Chapter Text
It has been six weeks since Sirius' betrayal, and Remus still refuses to speak to him.
The hurt cuts through him with every move he makes, a heavy ache that sits in his stomach and drags him down wherever he goes. And when he looks at Sirius, that ache turns viciously sharp. It rips into him, leaves him gasping for breath and wishing desperately to wake up from this nightmare.
Because, despite it all, Remus still loves him.
He thinks this would be easier, if he didn't. If it were James or Peter who had done this to him, and he could just cut loose the ties of friendship and move on.
Friendship is not what ties him to Sirius. No, Sirius' pull is magnetic, completely unyielding, and it refuses to let Remus go. He still feels that fateful pull in his gut, that keen awareness of where Sirius is at all times. He still feels the inexplicable urge to bury himself in Sirius' arms and tuck himself between the crevices of his body whenever things start to feel too much.
But he can't. Because Sirius has betrayed him, and Remus doesn't think this is something he can forgive. And he suspects, deep down, that if he allows himself to fall into the warmth of the boy he has loved since he was thirteen, he will give in and forgive him and then he will have betrayed himself, too.
Remus can't do that. He won't let himself. He refuses to let Sirius hold such power over him, especially now that he has proved what he is capable of doing with that power. No, Remus won't put himself in that position ever again.
So he just pretends that Sirius isn't there. It has been six weeks, and Remus hasn't even spared Sirius a passing glance. Sirius tried, at first, to get him to break. He pleaded with him, tried everything he could to get Remus to acknowledge him, even resorting to ambushing him after class, but Remus held strong. He needed to prove—to both Sirius and himself—that he didn't need Sirius anymore. Couldn't need Sirius anymore.
Sirius got the message after Remus refused to allow him in the shack with him on the next full moon. He still let James and Peter come—he wasn't that hellbent on destroying himself—but he still came out of it the next morning sore and aching; Padfoot was the wolf's best friend, the only one who could really rein him in when he was getting agitated. Well, he supposes the wolf is just going to have to get used to not needing Padfoot, too.
When Remus wakes up, he momentarily forgets. He sits up and stretches, relishing in the feel of the warm streaks of sunlight filtering through his curtains, and grimaces at the grating sound of Sirius' voice as he says something unintelligible to James.
Remus' stomach drops. He remembers.
This is how it goes, sometimes. It's like a whole new agony every time he forgets, only for the memories to crash down on him like a pile of bricks. The wounds of betrayal become fresh once again, gaping open and ever strengthening Remus' resolve.
He needs to stop caring about Sirius. He needs to stop loving him before he does something stupid and opens himself up to this hurt all over again.
He waits until he hears the door shut behind James and Sirius before emerging from his bed. Peter is waiting for him—they've become much closer over the past few weeks, with James refusing to just cut off his brother and leaving Peter as the only person who knows everything and is remaining resolutely at Remus' side.
He knows James is furious with Sirius for what he did—they all are—but Sirius is James' brother. Sirius could kill them all and James would still stick by him. It irritates Remus a little, but James has told him that he isn't just letting it go. He's not pushing Sirius away, because he just isn't capable of it, but that doesn't mean he isn't disappointed.
Disappointed felt like a monumental understatement, but Remus didn't say anything. He has Peter, who has been wonderfully supportive, and that will just have to be enough.
Peter smiles at him as Remus steps out of bed. He goes to the bathroom to change—something he hadn't done since second year, before—and brushes his teeth, avoiding his own gaze in the mirror.
When he's ready, he and Peter make their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. They've been sitting away from Sirius and James, usually with Lily and the girls, who know something has happened but don't know what. But Remus can tell Peter misses James (not Sirius, though, Peter is fucking furious at him on Remus' behalf, which he has to admit has been anchoring when he starts to doubt himself) since they grew up together, and the rift-by-association has been getting him a little down. He never voices it, more than willing to sacrifice his time with James so that he can prioritise Remus, but Peter has never been very good at hiding how he feels.
So Remus understands the mix of emotions that cross his face when they approach the Gryffindor table and realise that there are no spaces left.
Except next to James and Sirius.
Remus swallows as he feels Peter's eyes slide over to him. This has happened before, once, a few days after that night. Remus had immediately choked up and fled the room, and they had paid a visit to the kitchens for breakfast instead.
He can feel Peter's questioning gaze on him as he waits to see what Remus wants to do, and he feels a pang of guilt strike through him. Peter has been such a good friend to him these past few weeks, never once complaining that he missed James, never hesitating to comfort Remus when it all became too much for him.
Remus feels like Peter deserves for Remus to sacrifice something for him, too. At least once. And it really isn't much to just... be in Sirius' general vicinity while he eats, right?
He cuts Peter off before he can say anything, because if he suggests just going to the kitchens Remus knows he will say yes. And he has to do this for his friend—wants to do this. He can't avoid Sirius forever.
"We can sit with them," Remus says quickly, forcing the words out before he changes his mind.
Peter's eyes widen, full of hope and concern and care. "Really?"
Remus nods stiffly. "Yes. It's okay, I'll be okay."
"Okay," Peter says, trying valiantly to keep the eagerness out of his voice, "if you're sure."
Remus just grunts in affirmation, not trusting himself to speak.
They move forward slowly, and each step is a battle against himself. Everything in him is screaming at him to stay away from this boy that invokes such intense emotions in him, but he pushes forward out of sheer determination. He will do this. For Peter.
Sirius' eyes light up when he sees them approaching, and Remus has to bite his tongue. The hope there shines so brightly, and it simultaneously makes Remus' stomach erupt into butterflies and his heart clench violently. He is not here for Sirius.
"No other spots," he mutters as he sits down, dutifully avoiding eye contact as he fills his plate.
He just has to get through this breakfast, he tells himself. For Peter.
Sirius is sitting directly across from him, which makes things difficult. Remus has to keep his eyes fixed on the table as he eats, having to lean over awkwardly to grab the coffee pot.
Just as he begins to fill his cup, desperate for some caffeine to quell the ache building behind his eyes, he feels someone bump into him forcefully from behind.
"Oi, Snivellus," Peter sneers. "Fuck off, will you?"
Remus bites back a groan. As if this breakfast wasn't hard enough already.
"Just passing by," he hears Snape say, an edge to his tone that makes Remus' gut clench.
James goes to respond, looking downright murderous, but Remus stops him. "It's fine, Prongs," he mutters. "Leave it."
James slumps back reluctantly, spitting out a "little shit" under his breath.
Remus sighs heavily, his headache starting to pound against his temples. He reaches for his coffee, but before he can pick it up it Sirius' hand shoots out and grabs his wrist.
"Wait, Moony, don't drink that!"
Remus yanks his hand back violently and glares at Sirius, heart pounding from the contact, but also at the sheer nerve. Sirius has always been rather vocal about Remus' coffee 'addiction,' as he calls it, but the audacity of him to bring it up now of all times is staggering.
"Don't touch me," he hisses. "And don't tell me what to do. And don't call me that."
A flash of hurt crosses Sirius' features as he opens his mouth to speak again, but Remus doesn't let him. He maintains eye contact, staring right into Sirius' wide eyes as he lifts the mug to his lips and drinks it all in one go. It's petty, he knows, but he's already pushing it by being here in the first place and his self control is slipping.
Sirius is still staring at him with a dumbfounded look on his face. It's the most eye contact they've had in weeks, and Remus' skin is starting to prickle with heat.
"What?" he bites out.
Sirius swallows. "Um. Snape put something in your drink."
—
The look that falls across Remus' face would be comical, if the circumstances were different.
He goes completely pale, blinking rapidly as he stares down at his empty mug. He brings a shaky hand up to his throat.
"And you couldn't have mentioned this before I drank the whole thing?" he says quietly, eyes still locked on the table. His voice is a little uneven, and Sirius can tell that he's starting to panic. He can tell, because he knows Remus.
He knew him when he told Snape. No matter where his head was at in the moment, somewhere in the back of his mind he knew what it would do to Remus. The betrayal. And he did it anyway.
The guilt is overwhelming. It spills out of him, out of his mouth in fruitless apologies and meaningless explanations, out of his eyes as he curls up beside James at night and falls apart with regret, and with love.
Love that is not allowed to go anywhere, now.
"I—I tried—" he stammers, but stops when James shoots him a look that clearly says, Don't.
Remus takes a shaky breath. "Did you see what it was?"
Sirius shakes his head, before realising Remus won't be able to see him with his eyes still fixed downwards. "No, I'm so sorry, Remus, it was so fast—I only even saw him do it because—" Because I was staring at your hands. He swallows the words down. "He was too quick."
Remus doesn't react, just continues staring blankly at the dregs of his coffee. Sirius silently pleads for him to do something.
Look at me, please.
The silence stretches around them, thick and heavy. The background noises of the Great Hall register distantly in Sirius' mind, but right now the only thing he can focus on is Remus. He can hear how unsteady his breaths are, see his desperate attempts not to lose composure.
James must notice it too, because he quickly snaps into problem-solving mode. This is one of the things Sirius loves the most about James; his ability to keep a level head and take control when things go wrong. He's the only reason Snape is still alive.
"Okay, so," James says evenly. "I'm sure we can figure this out. Remus, are you having any symptoms right now?"
Remus turns his head to look at James. "I don't think so," he says cautiously. "I mean, my heart is beating really fucking fast right now but I don't think that's from the potion."
James nods. "Alright. Do we know which potions Snape would have easy access to?"
"We're making amortentia in class right now."
They all turn to state at Peter because—he's right. They've been brewing it in Potions. It's how Sirius knows that his smells like Remus.
"Amortentia?" Remus echoes, voice strained.
Sirius can't help sharing the sentiment. That would be—Merlin, he really hopes it's not that. Would Snape do that? Just to mess with Remus?
"How—" Sirius clears his throat roughly. "How do we know?"
"Well," James says, "Remus, who were you looking at when you drank it?"
Remus' eyes snap to Sirius'. There's a note of panic there, although it seems like Remus is trying his best not to let it show. Sirius' heart is thundering in his chest.
"Me," he rasps when Remus doesn't answer. "He was looking at me."
"Right then," James says, looking between them nervously. "I guess there's only one way to find out..." A pause. "Remus, how do you feel about Sirius?"
Sirius takes a fortifying breath in preparation. He knows that whatever Remus' answer is, this is probably going to hurt either way.
"I'm in love with him."
And—fuck.
Just—
Fuck.
Sirius can barely hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat, but he can clearly see Remus' reaction to his own words. His eyes widen in barely concealed horror, and Sirius thinks he's going to be sick.
Peter chuckles nervously. "Looks like it was amortentia, then."
But Sirius is still staring at Remus, who is resolutely not making eye contact. This is—he can't—this is everything he has wanted to hear for so, so long, and yet it's all wrapped up in a horrifying mess of false reality.
I'm in love with him.
But he isn't. Remus hates Sirius, he's made that abundantly clear, and apparently the extent of this hatred is so strong it has managed to pierce through the effects of a fucking love potion. He saw the look in Remus' eyes—complete, unadulterated horror.
Remus does not love Sirius.
But oh, Sirius loves him.
He thinks perhaps he deserves this. This twisted granting of his deepest desires, all while knowing none of it is real. He's hurt Remus enough, and while the guilt of it has nearly eaten him alive, it feels like he will never be punished enough for what he did. He just wishes this wasn't punishing Remus, too.
James clears his throat. "So, erm. How long does amortentia last, again?"
"24 hours," Sirius chokes out, the words tasting like burning ash on his tongue.
24 hours of Remus being in love with him. Of Remus being drugged into loving him.
Merlin's fucking balls, he's not sure he's going to survive this.
—
Remus is hiding in a broom closet.
So much for not fleeing the hall this time.
He just—couldn't stay there. Not with Sirius. Not after what he said.
I'm in love with him.
Remus' breaths start to quicken.
Because it wasn't amortentia in his drink. He knew that the moment those awful words ripped themselves from his throat without permission.
It was veritaserum.
Of course Snape would spike his drink with fucking truth serum, no doubt thinking Remus would spill his darkest secrets to the school and let everyone know he's a werewolf. What he wasn't counting on was that Remus' darkest secret is not his lycanthropy. Not anymore, at least.
His darkest secret is so much more twisted.
He is ashamed. Ashamed that even after the deepest betrayal, the most brutal shattering of his trust, his feelings for Sirius are still as rampant as ever.
And now those feelings have been laid bare. Not that any of his friends know the truth, of course. But it wouldn't take much. The right question, the right phrasing, and Remus will be spilling his guts.
How the fuck is he supposed to keep this up for the next 24 hours? He can feel the familiar urge to run away and hide somewhere until it's all over crawling up his spine, but if everyone thinks he's under a love spell that would be rather suspicious, wouldn't it? Surely if he was in love, he would want to be around Sirius all the time?
Well. He is in love. And he's been avoiding Sirius just fine for the past six weeks.
Remus digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, hard enough that he sees stars. How is he supposed to do this? Perhaps he should just... embrace it. Allow himself to get it all out of his system under the pretence of amortentia. But what if he admits that there was no amortentia? And what will Sirius do?
Remus groans. He saw the way Sirius reacted to his... confession. He's not sure why it hurt so much, honestly. He knew that Sirius didn't feel the same way. How else could he be so disposable to him, merely a tool in his expedition against Snape? But the utter dismay in his eyes was just... unexpected. Remus wasn't prepared for it. For how sharply it would sting.
It's at that moment that Peter bursts through the door to the broom closet. Remus blinks up at him, aware that he probably looks a state right now—curled up against the wall and hair mussed from running his hands through it in his distress.
"Hey," Peter pants, catching his breath as he shuts the door behind him. He lowers himself down to the floor so that he's sitting opposite Remus, and shoots him a nervous look. "Are you... okay?"
"No," Remus says immediately. Fucking veritaserum.
Peter grimaces. "Yeah, I..." He blows out a breath. "I don't know what Snape was thinking, slipping you a bloody love potion. What would he even get out of that, anyway?"
"Nothing," Remus responds. "Because it wasn't amortentia, it was veritaserum." He bites down hard on his tongue. Shit. He hadn't been planning on telling anyone, but he supposes he's grateful it's Peter and not anyone else.
Peter's eyes widen in the dim light. "He—Veritaserum?"
Remus nods glumly.
"Remus, what the fuck?"
Remus cringes. "I know."
Peter is still staring at him, dumbfounded. "You're in love with Sirius?"
"Yes."
"How long?"
Remus cringes again, wanting to sink into the wall behind him. No use trying to deny it, the veritaserum made sure of that. "...Third year."
"Third year?"
"It's not like I wanted to fall for him, I just... did."
Peter exhales sharply. "Well, you did a bloody good job at hiding it."
"Until now," Remus counters, fingers starting to pick at a loose thread in his trousers. He takes a deep breath. "It was supposed to stop," he says quietly. "After he told Snape. I don't understand why it didn't. Why I can't... hate him the way I want to." He chews on his lip, staring off into space. "It's making everything so much harder."
Mortifyingly, he feels tears start to prick at his eyes. He wipes at them roughly, utterly ashamed at how pathetic he's being. And he can't even try to mask it.
"I don't know what to do," he whispers, looking up at Peter desperately. "I don't know how to get through this until the potion wears off."
Peter purses his lips, clearly deep in thought. "Well... you'll probably need to play into it, just so the others don't suspect anything."
Remus sighs heavily. "Yeah, I know. I just... What if I end up saying that it was veritaserum? It's obviously going to be at the front of my mind." He gestures to himself helplessly.
"I guess you'll have to find something else to replace it, then," Peter says. "Something that would help sell that you're under amortentia, all while telling the truth..." He raises an eyebrow at Remus knowingly.
Remus lets his head thunk back against the wall in agitation. "Right," he mutters. "Not like I've been shoving that as far from the front of my mind as humanly possible for the last six weeks."
Peter grimaces. "Just... I don't know, try and channel the way you felt before he..."
"Betrayed me," Remus supplies, and Peter looks pained.
"Right," he says. "I can—I mean, I can guide the conversation away from... certain topics, if you need."
"Would you?" Remus asks anxiously. "That would be great, Pete, thank you."
Peter nods. "Of course."
They lapse into silence for a while, both just sitting on the floor and mulling over the situation. Inevitably, Remus' thoughts crawl back to Sirius.
"Do you, um. Did you see how Sirius... How he reacted? After I... left?"
Peter bites his lip. "He... wasn't thrilled," he admits. "Sort of looked like he was going to be sick."
Remus swallows past the lump that forms in his throat. "Right."
So, he has to channel all the feelings he's been burying for Sirius to the forefront of his mind, all so that he can convincingly play a person who is under the influence of a love potion, while doing everything he can to not reveal that it's actually truth serum and everything he's saying is true, and watch Sirius be disgusted with him the entire time.
Way to up the stakes.
Sirius cannot find out that it was veritaserum.