Chapter Text

“You spent the summer drinking while I spent it being erased.”

Black Brothers Angst- Regulus POV

At first Regulus didn’t see him. He’d been caught up in the usual whirlwind of everything that was the back-to-term festivities. Finding an empty compartment on the train with his friends, attending the Prefect’s meeting led by the obnoxious Gryffindor Heads. Pushing younger students out of the way to get one of the Thestral-drawn carriages to themselves as they made their way up to the castle and claiming the best seats at the Slytherin table…they were nearly at the back now, being sixth years. He’d been so busy catching up with his friends that his brother had almost slipped his mind.

Almost.

The stomachache didn’t go away, of course. But Regulus had gotten good at ignoring that. At pretending he wasn’t being slowly eaten at from the inside, out.

But when he spotted him, all of the feelings came rushing back to him, fresh as that first day in July when everything had gone down.

There, at the back of the Gryffindor table, Sirius sat with a jaw-aching grin on his face, his painfully familiar gray eyes sparkling as he laughed with his friends, sipping at his goblet.

And Regulus’s breath was knocked from his lungs all at once.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected…but Sirius looked good . Healthier than Regulus had ever seen him. Unbearably happy, surrounded by his boyfriend and best friends, like his life was complete . Like Regulus was no longer a piece of the puzzle that was Sirius Black.

And then, as Regulus still watched his pulse thrumming in his ears, Sirius’s gaze slid over to him, stalling for only a moment as their eyes met.

Feeling like the entire floor had fallen from beneath him, Regulus glared, breathless and lost, forcing himself to keep his face stoic and unbothered, internally begging Sirius to show even a fraction of the emotion he, himself had been feeling all summer.

Devastatingly, Sirius just blinked and turned, eyes flickering back to Potter, grin returning to his face.

And Regulus felt his entire soul crack in two as he gripped at his forearm, heart clenching as he pictured the Mark there. As he pictured how Sirius would react to it.

As he turned to his own drink, he tried not to think about how few days into the summer it’d taken Sirius to erase him from his mind completely.

Chapter Text

“Speak up, I know you hate me...

If you won't end things, then I will”

Jegulus angst - Regulus POV

He’d expected yelling. 

He’d been dissociating since it’d happened, tears sometimes sliding down his cheeks without him even realizing, each swallow thick and difficult to complete. But in the back of his brain, some coherent part of him was panicking.

Body cold and chest empty, limbs shaking and breath coming out in short little gasps, he held out his forearm to James, expecting a….well, a reaction of some kind. 

But he just watched as blank eyes seemed to laser holes in the skull branded to his skin. Neither of them spoke a word for what felt like forever.

Until James took a deep, shuddering breath and met his eyes, a terrifying and almost cold look in the depths of his hazel irises. “Alright,” he said, sounding far too exhausted to only be seventeen. “Alright. We’ll deal with it.”

But for some reason, even though this was the exact verbal reaction Regulus wanted, it felt all wrong. 

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t do that, Potter,” he said. “I know you hate me.”

James immediately scoffed. “I don’t hate you, Regulus. It happened. You…you couldn’t help it.” But the foreign, rough way his words hit Regulus’s heart like sandpaper betrayed the truth–James didn’t believe that. He was lying to Regulus’s face for the first time.

And all at once, reality hit him:

This wasn’t going to work.

It was never meant to work.

Fuck. Don’t make me do this, Jamie, he thought desperately, stomach churning so much he almost gagged as he realized where this was going. Where they were always, inevitably meant to go.

“You can walk away, James,” he said flatly, desperately trying to keep his voice calm, to hide the storm of emotions brewing inside his heart, threatening to make him scream with grief. Why? Why was this the ending he’d been given? His hands shook harder, and he shoved them in his pocket, covering the way his face wanted to crumple by scowling.

“I promised I wouldn’t,” the older boy nearly-spat.

Not ‘I don’t want to.’ Not  ‘I still love you.’ Just ‘I promised I wouldn’t.’

Because James was good.

And Regulus, branded and condemned, was not.

So he took a deep breath, and sealed both of their fates. “Well. I don’t want you anymore,” he said, setting his jaw and clenching his hands so hard in his pockets his nails broke skin in his palms.

James’s destroyed, ruined expression nearly killed him. But walking away left him completely, utterly demolished, never to be fixed. 

He had to admit–the pain of being pulled under that water years later was nothing compared to seeing James Potter so heartbroken.

Chapter Text

"I don’t wanna know what you did with all the girls you swapped me with,

Your drunken mouth all on her lips, guess I was just your experiment (fuck)"

Wolfstar angst - Remus POV

He tried to be patient.

Really, he did.

That was what he was known for, after all, wasn’t it? Sweet, patient, push-over Remus.

Sitting on his bed, picking at the tiny thread coming off of his ragged, years-old blanket, Remus stayed, back rigid, as he listened to Sirius, James, and Peter guffaw obnoxiously together about the night before. About their conquests.

All the while, unbeknownst to the others, his heart was cracking in two.

“...and then she was all over me!” Sirius was saying gleefully, shoving a laughing James as he spoke. “Like she wanted me bad , I swear! And Merlin, have you seen her–?” he trailed off waggling his eyebrows suggestively as he squeezed both hands in the air a few times.

Peter, who was looking on in awe, nodded vigorously. “Bloody hell, mate, you’re so lucky. Everyone wants to snog her!”

“And for good reason,” Sirius said lewdly, sending the shorter boy a wink. 

Remus bit at the inside of his cheek so much that he swore he tasted blood, breaths coming in shaking pants, trying not to remember a few days earlier, even as images seared across his mind’s eye:

Sirius, pressing toward him, whispering his name nervously under his breath as he moved closer and closer, his eyes wide.

Sirius, groaning as their lips touched for the first time, a tiny sound of triumphant relief falling from his throat.

Sirius, pulling back with a terrified look on his face even as pink flooded his cheeks, fleeing without a word.

Sirius, now, bragging about the girls he’d kissed since then, not a word about that moment spoken between them.

“I have to go,” Remus blurted out, realizing all of a sudden that he couldn’t handle another word of this conversation. That he couldn’t handle being here, pretending like he hadn't had Sirius there, in his arms. 

“Wait, Remus, w–?”

“Moony, are you oka–?”

He bolted.

“Moons, what’re you doing?”

It was Sirius, of course it was Sirius, who popped his head out the dorm room door and called after him.

But he couldn’t stand looking in those gray eyes again. Not when he’d seen them shine and sparkle like that, moments before they’d kissed. Moments before his life had been ruined forever. “I can’t listen to this, Sirius,” he muttered gruffly, staring stubbornly at his feet.

The little, confused laugh Sirius let out just killed Remus more. “What d’you mean?” the shorter boy asked oh-so-casually, as if he wasn’t ripping Remus’s chest open bit-by-bit, tearing strips of skin and puncturing organs with his bare hands. 

Remus took a deep breath, then met the other boy’s eyes, jaw set. “Next time you want to experiment, do it with someone else,” he spat, lip quivering.

Thank Merlin for small victories, he managed to avoid falling apart completely until he dashed away from a shocked-looking Sirius. 

It was when he made it to the safety of the Common Room that he sank to the floor and began to cry, sobs wracking his exhausted frame.

"Fuck," he whispered to himself, the crushing weight of his realist falling around him.

Chapter Text

“It’s my world and it’s my life, 

it’s my girl and it’s my guy, 

I’ll kiss ‘em if I might like. 

I don’t have you in mind.”

Rosekiller - Barty coming out

Drumming his fingers on the immaculately-clean counter of his parents’ ridiculously-large kitchen, Barty gritted his teeth together as his father continued to rant. How long had it been, now? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? Honestly, he’d stopped listening after the first minute or so, instead allowing himself to daydream about his seventh year at school, which was only a week away.

One week, and then he could be done with his father forever. One week, then one more year of school, and then he could move in with his friends and never hear from this lousy excuse of a sperm donor ever again.

He was having so much fun thinking about it, that he almost missed his father’s words.

Almost.

“....do you know how much this will affect me?” Crouch Senior was saying vehemently, throwing his hands in the air like weapons. “How bad this looks for out family? I was trying to get a promotion, Bartemius, and now this…this stupid phase has gone and fucked up–”

It was there that Barty decided to finally speak up because the ridiculousness was too much for him to handle. “You?” he asked indignantly, eyes bugging out of his face. “How this affects you?”

Crouch Senior took a huge breath, as if Barty was trying his patience. “ Yes Bartemius. Your… preferences say a lot about–”

“I’m gay, Dad!” he burst out, slamming a fist on the marble. “Salazar, it’s not like people found out I fuck goats or something!”

The older man’s stony, furious face spoke volumes. 

But Barty was fuming, now. How dare his father make this about him? After all the turmoil Barty had gone through figuring this out? After the shit he and Evan had endured, finally admitting their feelings for each other? After all of the guilt and self-hatred Barty’d had to fight through over the years?

“This?” Barty said, gesturing to himself, “This isn’t about you. Whether I kiss…girls or guys or fucking..both, or whatever else Pandora is always on about! It’s not about you and your stupid career! For once, it’s about me!” And, stomping his feet, he made his way to the Floo, grabbing a handful of the power.

“Bartemius Crouch Junior, where are you going?” Crouch Senior demanded, eyes full of fire.

“To Evan’s. Don’t expect me back,” he spat, throwing the power in the flames.

And, a few minutes later, when he finally was able to kiss his boyfriend for the first time in months, his father was already gone from his mind.

Chapter Text

“And if I stop laughing,

All the blood will just start pouring out.”

Sirius as an adult seeing what the Dursleys did to Harry

When Sirius was in his first year, Remus had been the first one to express concern about his penchant for using humor as a coping mechanism. “Sirius,” he’d said sternly after he’d joked about his mother’s words being even sharper than her spells, “do you…want to talk about it?”

The question had been like a stab in the gut.

“Ah, c’mon, Rem,” he’d laughed, his stomach turning at the way he’d actually taken him seriously, “I’m a Black. Dark humor is in my name!”

But Remus gave him a look. A look like he saw through him. Like he knew. 

That was how he coped with all of it, though. With his mother’s searing spells, his father’s flailing fists. He laughed. Because he knew if he didn’t laugh, he would cry.

And if he started to cry…well, he wasn't sure he would ever stop crying. All of the hurt would pour out of his chest like blood.

Of course, it turned out that the world had a dark sense of humor as well, because over two decades later, he was in his childhood home again, facing the demons he’d sworn he would never have to face. Like some fucked-up act of karma, it was all coming back around, begging for him to process like a healthy adult this time.

And, of course, he didn’t.

Instead, he walked around the house making joke after joke, the laughter he garnered from his feeble attempts at humor the only thing stopping him from going completely off the deep end. He knew, in his heart, that the moment he stopped laughing, the moment he thought too much about it? He’d collapse. Bleed out on the floor, scream and cry with the overpowering, raw ache of it all.

So he continued to joke, sapping at the endorphins the others let off in their laughter like a Dementor, convinced that he could push through this way…no matter what Remus said.

Until one day, he heard Harry and his friends joking. 

“...beds are awful,” Ron was saying, stretching his shoulders and grimacing.

“Ah, nah, mate, this is luxury,” Harry replied, smirking. “Try a cupboard under some stairs and then talk to me about awful.”

“Cupboard under some stairs?” Sirius butted in, raising an eyebrow, wanting to understand  the joke.

“Ah, my aunt and uncle just used to make me sleep in one,” Harry said casually, like this was something everyone experienced at least once in their lives. “So even your lumpy mattresses feel like heaven, you know?”

Instantly, Sirius recognized it. The genuine laughter from Ron that looked exactly like the laugh he used to get from James. The uncomfortable chuckle from Hermione that might’ve been stolen from Remus. And the small, self-deprecating smile on Harry’s face that was so painfully familiar he might’ve been smacked over the head with it.

He gave a feeble grin and bolted.

It ate at him all day. Pacing back and forth in his room, he ruminated on it. On Harry, his Harry, James’s Harry, laughing away real problems like Sirius had for so long.

The idea of it felt heartbreaking.

So, taking a huge breath, he found his godson reading a Quidditch magazine in one of the sitting rooms and forced himself to speak. “I…heard your joke earlier,” he said softly, sitting next to the young boy.

Harry grinned. “Family sucks, eh?”

And oh, how tempting it was to laugh along with him. To pretend Harry was James and to joke about shit childhoods and running away.

But for the first time, when Sirius looked at Harry, he didn’t see James. He saw a younger version of himself. A scared, hurt child who needed to know that the way he was treated was wrong, and not at all funny.

And he didn’t want to let him down.

“Harry,” he said slowly, biting at his lip, “The way they treat you…it’s not funny. It’s horrible. I know because…because I had shit family like that, too you know?”

Wide green eyes that made Sirius want to cry with grief gaze up at him. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “What if…I tell you about my arsehole parents and you tell me about your arsehole aunt and uncle?” he offered, feeling ridiculously nervous. Harry was a kid. But oh, how vulnerable this felt. “We can…deal with our shit families together, yeah?”

The small, reluctant smile that spread across the younger boy’s face put Sirius at ease. “Yeah,” he nodded. “You first, though.”

Sirius laughed, but this laugh felt freeing, rather than stifling. “Okay, Haz. I can do that.”

Chapter Text

“Your love is a threat and I’m nauseous,

Scares me to death how I want it.”

Jegulus - Regulus POV

“Dance with me,” James murmured, eyes wide and expression sweet as they stood on top of the Astronomy Tower, the light of the bright crescent moon making the older boy’s messy hair shine in the night.

Alarm bells went off in Regulus’s head. “There’s no music,” he scoffed to deflect, avoiding the Gryffindor’s gaze.

“Reg…”

Biting his lip, he looked up at James.

Why, why did he have to react this way? Nausea making his stomach tilt and roil like a ship in a storm, he regarded James for a long moment, brain reeling. It was just a dance. Sure, it was a stupid, cliché, slightly-cringy romantic gesture…but it wasn’t dangerous. So why was adrenaline pumping through his veins like he was facing his own execution? Why was he tempted to pull out his wand and blow up the hand being offered to him?

What made it even worse was that it was James. James Potter was… everything. He was trusted by everyone in the entire damn castle, he loved loudly and completely, he even refused to practice casting spells on live animals because he didn’t want to hurt them! He was good. 

But now, standing in front of the older boy, Regulus felt like a quivering lion cub, seconds away from the hair on the back of his neck rising and his back arching in threatening defense. 

Still, somehow, even as Regulus took far too long to contemplate the unwavering hand in front of him, James just smiled comfortingly, steady in his presence.

Regulus felt like throwing up. “There’s no music,” he whispered desperately again, trying to buy himself time to be logical. 

James took a small step forward, and Regulus wanted to scream. “I can sing for you if you want, but it won’t be pretty,” he joked lightly, but his eyes were gentle and unwavering.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up behind the Slytherin’s tense lips. “Please don’t,” he mumbled. But he wasn’t sure what he was asking for. ‘ Please don’t sing?’ ‘Please don’t ask me for this?’ ‘Please don’t leave?’

“C’mere,” James said gently, moving forward slowly and snapping Regulus out of his terrified paralysis.

Taking enough time for Regulus to back away if he wanted, James’s strong, warm arms wrapped around him, so gently that Regulus thought he might die from it. Terror and a thrill of hope shot up his spine in equal measure. “James,” Regulus whispered agitatedly, his muscles tightening, a whine slipping from his throat, trying to decide if he wanted to run away or press closer. His heart was hammering so quickly it might’ve broken his ribs and his stomach was writhing and flipping, making his breaths come in sharp gasps.

What was he supposed to say? That the way James looked at him, with such unadulterated adoration, scared him to death? That he usually only went for boys who were shitty, because at least then he knew what he was in for, and someone like James was a mystery to him? That nobody, not one person, had ever held him like this–like he was fragile? Not only that but…like he was worth not breaking?

“James,” he hissed again indignantly, this time in a voice that was almost pleading, the fear bleeding through into his tone.

“I’ve got you, baby.” 

Oh.

Whimpering, he relaxed all at once, face pressing into the warm fabric of the older boy’s shirt as a single, mortifying tear melted into the cloth. “M’scared,” he admitted to the soft material, speaking so low that he hoped James wouldn’t hear. Admitting it, somehow, helped the nausea to let up just a little.

It seemed, though, that James did hear. Or he knew Regulus well enough to guess at what he said. Either way, the arms wrapped around him tightened just a little, and for the first time, Regulus allowed himself to enjoy the feeling.

Slowly, very slowly, James began to lead him in small, gentle circles. Holding his body as they swayed.

Chapter Text

“Sweet taste in my mouth, I can’t get it out,

Now when I hear you’re in town, I just want caramel.”

Wolfstar Reunion/Lie Low At Lupins - Remus POV

Remus had been given an excruciatingly long time to contemplate the enigma that was Sirius Black. Never-ending drunken nights sobbing on his couch gave way to hazy mornings staring off into the distance contemplating his life choices, and still he couldn’t forget. 

No matter how much he wanted to.

Sirius Black was curdled milk, his memory shoved into the back of Remus’s refrigerator of a mind the moment he’d heard the News, a desperate attempt to forget the terrifying reality souring right there in his own home.

Sirius Black was maple and amber clouds of cigarette smoke– he was so intoxicating at first but after he was gone, he lingered, poisoning Remus’s clothing and staining his walls, shriveling his lungs with every mention, never to be completely removed.

Sirius Black was coffee grounds, leaving marks on Remus’s tables and soul and causing his heart to thunder even after he was finished with him.

But, most importantly, Sirius Black was caramel. 

No matter how much Remus tried, no matter who Remus tried with, he couldn’t possibly get the addictingly sweet taste of Sirius out of his mouth. Even knowing how bad he was for him, he craved more. 

And he’d hated himself for it for so. Damn. Long.

So when he got the tiny, hastily scrawled piece of parchment that read In town, see you in a bit shortly after the end of the Triwizard Tournament, there was no question in his mind. He sat, heel tapping on dusty dirt, on his porch, waiting, chewing the inside of his mouth, desperate for another taste of what he’d been craving for so long.

And when he saw the ragged, panting, giant black dog running up the walk, he stood with a start, heart hammering in his throat. “Sirius,” he whispered breathlessly, fists clenching by his sides.

In a blink, the dog transformed and he was sent that cheeky, infuriating grin he’d had nightmares about. “Hey, Moons,” Sirius said back, eyes sparkling with exhausted happiness.

Letting out a little sob of relieved joy, Remus stumbled forward, pulling him into a bone-breaking embrace, connecting their lips, hungry for the sweetness he’d been craving for years.

Chapter Text

“You remind me of how good it feels to hurt.”

Exes Jegulus - James POV

Biting at his already-swollen lip, James gazed down at the newspaper in his hand, heart clenching so painfully in his chest that tears built in his eyes.

Regulus Black, Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House, Pictured with New Fiancée, Fatima Parkinson the headline read.

And there he was. Regulus, arm wrapped stiffly around a short brunette with a pug nose, both of their heads kicked back in light, clearly-fake laughter.

Still, James’s throat seemed to be leading a mutiny that the rest of his body was following, because he couldn't swallow. Couldn’t think. Couldn't breathe.

“James?” a voice called to him from the other room, and he jumped, jaw quivering with the effort of stuffing down emotion. 

He coughed. Crumpled up the paper. Cursed under his breath. Stupid. It had been…a fling. A few months during school. What had he expected? They’d been all closed-doors and hidden rendezvous. Regulus had been clear about what they were. That he couldn’t exactly walk up to Walburga and Orion and declare his love for a blood-traitor Gryffindor.

Yet still, naively, James had hoped.

But…

He opened the paper again, gazing down at those stunning gray eyes, that hair that’d felt like silk even when tangled in his fingers. With Regulus…he’d felt. Felt so momentously and achingly that it’s changed him. Whereas, now…

“James?”

“Coming!” he called, crumpling the paper again and throwing it in the trash.

Wiping at the unshed tears, he sighed. He hoped Regulus was happy, at least. And he wondered if maybe, maybe the pain he was feeling now felt better than the nothing he’d been feeling in the years since Regulus had left.

Chapter Text

“So really, man, if you’re out here doing well, don’t tell me.”

Exes Jegulus - Regulus POV

He heard the news from Barty.

Barty, who was usually so cavalier and casual with his words. 

Barty gently sat him down as said, tone as if someone had died, “Potter…Potter’s with Evans. I heard it from McKinnon.”

Numb. Even as he sat, observing the oddly-sympathetic look in his best friend’s eyes…all Regulus could feel was numb. 

He let out a long, patient breath. “All right,” he nodded, turning back to his book.

“All–all right? Reg, it–it’s Potter. He was your–”

“Yes, I know what he was, thanks,” he snapped, turning a fiery gaze on the flummoxed-looking boy. “But he’s not anymore, is he? And that’s…that’s what I chose, so…so it’s for the best.”

Awkwardly, Barty stared for a long while, even as Regulus again stubbornly returned to his reading. But after a few minutes, he sighed. “Fine. But if you need to talk…you know Pandora and Dorcas are here.”

All Regulus did was grunt.

–

He didn’t say a word about it after. He knew his friends wanted to bring it up, but he always refused, expertly changing the subject to safer territory. If he didn’t talk about it, he figured, he could pretend it wasn’t happening. 

But, as always, James Potter refused to be ignored. Six days later, Regulus found himself at the same party as the seventh year, sitting on the couch with his arms crossed as he desperately tried not to stare at the arsehole dance in a stupidly charming way with the new love of his life. He couldn’t help but scoff, though, gagging and rolling his eyes when James kissed Evan’s cheek and bowed a bit to her.

Of course, the nausea doubled when those hazel eyes then snapped to him. 

“Fuck,” Regulus muttered, standing and trying in vain to stumble away from the Gryffindor walking purposefully towards him.

As soon as he turned, though, an achingly familiar hand caught his wrist. “Reg.”

“Potter,” he gritted out, turning. 

“I…erm…I wanted to say hi,” James muttered, looking nervous. 

He swallowed. “Hi. Go back to your girlfriend, Potter.” He hissed the words, but James must’ve missed the emotions behind them, because he smiled. 

“Yeah, I…it’s crazy, right? I think it’s actually going well,” the Gryffindor said with a little laugh.

“James, with all due respect,” Regulus said, jaw set and heart hammering, “fuck you. I do not want to hear about how good things are going with you and your bloody girlfriend right now.”

At this, James let go of his wrist like he’d been burned. “Godric, Reg,” he whispered, blinking. “You left me. Remember? You can’t tell me that you’re mad about that.”

James turned, face twisting in sadness in confusion, and Regulus bolted, running faster than the tears dripping down his face.

He didn’t stop until he got to the Astronomy Tower– their place. Then, he collapsed, sobbing.

Chapter Text

“I just can’t accept that it’s too late to save us.”

James after Regulus gets the Dark Mark

James noticed it as soon as he walked into the Great Hall. Heart heavy in his aching, exhausted body, his eyes only flitted up for a second, out of hopeless habit. But he saw it. And he hated the part of himself that got so damn hopeful when he did. 

“He’s wearing it,” he whispered, biting a trembling lip as his steps stalled and he tripped over his feet a little, distracted by the boy at the other end of the Hall.

He didn’t have to look to his friends to know they were exchanging sad glances. To know they were pitying him. 

“James…” Sirius murmured, placing a hand on James’s shoulder and squeezing softly.

Almost desperately, he turned to his best friend, eyes wide and pleading. “He’s wearing it, Sirius. The jumper he wore when we first…I told him I liked it. That his e–eyes…” But his voice broke and trailed off as he watched Sirius smile sadly and shake his head. “It could be a sign, Sirius,” he continued beseechingly. “That he wants…”

“Mate, you waited for him for weeks,” Remus whispered, gently grabbing James and guiding him towards their own table, away from where his eyes were glued. “He…he doesn’t want.”

“He could,” he murmured pathetically, ribs cracking in his chest all over again. 

But it was Sirius who let out a breath and gave him a sad, resigned look. “He doesn’t. He never has, mate. Trust me. Regulus is…that Mark means it’s too late. We need to accept it.”

Lower lip quivering, James sighed and nodded before sitting on the bench, so busy staring into his bowl of soup that he didn’t see Sirius wiping tears away from his own pale cheeks.

Chapter Text

“I tell myself that I’m over you but I care.”

Remus POV Post- The Prank

“How are you, Rem?”

Merlin, how many times had he been asked that lately? By a guilty-looking James and an awkward-looking Peter…by concerned-looking professors who clearly could see the exhaustion and sadness on his wan features, and by Madame Pomfrey, who always could tell when he was struggling.

‘Fine.’

That had been his answer to all of them, for weeks now. Ever since…

But now, looking over to a kind, sympathetic, genuine-looking Lily Evans, who had finally managed to corner him after their Prefect’s Meeting, he felt the word catch in his throat and lodge itself there, stubbornly refusing to come out. “F…” he tried, floundering as he swallowed. 

The redhead’s replying gaze said ‘don’t you dare lie.’

So he sighed, defeatedly sliding his back down the cold, hard wall of the corridor until he was able to sit on the floor, forearms on his bent knees. Looking dejectedly out the window at the threateningly-half-full moon, he muttered, “I want to be over him. I have to be over him.” He felt stupid admitting he was anything but exactly that.

Lily didn’t laugh at him, though. Instead, she just sat gracefully next to him, folding her legs and taking one of his hands. “But you still care,” she said, nodding thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his whole body trembling with the terrifying truth of his words.

“If it’s any consolation…I think he does, too.”

Remus bit at his lip, still looking out at the dark sky, not sure how he felt about that.