to her. While she'd spoken, all he'd been able to do was listen, and try to process her words. Now, he opened his mouth, thinking that the words would not come and he'd look like an idiot, but to his surprise, they did, and kept coming, with surprising ease, for a long time.

He found himself telling her about his childhood. Only a few things, just enough so she'd know he hated where he was from, and did not consider her son a charity case. He told her about meeting James Potter on the Hogwarts Express and promising to himself that he'd be Sorted into any house but Slytherin, that even if he wound up in Hufflepuff he'd lead that house to victory against his family's. He told her about being Sorted into Gryffindor and the poisonous looks his cousins and their friends had given him as he'd taken his place at the table decorated with banners of crimson and gold. He told her about meeting Remus Lupin in the dorm later that night and about taking little notice of the pale, rather quiet boy--until the fifth of September, when he'd disappeared mysteriously and returned late the next day, muttering something about visiting his sick aunt and looking as though he'd narrowly survived an assault by a mad Bludger. He told Mrs Lupin, hesitantly, about his initial suspicions about her son's monthly absences, and his always-alarming appearance upon return. She sucked in a sharp breath at that, and he told her, tersely, about his own parents' demand for obedience from their sons, and their fondness for certain hexes.

He told her about how he and James and Peter had become concerned about Remus, how they'd watched him, carefully, for months, and how they'd finally figured out what was going on. Well, really, it had been Sirius and James who'd done the figuring out. Mostly, Peter had done a lot of gawping and theorising, and each new theory had been more asinine than the last. He told Mrs Lupin how they'd confronted Remus, once they'd been certain, and how, once he'd admitted they were right, they'd promised they would never stop being his friends and that they would find some way to help him.

Here, Sirius hesitated. After that promise had come nearly four years of research, planning, and experimenting, so that the three of them--Sirius, James, and Peter--could become Animagi and keep Remus company during his transformations. They had promised one another--and Remus--that they would tell no one about what they and done, and, as far as Sirius knew, they had all kept their promise, thus far. There was so much at stake. As tempting as it sometimes was to transform into a gigantic black dog and take a piss at his mother's feet, Sirius could not forget that he could do nothing for Remus were he to be expelled from Hogwarts.

The silence lengthened, and Mrs Lupin continued to look at him. Ducking his head, slightly, he said, fumblingly, “So, we promised. All of us. And we do. Stand by him. Help him. We've been doing that for years. And I think it's gotten easier for him. I mean, you said you'd noticed he looked...healthier. So.” To his dismay, he felt a flush creeping up his cheeks. He wanted to slip into the fishpond and disappear. Instead, he said, “So, now... I realised--just recently, but I guess it's been coming for a while--I want to be...more...to him. I think I'm gay. I mean, I've never been with another bloke, but when I'm with him-- I'm not saying this right. I've only ever been with girls, but they never really felt right. I always thought I was trying too hard. Or too little. It's not like that, with him. I mean, we're not--together.” He said that part very quickly. “I don't know how he feels about me. I think maybe he's a bit hacked off at me. I sort of lied to him, before, because I wasn't sure how he'd take it, but then when I came back to tell him the truth, I never got a chance to--” He stopped himself. He was babbling, now. He paused a moment, to collect his thoughts. Then he drew a deep breath, and went on, honestly: “I just want to be what he needs. Whatever he needs. I fancy him. Well, it's more than just a fancy. But, if he doesn't want that from me...I just want to be his friend. I want to be with him. Always.”

“You can't be with him always,” Mrs Lupin said tightly. “Once a month, you can't be anywhere near him. But last night, you were. How?”

Back to this, then. He should have guessed there'd be no getting around it. Lifting his head, he said quietly, “There's a way.” He did not say, You have to promise me you won't tell anyone. He simply placed his hands, palms-down, on the flagstones, sighed, and willed his body to change.

The dog was not inside him as the wolf was inside Remus, and so the dog did not rip itself out of him as the wolf ripped itself from Remus, biting and clawing, punishing the human body that held it prisoner twenty-nine days out of each month. Sirius' transformation came easily, and he loved the feel of it. It was like sliding into a silk robe, or submerging in clear, cool water. He hadn't realised it would be so easy, or feel so pleasant, the first time he had done it. The discovery had filled him with chagrin; it hadn't seemed fair, and still did not, despite all he'd been able to do for Remus in dog-form.

Looking at Mrs Lupin, now, through his canine eyes, he thought that perhaps that was the reason she was crying again. Instinct told him to go to her and lick her face clean of tears. Dim remembrance of who he really was and what he was doing constrained him. While he stood there uncertainly, Remus' mother covered her mouth with one hand, as though to force back a sob. She reached out, slowly, with her other hand, and touched the underside of the dog's muzzle.

He flinched at the touch. She withdrew her hand quickly. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “You-- I-- Turn back, please.”

He did. She reached toward him, again, but, blinded by her tears, she missed his face. He was glad. The last woman who'd touched him there had been his own mother, and her touch had been a slap. He took her small, seeking hand between his larger ones, and held it. “I just want to be what he needs,” he said again.

“I don't approve,” Sylvie Lupin told him, weakly. “That doesn't mean I don't care for you, or love what you've done. I don't want my son to be gay. I don't want you to be gay. Please don't ever tell him I said that. It's just too much. I know how cruel people can be. I don't want that for either of you. I accept it, though. I accept you. Thank you.”

She did not say, I will never tell anyone what you've shown me. There was no need. She leaned forward, and he realised a few seconds too late, that she meant to kiss him. He felt her lips graze his cheek, and he was embarrassed. But then she said, in his ear, “All right. You've convinced me. I'll give you a chance if my son will.”

*

Remus answered his second knock. “Come in,” he called, hoarsely, and Sirius swallowed his fear, and pushed the door open, slowly.

The small bedroom was as he'd remembered it, except for one detail: the bed he'd used had been transfigured back into a steamer trunk and shoved back against the wall, below the west-facing window. Sirius eyed the trunk longingly for a moment, then the chair by Remus' desk, then the edge of Remus' bed. His legs shook under him, but he didn't think he had the strength to cross the floor to any of those three things. So, he clung to the doorknob and, very warily, shifted his gaze to the head of the bed.

Remus lay against the pillows, a thin blanket drawn up to his chest, a book at his side. He wasn't wearing a shirt. His arms were bandaged; the blanket hid his other injuries. Even against the white linen of his bandages, and the pillowcases, his skin was pale. His cheeks were sunken, and the shadows under his eyes were so dark they looked like bruises. But he still looked better than Sirius felt. Perhaps that was the reason he was the first to speak. “So,” he said.

“So,” Sirius echoed. Then, hurriedly, “Can see why you're called Remus. Your mum's a bit of a she-wolf. You're a lot braver than I am, coming out to your folks. I couldn't do that. But then, my folks are a bit farther round the twist than yours.”

“Catriona Lynton doesn't have a cousin one or two years older than we are,” Remus informed him weakly, but still rather matter-of-factly. “If she had, he would have gone to Hogwarts, and we'd have known about him. I realised that as I was walking back home. After putting you on the Knight Bus. He could have been a Squib, but that didn't make sense. The Lyntons are as proud of their purity as the Blacks. A Squib would have been kept quiet.”

“Well-spotted,” said Sirius dryly. “You have us figured out, I see.”

“Or,” Remus continued, as though there had been no interjection, “you'd have bragged about the fact that the boy you fancied was a Squib. It would have been too good an act of rebellion to pass up.”

“That does sound like me,” Sirius admitted.

“Either way...your behaviour was just a little too strange for that to be true. You said it wasn't James, and I believed you. I didn't think it could have been Peter. So, either it was someone you knew I'd detest, or it was me. There aren't really any blokes I detest, but there are one or two you think I should detest. You'd have been reluctant to admit it, if it had been Snape...”

“You know me so well.”

“I don't know you at all,” Remus said, flatly. “The Sirius I know, or thought I knew, doesn't lie to his mates.”

“No,” Sirius said, “that's something you do.”

The other boy went even whiter.

“I only lied,” said Sirius, “because I thought I'd lose you if you knew the truth. I tried to tell you. You weren't exactly understanding.”

Remus closed his eyes, and that made things a little more bearable. “I couldn't believe it. It didn't make any sense. I knew you were having problems with Cat. I knew you'd had problems with your other girlfriends. But you've always liked girls. I've watched you fall for one after another. I've never-- But, I believe you, now. I believe you care about me--a lot. I care about you, too, more than anything. But, you need to know... Once I realised you were telling the truth, I started to think about us, and I've reached two conclusions. Either you like me so much you're willing to risk our friendship in order to be with me, or you care about our friendship so little you're willing to risk it for a fling. I need to know which it is. If it's the first one, all right. But you have to mean it. I mean, really mean it. Because I'm telling you the truth. If we start something, and it doesn't work out, I don't think we can go back to being friends. If it's the second--all right. I can accept that. I won't do anything with you, but at least I'll know where I stand. And we'll never be more than what we are, now.”

“What are we, now?” Sirius asked warily.

“I think we're friends.”

“I want us to be more than friends,” Sirius said. “I care about you. More than anything. More than--”

“Don't say more than James.”

“It's true, though,” insisted Sirius. “Well, it's different. I think--I think I used to be attracted to James, just a little. But it was different.”

“How?”

“I was always competitive with James,” said Sirius, wishing he'd had time, like Remus, to memorise what he wanted to say. “I think a part of me wanted to impress him. Wanted his approval. I think that's why I stuck with the Quidditch. I love flying. I only ever feel really free when I'm on my broomstick. Or when I'm Padfoot. But I was never really into the team stuff. I mean, you and James and Peter are the best mates a bloke can have, but--that's different, too. Anyway, I never fancied James the way I fancy you. I mean, I want to impress you. I want you to be proud of me. But I also want-- I want to touch you,” he said, deeply embarrassed, and glad the other boy had not yet reopened his eyes. “I--”

“You want to fuck me?”

The word sent a jolt through him. “Yes,” he admitted. “No. I mean--that's not the right word.”

“Isn't it? I want to fuck you. You're bloody gorgeous. I want to see you starkers, spread out under me. I want to be inside you and--”

“Stop. Will you bloody stop?” The words felt wrenched from him.

“So, that's not what you want.”

“It is what I want. But that's not--I don't want it to be like that.”

“But that is how it would be. We're both blokes.”

“I know that,” said Sirius. “Do you think I haven't thought about that? I've had a few days to think about how I feel about you and what it means. The question of sex did not escape my attention. I've thought about you and me, and what it would be like.”

“But, if you've never--”

“Stop.” They couldn't go on like this. For one thing, Sirius had no more strength to expend on this argument. For another, it was clear they weren't getting anywhere. “Just, stop. I can't do this, anymore.”

“Why not?” Remus asked, opening his eyes at last and lifting his brows. “I've been doing this for a year.”

“I've been doing it for three.” He held tightly to the doorknob. “I don't mean I've fancied you for three years. I really did realise that only a few days ago. I mean, I've known...suspected...” He looked away from Remus, to the window. Outside, the garden was awash with sunlight. It was past noon. His gaze on the apple tree's yellow-green leaves, Sirius licked his lips and said, “I'll tell you one more secret, if you like. For your collection. It's the last one, though. You know all the rest.” When Remus said nothing, he continued. “You know my first time was when I was thirteen. It wasn't with a bloke, but it was--because of one, I guess.” Merlin, he was tired. He supposed his legs were still trembling, but he couldn't feel them, anymore. He couldn't feel any part of his body. That was good. He could tell this if he could absent himself from his body, convince himself that someone else was giving this story to Remus, or that it was someone else's story altogether.

Whoever still had control of his mouth made it say, “I was thirteen. This was over Easter holidays, our second year. My parents wanted me home, remember? Wanted me present for this social family gathering thing. A lot of relatives were there. Friends of the family. Lots of people I'd never seen before. There was this bloke.” The sunlight was blinding, the sky a piercing blue. “He was older than me. A lot older. He was gorgeous. He had this long, silvery blond hair, and these grey eyes. He was one of the Malfoy cousins. Not Lucius. Probably a complete git, but I spent most of the time watching him. I wanted him. I'd never been with a girl, then. Never gave them much thought, really. I just saw him, and thought--that's what I want. Bellatrix saw me watching him.” Even the stranger who had taken control of his body hesitated, here. From wherever he'd gone, Sirius wondered what Remus was doing as he heard this. He couldn't make himself--his body--turn and look. Presently, he heard himself continue.

He heard himself tell Remus how, after his parents' guests had begun to leave, he'd gone up to his bedroom, changed, crawled under the covers, and started to wank off, thinking of the gorgeous bloke he'd seen. How, before he'd finished, he'd heard the door open and, thinking it was Kreacher, had stilled his hand and pretended to be asleep. How it hadn't been Kreacher at all, but Bellatrix. How she'd gone to his bed and ripped back the duvet, exposing him. How she'd taunted him. The words she'd called him. What he'd called her in return. How somehow she'd wound up in the bed, beneath him at first, then somehow, on top of him. How, in his anger and shame, he'd tried to hurt her, and how she'd mocked him, in response, and laughed at his efforts. If this is the best you can do, perhaps you should be some man's plaything. You'll never please a woman. How she'd left him, finally, feeling used and revolted.

“That would put me off women, too.”

Sirius started.

He was back in his own body, and Remus was standing before him, obviously exhausted, obviously in pain, but holding himself up somehow, and holding out a hand. Sirius felt the fingertips graze his cheek. He tensed--and knew he really could not go on any longer. He'd passed the limits of his strength long ago. “Is it enough?” It was almost a plea. “I don't have any more secrets to give you. You know how I feel. Is it enough? If it's not enough, then I don't--”

Remus did not let him finish. He touched his fingertips to Sirius' lips, silencing him. “It's enough,” he said softly. Then he wound one arm around Sirius' waist, and drew him away from the door.

Bereft of the doorknob's support, Sirius nearly stumbled, but Remus did not let him fall. He caught him and held him up. How they made it to the bed, Sirius never knew. Suddenly they were there, and Remus was helping him to sit. Then he was gathering up his legs and easing him back against the covers. Remus removed his boots. He heard the thuds as they hit the floor. Then Remus was climbing into bed beside him. Sirius flailed blindly with one hand. Remus caught it, and held it.

“I'm here,” he whispered. “I'm right here.”

Sirius remembered the words he'd tried to say in the shed that morning-- I'm here. It's going to be all right. I'll take care of you --and the words Sylvie Lupin had quoted to him, a short while ago, in the garden -- I will never be farther away from you than this.

Here was shore, and it wasn't bleak. Here was Remus, curling toward him, still clutching his hand, murmuring, “I won't leave you. Go to sleep, Padfoot.”

A second later, he did.

*

When Sirius awoke, much later, he was aware of three things: it was dark, his legs ached abominably, and Remus was still beside him--with his pyjama shirt on--stroking his hair.

“Hello,” said Remus, softly.

Sirius tried to say “Hello” back, and he intended to follow that up with “It's me, not James, right?”, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a groan of pain.

“What's the matter?” Remus asked at once, concernedly.

“M'legs,” he managed to croak. Merlin, what the fuck had he done to himself? Then he remembered. “Fuck.”

“What's wrong with your legs?”

“They fucking hurt. No, don't stop--” But Remus was already sitting up and reaching for the lamp that stood on the bedside table. Sirius blinked in the sudden bright light.

“What's wrong with your legs?” Remus asked again.

“I told you, they hurt. It's a long way from Edinburgh to Melrose.”

Remus stared down at him, uncomprehending. “What were you doing in Edinburgh? When were you in Edinburgh?”

“Last night,” Sirius grunted. “I got off the Knight Bus, there.”

“Wasn't it going to stop in Melrose?”

“Yeah,” said Sirius, somewhat reluctantly. “But there were three more stops. The moon was almost up. I was getting impatient. I'm an idiot,” he concluded, finally.

Remus did not contradict him. “Do you know how far it is from Edinburgh to Melrose?”

“I do, now.”

Remus made a sound that was more a sigh than a laugh. He bent over Sirius, gathered the other boy's legs once more in his arms, and drew them up so that they lay draped across his waist.

“Isn't this hurting you?” Sirius asked, then winced as Remus wrapped both hands around one of his calves, and squeezed, slowly.

“I'm mostly healed,” Remus said. He slid his hands a little lower, and squeezed again, eliciting another pain-laced hiss. “It's been a few hours. More than a few, actually. It's nearly midnight. You slept about twelve hours. Mum and Dad came by a few hours ago. With supper. Are you hungry? There's still some...” Sirius shook his head. “Actually,” Remus went on, “I think they wanted to make sure we weren't dead, or... You didn't so much as twitch. Anyway...” He continued to massage Sirius' legs, but he ducked his head, so his fringe spilled over his eyes. “I'm sorry I was cruel to you, before.”

“You weren't cruel.”

“I was. After what you did for me-- What you said. I could see you were exhausted, but... You shouldn't have had to tell me that, if you didn't want to. Your secrets belong to you.”

“I belong to you.”

The hands paused. The dishevelled brown head did not lift. “Padfoot...” There was a slightly desperate edge to his tone.

“Remus,” said Sirius. “Will you look at me? Look.” And when the other boy did lift his eyes and look at him, finally, “I'm falling in love with you,” he said. “That's what I told your mum. Well--I told her I wanted to be whatever you needed me to be. I think she understood. Do you? I'm falling in love with you, you bloody idiot, and--I want to. I'm glad it's you. So glad.” While he spoke, Remus resumed stroking. It hurt, but under the ministrations of those strong, slender fingers, the knotted muscles were beginning to loosen. “I want to be in love with you. Your mum thinks it'll be really hard for us. She's probably right. I don't care. I want to be in love with you. I want to do things for you. Make things for you. I want us to be more in love than your mum and dad.”

“My mum and dad have a perfect marriage,” Remus said, sounding wistful. “They really love each other. They're in a lot of pain right now, but they think it's worth it. I can't always make up my mind, if that much love is worth that much pain, or if it isn't. Part of me wants to tell you you're completely mental. You don't know what you're talking about. Not that I don't believe you, but you really don't know. You may be gay, but you've been with girls. I haven't. Ever. I've only ever been with blokes. No one you'd know,” he said quickly, when Sirius frowned at him questioningly. “For a while...I guess you could say Geoff Abbott and I were boyfriends. He's a Hufflepuff. Our year. We never came out to anyone, though. We got each other off a few times, but mostly we had study dates. Not very romantic. We sort of broke up in June. He wanted to come here for the summer, and I didn't want him to see the shed, and maybe guess... Anyway.” The smile he flashed Sirius then was small and somewhat sheepish. “My unimpressive love life. Still, I know more about being gay than you. I know I fancy blokes. And I know you do, too, but... You've never been with one. What happened with your cousin wasn't normal. That was--”

“Incest?”

“I was going to call it something else. But I can see it putting you off women, or thinking you had to prove yourself to them, and that's why... No, I believe you,” he said, when Sirius would have protested. “Listen. There's no way this is going to sound right. Part of me wants to tell you to go out and shag--or at least snog--as many blokes as you can until you're sure. Only a very small part of me, though.”

“Good,” said Sirius. “Because if you wanted me to, I'd think about it. But you know I wouldn't do it. I want you.”

“And I want you. That's why I know I'm not going to suggest it, really. I'd be too jealous. I was never really jealous of your girlfriends--except Maddin, maybe--because I could see you weren't really happy with them. I hate the idea of you with other blokes. I hate it almost as much as I think I hate your cousin, now. To be honest with you--to be perfectly honest, since you deserve that--I think I'm falling in love with you, too. I just can't decide if I want that or not. Because, like I said, on the one hand, it means so much to me that we're friends. On the other...on the other hand...I think I'm willing to risk losing your friendship, on the chance I might really find--you. And that scares me, too. Because I don't have so many friends that I can really risk losing one. On the other hand--”

“You only have two hands,” Sirius cut in. “And both of them are on me.” So, unless you have some other freakish quality you need to confess, in order to one-up me, again... he nearly quipped, but the way Remus looked just then stopped him in time. Remus was smiling. The lamplight threw colour onto his cheeks and filled his eyes with amber sparks. Sirius realised three things, then, in quick succession. The first was that Remus' hands were not merely on him; they were on his thigh. The last time he'd given them any thought they'd been moving downward, from calf to ankle. At some point they'd switched direction, and somehow he'd missed it. The second thing he realised was that it was still only the beginning of August. The last three weeks of summer still stretched before them like a sunlit path. Three weeks together, without anything to do but find each other, and learn each other. The third thing he realised was that he did not care.

Before he could think about it any more, and maybe change his mind, he said, decisively, “Kiss me.”

Remus blinked at him. “Were you even listening?”

“I was,” said Sirius. “We were talking about decisions. And hands. I've decided I want to kiss yours.”

Remus hesitated. Sirius did not. He caught one slender hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed the callused fingertips, lightly. Then, as Remus inhaled sharply, he kissed the palm. First he grazed the soft flesh with his lips. Then he touched it with the tip of his tongue. Remus shivered, but did not pull away. Emboldened, Sirius lapped at Remus' palm, teaching himself the shape of it, revelling in the salty taste. He caressed each finger, bit down teasingly on the thumb.

Remus made a sound in his throat that was very close to a sob. But then he was curling over Sirius--flowing over him, it seemed, like water. Sirius had to drop the hand he'd been playing with, because now there was not enough room for it, between their faces. He touched his tongue to the tip of Remus' nose, and the other boy laughed against him, his hands on Sirius' sides, then under his shirt, so cool and so good against his burning skin.

“Dogs and wolves are physically compatible, you know,” Sirius said, when he could speak again.

Remus' breath seemed to hitch in his throat, but he kept stroking, his hands playing lightly over Sirius' chest and belly. “Are they? I guess I knew that. It's not something I really thought about, truthfully. Is that why you chose a dog as your animal form?”

“You don't choose your Animagus form," Sirius informed him. "More like it chooses you. Given the choice, I'd have taken it without a second thought. But by the time I was fifteen I think I was already an animal that just wanted to curl up at the feet of Remus Lupin.”

Someone's heart was beating very rapidly, and someone was hard as hell. It was both of them, Sirius realised in a moment, as he bent his legs to wrap them around Remus' waist. Their groins nudged together. They both gasped at the pleasure that laced through them, at that touch. So this was how it was, being with a bloke. Everything his body did, his partner's body mirrored. There could be no secrets between them. Not in bed, anyway. When Sirius told this thought to Remus, the other boy laughed again, and continued to drop clumsy, enflaming kisses up and down the side of his neck.

“So, I can always tell,” Sirius said, “when you want it from me.”

At that, Remus lifted his head and studied him bemusedly. “Always?” he said, cupping Sirius' cheek and tracing the bones of his face with the pad of his thumb. “I've wanted this from you for a year. You weren't very observant.”

True. “I'll have to keep you close, then.” No farther apart than this... He lifted his head and kissed Remus, firmly, on the mouth.

He'd been half-afraid it would be like kissing Cat, or any one of his other girlfriends. Lips were lips. He hadn't counted on Remus' scent sweeping over him, or the taste of his breath, or the way his hands moved over his face, or the weight and shape of his body. Any one of those things would have overcome his doubts and any lingering hesitation. Combined, they ravished him, so thoroughly that when Remus broke the kiss, finally, Sirius fell back against the bed, gasping, every inch of him stinging with desire, and wild for more.

“I've made my decision,” Remus said. “Kiss me again.”

02/29/04