Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9488513.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Sirius_Black/Remus_Lupin, Remus_Lupin/James_Potter, Regulus_Black/Remus
      Lupin
  Character:
      Remus_Lupin, Sirius_Black, James_Potter, Regulus_Black
  Additional Tags:
      Post-Prank, Revenge_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-01-28 Words: 7780
****** Pyrrhus in the Bedroom ******
by shaggydogstail
Summary
     Remus will be satisfied once he's exacted his revenge. Won't he?
Notes
     Thanks to my betas, sheafrotherdon, laurificus, and raven_feathers.
     Originally posted to LiveJournal as a birthday fic for wildestranger.
See the end of the work for more notes
JAMES
It’s pity sex, of course. Remus isn’t so addled with lust, so self-centred or
so delusional that he can’t see the truth. James offers him comfort, of a sort,
because he doesn’t know what else to do, and because Remus lets him think that
it’s working. As if occasional hand jobs after lights out could take away the
dull, burning ache that festers at the pit of Remus’ stomach, poisoning him
from the inside out.
He’s heard stories about phantom limb pain —that amputees can sometimes
experience a terrible need to scratch their calves or feel twinges in their
wrists. Remus supposes he must be experiencing something similar, because
that’s the only reason he can conceive of for the part of him that loved Sirius
still hurting.
Maybe he’s taking advantage of James’ good nature, which is a limited quality
anyway, but Remus can’t bring himself to care. Even through the fog of Sleeping
Draught, regret and tears, he’d seen the flicker of guilt as he’d heaped
desperate gratitude on James the morning after. Thank you, thank you for not
making me a killer, thank you for risking yourself, thank you for saving Snape
and saving me. James had shifted and blushed, telling him not to be an idiot.
He didn’t say, ‘I didn’t do it for you, I did it for Sirius.’ He didn’t need
to.
Outside of the clinical environs of the Hospital Wing, it’s strangely
satisfying to make James Potter blush. The unfamiliar pink flush tinting James’
cheekbones as Remus tugs his pyjama bottoms down in the snug cocoon of James’
bed is probably as much embarrassment as arousal, maybe more so, but it doesn’t
matter. Remus doesn’t speak, doesn’t try to catch the studiously averted hazel
eyes, doesn’t make James ask. Remus gets all the affirmation he needs when
James’ cock swells to fill his mouth and his breathing becomes shallow and
rapid, punctuated by low grunts as Remus licks a path up and down his shaft,
sucks his balls and grazes his teeth lightly over the head. He keeps his hands
clear and doesn’t press his own erection to James’ thigh: allowing James his
fantastical escape is the least he can do under the circumstances, and it’s not
as though Remus doesn’t wish he were Lily too, sometimes. Still, the pulsing
heat of James’ cock and the bitter satisfaction of his spunk are real enough,
as is James’ strangled cry of completion. (Unlike the Privacy Spells Remus
ostentatiously cast on his curtains.)
James is affectionate in his post-orgasmic haze, blissed-out beyond
embarrassment, or maybe just very, very grateful. Remus thinks James means the
sloppy, wet kisses he presses to his face amid mumbled thanks, and it’s
reassuring enough for Remus to relax into the pillows and guide James’ hand
downwards with gentle persistence. James is clumsy in his fumblings, but Remus
doesn’t care about finesse, just lies back and closes his eyes to the
expression of awkward determination on James’ face, and concentrates on the
physical thrill of strong, warm hands fisting his cock. He tries very hard not
to allow his mind to wander.
It’s pleasant enough, but the sex itself isn’t the main satisfaction. That
comes in fleeting glances, muffled sounds, and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it
movements. Remus knows that Sirius ducks back behind his own curtains when
Remus coincidentally emerges from James’ bed when Sirius is on his way to the
bathroom, and he catalogues every pinched expression of pain as Sirius averts
his eyes and bites his lip whenever Remus casually rests his hand on James’
shoulder, or casts a smirk in Sirius’ direction. The effect that he has on
Sirius is more satisfying than the orgasms, but he isn’t satisfied yet.
Sirius is hurting, that much is evident in the shadows beneath his eyes, and
the dull, limp strands of hair that obscure his still undeservedly pretty face.
Sirius is hurting because of him, and it gives Remus a rush of bitter pride to
see it, for all it isn’t enough. Remus has to keep pushing, over and over
again, making sure his footsteps across the dormitory are heavy enough to be
heard, and his own moans of an ecstasy he doesn’t quite feel are too loud to be
ignored. So far he’s only heard Sirius crying once, so he keeps it up, night
after night, hoping that Sirius breaks before James does.
Remus is surprised that Sirius has held his tongue this long: he’s been quietly
dreading and anticipating the explosion for weeks. Sirius’ quiet is like the
stillness of a cobra—the calm before the storm, the only warning of when he
might strike. A fitting simile, Remus thinks, for the child of a Slytherin
dynasty who never did quite live up to the pretence. For all Sirius’ rages
unsettle and frighten him, Remus thinks he might enjoy this one when it comes.
He’s ready for it this time, ready to stand his ground and laugh in the face of
Sirius’ fury, to gloat and twist the knife in every wound he can find, and to
make sure that Sirius remembers that it’s all his own fault.
And yet, it’s a surprise when it comes. Remus staggers into the Common Room,
laden down with the half-dozen textbooks he’ll need to struggle through for the
Charms essay that Sirius will scribble at the breakfast table and still get an
‘Outstanding’ mark for, so long as he remembers to scrape the marmalade off the
parchment before handing it in. (It’s just another tiny injustice: Remus has
spent a lot of time counting Sirius’ blessings recently). For a moment he’s too
busy reciting wand movements in his head and trying not to drop anything to
notice the two dark heads hung close together, or the way James is leaning into
Sirius, spilling secrets in anxious whispers. It’s only when he stumbles,
almost dropping the pile of books on the floor that he sees them, just as
Sirius glances up at him. James’ head is cast down, that blush on his cheek
again and Remus hardly needs to wonder why: the murderous expression on Sirius’
face tells him all he needs to know. Now, then.
It’s a couple of hours later, actually, and Remus has tired of Charms and given
up on Sirius, deciding to get ready for bed after all. He’s brushing his teeth
when Sirius walks into the bathroom, surprising Remus, his footsteps unheard
over the running water.
‘Leave Prongs alone.’
Sirius’ voice is calm and assertive: clearly he hasn’t entertained the
possibility that anyone wouldn’t do as he says. Well, why should he? Remus
ignores him, spitting toothpaste into the sink and watching the froth and
saliva swirl down the plughole.
‘I said, leave him alone.’ Sirius is closer now, sounding a little more angry.
Good. Remus picks up the tumbler that sits by the sink, fills it with water and
rinses his mouth.
‘Did you hear me?’ Sirius demands, grabbing Remus’ arm and forcing him around.
The tumbler falls to the ground and breaks, sending shards of glass flying
across the bathroom floor, and Remus is glad he remembered to wear his
slippers.
Remus wrests his arm out of Sirius’ grasp and turns away, before pulling his
wand out of his pyjama pocket to repair the glass, then setting it back down
beside the sink.
‘Moony,’ says Sirius, and Remus is pleased to note the annoyance in his voice.
‘I was ignoring you on purpose, you know,’ he says.
‘Yes, I know that,’ Sirius growls, pulling Remus around again. ‘I’m not going
to stand for it, and you are going to listen to me when I tell you to stay away
from James.’
‘I don’t have to listen to anything you say anymore,’ Remus hisses. ‘And my sex
life certainly isn’t any of your business.’
Sirius blanches and his grip on Remus’ arms lessens slightly for a moment, and
then tightens again. ‘It is when it involves James,’ he says. Remus can see
that Sirius is struggling to keep his composure, and the calm tone in his voice
sounds forced.
‘And why would that be?’ asks Remus, inwardly cursing himself for not being
quite able to look Sirius in the eye.
‘It’s upsetting him,’ says Sirius, a slight tone of menace creeping into his
voice. ‘So it’s going to stop.’
Remus is actually shocked by that. ‘I’m upsetting Prongs?’ he says. ‘You’re the
one that nearly had him killed, remember?’
That, at least, stops Sirius in his tracks. He lets go of Remus’ arms and his
chin falls to his chest. Remus thinks he looks pale, and smaller, all of a
sudden. ‘It’s not his fault,’ he says quietly. ‘He feels responsible but…he’s
not. Don’t take it out on him.’
Remus swallows quickly, trying to clear his mind. It’s true, of course;
everyone knows that James is responsible for Sirius, because Merlin knows
Sirius isn’t responsible for himself. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’
he says.
He’s a pathetic liar, really.
Sirius looks up again, and grabs hold of Remus’ chin to force him to look at
him. ‘You think I don’t know what you’re up to?’ he hisses. His lips are
contorted into an unattractive sneer and his eyes are dark with anger
and—yes—jealousy. ‘Sneaking into his bed at night for a quick fumble, making
sure half the bloody tower hears you in the process. Fuck, Moony, you never
used to be such a show-off.’
‘Maybe I never had cause to be,’ sneers Remus.
To Remus’ surprise, Sirius just laughs. ‘Nuh-uh, Moony, Prongs ain’t that
good,’ he says smugly, and Remus realises too late that his disappointment must
be obvious. ‘You didn’t honestly think you’d beaten me to it, did you?’ Sirius
continues, still insufferably self-satisfied. ‘Or did you really think we spent
the whole summer playing Quidditch?’
‘I don’t really care,’ Remus lies, earning a snort of derision from Sirius.
‘Everything isn’t all about you, you know.’
‘On the contrary, Moony, this is all about me,’ says Sirius, his voice deadly
calm and laden with menace. His hands are on Remus’ shoulders now and he’s
pushing him away from the sink and towards the bathroom wall. ‘You’re only
doing it to spite me, and Prongs is only letting you because of me.’
Remus shifts uncomfortably, realising that he isn’t as prepared for a
confrontation with Sirius as he’d thought he would be. ‘You don’t know what
you’re talking about,’ he says, willing himself to sound scornful.
‘Oh, but I do,’ Sirius contradicts him with a smirk. ‘Prongs told me all about
it—about you going crawling to him with your little sob story, how he felt too
sorry for you to turn you away. Poor Prongs, trying so hard to be a good
friend.’
‘Yeah,’ spits Remus. ‘He is.’
‘And you made sure to take advantage of that, didn’t you?’ Sirius continues,
leaning closer to Remus, ignoring Remus’ half-hearted attempts to squirm away
from him. ‘How exactly did you talk him into it? “Oh, Prongs, I’m so sad
because Padfoot broke my heart. How about a nice blow-job to cheer me up?”
Don’t you have any dignity, Moony?’
Remus doesn’t feel dignified with Sirius trapping him in a corner of the
bathroom, with Sirius’ breath tickling his neck and the heat from Sirius’ body
radiating towards him. He quashes the bitter thrill of panic that twists his
guts and forces him to look Sirius in the eye. ‘Why does it bother you so
much?’ he asks. ‘Jealous, are you?’
Sirius hesitates, just for a moment, then lets out a bark of mirthless
laughter. The sound echoes around the bathroom. ‘Prongs wouldn’t have anything
to do with you if he knew the truth,’ he snarls, pushing Remus into the wall.
‘He wouldn’t have done any of it if he knew the truth about us, or that you
were only creeping into his bed to get back at me.’
The bathroom tiles are cold against the back of Remus’ head, and that’s enough
to bring Remus back to his senses. It isn’t supposed to be like this —Sirius,
calm and controlled, while Remus feels himself coming apart, his pulse
quickening just because Sirius is near and touching him and…
‘Will you shut the fuck up!’ He pushes Sirius away. Sirius staggers backwards,
looking bewildered in the face of Remus’ outburst, but it doesn’t take him long
to recover.
‘Leave him alone!’ he says. ‘Just leave Prongs out of it!’
‘Why should I?’ asks Remus, staring back at Sirius defiantly.
Sirius seems to deflate at this, slumping forward so that his forehead is
resting on Remus’ shoulder. Fine tufts of his hair tickle Remus’ chin. ‘Because
it’s not his fault,’ he answers quietly at last.
‘And whose fault is it, Sirius?’ Remus asks, his voice as cold as the tiles
behind him.
‘Mine,’ says Sirius softly. ‘It’s my fault. All my fault. Take it out on me,
hit me, hurt me, shout at me, I don’t care. Just don’t use Prongs.’
Sirius looks so bereft, so fragile, that Remus has to take a deep breath and
remind himself that he’s furious with him. ‘You’re telling me not to use my
friend to get back at someone?’
Sirius at least as the decency to look ashamed. ‘I know, but still…it isn’t
James’ fault. He doesn’t deserve this.’
Remus doesn’t even bother arguing: Sirius is too obviously right. ‘No, it isn’t
James’ fault, it’s yours,’ he says. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’
Sirius blinks at him, but hesitates only for a moment. Before Remus has a
chance to realise what's happening, Sirius is pressed against him, kissing him
so hard that Remus can barely breathe. He tries to resist, clamping his jaw
shut, but his lips curl back of their own accord and Sirius’ teeth clink
against his own. Remus struggles to push Sirius away, but while his hands are
grappling at Sirius’ shoulders and his feet are kicking Sirius’ shins, his hips
shoot forward involuntarily and he’s grinding his erection against Sirius’ body
even as he fights to push him away.
I don’t want this, Remus tells himself as Sirius grinds against him, his hands
groping roughly up and down Remus’ body. He can taste the sharp tang of blood
in his mouth and he’s not sure if it’s his own lip that’s split or Sirius’, far
less who might be responsible for those desperate, feral grunts. It’s fast,
vicious and hard, and Sirius is harsh and unrelenting as he attacks Remus.
Remus hasn’t planned for this at all and it’s wrong, all wrong…
It’s only after he comes, grunting into Sirius’ mouth, and slumps back against
the wall that he notices that he’s got one hand tangled in Sirius’ hair and the
other buried in the fabric of Sirius’ robes, cupping his arse.
‘Get off me,’ he says. Disorientated in the wake of his orgasm, Remus wants to
curse his own weakness. He can’t think straight with Sirius standing so close.
‘Moony…’ Sirius begins. He sounds a little whiny, Remus thinks, and he looks a
mess. Clumps of hair cling to his face and his robes are crumpled and hanging
off at odd angles. A brilliant red drop of blood glistens on his lower lip, and
Remus is embarrassed to realise that he must have bitten him.
Remus doesn’t answer him, just turns on his heel and walks away. He hurries
through the dormitory and throws himself onto the bed, pulling the curtains
around him and burying himself under the blankets. He’s furious, with Sirius
and with himself, feeling sordid, weak and humiliated all at once. Even
remembering the dejected expression on Sirius’ face isn’t enough to cheer him
up as he settles down to force himself to sleep, with his mind racing and his
pyjamas itchy and sticking.
REGULUS
Remus knows it’s over then, even without James’ awkward glances and poorly-
disguised avoidance techniques to rub it in. He doesn’t try to push it or make
any attempt at rekindling their furtive night-time encounters: he considers
himself lucky that James is still talking to him, and doesn’t dare ask how much
Sirius told him. Not that he’d get the chance anyway, he reflects bitterly,
with Sirius constantly hovering at James’ elbow. As much as he’s angry at
Sirius, he’s angrier with himself for using his friend to get his revenge. The
knowledge that he used James, who has never been anything but a good friend to
him, haunts Remus, as does the realisation that his attempts to get even with
Sirius could have cost him another friend. There has to be another way.
It doesn’t take Remus long to find it, and when he does, it’s the last thing he
expected, intercepting a group of Slytherins trying to sneak back into the
castle after hours. He’s not exactly on first names terms with many of the
Slytherin fourth-years, but it’s easy enough to single one of them out.
‘Oi, Black, what do you think you’re up to?’
Remus grabs the protesting boy by the scruff of the neck and hauls him into a
nearby classroom, while his friends scurry away like beetles. Remus snorts in
disgust and is all set to taunt Regulus about their loyalty, and then he
remembers that he’s probably not such an authority on friendship himself.
It’s strangely satisfying, tearing a strip off the younger Black, even though
the deduction of house points and threats of reports to Professor Slughorn roll
off Regulus like water off a duck’s back. Remus thoroughly enjoys riding his
high horse, telling Regulus how arrogant, and thoughtless, and selfish he is,
how he ought to learn to watch his step. Regulus listens with haughty
indifference, making it abundantly clear that he believes himself to be above
Remus’ diatribe. Remus finds he doesn’t care, and presses on regardless.
‘…Stupid, irresponsible behaviour,’ Remus rages, waving his hands in the air
dramatically. ‘I suppose you think that rules are just something for other
people, do you?’
Regulus rolls his eyes slightly before answering Remus at last. ‘Speaking of
rules, shouldn’t you let me go back to my Common Room now?’ he says. ‘Only it
is after nine o’clock.’
Remus boggles at him. ‘You really are a conceited, self-important little git,
aren’t you?’
‘Tch, Lupin, we both know you find those qualities attractive,’ says Regulus.
‘Unless, of course, you only picked me at random out of a group of half-a-dozen
Slytherins?’
Remus is still struggling for a retort when Regulus marches up to him and
kisses him. It’s not a particularly bold kiss—gentle and brief—but the smirk on
Regulus’ face is enough to drive all reason out of Remus’ mind. He grabs
Regulus by the front of his robes, pushes him up against the wall, and kisses
him, hard. Remus is sure Regulus was expecting it, which seems like a good
enough reason. He’s surprised himself that Regulus doesn’t flinch or try to
push him away, and perhaps a little disappointed too.
‘I didn’t realise that molesting students was part of a prefect’s role now,’
says Regulus when Remus finally lets him up for air. He looks so insufferably
smug that Remus considers forgetting about kissing and punching his lights out
instead.
‘I really don’t care anymore,’ Remus says. Still, he takes a step back, letting
Regulus go. For now. ‘All the same, you’d better run along back to your
dungeon. It’s getting late and I know you won’t want to miss out on your beauty
sleep.’
Regulus just laughs and straightens his robes before leaving. ‘I’ll be
patrolling this corridor all week,’ Remus informs him. ‘So I expect you to be
on your best behaviour.’
‘We’ll see.’ Regulus winks and him and leaves the room, walking with an
affected swagger. Remus finds himself smiling as he watches the boy go. Regulus
has no idea how much like his brother he really is.
~*~
Remus isn’t surprised to find Regulus loitering in the same corridor the
following night, or the night after that, or the one after that. He’s more
surprised that what he said to Regulus really was true: he doesn’t care. A few
weeks ago he would have been horrified at the idea of seducing younger boys,
particularly under the guise of carrying out his prefect’s duties. But that
was…before. His prefecture doesn’t seem to mean so much now that he’s sure that
Dumbledore only let him keep it out of pity.
It’s easy not to care with Regulus, much easier than it ever had been with
James. Regulus may be young and inexperienced, but Remus knows they’re both
doing it for the same reason—to get back at Sirius, and that makes them equal.
Besides, why should he care what Regulus thinks of him? It’s not as though he
ever liked him anyway. Of course, the only reason he dislikes Regulus is
because of the way the snotty little brat speaks to Sirius—the irony of the
situation is not lost on Remus.
He knows that Sirius wonders where he goes when he slips out of the common room
in the evening, making excuses that he doesn’t expect anyone to believe about
extra prefect meetings and study sessions in the library. He can practically
hear the clogs turning in Sirius’ mind, desperately trying to work out what
Moony’s secret is this time. Remus smirks to himself at the look of frustration
on Sirius’ face as he watches him leave—Sirius will never ask, but he’s always
hated not knowing.
One day he’ll tell Sirius, whether Sirius asks or not, and won’t that be a
shock? Remus entertains himself by imagining the look on Sirius’ face when he
tells him, ‘oh, I just fucked your brother,’ as he makes his way down the
stairs to the empty Potion’s classroom to meet Regulus. He hasn’t actually
fucked Regulus yet—in fact, he hasn’t got particularly far with Regulus at
all—but that doesn’t matter. It’s the principle of the thing that counts.
Regulus is messing about with a cauldron and a small stack of potions
ingredients when Remus arrives. He seems nervous, fussing with daisy roots and
moving things about on the table, and he starts when Remus slams the door shut
behind him.
‘When you asked me to help you with your potions homework, I didn’t think you
really meant it,’ says Remus with a sly smile. He picks a shrivelfig up off the
table, turning it idly between his fingers. ‘Unless you think you might need
some sort of a Virility Potion to keep you going?’
‘Don’t flatter yourself, Lupin,’ drawls Regulus. ‘I hardly think I’ll need much
help to keep up with you.’
Remus lets the shrivelfig fall. ‘Is that so?’ He’s on the other side of the
table in two quick steps, grasping Regulus firmly by the arms and kissing him.
Regulus whimpers as Remus’ lips cover his, and he wriggles rather charmingly
beneath Remus’ grasp. Regulus’ veneer of confidence is thinner that his
brother’s, or maybe Remus is just better at spotting it now.
He walks Regulus backwards as he kisses him, until Regulus backs into the
blackboard, flinching as his he bumps his head. Remus doesn’t stop to apologise
for the knock, just turns Regulus around, guiding his wrists to make him brace
himself in position. He doesn’t bother to undress properly, just pulls his
robes and pants aside enough to free his cock, rubbing it against the rough
fabric of Regulus’ robes.
‘Are all your family such desperate sluts, Black?’ he asks as he hoists
Regulus’ robes above his waist.
‘Why, is everyone you sleep with desperate?’ Regulus answers, pushing his arse
back to rub against Remus’ prick.
Remus just laughs and runs his fingers through the smooth strands of Regulus’
hair, soft jet-black and gleaming. From behind, he’ll probably look almost
exactly like Sirius.
The door to the classroom slams, making Remus jump. For a moment his stomach
twists in fear and he lets go of Regulus as though he’d turned into a hot coal.
He hardly dares turn around as he hears footsteps marching across the room,
paralyzed by the knowledge that being caught like this by a teacher means
almost certain expulsion, and this time he only had himself to blame.
Remus’ terror turns to surprise, then confusion, and finally anger when he
looks around and sees not the thin lips and snorting nostrils of Professor
McGonagall, nor the wheezing malicious triumph of Filch catching students out,
but Sirius lighting a fire under the cauldron with his wand and poking around
the array of herbs and plant roots on the desk.
Regulus regains his composure before Remus does. ‘What the fuck do you think
you are doing?’ he yells. Remus thinks his anger might be more impressive if
his robes weren’t still bunched up, his now flaccid cock dangling forlornly
beneath a rumpled shirt.
‘I’m making…’ Sirius continues to shuffle the paraphernalia on the table,
frowning slightly, before picking up a sprig of lovage with a triumph smile.
‘Befuddlement Draught!’ he announces triumphantly, and sets about slicing the
plant.
Regulus’ expression is thunderous. ‘Would you mind getting out of here?’
Sirius looks up from the cutting board and regards Regulus with an expression
of indifferent disdain. ‘Would you mind putting some clothes on? Not that it
isn’t anything I haven’t seen before, but all these bits on display don’t
exactly improve my concentration.’
Remus pulls his own robes back down hurriedly, horrified to realise that,
unlike Regulus, he’s still shockingly hard. ‘What are you doing here?’ he
manages eventually, his voice an angry whisper.
‘Moony, can you not hiss like that?’ says Sirius breezily as he tips the
chopped lovage into the cauldron. ‘It’s very distracting, especially when I
know there’s a serpent in the room.’
‘Very funny.’ Regulus sneers, his bottom lip jutting out unattractively. Remus
is struck by how young he looks next to Sirius, and suppresses a shudder. ‘Now
kindly piss off out of here and leave us alone.’
‘No, I don’t think I will.’ Sirius picks up a pestle and mortar as he speaks,
and starts grinding a handful of scurvy-grass into a soggy pulp. He appears
supremely unconcerned by the expression of outrage on Regulus’ face, or the
dumb-struck horror on Remus’.
‘I said go away!’ Regulus shouts, throwing his arms up in the air. ‘Why can’t
you just leave me alone? You always ruin everything.’
Sirius ignores him, which only serves to make Regulus even angrier. Remus just
watches both of them, confused and slightly alarmed at the almost farcical
situation unfolding in front of him. He’s angry at Sirius’ intrusion, of
course, but also intrigued: he knows Sirius well enough to realise that Sirius’
air of purpose and beatific calm are a sure sign that he is up to something—but
what?
He’s so enthralled in watching the two brothers, and Regulus is shouting so
loudly that none of them notice the door opening again to reveal the rotund
figure of Professor Slughorn. It’s only when the professor announces his
presence with an affected cough and a cry of, ‘now then, boys,’ that the three
of them turn to look at him.
Slughorn walks up to the table, clearly curious to see what Sirius is up to.
‘Now, would one of you care to tell me what was going on? I got a message that
young Master Black here was in trouble, and from the way I could hear him from
half-way down the corridor I didn’t doubt it!’
Regulus’ scowl grows even more pronounced, but Sirius smiles warmly. ‘I can
explain everything,’ he begins. Remus barely hears Sirius’ explanation—some
cock and bull story about Regulus doing extra potions study and his own
ineptitude—he’s too busy glancing between Sirius and Regulus, putting the
pieces together in his mind.
He feels sick as the truth dawns on him: Regulus set him up. Remus casts his
mind back to what Slughorn would have walked in on if Sirius hadn’t interrupted
them, a creeping sense of horror building up in him as he realises just how bad
it would have looked, with him pushing Regulus up against the blackboard and
Regulus squirming beneath his touch.
‘—lucky thing I arrived when I did.’ Sirius is in full flow when Remus manages
to tear his attention back to the present. ‘Just look what he was about to add
to Regulus’ potion!’ Sirius holds up the shrivelfig, eliciting a chuckle from
Slughorn.
‘No wonder your brother’s friends were frightened for his safety,’ Slughorn
says, beaming with mock-indignation. ‘Would have blown the whole classroom up
if he’d put that in. Good job you arrived to save the day, Sirius, m’boy.’
Isn’t it just? Remus thinks bitterly.
Slughorn awards ten points to Gryffindor for Sirius’ potions-making ability and
orders the three of them to clear up when they’ve finished before leaving the
room, still chortling under his breath at the idiocy of trying to add
shrivelfig to Befuddlement Draft. Sirius stands perfectly still until the sound
of his footsteps down the corridor fade away, and then turns to Regulus.
Regulus opens his mouth to speak, but doesn’t have the chance to get the words
out before Sirius’ fist slams into his jaw, sending him crashing backwards.
Regulus’ lip is bleeding, his face flushed red and he’s clutching onto the
table for support. Remus can’t bring himself to feel sympathetic.
Sirius doesn’t say another word, just shoots his brother a scornful glance
before turning away, not looking at Remus. Regulus is still reeling from the
punch as Sirius turns on his heel and marches out of the door, slamming it
behind him. Remus’ eyes flit between them, and in a moment his mind is made up
and he scurries out of the classroom after Sirius.
‘Padfoot!’
Sirius walks on, ignoring him.
‘Padfoot!’ Remus hurries down the corridor, running to catch up with Sirius.
‘Sirius, wait, please.’
But Sirius doesn’t stop until Remus catches the sleeve of his robes, pulling
him back just as Sirius is about to turn a corner. The expression on his
expression is so cold, and so full of rage that Remus takes half a step back
and wishes he hadn’t bothered.
‘What?’
‘I…I just…’ Remus stumbles over his words, realising that he doesn’t know what
he meant to say to Sirius.
‘What exactly were you hoping to achieve?’ snarls Sirius. ‘First James, then my
brother—are you trying to fuck me by proxy or something? Or have you just
stopped caring how much you hurt anyone else, even yourself, just so long as
you get back at me?’
Remus panics again, so overwhelmed with anger, and shame, and confusion, that
he couldn’t answer the question even if he wanted to. It isn’t right, isn’t
fair that after everything Sirius can still get the upper-hand like this.
‘I hate you,’ he blurts out eventually; a clumsy verbal blow, but it’s the best
he can manage.
Sirius shrinks back, crumpling in on himself. He looks so defeated that Remus
almost wants to say that he didn’t mean it, but Sirius turns and runs away
before Remus can say anything at all.
SIRIUS
He doesn’t see Sirius for another three days. Sirius isn’t in the dorm at
night, nor does he appear in classes or at meals, and if James knows where
Sirius is, he isn’t saying anything. James produces a string of inventive lies
about Sirius’ absences for their teachers, and Remus can’t quite pluck up the
courage to ask him the truth. Not that he really cares, of course.
It’s humiliating, having to feel that he should be grateful to Sirius, knowing
that without Sirius’ intervention he’d likely have been expelled, and would
certainly have been publicly disgraced. Remus wonders if he isn’t going
slightly mad, so consumed with anger and hatred for Sirius, hell-bent on
revenge that he doesn’t know how to extract, that he scarcely recognises
himself anymore. Fooling around with James had been bad enough, but there was
no real harm done (because Sirius put a stop to it? he wonders), but Regulus?
Bad enough that he was all set to fuck a fourteen-year-old boy, but how could
he have been so fucking stupid?
The anxiety and the shame of it all is enough to fill Remus’ mind until it’s
time for it to be overturned by more pressing matters; the upcoming full moon.
There’s still no sign of Sirius on the day of the full moon, and Remus kicks
himself for feeling so disappointed and so hopeful all at once, looking up
instantly every time the dormitory door creaks.
He’s fastening up his boots to go downstairs and meet Pomfrey for the trip out
to the Willow when James stops him with a not-quite-comfortable clap on the
shoulder.
‘Do you want me to bring him?’
Remus is so cross with himself for almost saying yes straight away that he
says, ‘no,’ more harshly than he meant to. James just shrugs, looking vaguely
pissed-off, but apparently can’t be bothered to argue. He lets Remus go without
another word.
~*~
The clock on the wall of the hospital wing reads half-past-one when Remus wakes
up, his muscles aching and his stomach turned by the foul potions Pomfrey
poured into him that morning. Blinking in the early-afternoon sun, Remus pulls
himself up onto his pillows and reaches for the glass of water he knows will be
on the night-stand.
He’s groggy and exhausted, so it’s really not his fault that it takes him the
better part of ten minutes to notice that Sirius is sitting in the chair on the
other side of his bed.
‘Hello, Moony,’ Sirius says quietly.
Remus whips his head around to look at him, startled. The sudden movement
exacerbates his pounding headache and he claps his hand to his forehead,
rubbing his thumb over his temple. ‘What do you want?’ he says sourly.
Sirius doesn’t look the least put-off by Remus’ unfriendly welcome. Before
Remus can stop him, he draws his wand and points it at Remus’ head, muttering
softly. The pain recedes almost immediately, leaving Remus with nothing worse
than a strange float-y sensation.
‘Thank you,’ he mutters tersely. ‘What do you want?’
‘I wanted to tell you…’ Sirius trails off, worrying his lower lip. He looks
tired, Remus notices, with dark shadows under his eyes and his hair hanging
limply around his face. ‘Look, you don’t need to bother anymore, all right?’
Remus knows exactly what he means, but he’s too tired, achy, and generally
pissed off to admit it. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘James?’ says Sirius. ‘My brother? Fucking hell, Moony, where are you going to
stop?’
‘Maybe I like it,’ shoots Remus with a sarcastic smirk.
‘Well, that’s just it, isn’t it?’ says Sirius. ‘You don’t, I know you don’t,
and you don’t care how badly you fuck yourself or anyone else over just to get
back at me.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Yes,’ says Sirius resolutely. ‘You know it is. Anyway, that’s not the point.’
‘No?’ asks Remus caustically. ‘What is the point?’
‘The point is, you don’t need to bother,’ says Sirius, his voice suddenly quiet
again. ‘So you can stop carrying on like this. You don’t need to get revenge on
me anymore.’
‘And what makes you so sure of that?’ Remus glares at Sirius as he speaks,
angrily staring him down.
‘Because I still love you,’ says Sirius simply. ‘And it’s obvious you’re never
going to care about me again.’
Sirius stands up, the chair scraping across the floor as he does so. ‘It’s
over, Moony,’ he says. ‘You won.’
Remus stares at him, open-mouthed, as Sirius turns and walks out of the
hospital wing.
You won.
He supposes he should feel triumphant.
~*~
It might have been over then, and for several months it probably was. Sirius
returned to the dormitory, but kept his distance from Remus, and Remus kept it
in his pants. They spoke only occasionally, and the melancholic expression that
Sirius wore whenever he thought no-one was looking was all the confirmation
Remus needed of his victory. It ought to have made him feel better.
It didn’t.
~*~
‘Right, Moony, we need to talk.’
Remus looks up from his homework, blinking in surprise. In all the time he’s
known James, he’s never once heard him open a conversation with ‘we need to
talk’. This can’t be a good sign.
He sets his books aside and sighs. ‘I didn’t think you were into heart-to-
hearts.’
‘I’m not.’ James sits down on the end of Remus’ bed, grimacing. ‘But I can’t
leave things as they are. So it was either this or kill you and Padfoot to put
you both out of your misery.’
‘I’m not miserable,’ Remus lies automatically.
‘Don’t think I’ve completely discounted the killing you both option yet,’ says
James warningly. ‘It’s only the prospect of having being stuck with Wormtail
for company that puts me off.’
Remus just raises an eyebrow at James, not wanting to give him any
encouragement.
‘See, the thing is,’ James continues, ‘I’ve been talking to Padfoot about…you
and him.’
Remus’ heart beats a little faster as he recalls the almost-lies and half-
truths he’d told James about his…thing, with Sirius all those months ago. Just
a bit of fun, Prongs, lots of people do it…No, of course this isn’t about him…
Don’t worry; it’s not a big deal. All to get into James’ pants. To get back at
Sirius.
Yeah.
‘He, um, talked to you?’ Remus gulps.
‘Well, I did most of the talking, Padfoot just sulked and swore occasionally,’
admits James. ‘I got the gist of it anyway. You weren’t exactly honest with
me.’
Remus just looks down and fiddles with the end of his quill.
‘You aren’t exactly honest with yourself, either,’ adds James.
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means you’re an idiot,’ explains James patiently. ‘You’ve spent the last
few months doing every stupid thing you can think of, just because you think
you need to get your own back on Padfoot.’
Remus shifts uncomfortably. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand.’
‘I know you don’t, which is why you don’t get that I do,’ says James.
Well, of course. James Potter knows everything after all. Remus bristles
angrily. ‘Do you now?’
‘Yes, I do,’ says James, still with that infuriatingly patient tone. ‘See, the
thing is…you’ve done a top-notch job of making Padfoot miserable as sin, and
you’re still not happy, are you?’
Remus doesn’t answer. It’s not like he could come up with a half-way plausible
lie.
‘Which leaves the question, who are you really punishing?’ asks James. ‘Sirius,
or yourself?’
‘And why would I want to punish myself?’
James shrugs. ‘Fucked if I know why. But I do know you’ve done enough. Give it
up, Moony.’
Remus just slouches down, not looking at James. He ought to tell James to get
off, or list the many, many reasons why he’s way off-beam. He can’t actually
think of any of them at the moment, though, and he’s just so tired of it all.
James’ hand is warm and solid on his shoulder, reassuring somehow. The contact
seems strangely unfamiliar, and it takes Remus a moment to see the reason why:
it’s been months since anyone touched him to express affection, rather than
manipulation, playing games, or trying to get something out of it. Not since
Sirius…
‘Talk to him,’ says James softly.
Remus nods dumbly. Not that he’s got the first idea what he’s going to say to
Sirius.
~*~
It’s a few more days before Remus has both the nerve and the opportunity to
approach Sirius. It’s a Hogsmeade weekend, and Remus stays behind while James
and Peter head off to stock up at Honeydukes and find new and interesting ways
to harass Evans. Sirius has detention in the morning, but by mid-afternoon
Remus fully expects to find him sulking on the roof of the East Tower, staring
out over the Forbidden Forest.
The climb out of an Arithmancy classroom and over wobbling roof-slates is
perilous enough, though Remus isn’t sure how much of the sickness at the pit of
his stomach is vertigo and how much of it is due to nerves. It seems oddly
fitting that trying to approach Sirius should involve quite literally risking
life and limb.
He’s guessed right, though, and Sirius is perched on the edge of the roof, his
feet dangling precariously over the edge. Only Sirius would find somewhere that
carried the constant threat of plunging to an early death a good place to
relax. Remus inches towards him at a snail’s pace, letting out a sigh of relief
when he finally sits down by his side.
‘Hey,’ Remus manages at last. He still hasn’t thought of anything better to
say.
Sirius turns and looks at him, his expression wary. ‘Hi,’ he says. ‘I take it
you’ve not come to shove me off the roof, then?’
‘No.’ Remus takes a deep breath. ‘I wanted to talk to you.’
‘Right.’ Sirius is still watching Remus with a curious expression. ‘You know,
you don’t have to talk to me just because Prongs told you to.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ says Remus. ‘But he was right…about a lot of things.’
Sirius doesn’t answer him, just quirks an eyebrow.
‘You were wrong though,’ Remus goes on. ‘That day in the hospital wing. You
said that I’d won. I didn’t. Or if I did, it wasn’t worth it.’
‘Yeah, well, I won that argument with Snivellus,’ says Sirius, smiling
bitterly. ‘That wasn’t worth it either.’
‘Why did you do it?’ It’s the question Remus wanted to ask from the start, but
was too afraid of what the answer might be. He doesn’t feel like there’s
anything left to lose now.
‘Because I was angry,’ says Sirius. ‘Because I thought it would serve him right
to get a bit of a fright and he’d get off our backs.’
‘Right.’
‘I’m sorry, Moony, I don’t have a good excuse,’ says Sirius. ‘I lost my temper
and I didn’t think it through. I never meant to hurt you, though.’
‘Well, you did,’ says Remus.
‘Look, what do you want me to say?’ replies Sirius testily. ‘If I’d been force-
fed Veritaserum or Imperio’d I’d have mentioned it at the time. I can’t…I can’t
make it better with words. I could make excuses or beg for forgiveness, but
what difference would that make? It’s not going to change the fact that I
fucked up and you hate me for it.’
‘I don’t hate you,’ said Remus quietly.
‘Then why did you do it then?’ retorts Sirius.
There’s a long silence before Remus can answer. ‘I don’t really know.’
The silence is even longer this time, broken only by the sound of birds flying
around the turret and the wind whipping over the castle. Remus can’t bring
himself to look at Sirius, far less to speak, and he’s beginning to wonder if
this wasn’t his stupidest idea yet.
He’s surprised by Sirius edging towards him, more so when he turns to see
Sirius smiling at him.
‘So,’ Sirius asks, the inexplicable smile quirking his lips. ‘You wanna kiss
and make-up?’
Remus boggles at him. ‘You really think it’s that simple?’
‘It’s as simple as you want it to be,’ says Sirius. ‘You can carry on having
your revenge, or your pride, or whatever else it is this is all about. Or you
can have me. Your choice.’
It really isn’t much of a choice at all.
Remus stands up, leaning back a little to keep his balance as he brushes the
grit off his robes.
‘Come inside,’ he says, extending a hand to Sirius. Sirius looks at him,
uncertain, but accepts his hand and follows Remus inside anyway. The touch of
Sirius’ palm against his own makes Remus shiver, and it’s almost a relief to
let go so that he can crawl back in though the window.
The classroom seems dark after the brilliant sunshine outside, a little musty
and old. Remus straightens and turns to see Sirius emerging through the window
after him, making a poor attempt at seeming nonchalant.
‘Why in here?’ asks Sirius, leaning up against one of the bookshelves that line
most of the room. A fine cloud of dust billows behind him.
‘Because I was afraid I might plunge to my death if I did this out there,’ says
Remus.
He takes a couple of steps until he’s standing directly in front of Sirius,
close enough to see the flush of colour on Sirius’ cheeks even in this dim
light. Making a Herculean effort to dispel the million and one doubts,
anxieties, and questions in this mind, Remus leans forwards and kisses Sirius.
Sirius kisses him back almost immediately, warm and deep, his arms wrapped
around Remus’ waist and shoulder, as if trying to keep him from backing off.
‘You,’ Remus mutters against Sirius’ lips. ‘I’d rather have you.’
Sirius loosens his grip on Remus, though it seems to pain him to do so.
‘Are you sure about this?’ he asks. ‘I mean, after everything…do you really
think you and me is a good idea?’
‘It was your idea,’ Remus reminds him.
Sirius just raises his eyebrows.
‘OK.’ Remus laughs. ‘It’s a terrible idea.’
Sirius’ hands fall to his side, and he slumps against the bookcase, limp and
dejected.
Remus reaches out and touches Sirius under his chin, tilting his head up to
face him.
‘Let’s do it anyway.’
‘Yeah?’ Sirius’ eyes light up, and the smile on his face does more to lift
Remus’ spirits than any revenge or retribution ever could.
‘Yeah,’ Remus agrees, pulling Sirius towards him.
They kiss slowly, with roaming hands and gentle, almost hesitant caresses.
Sirius’ hair is warm from the sun, soft and silky around Remus’ fingers, and
his body is warm and solid against him. Remus takes his time reacquainting
himself with the taste of Sirius’ mouth, the texture of his skin, and the way
his breathing hitches when Remus touches him. It’s honest and familiar and
exhilarating all at once, and the part of Remus’ brain that is still capable of
coherent thought decides that the warmth of reconciliation is infinitely more
satisfying than the cold comfort of vengeance. Touching Sirius feels like
coming home, the prodigal lover returned from the wilderness.
‘Moony,’ Sirius whispers against Remus’ skin, his voice awe-struck and rich
with affection. Remus holds him close and kisses him over and over again,
convinced at last that this, after all, is a victory worth having.
End Notes
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