What Can Never Be

     Sirius has been dead for ten years now, ten very long years and a single day. Yesterday Harry and I marked his anniversary in our usual way, by getting drunk at the Hogs Head. We allow ourselves that one day, just one, to remember Sirius. Usually when I wake up the day after his memory is back in it's usual place, locked far away in the darkest recesses of my mind. Today is different, somehow. I've had him on my mind all day. Everything in this school reminds me of Sirius. Normally I would be back to my routine by now, living another year in peace, but I've been jumpy all day. For some reason I keep expecting to see Sirius. I keep telling myself not to put myself through this, not to hope for something so impossible, but I cannot help it. My mind stubbornly insists on watching for him. I search for him in the faces of my students, I glance up from my tea thinking I hear his footsteps. Strange. Maybe it has something to do with last night.

     "Do you want another, Lupin?" Harry asked, making me jump. I had been so lost in thought that I had almost forgotten he was sitting across from me. Harry nodded in the direction of my drink.

     I glanced down at the glass, where the last of the ice was melting. "Yes, I think that would be good."

     Harry got up and headed towards the bar, carrying our empty glasses, and I smiled in spite of myself. I was already feeling tipsy, even though I was only on my third scotch. I had never been much of a drinker. Sirius had been the party animal of our little group, growing up. He had been willing to match anyone pint for pint, and could drink me under the table. I remembered our last night at Hogwarts, the four of us sneaking out to Hogsmeade to celebrate the end of our schooling. Sirius had gotten plastered. Towards the end of the evening he had stripped off his shirt and climbed up on the bar to dance. His killer smile and his perfect body had made the girls swoon. I had just stared, falling more and more in love.

     "Here you go," Harry said, sliding a fresh glass of scotch my way. He raised his own glass, clinking it against mine. "To Sirius."

     "To Sirius," I repeated, the name catching in my throat and making me feel strangled. All these years, and I still missed him.

     It was our annual meeting, Harry's and mine, the one time each year we would come together to remember Sirius. The date marked the day he had been killed in the Ministry of Magic, and no matter how busy I was with life I never forgot to show up at the Hogs Head late each spring to join Harry in a night of tears and alcohol.

     Normally I refrain from drinking. Oh, I may have a glass of wine with dinner, but only in moderation. On this night, our night, however, I always got smashed. It was easier that way, to dull the pain in alcohol oblivion. The drink somehow numbed me and sharpened my memory at the same time. All the thoughts I had repressed floated to the surface, unbidden images of my lost joy.

     "Do you ever wonder what it would be like, if Sirius was still with us?" Harry asked, draining his fire whiskey and looking thougtful. He had a taste for the stuff, much as James had.

     "All the time," I told him, feeling suddenly close to tears. It was the alcohol. Normally I was restrained and calm, everything kept below a placid surface. When I drank, however, I was always on the verge of a major depression.

     Harry looked thoughtful. "Do you think it would have worked out differently, with the two of you, if he had lived?"

     Harry always asked these types of questions. He spent hours musing about the possibilities, imagining what type of job Sirius could have held had he been cleared, for instance, or what Sirius would say about him coming out and marrying Draco. I for one am glad Sirius did not live to see that. I can imagine his reaction all too well.

     I shook my head, uncertain. "I don't know, maybe."

     "You were living together before he died," Harry pointed out. Once he gets something in his mind, he never lets go. I have to admit, he's persistent.

     "That was nothing, Harry. We were just roommates." My thoughts struggled to go back to that night, the night I had moved in with Sirius, but I refused. I was not quite intoxicated enough to let my mind wander back there.

     "I blame myself," he said, suddenly switching topics. He does that frequently, jumping between ideas before I can collect my thoughts. His ability to multitask came in handy in his work as an Auror, but it left me feeling unfinished.

     I reached for his hand, patting it. Harry never pulls away from me when I touch him. It's a nice change. Most people are afraid of getting so close to a werewolf. "We have been through this before, Harry. What happened isn't your fault. Sirius loved you, he died protecting you. It was the way he wanted to go."

     "I was an idiot," Harry declared, his voice raised slightly. "I should have known better, and not fallen for Voldemort's trick."

     He did this every time. He may be twenty five now, but when he drinks he goes back to that insecure, angst filled teen. The self hatred is shocking, especially given what a genuinely nice person he is. "Voldemort has fooled wizards far older and wiser, Harry. You cannot blame yourself." I gave him a hug, wishing I could do something to alleviate his pain. It had been ten years, and Harry had never forgiven himself for his most costly mistake.

     He looked up at me. "I wish you and Sirius had gone out."

     "Harry," I said, shocked. Harry and his fantasies. "Sirius was not interested in men, not in that way. You know that."

     "I know," he answered with a shrug. "Still, you would have been happy, wouldn't you?"

     I could not stand thinking about that. The wanting was too much. "Let's talk about something else," I suggested, taking a sip of the scotch. Horrible stuff, scotch, it burns all the way down.

     "I wish you could be happy," Harry said.

     "I am happy," I insisted, and I was sure of it in my heart. As happy as the possibilities of this life had allowed, anyway. "I am happy with Severus, I enjoy my position at Hogwarts, I like my work in the Order. You do not need to worry about me."

     Severus is forever asking me these kinds of questions, things about Sirius. It is funny really, the fascination he has for Sirius, and the contempt, as if Sirius is not long dead and a million miles away. Sirius is a ghost that haunts Severus as he haunts me, reminding us of missed opportunities and years gone by. Severus, for all his cold demeanor, is amazingly insecure. He will ask me if I would have been happier with Sirius, and then will stomp away, unwilling to hear my answer. Perhaps he knows what my reply would be.

     "Wistful."

     "What?"

     "You are always wistful," Harry repeated. He was getting drunk, he only used words like wistful when he started to get pissed. Harry is quite poetic in his intoxicated states. "You always look like you are dreaming of something."

     I am, I wanted to tell him, but I was practically Harry's godfather and it was my duty to put on the happy face that would put him at ease. "You are nearly out of whiskey. Shall I go get some more?"

     "No, Draco is expecting me soon, and if I have another I won't be able to get home conscious." He frowned. "Are you sure you are happy?"

     "I have everything I could possibly want," I assured him, even as my heart called me a liar. I patted his shoulder. "Should I walk you home?" He and Draco were sharing a place above the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes shop, less then a mile away. To this day I have no idea how they managed it, the entire Weasley family hating Draco as they did, but Harry was always a favourite of Fred and George. Had it been up to Ron, he and Draco would be on the streets. Poor Ron has never quite gotten over his best friends choice of lovers.

     "Nah, I'll catch the Knight Bus," Harry answered. "I'm sorry to be leaving so early."

     "No, it's fine. I should be returning home soon anyway," I said. I took the last drink of my scotch, relishing the warming sensation that spread across my belly.

     We walked out of the bar into the night. It was uncommonly cold, and our breath made plumes of steam in the air. Harry gave me a feeble wave and held out his wand, tip alight. For a moment I considered boarding the bus with him, but I felt pulled in a different direction.

     Fifteen minutes later I was at the shrieking shack, the illustrious haunted house of the wizarding world. The place was so alive with memories that they were almost tangible. I had a feeling I could reach out and recapture all my lost years in the peeling paint and the scarred walls. So many nights I had raged inside, only dimly aware of my own thoughts, in the company of Sirius, James and Peter. I gave a half hearted laugh. Why hadn't I eaten Peter during one of those mad nights? Everything would be different. I would return home to Sirius, who was always lively and ready to chat, not Severus, who would be sprawled in bed, hogging the covers.

     It must have been the alcohol that hit me then, making my knees go weak. The tears came as I sank to my knees on the damp ground. I sobbed like I had never sobbed before, doubled over, gasping. Each breath felt like fire, and I could not stop shaking. Oh Sirius. I miss you so badly. Won't you ever come back to me? I slumped toward, my head against the rough hewn walls of the shack, my hand trailing along the peeling paint. The world seemed to go a little darker, and I slipped easily back into memory.

     "What do you dream about?" asked Sirius as he leaned back onto the grass, arms crossed under his head. He glanced up at me, his dark eyes inquisitive.

     "I don't know," I answered, feeling foolish. I was a school prefect, presumably one of the more intelligent wizards at school, but Sirius had this way of making me go shaky in the knees. I looked up at the moon, that hateful white orb, to take my thoughts off my own nervousness. The moon shone down on me in that mocking way, that horrible bone coloured glow.

     Sirius rolled over on his side, his head propped on his palm. "Oh, come on. Tell me a dream you had. I'll tell you one of mine."

     I can't tell you my dreams, I thought. They would scare you away. Sirius often played a leading role in my most secret nightly visions, although I would never tell him so. I looked down at the grass and plucked up a handful to distract myself. "The last dream I had, hmm, let's see. I dreamt I was on a Ferris wheel, all my myself, and it was going way too fast. I kept trying to get down, but the more I tried the quicker it whirled around."

     "Are you serious?" he asked, face cracking into a grin. "You have the most messed up mind, Remus."

     "Tell me yours then," I said.

     The moonlight was reflected in his eyes, making him look predatory. His skin was pale in the brightness of the night, a stark contrast to the dark hair that was characteristically rumpled. "I dreamed I was shagging Amelia Johnston, in the prefects bathroom. That giant tub, yum." His eyes glinted and the edge of a smile played upon his lips.

     I noticed the sparkle in his eyes and hated Amelia Johnston. "The Quidditch girl?"

     "Not just the Quidditch girl, the captain of the Quidditch team and the best chaser Gryffindor has ever seen," Sirius declared.

     "The Quidditch girl, then," I confirmed.

     "You need a girlfriend, Remus," Sirius announced, plucking a dandelion from the ground and blowing the fluff at me.

     I blushed, thankful for the darkness. "I don't know about that. I'm not very good with girls."

     "What? Lily Evans seems to like you well enough."

     Lily Evans. I snorted. "She likes me because I'm not a showoff like James, and because I helped her with that Transfiguration project of hers."

     "Well, someone else then. Who do you like?"

     "I don't know, no one in particular." You, I thought, willing him to pick up on my thoughts and at the same time petrified that he would.

     "You're supposed to be a werewolf, Remus. Where's that hunter instinct?" Sirius propped himself up on one elbow. "You need to be more aggressive."

     I dream of throwing you down and having my way with you, is that aggressive enough, the voice in the back of my mind questioned. "Humph."

     "You're such an old maid," Sirius laughed, but there was an affectionate lilt in his voice, or so I fervently hoped. "I can get you a date. How about Tawny?"

     "Tawny Brown?" She was pretty, although rumour had it she was quite popular among the gentlemen. "I don't know about that."

     "Well who then? There are some really hot seventh year twins in Hufflepuff. We could double."

     "Seventh years?" Seventh years were definitely out of my league. I should have known better though. Sirius, even though he was just a sixth year, could easily have any girl in the school. They fawned over him constantly. He was always harangued by owls delivering love letters, and girls were always running up to him, blushing and then running away.

     Sirius shrugged, that utterly casual shrug he had. "I've had some offers."

     Well, of course he had. He had even turned lesbians straight. "I'll bet you have. Where's James? I thought he and Peter were meeting us here."

     "They are, they just had a little stop to make," Sirius answered, grinning.

     "Stop? Oh, don't tell me they've snuck out to Hogsmeade again!" It always scared me when they broke the school rules and snuck out. Sirius never concerned himself with guidelines, but I was always a stickler for rules. Being a werewolf does not afford one a lot of second chances.

     Sirius seemed bored. "They won't get caught, Remus. Don't get your knickers in a twist about it."

     "They better not. Dumbledore made me a prefect hoping I could keep them in line. If they get caught, he'll murder me."

     "Nah, he won't. Relax."

     I shook my head. "I can't"

     "Yes you can. Lay down!"

     "Why?"

     "Just do it," he ordered, pushing himself up with one arm.

     I rolled my eyes, feeling silly, and leaned back into the grass. It was damp with dew and made the back of my shirt wet.

     "No, on your stomach, silly."

     I obliged, rolling over onto my stomach.

     "You need to just relax," he instructed, crawling closer.

     For a moment I was terrified, wondering what would happen. I longed for something from him, yet I was scared to death. He touched my shoulders, gently. "Your muscles are all tense."

     "I can do a relaxation spell," I said, wondering what he was getting at.

     "No, try this." He dug his fingers into my back, kneading the muscles. I sighed as I felt my taut muscles began to loosen. The feel of his hands on my body was wonderful.

     "It's nice, isn't it?" Sirius asked as his hands moved lower, relaxing the muscles on my lower back.

     "Yes."

     "Deirdre Spinnet taught me," he explained, expertly massaging my neck. He gave my back a final pat. "Better?"

     "Much," I replied, feeling no tension whatsoever. I remained face down in the grass, feeling the warmth of his touch fading.

     "Good," he answered, lying down beside me. "Now me."

     "What?"

     "Now me," he repeated. "My back hurts."

     I felt my heart skip a beat. "I don't know how."

     "It's simple. Just knead. I'll tell you if you're not doing it right."

     Reluctantly I got to my knees. I had no idea how to place myself. Sirius seemed to sense this. "Just straddle my back."

     "What?"

     "Straddle my back," he said, slower, as if addressing someone rather short on brains. "That way you can reach me better. It's hell trying to do it from the side, your hands will get all tired."

     I shivered in spite of the warm night. "All right." Gingerly I climbed on top of him, carefully resting on my knees over him, feeling at once wicked and completely out of my league. Carefully I reached out and touched his back with one hand, letting my fingers caress his back through his shirt.

     He sighed as I began the massage, working carefully down his back, kneading his muscles with my hands. I was amazed, there in the middle of the abandoned Quidditch pitch, my body pressed against his as I rubbed.

     "You're better then Deirdre," he whispered, stretching his arms out in front of him and letting his face sink down against the ground.

     Lightly, I traced my fingers down his neck, feeling the hot skin against my hand. I looked down at him, loving the way that his hair fell into his face, loving the curve of his spine and the firmness of his muscles under my touch. He offered no resistance, obviously trusting me, and I felt suddenly glad that he did not know my feelings towards him. He was my closest friend and idol, and my crush. He had no way of knowing how it pained me some times.

     I heard distant voices, echoing fainting in the silence of the night, and turned to see James and Peter making their way towards us. They were tiny figures in the distance, but I felt like a deer in headlights and practically flung myself off of Sirius.

     "That was good," he told me, sitting up. He looked closely at my face. "You have grass in your hair," he said, and reached forward, brushing my face with the side of his hand. For just an instant he paused, his palm against my cheek, his eyes burning into mine. Then the blade of grass fell and he got to his feet, jogging over to join James.

     "What do you want, Remus, butterbeer or some malt whiskey?" James said, sounding jovial as he pulled bottles from the paper bag in his arms.

     "Just butterbeer," I said, the ever present prefect in my mind speaking automatically. I accepted a bottle from him, grateful for the distraction of the drink to tear me from my thoughts.

     James settled himself on the grass, staring up at the sky. "Anything yet?"

     "We've still got a few minutes to go," Sirius said, tousling his hair absently.

     "Good thing we got back now," Peter piped up. "Otherwise we might have missed it."

     Neither Sirius or I said anything. I didn't look at him but concentrated on the grass instead, counting the blades around me.

     "Wait, I think I see something," said James, pointing towards the sky. "Er, yes, it was really faint though." He leaned back on his elbows, grinning up at the night sky as a cloud drifted over the moon.

     Sirius flopped down onto the grass next to me, the usual haughty smile playing on his lips. "Meteor shower, I love it. We really ought to be getting extra credit in Astronomy for this one."

     "Will we?" Peter questioned, sounding pleased.

     James ripped up a handful of grass and threw it at him. "Don't be an idiot, Peter."

     I laid back on the grass, looking up at the sky. The first meteors were faint, shooting across the sky so quickly they were hard to make out, but soon we were treated to so many the sky was dense with them. Flashing bursts of light.

     Sirius nudged me, and I turned, meeting his gaze. He grinned, cocking an eyebrow up at the night sky. "Make a wish."

     I did. The same one I made every night as I caught sight of the first star out of my bedroom window. Funny, I never made the wish one would expect, to be free of my cyclical changes, to undo the curse of being a werewolf. Sirius watched, his eyes alight and a subtle hint of a grin on his lips. He leaned back, stretching out against the cold ground. "Someday, Remus. Someday all your wishes will come true."

     Slowly, I got to my feet. My legs felt stiff and frozen, as if I had been kneeling before the shrieking shack for hours. The alcohol in my blood made me dizzy and blurred my vision, but I found my way to the path easily enough. I had come to the shack too many times to ever lose my way, and could probably have navigated Hogsmeade blindfolded.

     The streets were deserted as I walked slowly through the village on my way back to the school. The moonlight shone down, making strange shadows of the bare tree branches. In the distance, an owl hooted, but it was not winging any news my way.

     Sirius and I had spoken of that long ago night several times. In the back of my mind I had always known that he knew my true feelings, but I was in denial until he brought it up. Part of me had always known his as well, but my self doubt had the best of me all along, and made me forget the gentle brush of his arm against mine, the light in his eyes when he looked my way. Sirius had gone on like he always did, dating a steady stream of girls and never settling down. I had convinced myself that I was just imagining things. It was easier as time went on, to be more at ease in his presence, to get caught up with books and studies and not be so plagued by thse racing hormones.

     We shared our first kiss on the night I moved into 12 Grimmauld Place, our first kiss and our last. We had been apart too long, too much time had gone by, or so we both thought. Sirius had changed in those long years in Azkaban, and I had as well. Life as a werewolf makes it hard to hold onto dreams; I've had to fight just to survive in the face of prejudice, and hope was never my strong point. Part of me felt guilty as well, as we pulled away from that embrace. I had abandoned him in his hour of need, left him in prison, believed the worst of him. I had no right to expect anything from him.

     He had been confused by his own feelings. There had never been men in his life. He was preoccupied, burdened with his desire to be the perfect godfather to Harry. It had not been the right time for love. Perhaps if things had been different; if I had spoken sooner, or if James and Lily had never been murdered, perhaps then things would have worked between us. It was simply too much water under the bridge, too much distance. The light in his eyes had gone out, and the flower of hope that had once bloomed in my heart had wilted long before. We did have the one kiss, however, the lingering touch of his lips on mine, the perfect pressure that implied neither disinterest or desperation. The taste of his mouth, his hands in my hair, that kiss has ruined romance for me. No other kiss could ever compare.

     The castle was dark as I entered, catching the wall for balance as I stumbled. It was late, and even Filch was finished prowling the halls. I made my way to the quarters I shared with Severus, my fingertips trailing along the wall as I walked slowly, making sure I stayed upright.

     Severus had left the candles burning, an uncommonly thoughtful gesture on his part. Perhaps that was the reason for my attraction for him. He was sexy, and interesting, but he asked for nothing from me, not compassion, not love. He allowed me to keep my heart set firmly on a dead man from the past, for which I was eternally thankful.

     I snuffed out the candles and made my way to the bedroom, trying to stay quiet so not to wake Severus. He is a beast when he's disturbed during his sleep, and tends to hurtle curses first and ask questions later. He was already awake, however, propped up in bed with the lamp turned on.

     "Sit down before you fall down, Lupin." he instructed, gesturing towards the bed. His voice sounded cold.

     I dropped down into the black comforter, glad to be off my feet. The room seemed to sway and I covered my eyes with one hand and groaned. I kicked off my shoes and buried my head in my hands.

     "You have no head for drink," Severus declared. His tone was brisk, but not particularly annoyed. He kicked off the covers and walked over to my side of the bed. "Come on, to bed. You have a class to teach tomorrow."

     "I'll be fine," I said. I always was, no matter how bad things had been the night before. The students never seemed to notice the circles under my eyes, and I felt at home in my classroom like I never had anywhere else.

     Severus touched my face. "This damn night. I always hate this damn night. Are you all right? You look terrible."

     I laughed, feeling amused with him. The only person I had ever truly loved in my life was dead and buried, and Severus wanted to know if I was all right. "I'm fine."

     He leaned forward and kissed me suddenly, his lips pressed roughly against my mouth. His mouth tasted like absinthe, which he liked to drink in the evenings. His skin was smooth against my cheek. He seemed like a stranger, this man that I lived with. I kissed him back woodenly.

     He was used to it. He knew the way I always was on that night, it no longer surprised him that I was distant and disinterested in him. The next day I would wake up different, with a slight headache but functional as always, with Sirius firmly locked in the darkest recesses of my mind. I would kiss Severus back with passion, and teach my Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons with real interest, pleased to drone on about my favourite subject. I would be the familiar Lupin everyone expected, calm and quiet and utterly content looking, and the demons would go back to sleep for another year.

     I cared about Severus, I truly did. That grade school resentment had built up enough tension between us to make the relationship interesting. I loved hearing him talk, the fascinated way he explained the potions he adored, his stories about his days as a Death Eater. His crass, biting humour made me laugh, and I liked the deadpan voice he used sometimes when describing his weekly run ins with Minerva. On one night of the year, however, all those feelings were chased away. I was raw and unprotected, with drunken dreams of Sirius in my head. I longed for him, ached for the feel of his skin.

     Severus sighed and slid back into bed. "Come on. Get some sleep."

     "Right," I said. My eyes felt hot with tears. "I'll be fine tomorrow."

     "I know," he told me, sounding disinterested. "You always are."

     He switched off the lamp and pulled up the covers up. I leaned back, feeling soreness in my muscles. My body remembered Sirius touch. I closed my eyes, feeling the tears start to well up again. Severus reached for my hand and laced his fingers tightly against mine. He squeezed. I gave a weak squeeze back and turned my head away from him, looking towards the window. Outside the night was crisp and clear. The moon had gone behind a cloud, but the stars were bright and glinting coldly. I blinked, feeling the hot pinpricks of the tears. Faintly, so quickly that I could barely see it, a meteor shot across the shy, vanishing in an instant. I closed my eyes, letting the tears stream down my face as I thought of all the things that would never be. Outside, the unpredicted meteor shower raged, sending bolts of light streaming through the air. Suddenly, something I had thought was lost forever made it's presence known. I smiled as that fragile flower of hope began to bloom again.