hp fic: Six Lies Remus Lupin Never Told

[xylodemon]

Title: Six Lies Remus Lupin Never Told
Pairing: implied Remus/Sirius and Remus/Lily
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In which Remus is the fairest liar of them all.
A/N: Thanks to thysantous for the once-over.

For musesfool, on the occasion of her birthday.

Six Lies Remus Lupin Never Told

::

I. Lily

"I need to talk to you."

"Of course, Lily," Remus says. There's a slight hesitation before her name, like he expects to be shouted at for using it.

Lily glances around the Library, frowning at the empty chair next to him before pulling it out. She'd rather not do this here; the Library is full and she doesn't want their conversation overheard, but she needs to take this opportunity while it's available. It's incredibly hard to get Remus Lupin alone.

"It's about your friends," she says, sitting.

Remus sighs. He looks tired and pale, but a slight smile plays across his lips.

"James, is it?" he asks. "What's he done now?"

"Not him," Lily says. "Well, not just him. I mean all of them."

"Sirius was upstairs with me last night," Remus says. It sounds a bit wooden, almost rote. "He had nothing to do with those Dungbombs."

Lily doubts that, but she doesn't press it. If she doesn't ask she won't have to take points, and Gryffindor can't afford to lose any more points. Whatever Potter and Black had done to the squid last month had blasted them down to double-digits, and they were just now recovering.

"In general, Remus," Lily clarifies. She uses Remus because he'd used Lily, but it feels odd and foreign on her tongue. "I'm talking about Snape."

Remus studies her for a moment, silent. It's a strange pause, not quite uncomfortable, but not altogether companionable.

"What about him?" he asks finally. His tone is slow, careful. His hand drifts back to the book he'd been reading before she'd interrupted him, and he toys idly with the cover.

"Potter and Black," she says. "They are horrible to him."

"They're just teasing, Lily," Remus says. "They're... excitable, sometimes."

"Excitable?" Lily repeats. She winces; she'd said it too loud, and now half the Library is watching them.

"Excitable," Remus affirms. He leans forward and lowers his voice as he speaks, as if he understands her unspoken desire for this to remain between them.

"It's not just teasing," Lily argues. She thinks last year, of James hanging Snape upside-down by the lake. "They're mean to him, Remus. Cruel. They make him the butt of one of their grand jokes nearly every day."

Remus shifts in his chair and brushes quickly at his fringe. He watches her, and his eyes, a bit too light to be properly hazel, are intent, determined.

"Snape is no kinder to you."

"Don't you dare," Lily says sharply. That stung a bit; Remus had to have known it would have, and she suddenly resents him for it. "Don't you dare twist this around to make it about me. Your friends are wretched, mean-spirited toerags. They are--"

"My friends," Remus finishes simply. It's defensive, and Lily resents that, too. "They are my friends, and they mean a great deal to me."

"I'm sure they do," Lily says. She doesn't quite understand it, since he seems a better sort than Potter and Black, but he must care for them if he puts up with them. Especially Black, who ignores him entirely for Potter one day and clings to him like a leithfold the next. "You are a prefect, Remus. You can't sit by while they put him in danger."

"They've never done anything truly dangerous to Snape," Remus says. "They've hexed him, yes. They've tickled him and made him dance and they once showed everyone his underpants, but they've never physically harmed him."

"They could," Lily insists. "Particularly Black. Potter may be in it for the fun and games, but Black hates Snape."

Remus briefly falls silent, and Lily secretly considers this a victory. She bites back a smile, unwilling to betray that thought on her face, and she tries not to look expectant as she waits for his reply.

"He does," Remus admits finally. "But it's nothing to worry about. Sirius hates Snape, but he'd never put him in danger."

II. James

James frowns at his letter, tapping the feather-end of his quill on the parchment. After nearly an hour he has not moved past Dear Mum and Dad, because he's not quite sure how to ask.

He's never stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas before, but he's never wanted to. Lily is staying this year, because it's safer for her to do so, and James wants to stay with her. He knows his parents will understand this, they've heard enough about Lily over the last couple of years to know she's important to James, but he's having difficulty putting the words on paper.

There's a thump and bump at the door, and James looks up as it creaks open. It's Remus, bundled in a coat and scarf and weighed down with several bags. James smiles and sets his letter aside as Remus bustles in, grateful for the distraction.

"How was Hogsmeade?" James asks.

"Cold," Remus mumbles through his scarf. He drops his bags on the bed and pulls it off; there's snow clinging to its fringe.

"Sirius and Peter?"

"McGonagall," Remus explains. "They turned him into a snowman."

"And you just left them?" James asks, laughing. Snivellus as a snowman is something he's sorry he missed.

"I did."

"That's not on, Moony," James says, shaking his head.

"It was their own fault, doing it right outside The Three Broomsticks like that," Remus says simply. "I told them it was a bit conspicuous."

He pauses, floating some of the packages to Peter's and Sirius' beds with a flick of his wrist, then fixes James with a considering look.

"Any chance you'll bugger off so I can wrap your present?"

"Not a one," James says. He smiles winningly, and Remus sighs.

"If you get it as is, in the store bag with the sticker still on it, it'll be your own fault," Remus declares.

"You could just give it to me now," James replies. He climbs off his bed, moves to Remus', and starts poking around in the bags.

"Not a chance," Remus says, "and none of that," he adds, swatting at James' hand. "You'll wait until Christmas like everyone else."

"I only want to see what you got Wormtail and Padfoot," James says innocently.

Remus tucks one of the packages behind his back, then nods. James spells the door locked, in case Sirius and Peter are freed early, and watches intently as Remus pulls the gifts out one by one.

There's a bag of Stinkpellets for Sirius, as well as a new set of Exploding Snap cards and a long metal tube from Zonko's that looks rather dangerous. There's a stash of Chocolate Frogs for Peter, a book of the Muggle magic tricks Peter finds so fascinating, and a pair of socks, because all of Peter's have holes in the toe.

Remus blushes a bit when he confesses the bag of Sugar Quills is for Madam Pomfrey, but James understands why Remus bought it, after everything Madam Pomfrey has done for him over the years. James howls with laughter when Remus admits that the small box of truffles is for McGonagall, but Remus just waves him off.

"It's the least I could do," Remus says. "You and Sirius have nearly driven the poor woman to drink, and I never stopped you, as much as she wanted me to."

"You're soft, is what you are," James decides. With that, he sticks his hand in the last bag, and pulls a wad of tissue out.

Inside is a small silver pin, shaped like a fairy. The wings are so delicate James thinks they will break if he breathes on them, and the tiny face is beautiful. It looks expensive, far more expensive than the other gifts combined. James can't help wondering who it's for and how Remus afforded it.

Remus pauses, as if he's choosing his words carefully.

"It's for Lily," Remus says eventually.

That's the last thing James expects to hear, and once he wraps his head around it, he's not sure he likes it. It's a better gift than the scarf James has hidden in his trunk, a much better gift, and James is not sure he likes that, either.

"Why?" James asks, before he can stop himself.

"She's a very nice girl," Remus replies, "and I must say, I'm grateful to her for taking you off my hands. I have more time to mind Sirius and Peter now that I don't have to worry about you."

James is silent for a long time, unable to speak. He remembers the rumours of Lily having a boyfriend at the beginning of sixth year, remembers Remus' odd, flighty behaviour at about the same time, and an odd chill settles in his stomach.

"Remus," James manages finally, trying to keep his voice calm. "Do you like Lily?"

"I told you, James," Remus replies. "I think she's a very nice girl."

"No," James says. "I mean, do you like her?"

"Of course not," Remus says. "You always have, and I'd never do that to you."

III. Sirius

Peter's words are slurred and slow, stretched like a Muggle record at the wrong speed, and Sirius is having a hard time following them. He's incredibly drunk, but to be fair, so is Sirius. Lily had insisted on providing Muggle alcohol for her relatives, and Sirius, who could never say no to the unknown, had tried everything he could get his hands on.

"I can't b'lieve it," Peter mumbles. He sways into Sirius, which is bad, because Sirius is no steadier than he is. "Prongs 's married."

"Yeah," Sirius agrees, because it's the best he can do, because he's having a hard time believing it, himself. He'd watched the whole thing, he'd been standing right next to James while Dumbledore said the words, but it still doesn't quite sit right, it refuses to settle in.

Peter sways again, staggers a bit, and slumps into a nearby chair. Sirius starts to speak but trails off; he can't quite remember what he'd meant to say, and Peter's not listening anyway.

Sirius leaves him and stumbles out into the back garden, hoping to escape the heat of the Potter's living room. His Muggle suit is stifling and uncomfortable, and since he'd spilled a drink on it, wet. His left leg is sticky, soaked with pineapple juice and the clear, medicinal-smelling stuff that had been poured into it.

It's cooler outside, but not much, and not one hundred feet away, James is dancing with Lily, which Sirius doesn't want to think about. James is happy and Sirius wants to be happy for him, but underneath it Sirius feels a bit at loose ends and inside he aches with loss.

Sirius tells himself that James is still his best friend, but Sirius knows the words James and Lily exchanged have changed everything. They are together now, two people made into one. He watches them dance, and he sees his best friend slipping away from him, but he also feels empty, because James has found the one thing Sirius has not.

He tears his eyes away from James and Lily, scanning the crowd for Remus. After a moment he finds Remus by the table of Muggle alcohol, inside a knot of Lily's relatives. He's chatting with Lily's horse-faced sister, which Sirius is not sure he likes.

"Remus," he slurs, cutting right into their conversation. "I've been looking for you."

"Sirius," Remus says, smiling. "This is Petunia, Lily's sister."

"We've met," Sirius says flatly, and Petunia sniffs. They'd been introduced this morning; he'd pulled his wand on her when she'd called James a freak of nature.

"How do you know him?" Petunia asks, eyeing Sirius disdainfully.

"We went to school together," Remus says. "With James and your sister."

"Oh," she says, her tone suddenly icy. "You're one of them."

"Didn't you come here with someone?" Sirius asks suddenly. "Big, blustering fellow with a face like a beet?"

The noise she makes would be funny if Sirius could be arsed to care, but he can't, and when she stomps off, he's not sorry to see her go.

"Sirius," Remus says. He's been drinking; his breath smells of the same medicinal stuff that's on Sirius' trousers, but he's holding it better than Sirius.

"It really does look like a beet, Remus," Sirius insists.

Remus breaks a moment later, smiling, and Sirius feels the emptiness inside him subside. Remus' whole face brightens, warming Sirius, drawing him in, and Sirius shifts closer. The lantern-light makes Remus look golden instead of pale, and Sirius watches it dance over his face and hair, struck by how beautiful Remus is.

He's always been scared of that, of how he feels about Remus and how Remus would react, but right now, with strange alcohol coursing through his veins it feels right, and showing Remus seems like the easiest thing in the world.

Remus' eyes widen in surprise as Sirius leans in, but he doesn't pull away. He melts into the kiss, his mouth falling open easily under Sirius', his tongue darting out to meet Sirius' own, and when it ends, punctuated by a soft brush of lips, Remus' breath is laboured and quick.

"Sirius."

Sirius ignores this, leaning in again, but Remus stops him with hand on his arm.

"Don't."

"Why not?" Sirius asks. He keeps his voice as steady as the alcohol will allow, but heart is hammering in his chest, shaking him.

"Sirius."

"I love you."

The words tumble out, then hang there, frozen. Remus' hand comes up, as if to ghost through Sirius' hair, but stops just short of touching, and he sighs.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Remus says quietly. "I just don't feel the same way."

IV. Peter

It's half seven on a Friday night, but the Hogs Head is practically empty. There are five customers, including Peter, and one is the bloke who has been asleep at the bar since Peter's fourth year at Hogwarts. The other three are seated separately, hunched over their drinks with their wands laying on their tables.

The Wireless is set to the news, and as Peter orders his drink he ignores the nervous, female voice reporting increased Death Eater activity throughout Scotland and the Orkneys.

The bartender hands Peter a Butterbeer without comment, turning away before Peter can thank him. Peter scans the room, then chooses a seat that is both in a corner and a respectable distance from the others.

Peter understands why the place is empty. If he was willing to think about it, he'd have to admit he's part of the reason why. The girl on the Wireless had not lied; there have been more and more Death Eater attacks in the last few weeks. The news has spread through the Wizarding areas like wildfire, and most witches and wizards are keeping to their homes.

He understands, but he doesn't like it, because the lack of people in the room draws more attention to him. Peter dislikes being out in the open, he always has, and he especially dislikes it now that he's in such a precarious position and has everything to lose.

Peter's uncomfortable playing for both teams, but given his situation, it's unavoidable. Leaving the Order is out of the question, not when there are whispers of a spy in the ranks, and he knows he cannot escape the Dark Lord.

He'd thought about trying, until he'd watched Sirius' brother die.

His eyes dart to the door, anxious for Rosier to hurry. He doesn't want to be here, he wants to be back in his flat where it is safe, but the message he'd received had been clear. Rosier is coming with a package he is to deliver to Nott, and Peter knows better than to disobey.

A hand on his shoulder jolts him, scaring him so badly he jerks in his seat, knocking over his Butterbeer. He pulls his wand only to find Remus on the other end of it, watching him with a slightly bemused expression on his face. Peter is shaking so hard he botches the spell for the spilt Butterbeer twice, and Remus takes care of it before pulling up a chair.

"What are you doing here?" Peter blurts, as soon as he can breathe again. He regrets it immediately, because it sounds accusatory, but Remus doesn't even flinch.

"I just got back into town," Remus says. "I thought I'd stop for a drink before heading home."

"Where've you been?" Peter asks.

"On holiday," Remus says evenly. He takes a long swallow of his Butterbeer, his eyes never leaving Peter's, and Peter understands.

"Ah," Peter says, because there is nothing else to say.

Remus looks rough. His coat is muddy and his hair needs cutting and there's dirt under his fingernails. He has a long scratch on his cheek, recently healed, and Peter thinks he must have taken it while on his Order business, because the full moon was two weeks ago.

"How have you been?" Remus asks.

"I've been good," Peter says. "I've been working a lot."

"Where are you working now?"

"Ollivanders," Peter replies, and he frowns slightly, because he's sure Remus already knows this. "I just stock the shelves and that, but it pays pretty well."

"That's good to hear, Peter," Remus says, smiling slightly. "I'm surprised to see you out and about."

"Yes, well," Peter replies, a bit sharply. On the Wireless, the reporter, a man now, says three bodies were found in Ottery St. Catchpole earlier in the morning. "I needed to get out, just for a bit."

Remus makes an agreeable noise and takes another sip of Butterbeer. His eyes are no longer on Peter, but fixed on a point just over his shoulder, and Peter wishes that Remus would leave. If he's sitting with Remus when Rosier arrives there could be trouble, and talking to Remus is turning his insides to ice.

"Have you talked to James recently?" Remus asks suddenly.

"No," Peter says, hesitating. "Not since the last--"

"Right," Remus cuts in. "I meant other than that."

"No," Peter replies. He pauses, picking at the label on his bottle. "How's Sirius?"

"How should I know?" Remus says, a bit shortly.

"Well, he's your..." Peter trails off, his face flushing. Remus and Sirius have been together since sixth year, and Peter still can't bring himself to say it aloud. "You live together."

"I haven't been home yet."

"Right," Peter says. He glances over his shoulder and leans forward, whispering. "You haven't talked to Dumbledore, then?"

"No," Remus says. "Why?"

"He thinks there's, um, a..." Peter coughs, and gestures vaguely, hoping Remus will catch on.

"I've heard."

Remus' tone is short and clipped, and his face his absolutely blank. Peter wonders if Remus has also heard that a couple people in the Order think it's him, because of what he is.

"Any ideas?" Peter asks. He wants to ask if Remus thinks it's him, but he knows that will be suspicious.

"No clue," Remus says. "I'm not sure I believe it, actually." He pauses, drumming his fingers on the table. "Do you believe it?"

"I think so," Peter says carefully. The door opens and Peter whips his head around, hoping it's not Rosier. It's not, but that doesn't make Peter feel any better.

"Why?" Remus asks.

Peter suddenly feels cold, uncomfortable under Remus' steady gaze, and he wishes he hadn't brought it up. He wonders what Remus is getting at, and as Remus' eyes narrow a bit, his lip twitching slightly, Peter has a frantic, paranoid moment where he thinks Remus is trying to get him to confess.

"I've heard things," Peter says, pinning his hopes on misdirection.

"Oh?" Remus asks.

"There's someone... well, there are a couple of people, who think..." Peter takes a long swallow of his Butterbeer, and hopes. "They think it's Sirius."

Something passes over Remus face, something so cold and dark that for a split-second, Peter is more afraid of Remus than he's been of anyone in his life. He thinks of the thing inside Remus, the thing that can kill and destroy if Remus fails to keep it under control, and he wants nothing more than to get as far away from Remus as he can.

"Do they."

Peter nods, because there is no turning back.

"No," Remus says, rising. "Absolutely not."

V. Harry

Harry keeps his mouth shut in detention, even when Snape yells at him for being an idiot.

He's angry at Snape, furious, but he knows if he argues he'll only get another detention. He's not even sure why he got one in the first place, because he hadn't done anything to deserve one. It hadn't been his fault that Ron's cauldron exploded; he hadn't even been near it at the time.

When he's finished sweeping Snape directs him to a stack of cauldrons and hands him a brush. The brush is missing so many bristles it is practically bald, but he doesn't mention it, even though it means he has to scrub the cauldrons extra hard. His arm aches when he's finished, throbbing dully from wrist to elbow, but he manages to get the cauldrons clean. Snape snorts when he says he's finished, his lip curling, and he disappears into one of the cupboards to find Harry a few more.

Harry's watches Snape as he scrubs, peering at him under lowered lashes so he won't get caught. Snape is stony and silent, chopping and dicing in a sour manner as he prepares ingredients for the next day's lesson. He wonders why Snape hates him, and he knows Snape does; Snape has been mean to him since the first day of school and Harry has never given him a reason why.

The last cauldron is fairly clean to start with, which Harry is glad for, because the ache in his arm is now spreading up to his shoulder. He gives a few swipes of the brush, working free a small bit of green crust clinging to the bottom, then turns it right-side-up.

"I'm finished, sir," Harry says quietly. He almost hopes Snape doesn't hear him, because he'll only find something else for Harry to do.

"Are you," Snape says. He slices a bit more mugwort, sets the knife aside, and wipes his hands on a towel.

Snape peers inside, his dark eyes narrow, a sneer hanging on his lips. He runs a finger along the inside rim, then sets it down and nudges Harry toward one of the storage cupboards.

"You will alphabetise these," Snape declares, gesturing to a wall of bottled ingredients.

They don't really need it; only a handful of bottles are out of order. He switches the Mandrake roots with the Mandrake leaves, straightens all the bottles so that the labels are facing forward, and wipes a bit of dust off the shelves with a cloth.

Snape sighs loudly at the interruption when Harry says he's finished, and he glares hatred when he finds that Harry is telling the truth. He studies Harry in silence for a long, uncomfortable period of time, then waves him away.

"Go," he says shortly. "And do not interrupt my class tomorrow."

"I won't, sir," Harry says. "Goodnight."

Snape grunts, and turns back to his mugwort before Harry is even out the door.

Harry takes the trip back to Gryffindor Tower slowly, hoping the walk will calm him down. If he goes upstairs now he will only yell at Ron and Hermione, and he doesn't want to, because it's not their fault. It's Snape's fault, because he's mean and nasty, and because he likes to blame Harry for things he hasn't done.

He doesn't really want to be stuck in the common room anyway. Dumbledore hasn't come out and said to the students that Sirius Black is looking for him, but a lot of the students have figured as much, and he's tired of everyone watching him. Some of the students are worried for him, afraid Black is trying to get into the school to hurt him, but other blame him for the situation, blame him for the nervous, jumpy professors and the Dementors at every exit.

It's not his fault, just like Ron's cauldron wasn't his fault, and there isn't anything he can do about it.

He decides to go up to the Owlery to see Hedwig before he goes to bed, but when he turns the corner he runs right into Professor Lupin. Harry stumbles backward, bumping into a wall, but Professor Lupin stays steady and manages to save the cup of tea in his hand.

"Harry," Lupin says, smiling. "You're out late."

"I had detention," Harry replies.

"Oh?" Lupin says, tilting his head to the side. "What've you done now?"

"Nothing!" Harry snaps. "I didn't do anything."

"Harry," Lupin chides. "Professors hardly give detention for no reason."

"Snape does," Harry says. He sounds whiny, and he hates it, but it's true.

"Ah," Lupin says, lightly. "Professor Snape. Maybe you didn't do it, then."

Harry pauses, trying to decide if Professor Lupin is making fun of him. He looks amused; his eyes are bright and his mouth is curving a bit, but Harry can't quite tell.

"He's mean and nasty," Harry says, before he can stop himself. He covers his mouth with his hand and waits, sure Lupin is going to give him more detention, but he doesn't, he just almost-smiles again.

"You went to school with him, didn't you?" Harry asks, though he's not sure why.

"I did."

"Has he always been so mean?"

Lupin hesitates, then shakes his head. "I'm not going to answer that, Harry. You shouldn't have asked."

"I know," Harry admits, blushing. "But he hates me, I just know it."

"No, Harry," Professor Lupin says, his almost-smile slipping. "I'm quite sure he doesn't."

VI. Remus

Remus had forgotten what battle was like.

Dumbledore had kept him busy with other things the last time around, so he'd only been involved in a few. Each had been small and planned beforehand, organised ambushes where there had been at least twice as many Order members as Death Eaters.

He'd only been on the other end once, during a Death Eater attack at James' and Lily's second flat. There had been no time think that night, to wonder how their new hideaway had been discovered so quickly, or why it had happened on a night when Peter had failed to show up for dinner. There had only been madness, just utter chaos, the chill of fear and a frantic desire to live.

Two things had saved them that night -- James' sheer determination to protect his family and Sirius' complete disregard for his own safety. Remus' own wand had been effective and quick, but he'd been so terrified throughout that when it was over, he'd been surprised to find he'd been any use at all.

The Department of Mysteries is dark and crawling with Death Eaters, and the only thing Remus remembers from the first time around is the total confusion and icy chill of fear.

The Stupefy at Dolohov comes right after the Petrificus Totalus at Rookwood, but Remus doesn't register pointing his wand, doesn't realise he's saying the words. He just fires them off, one then another then another, and the only thing he can think of is the man he loves and the boy he's barely beginning to know.

He sees Harry and Sirius together, Neville propped between them, then there are flashes of light, green and red and yellow, and suddenly they are gone, scattered to different sides of the room. When he sees Sirius again he's standing in front of Bellatrix, laughing, his eyes dark and his wand arm raised.

In a heartbeat, Sirius is falling, and in a blink of the eye, Sirius gone.

He hears Harry scream, sees him stumble forward, and his arm shoots out, catching him. He pulls Harry back, holding him, because it stops him from following Sirius himself.

The Veil billows up and outward, and there is nothing.

Remus closes his eyes, tightens his hold on Harry's arm, and tells himself it's going to be fine.

FIN