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2000 pages, ebook
Published April 23, 2022
“a scar.”
sirius’ heart pounded. he felt a bit sick. he heard himself saying, “it’s...” different from mine. but no, he couldn’t say that. “did it happen to you at the home? where you grew up?” he thought of the black eye, and the wary look remus so often wore. sirius had never considered that the other boy might be... well. the same as him.
remus nodded, wordlessly.
sirius felt as if there was something coiling, tightly, in his chest. he nodded back, and said quietly, “i’ve got scars.”
“are you talking about defacing school property, potter?” sirius arched a brow, mind already spinning with ideas about what they might write, and where.
“i might just be, black.” james wiggled his eyebrows back, delighted that sirius understood. (they always understood each other, even when the others didn’t.)
“i’m good at magic,” he explained to moony’s shoulder. “but you, like... are magic, y’know?”
“you’re drunk and talking bollocks.” remus laughed, “oi, don’t fall asleep, i’ve got to get you back.”
“shuddup,” sirius breathed, and then he was out.
“was it scary? was i scary?”
sirius stared at him, at the eyes that, just a short while before, had been golden and wild and joyful. he could still make out the flecks of gold there, if he looked close enough.
“no.” he whispered back firmly, “you were beautiful.”
james helped—they stayed up talking most nights, sometimes about his family, sometimes about the war, sometimes about nothing at all. having his friend was like having a fire in winter, a bright point of light that helped stave off the darkness when it threatened to overwhelm.
sirius was plummeting, powerless to stop as their lips collided, mind turned to sparks, heart alight and burning in his ribcage. he’d been waiting for this—he didn’t know how long he’d been waiting for this. moony tasted like whiskey and birthday cake and desperation, and sirius was kissing back, mouth falling open—moony’s tongue slid inside, and sirius was reaching for his hips, grasping, touching, wanting more, wanting everything.
he hated that it was never enough—that she could smile up at him, and not know that when he slept at night he was dreaming of someone else.
i’d break bones for you, he thought feverishly, on the bad nights, i’d pull teeth, open veins—i’d gut myself to make you forgive me.
in the morning, he would wake up and whisper, “i’m sorry,” as he watched remus walk out the door.
“you know i’m not a—”
“yeah,” remus interrupted him. “yeah, course. me neither.”
sirius’ heart twisted in his chest. of course, he wanted to say, of course you’re not. there was nothing wrong with remus; remus was perfect - lips shiny with spit, hair tousled, shirt rumpled deliciously from where sirius’ hands had—
“you’re lovely,” he whispered, because it was true, and because he couldn’t bear to keep the words locked inside his chest.
“um... i don’t know, i’ve told you everything.”
“you haven’t,” sirius smiled, pressing their lips together, crawling on top of him, hands sliding under remus’ shirt. he traced patterns around the scars on his ribs, his stomach, his chest. “i’m going to know everything about you, one day. i promise.”
remus kissed him, another secret, the most precious of all.
in sleep, remus was as peaceful as ever, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling with his breath. sirius had to resist the urge to lie back down, to press kisses to his forehead, his chin, his cheeks, until he came awake, blinking and yawning and smiling.
“sirius?”
“yeah?”
“love you.”
sirius’ heart leapt against his ribcage, so hard that it settled back bruised and aching. he kissed remus’ cheek, murmuring back,
“love you too.”
on the worst nights, when remus passed out drunk in their bed, and sirius smoothed the curls back from his sweat-dampened forehead, he thought to himself that moony could stick a thousand knives into his back, and he would probably love him still. because trying not to love him was like trying to hold his breath—eventually, sirius’ lungs would start burning, body screaming for air, and he would open his mouth, and it would all flood back in.
oh, love, sirius thought, through the haze in his mind, you’ve grown up without me.
their eyes met, and caught, and tangled together. sirius wondered, vaguely, if they hadn’t been twined together from the very start, from that first moment twenty-five years ago when he’d looked up at the hogwarts express and seen a boy in a window on a train. hadn’t they been searching for each other again, ever since? didn’t their eyes always end up back here, somehow, together?
“nothing on this earth could take me from you, do you understand?” he was touching remus’s face, catching the tears with his thumbs, “not the fighting, not this war—if i died, i think i’d love you even then. don’t you understand? i can’t leave you, not if i tried, not if i wanted to.”
Their eyes met, and caught, and tangled together. Sirius wondered, vaguely, if they hadn’t been twined together from the very start, from that first moment twenty-five years ago when he’d looked up at the Hogwarts Express and seen a boy in a window on a train. Hadn’t they been searching for each other again, ever since? Didn’t their eyes always end up back here, somehow, together?
“Nothing on this earth could take me from you, do you understand?” He was touching Remus’s face, catching the tears with his thumbs, “Not the fighting, not this war—if I died, I think I’d love you even then. Don’t you understand? I can’t leave you, not if I tried, not if I wanted to.”
Sirius held a love like a universe, beautiful and dark and bright, tucked impossibly in the space behind his ribs. He looked up, into the eyes of the man who had placed it there, and saw the same infinity reflected back—despite everything. Because of everything.