1. cloistered
Dear Aunt Agony,Help! My parents hate me. They don't give me any freedom. They don't let me do what I want. They make me go home every Christmas holiday, and won't let me go to Hogsmeade because it's big and dangerous and haunted (the Shrieking Shack, you know), and they keep sending owls to my friends, asking...
Remus read the letter that lay in his lap, and resisted the urge to laugh out loud. Looking up, he tossed it into the pile furthest to his right - the pile he had mentally labelled "Dissatisfied Children". Next to it was "Fights With Friends", "Lovelorn Teenagers", "Bad Students", "Too Much Angst", "General Gripes", and on the extreme left, "Nothing To Do During History Of Magic So I'll Write Irrelevant Letters To Aunt Agony".
Had Remus known that he would have been spending Monday nights like this - sitting in the trophy room, with numerous boxes of letters to be read, and replied to - he might not have taken on the role of Aunt Agony for the Hogwarts Herald quite so readily. Then again, he might, even if Lily hadn't been as insistent as she'd had.
There was something oddly fascinating about reading these letters - almost as if all of Hogwarts had opened a bit of their heart to him.
He only hoped he wouldn't let them down.
There was one final letter left at the bottom of the box. He took it out, and started reading. The words were written in a long, flowing, calligraphic hand.
Dear Aunt Agony,
What do you do if
I think I may be inRecently, my best friend has started to look strangely attractive to me.
Sincerely yours,
Twinkle
Well, thought Remus, that was short and succinct. Thank you, Twinkle.
He chucked it into the third pile from the right, and got up to take a walk. Soon, he would have to come back, and start writing responses to a lucky few letters. Or unlucky, depending on how things turned out.
I wonder what Sirius is doing, he thought wistfully.
* * *
2. unfolding
"Sirius!"
At the sound of his name, Sirius looked up from his breakfast. James was standing a few feet away, waving a copy of the Hogwarts Herald in the air.
"Oh, bloody..." he murmured, then jumped up from his seat.
"You won't believe this, Padfoot, it's - "
But James was abruptly cut off, as Sirius clapped a hand over his mouth, and dragged him out of the Great Hall. He tried to ignore Peter's mystified stare, and the questioning look in Remus' eyes.
Remus' eyes.
He shook his head, trying to dispel the thought, and turned his attention back on more pressing matters. "Prongs, you git! You almost - "
"Sorry," grinned James. "But hey, I told you it'd work."
Sirius scowled. "As if any Aunt Agony could seriously help me. This is all your fault, James."
"My fault!" An indignant expression came over James' face. "Is it my fault you drink too much?"
"No, it's your fault for letting me drink too much," Sirius grumbled. "You know I say things when I'm drunk."
"Well! If this is the thanks I get for helping you, I'll just hold on to this, and you can go find your own copy."
Sirius lunged forward. "Gimme that."
James ducked under his arm, and held his Hogwarts Herald out of Sirius' reach. "Oh, if you're sure you want it...I mean, I wouldn't want you to go around thinking that I forced it on you or anything, Merlin forbid."
"Just - "
"What?" James paused.
Sirius grabbed the paper out of his hand.
"Go downstairs and eat your breakfast."
As James retreated to the Great Hall, grinning, Sirius headed back to his dormitory. He sat on his bed, and flipped the Herald open to page twelve. There it was, just as James had almost blurted out - his letter, buried near the bottom of the rightmost column.
Dear Aunt Agony,Recently, my best friend has started to look strangely attractive to me.
Sincerely yours,
Twinkle
He grimaced. The nickname had been James' idea.
The reply which followed was substantially longer than the letter it addressed.
Dear Twinkle,There are a few questions you have to ask yourself. 'Attractive' in what sense? How long has this been going on? Does it disturb you? Does your best friend know? Does it disturb him?
If you are sure that this attraction is of a non-platonic nature, then the best thing you can do for yourself and your friend is to tell the truth. If you are not sure, perhaps you could talk over your feelings with another friend, one who knows both of you and can help you with your problem.
All the best!
Sincerely yours,
Aunt Agony
Sirius put the paper down, and tried to answer the questions one by one in his head.
'Attractive' in what sense? Well, in the sense that he wanted to be trapped with him in a closet, preferably in the middle of the night - and in summer, when he would have an excuse to take his clothes off.
How long has this been going on? Sirius didn't know. Months - maybe even years?
Does it disturb you? Well, naturally it did. Or perhaps he wasn't so much disturbed as confused.
Does your best friend know? Hell no, Sirius hoped.
Does it disturb him? He hadn't a clue. Would it? Remus didn't seem like the sort to be bothered, but you never knew,
Talk over my feelings with a friend? Well, I've done that, and all he could say was to ask you. Which was probably a good idea anyway, given the dismal state of his own love life.
Sirius lay back on his pillow for a few minutes, and stared at the ceiling. Then he sat up, and reached into his bag for a piece of parchment and his calligraphy quill.
* * *
3. unwrapping
Remus walked upstairs after the weekly prefects' meeting, his earlier conversation with Lily replaying in his mind.
"You're brilliant, Remus! Your column's a hit!"
"Really?
"Really."
"Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid of fouling up - "
"You didn't foul up! Not at all! You make a better Aunt Agony than most girls I know."
"Thanks."
He allowed a small smile to escape him.
Outside, the Gryffindor Quidditch team was practising. The stands were empty, except for one person - Sirius. Profiled against the setting sun, he looked for a moment like one removed from the world, alive on his own terms and bursting with energy. Remus could almost see the warm glow emanating from his friend.
It should be a crime for anyone to look so good, he thought fleetingly.
A clock struck seven-thirty. Sirius and James would be in soon, Remus realised.
After a moment's thought, he decided to detour past the trophy room.
A few letters lay at the bottom of the submissions box. Only one, however, caught his eye. That writing. Calligraphy. It looked extremely familiar.
"Well..." he murmured to himself. "A repeat writer."
He locked the door of the trophy room, opened the letter, and started reading.
Dear Aunt Agony,Thank you very much for your reply to my last letter. It was very helpful, and got me thinking about a lot of things.
I've never really been the shy type. If my best friend happened to be just any other girl, I'd probably have gone up to her already and told her I like her. But he isn't. A girl, that is.
And, oh, I'm not a girl too, in case you couldn't tell.
So what should I do?
I understand if you think it's wrong to print replies to the same person two weeks in a row, and anyway, this is sort of private. If you don't mind helping me out, you can leave your reply with the portrait of Lady Ophelia Bluestocking on the fifth floor.
Thank you very much.
Sincerely yours,
TwinkleP.S. Sorry, I know I'm not very good at writing.
Remus stared at the piece of parchment in his hand. He blinked.
The first thought that came to him was: Wait! Twinkle's not a girl? Why would any boy call himself Twinkle?
The second: Well, why would any boy call himself Aunt Agony, come to think of it?
He reread the letter, and reread it again, a few times. Then he looked up, and out of the window, where Sirius had just left the stands to clap James on the back.
A vague feeling of envy welled up before he could stop it.
"Get a grip, Moony," he whispered, under his breath.
Remus, despite all appearances to the contrary, was very good at lying. After all, he'd done it for almost his whole life. How many times had he carelessly told the others, "Bad news, my grandma's ill...got to visit her again"?
But when it came to lying to himself, he was hopeless.
Why did this letter from "Twinkle", whoever he was, strike such a chord with him? Why did he feel almost personally compelled to go out of his way to write back? And why did he feel, well, so unqualified in this particular case?
He knew the answers to all those questions, but he had none for others.
Maybe, he thought, I make a better Aunt Agony than most girls, because I am more like a girl than most girls.
* * *
4. faint light
Sirius sneaked a peek over at his friends. They were seated alphabetically by house, in vertical columns - so he was, most conveniently, located at the back of the classroom (behind Aiden, Alcott, Arkwright, Avery, Barrow and Binsley).
James and Peter were near each other, with Peter a few rows in front, valiantly trying to stay awake. Sirius could see him struggling to take notes, his quill trailing off on the parchment in untidy scrawls as his head drooped over the table.
James, true to form, was already openly sleeping. He hadn't even bothered to take anything out of his bag.
Sirius couldn't blame them. If not for the fact that he had far more important things to do, he would probably have been in James' state by now. It was History of Magic, after all, and who ever paid attention during History of Magic?
Well, Remus.
His gaze shifted to the front of the class, where Remus sat. He was looking up attentively at Professor Binns, quill poised over a sheet of neatly written notes.
How can someone so good be so attractive? Sirius wondered.
He opened his textbook to the chapter they were studying (The Romantic Era: Was It Really Romantic?), and carefully unfolded the letter he'd stashed there after retrieving it from a giggling Lady Ophelia. Placing it strategically between pages 110 and 111, he began to read.
Dear Twinkle,Something about your latest letter really struck me, and to be honest, I don't know whether I can be much of an Aunt Agony from now onwards. What I can be, though, is a friend.
If I were just an objective worldly-wise person like Aunt Agony is supposed to be, I'd probably advise you to ask yourself more questions, such as: are you uncomfortable with possibly being homosexual? Do you think your friend is uncomfortable with either you or himself being that way? And if the answer to both questions is no, then there really is nothing to stop you from telling him how you feel.
But I'm afraid I'm just a student, like you. And so I do understand what's holding you back, because I've been where you are - it may even be that I am where you are, right now.
We both know we're afraid. Afraid of what might happen, if we try to advance a friendship into uncharted, possibly even dangerous, territory. And I would tell you to go for it - if not for the fact that that would make me rather a fraud.
Still, I think you should seize the day, if you can find it in yourself to overcome your fear.
I'm really sorry if this has been less useful than you hoped. I know this probably isn't what you were expecting to find, but I wanted to write back and tell you you're not alone.
Sincerely yours,
A Friend
(because I'm not sure I can be Aunt Agony anymore)P.S. Don't worry, you write perfectly well.
Sirius' mind was a whirl of thoughts.
True, this hadn't been what he was expecting to find. But he wasn't disappointed, or angry, or upset. In fact, he felt...relieved. Relieved that someone understood exactly what he was going through.
Odd, he thought. James and Peter were his best friends - next to Remus, who obviously couldn't help him in this case. They'd been his best friends since first year. The Marauders shared anything, everything, with each other.
And yet, he'd had to go to a complete stranger to find what he needed all along.
I suppose I never knew what I was missing.
He picked up his quill, chewed on the tip, and started writing.
* * *
5. interlude
The wolf awoke, opening its eyes. The familiar wooden floor creaked beneath its weight. He smelled blood on himself. His blood.
They were here, just outside. Waiting for him. The friends he ran with - the rat, the stag, and the dog. His memory was hazy for some reason - time didn't align right, in his mind - but he remembered his friends. He ran forward to greet them.
The rat was the first one he saw. It was such a small little creature, nothing more to his wolf's eye than a morsel of food. But he had never tried to eat him, because he knew the stag and dog wouldn't like it. And he liked the stag and dog.
The rat, however...
There was an unpleasant smell about it. A smell the wolf was not completely comfortable with.
Still, if the stag and dog said it was all right, then he was prepared to accept that it was all right.
The stag emerged next, from the shadows. A large, majestic animal - perhaps the one that the wolf respected most. It moved with grace and dignity, but was capable of just as much mischief as the rest of them, and was fearsome when provoked.
He moved forward. The stag met his eye, and nodded.
Then he felt a soft pressure at his neck, and a warm canine scent engulf his senses. He turned.
There was the dog, next to him. It gave a small affectionate bark, and ran off across the field, towards the full moon in the distance.
The wolf smiled a lupine smile, and took off after his best friend. It was a ritual, now.
Later that night, they reclined side by side on the wet grass, grey fur mingling with black. The dog raised its head, and nuzzled the wolf gently.
Then the wildcats came.
* * *
6. waking into dreams
Remus opened his eyes and blinked a few times. The hospital wing. Of course - last night had been the full moon.
There were more wounds on his body than normal. He could see red scratches on his hands, and feel the pain when the large nightshirt brushed his forearms. Wincing, he propped himself against a pillow, and tried to remember.
We were lying on the grass - and then -
Something happened.
His senses were always more acute just before and after the transformation. What his mind could not remember, they filled in for him.
A scent of wildcat about his skin. The lingering taste of blood in his mouth - not his own. Ringing sounds in his ears, low growls, and menacing purrs. A sensation of being pushed roughly to the side by something large. Dog fur on his clothes.
Sirius.
Remus sat bolt upright, blood rushing to his head. Wildly, he yanked aside the curtain round his bed.
Sirius lay in the bed beside his, unnaturally pale. There were red claw marks on his face. His shirt was off, and Remus could see long crimson scars on his chest, peeking through the swath of bandages.
"Sirius!"
His voice came out like a choked cry. Sirius remained motionless.
Remus buried his head in his hands.
"Well, Lupin, you're awake."
"Madam Pomfrey!" Remus whirled around. "What happened to - "
"To Black?"
Remus nodded, wordlessly.
Madam Pomfrey put a large bottle of medicine by his bedside table, and began pouring out a spoonful. "Went out wandering last night. Got himself attacked by wildcats."
"Is he - will he be - "
"Oh, he'll be all right," Madam Pomfrey said firmly. "I wouldn't worry if I were you. He's made of tough stuff. Now, open your mouth."
Remus did so obediently. He was so relieved by Madam Pomfrey's words that, for once, he hardly felt the vile concoction going down his throat. He's all right. Sirius is all right.
"Good, Lupin. By the way, Potter and Pettigrew brought you your textbooks."
Madam Pomfrey's mouth was set in a thin line as she said this. Remus tried not to laugh. She'd always disapproved of Remus doing work just after the full moon, but he'd been doing it for years, with no ill effects. He remembered arguing with her, back in first year: "I'm not really unwell anyway, Madam Pomfrey - this is what I am."
He looked over at the bed next to his, and his stomach churned with guilt. But then, being what I am has got Sirius into this state.
Averting his eyes, he reached for the textbook on top of the pile, and opened it. A letter fell onto the bed.
The letter. I'd almost forgotten it.
He opened it, closed the curtain, and lay back on his pillow.
Dear Friend,Thank you so much for your last letter. It meant a lot to me - a lot more, actually, than an impersonal Aunt Agony letter would have. You don't know how much it helps to know you're not alone, that there's someone who really does know how you feel, that there's someone who might be in your position, facing the same dilemma, the same -
Ah, I'm rambling. Told you I wasn't much of a writer.
I've never been a coward, or at least, I never thought I was one. But you know what? You're right. I am scared. And I don't really know what I'm scared of, because I know my friend isn't the sort to turn his back on me, even for something like this. But I'm scared anyway.
I look at him, and I can't imagine living without him. I just want to make him happy, and to be able to share that happiness with him. Sorry if this sounds dumb and sappy. I'm sure you know what I mean. What if I told him? There's a chance I might lose what we already have. We are happy, right now, as things are.
But then again, what if I don't tell him, and miss out on what might have been? If things were different -
This is way too confusing, and there are too many what ifs. Maybe you're right - it's about time I stopped pussyfooting around.
Thanks for hearing me out.
Sincerely yours,
Twinkle
Remus smiled, a little sadly. Well, this is ironic, he thought. I've managed to counsel someone this far, and what am I doing? Pussyfooting around myself.
Perhaps it was time to take some action of his own.
"Remus?"
The voice was faint, but it was unmistakably Sirius'. Remus shut the letter in his textbook, and hurriedly drew his curtain aside. "Sirius! You're awake!"
Sirius smiled weakly. "Yes." He stretched a bandaged arm out towards Remus. "Are you...all right?"
"I should be asking you that," Remus said quietly. "I'm sorry, Padfoot."
"Sorry?" Sirius looked bewildered for a moment. "Why?"
"You got hurt protecting me, didn't you? From the wildcats."
"Oh, that. It was nothing - "
"Nothing!" Remus knelt down beside Sirius' bed, and took his outstretched hand. His fingers tingled, not unpleasantly.
"You could have been killed! There was a whole pack of them!"
"Yes, well, never mind that. Important thing is, you're okay. You are, aren't you?" The look of concern in Sirius' eyes intensified.
"As okay as I'll ever be," said Remus. "But, Sirius - "
"Yes?"
"Don't ever risk your life for me again! I'm not worth it."
Sirius smiled. "Of course you are."
* * *
7. confronting the fear
Sirius had had to lie low after that incident with the wildcats. He didn't know how much McGonagall had figured out - or whether she'd actually figured out anything - but detention was not his idea of fun, especially during de-gnoming season.
Remus had wanted to help him, but both Filch and McGonagall had staunchly refused. Sirius didn't know who felt more upset by this, Remus or himself, but he suspected it was probably Remus. He had a sense of decency that was almost overwhelming.
It was one of the things Sirius liked best about him.
A week had gone by since the full moon. James was down in the kitchens getting food from the house-elves, and Remus was in the common room, tutoring Peter in Defense Against The Dark Arts. Sirius could hear them from the corner where he sat, reading a book - Peter's voice high and nervous, and Remus' calm, low, gentle.
"Okay, Peter, let's try something simpler. How does one distinguish a werewolf from the normal wolf?"
"Uh - the, uh - um..."
"The snout?"
"Oh, yeah, the snout."
"What about it?"
"Um...it's..."
Sirius resisted the urge to throw his book at Peter. How anyone could run around with a werewolf once a month and not know the answer to this question was beyond him.
Remus had the patience of a saint. He'd have to, Sirius reflected, to put up with James and himself, let alone Peter.
He looked across the room, and caught Remus' eye. His friend gave him a resigned smile, before turning his attention back to the hapless Peter.
Well, thought Sirius, now's as good a time as ever. Quietly, he stood up, and left the room.
The corridors of Hogwarts were dark and silent at night. Sirius rounded a corner, and climbed down two flights of stairs.
"Why, my dear! You're back!" trilled a feminine voice.
"Hi Ophelia," Sirius grinned.
The blonde woman in the portrait frowned. "That's Lady Ophelia to you, young man."
Sirius ignored her. "Did my friend leave anything?"
"Ooh, yes," Lady Ophelia beamed, and started to giggle. "Just yesterday, in fact."
"Thanks." Sirius reached behind the picture frame, and withdrew a letter.
"My pleasure, sweetie."
Sirius glanced up and down the corridor. There was no one in sight. Taking a deep breath, he ripped the envelope open.
Dear Twinkle,You opened your last letter by thanking me, and closed it in the same way. But in all honesty, it is I who should be thanking you.
What you said about cowardice, and what-ifs, and might-have-beens, reminded me of something I'd forgotten. A few years back, I had a secret which I kept from everyone, even my closest friends. It was making me unhappy, but I was too afraid to tell the truth.
Then they found out. And far from losing them as friends, we grew even closer, in ways I'd never dreamed of before.
It's not an exact parallel, but thinking back, I regret ever lying to them. And perhaps we'll both regret lying to ourselves and the people we're in love with, if we continue hiding and pretending.
It may be that by the time you've read this, you've already gathered up the courage to tell your friend. You may even have told him already -
Not bloody likely, Sirius thought, feeling suddenly ashamed. Sirius, you coward.
He continued reading.
- and if you have, I sincerely hope it turned out well for you.And me? I'm still working myself up to the task. Remember when you described how you felt for your friend, and apologised for sounding dumb and sappy? Well, there was no need to apologise, because I know exactly what you meant, and you put it perfectly in words.
In the meantime, I have a proposition to make. There's a Hogsmeade weekend coming. Would you care to meet up? The Hog's Head, three o'clock.
Ordinarily, I wouldn't just ask someone I didn't know to meet me like this. But then, we've both been making leaps in bravery, and people are always bolder in letters. Besides, it would be rather unfair to think of you as a stranger, now. I promise I won't tell anyone anything about you, if you don't tell the whole school who Aunt Agony is.
If your answer is yes, you'll know me by the long-stemmed yellow rose I'll be holding. Hope to see you soon.
Sincerely yours,
Your Friend
"Isn't that sweet, now."
Sirius spun around. "Ophelia!"
Lady Ophelia's painted face assumed a defensive expression. "What?"
"Didn't your mother teach you not to read other people's letters?"
"Tosh." She waved dismissively. "My mother knew nothing about fine society. I married into wealth, darling."
Sirius glared at her. "Well, that explains a lot."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Never mind," Sirius said. He returned to the letter in his hand, and reread it again, trying to sort out his thoughts.
"Are you going to meet your elusive friend?" interrupted Lady Ophelia.
"Should I?"
"Well, I would, if I were you. One hardly sees dedication of this sort nowadays. Of course, in my time, people knew how to be young ladies and gentlemen - "
"I'm sure they did," Sirius murmured, but his heart was barely in the retort.
Everyone knows who I am. Sirius Black. The infamous lady-killer. If we meet -
"Make up your mind, lad, I want to know how this turns out."
Sirius shot the portrait a look. "Young ladies keep their noses in their own affairs, Lady Ophelia."
The woman laughed. "Perhaps so, but your affairs intrigue me more than my own."
Sirius read the letter again. What if we meet, and -
Then he quelled the thought, forcibly.
Stop it, Black. You're just making excuses. You're trying to hide behind letters and stupid pen-names.
Everyone has to stop hiding some day.
He turned sharply. "Have you got a piece of parchment?"
"Do I look like I have a piece of parchment, dear boy?"
Sirius groaned. "Well - the next time my friend stops by, just pass on my message."
Lady Ophelia paused in her pacing, and raised an eyebrow. "And that message would be?"
"Yes."
* * *
8. full bloom
Remus stole a glance at the clock tower in Hogsmeade. 2:50 PM.
"Hey, um..."
James and Peter turned to look at him. Sirius seemed oddly distracted.
"I'm supposed to be having tea with a friend. Catch up with you later?"
James' eyes gleamed. "Is it a girl, Remus?"
"No," Remus said, glancing almost instinctively at Sirius.
Sirius looked quizzically at him. "Then who is it?"
"It's a surprise. I'll tell you later. See you in a bit - I'm going to be late."
With that, he walked away quickly before his friends could grill him further. I suppose I ought to have thought up something smarter to say. I'm not exactly a bad liar, after all.
He made a brief stop at the florist's to buy a long-stemmed yellow rose, then entered the Hog's Head. It was fairly packed with customers, and Remus could see more than a few Hogwarts students in the crowd. He suddenly wished fervently that everyone would clear out.
Oh, well, at least I don't know any of them.
He picked the most secluded table in the place (which wasn't saying much, considering how crowded it was), ordered a drink, and sat down to wait. The yellow rose lay between his fingers, on the table.
The clock in the tower struck three.
Remus sipped his vanilla-cherry soda. Any time now -
Then the door opened, and Sirius walked in.
Remus suppressed the urge to yelp. He tried to look pointedly out of the window, and drew his robes up so they hid his face. Sirius! What was Sirius doing here?
He sneaked a peek over his collar. To his dismay, Sirius seemed to have seen him, and was making a beeline for his table.
Remus pretended to be very interested in his drink and his yellow rose. He became more and more aware of Sirius approaching him, and tried not to show it. As if that's even possible, he thought ruefully. It's Sirius. How can I not notice Sirius?
"Remus?"
He looked up, and feigned surprise - probably unsuccessfully. "Sirius! I didn't see you."
Sirius was staring, wide-eyed, at the rose in his hands. Remus glanced down at it, then back up at Sirius. "Is something - "
"You've - got - a long-stemmed yellow rose," said Sirius, almost in wonderment.
"Well, yes, I do." Remus gazed at his friend questioningly. "Is that unusual?"
Sirius didn't say anything. He looked like he was struggling to form a thought in his mind.
Remus took advantage of the sudden silence. "You're probably here to meet a friend too, right? Why don't you - "
"You're the one I've been writing to," Sirius' voice broke in.
Remus continued rambling. " - find a seat before the whole place fills up - "
Then Sirius' words hit him. He froze.
Sirius pulled out the chair across him, and sat down. "The Hog's Head? Three o'clock? Long-stemmed yellow rose?"
Remus tried to say something, but his voice was caught in his throat. Mutely, he nodded. Sirius? I've been exchanging letters with Sirius all along - and we both didn't know it?
They stared at each other for a while, not saying anything.
It was Sirius who spoke first. "You know, I was under the impression that you were - "
"A girl," Remus finished. "That's what everyone thinks."
Sirius grinned. "Well, most Aunt Agony people are girls."
"I thought you were a girl too, for a while," Remus smiled wryly. "'Twinkle'?"
Sirius winced. "James came up with that. Because - you know, Sirius is the dog star, and stars twinkle. Or something like that. He figured no one would ever associate the name 'Twinkle' with someone like me, and so I was perfectly safe...I guess he had a point."
"And where did you learn to write like that? Your school assignments don't look anything like your letters."
"It's a family thing." Sirius looked vaguely embarrassed as he said this. "My parents thought pureblooded aristocrats should learn calligraphy, and the fine arts, and all that bunk." He grinned suddenly. "I can also tell types of tea apart."
Remus regarded his friend curiously. "So it was James' idea that you write in to me."
"Oh, that - yes," Sirius nodded. "But only the first letter. Of course, we didn't know it was you, or I wouldn't have - "
He stopped speaking abruptly, and a red flush came over his face.
Thoughts were flying rapidly through Remus' mind. So it's not James he likes. Then - "You aren't in love with Peter, are you?"
Sirius looked shocked. "Peter? Are you out of your tree, Remus?"
It's not Peter. It's not James. Then it must be -
Me?
"I suppose it's pointless to keep on hiding, now," said Sirius, quietly. "You know everything. And I didn't even have to say that much." He fixed his gaze intently on Remus.
Those eyes.
Remus felt himself go weak in the knees. Those eyes. That smile. That voice. Everything. It could all be mine. He could be mine.
If only I told him -
"Now it's my turn to ask questions, Moony," Sirius said. "You told me - that there was someone you liked."
Remus smiled. "Yes."
"Well, who is it?"
"Guess?"
Sirius' eyes sparkled. "Hmmm, let's see...no one in their right mind would like Peter - "
"Sirius!"
" - and James isn't quite as devilishly attractive as I am, so - "
Remus laughed, and hit Sirius with his rose. "Padfoot, you're awful."
"Yes, I am." Sirius grew sober. "But you love me anyway, don't you?"
Remus reached across the table, and took Sirius' hand in his. "Yes," he said softly.
* * *
9. aftermath
Another Monday night had come, and Remus sat in the trophy room once more, surrounded by piles of letters.
Dear Aunt Agony,Are you married?
XOXO,
Flobberworm
Remus couldn't resist smiling to himself. "Well, no," he murmured. "But unfortunately, I'm taken."
He tossed the letter into the "Nothing To Do During History Of Magic" pile, and reached into the box for another one.
Dear Aunt Agony,How do you know when you're in love with someone?
♥ C.C.
How do I even begin to answer this? Remus wondered. There were so many things that love was - giving, sharing, pain, loss, confusion, but most of all, joy. Was he even qualified to answer this question? It was so deep, so complicated, despite its deceptively simple appearance.
Maybe I'm approaching it the wrong way, he thought. Maybe a simple answer is all that's needed.
He reached for his parchment, and began writing - slowly at first, then more confidently.
Dear C.C.,Love is a very complex thing, and different people see it differently. But if you can say to yourself that you love someone, and you believe it completely and absolutely, beyond the shadow of a doubt, then chances are that it's true.
All the best.
Sincerely yours,
Aunt Agony
He watched as the ink dried on his last words. Yes. That looks right.
Suddenly, a pair of hands covered his eyes, and he felt a warm familiar presence behind him. "Guess who."
"Hello, Sirius."
Sirius lowered his hands, and kissed Remus lightly on the cheek. "It's late. Come to bed."
"But - all these letters - "
"No buts!" Sirius said insistently, pulling him to his feet. "Don't want you to collapse from exhaustion."
"You're getting as bad as Madam Pomfrey," Remus murmured, but he obligingly stood up.
"That's more like it," grinned Sirius. He kissed him again, this time on the lips. "Love you, Moony."
"Love you too, Padfoot."
And as the words left his mouth, Remus knew he meant them. Completely. Absolutely.
Beyond the shadow of a doubt.