l'osservatore della bellezza | wolfstar

but only if you keep me warm

dedicated to FanOfWayTooMuch.

***

It's so, so exhausting, desperately trying to care about someone you know doesn't care for you.

Sirius' mother, Walburga Black, lay sick and swiftly deteriorating in the dark confines of his old house. At least, that was the current situation, according to the letter his father had sent him the day before. For all Sirius knew, she might as well be dead by now, or she might actually be fine, and this was just an attempt to rebuild their broken family.

At any rate, he had decided not to care. Why should he? What had his parents ever done to deserve his concern?

His indifference, of course, was the reason for why he was sat in Remus' drawing room, with James on one side and Remus on his other (Peter had been unable to turn up due to work, but had sent his tentative condolences).

They were facing the window, through which they saw the long pale arms of dawn reaching across the sleeping city, clouds like bruises on delicate skin.

Night had passed in a haze of drinking and endless recollection, where they'd hurled abuse at the Black family for... everything, honestly. Anger requires little rationality, you see, so they did not bother with being reasonable.

But now they were silent. Sirius rested his head on Remus' shoulder, and the taller man pulled him closer, rubbing his arm.

James let out a breath. "Will you visit them?"

"No." A pause. "Do you think I should?"

"No."

Silence fell again. Sirius found comfort in it; it was like a cool hand against his burning forehead, willing him to be quiet.

"Is it wrong of me to feel guilty?"

James shrugged. "You don't have anything to be guilty for. Like we said all night - if anyone should feel guilty, it's your good-for-naught family."

"I know. But sometimes... I sometimes wonder whether it was me, all along. And even if it wasn't, maybe I could have tried harder to make amends. They are my blood, after all."

"They nearly ruined your life, Sirius."

Sirius turned his eyes downward, feeling an ache rising in his throat. He knew James was right, but it felt so... unfinished.

Remus spoke for the first time. "It's more than alright to feel guilty, Sirius. Or to regret not making things better between you and them."

"Really?"

Sirius felt him nod. "After all, no one really knows whether anyone could have made things better. Maybe they changed, after you and your brother left them. Maybe they even regret what they did."

The ache worsened. "And I'll never know."

"And you'll never know," Remus agreed. "Because they never tried to reconcile with you two. It wasn't your place, as the one who was hurt, to try and fix everything. They, being the ones who hurt you both, should have reached out."

"They didn't reach out, though."

"Which means they didn't want to, or their need to make things right was not strong enough to overcome their pride. Whatever the reason, it wasn't your fault."

"What do I do?" Sirius asked, voice breaking.

"I don't know. Could you live with never making amends?"

Sirius thought about it. Never talking to his family again? Never trying to fix what could probably never be fixed?

Say he decided to leave things as they were, what then?

A strange peace came over him. After everything he had done to try and make a life for himself, he would not give it up for the tiny chance of having his mother and father back again. He would rather die than have them ruin what little life he had.

It was weird: he'd never thought himself selfish, but here he was, putting himself first when his own mother was dying.

Tears sprung to his eyes, and Sirius buried his head into Remus' neck, trying to push them away. "What do I do, Remus?" he asked again.

Remus pressed a kiss to the top of Sirius' head. "I don't know, darling. There's not a perfect answer."

"I'm an awful person."

"Awful people don't often admit that they're awful. There's something right and something wrong in everyone, and the same is true for whatever you decide to do."

"I don't know what to do."

"Do you want them back in your life?"

"No. Never."

"Why not?"

"It would end me."

Another kiss, this time to his forehead. "Then leaving it be is the right thing to do. At most, write a letter. But don't do anything more if it hurts you even marginally."

James, who had remained quiet during this conversation, stirred as someone knocked at the door. "That'll be Peter."

"I'll let him in." Remus got up and left, and Sirius rubbed his face, choking back his last few sobs.

His friend studied him for a few moments, then spoke. "Sirius?"

"Yes?"

Swallowing, James went on. "Do you... are you in love with him?"

"I - what?"

"Are you in love with Lupin?"

Sirius looked horrified. "God, no - of course not, he - we're friends, is all. That's all we've ever been, that's all we ever will be." He inhaled deeply. "Why... why do you think... why?"

A wan smile. "You don't really talk about your family with anyone. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"It's... don't be sorry, I know it's unusual." He looked down, thinking. "I suppose it's because he knows what I'm trying to say? Even when I don't quite know myself, he has the words for it."

"It's the poetic side of him."

Sirius smiled this time, looking up again. "Probably."

Remus then walked in, with Peter in tow, effectively ending the conversation. "Are you alright?"

"Not particularly."

"I thought as much." Peter pulled him firmly into a tight embrace, and Sirius felt like crying again. "Your family is like the shit on my shoe."

"There's shit on your shoe?" James asked.

"Yeah, I stepped in some on the way here."

Remus groaned. "Dorcas will poison our breakfast, wait and see."

***

It wasn't till very late at night that same day, when Sirius was almost asleep beside Remus (he'd long stopped using his own bed), that the truth hit him so hard that he sat up with a gasp.

James was right, wasn't he?

Heart pounding in his ears, Sirius hunched forward, eyes wide and staring. He felt sick.

James was right.

Sirius was in love with Remus Lupin.