However, on this particular morning it was the only place he was sure he would

not be found – even if the marauders decided to use the map; they couldn’t come
and find him without the password.

He reached the fourth floor and whispered, “squeaky clean” at the entrance before
slipping in. No one was in there; it was much too early. He had often wondered
whether there was some kind of mechanism in place to stop anyone else from
getting in while you were in the bath – he had so far seen no evidence of this and
decided to play it safe.

Stripping down to his boxers and vest, Remus ran the water, and pumped a lot of
bubbles into the Olympic swimming pool sized bathtub before sliding in, still in
his underthings. The bathroom was one of the most beautiful rooms in the castle,
Remus acknowledged. Everything was clean white marble and glimmering
golden taps. The stained-glass windows depicted a series of gorgeous,
shimmering sea creatures. A lovely tangerine smell was rising from the great
white drifts of foam, and Remus finally began to relax.

He had never learnt how to swim – the St Edmund’s boys were offered lessons
down at the local swimming baths for free, but Matron wouldn’t let him go. He
hadn’t minded – he didn’t want the other boys to see his scars. But now he was
older, he thought he’d like to learn. Sirius had once talked about family holidays
in the south of France, where the sea was warm enough to bathe in. Remus
couldn’t imagine that. The only sea he’d ever seen was at Southend – and once
Margate. It was bloody freezing, a dirty grey-green colour. Not the crystal azure
Sirius had described.

Still, Remus could float. He lay on his back and stared up at the chambered
ceiling.

 Having fun?
 Not really.
 So, if he kissed you back, and then ran off and kissed Mary, where does that leave
things?
 I don’t know, do I?! That’s what you’re supposed to help me figure out!
 Alright, alright, calm your tits.
 You don’t say that. Sirius says that.
 Look, I’m doing my best. I told you, I’m not even real.
 Maybe I was a really bad kisser.
 Maybe.

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“We’ve been sleeping since the final bell,” James explained, “Then we’ll get
another hour or two’s kip in the morning… and lunchtime, if we can swing it.”

“You’re mental.” Remus shook his head, “Both of you.” He looked at Sirius, to
check if they were still playing the eye contact game.

“Anything for our Moony.” Sirius said, holding his gaze for a good few seconds
before dropping it, looking away and rubbing his arm. This satisfied Remus,
though he knew he ought to feel guilty. He didn’t know why he took so much
pleasure in watching Sirius squirm.

“We’re early,” Peter said, sitting on Remus’s little cot, “Aren’t we, Remus?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he stretched a little bit, to get a feel for his various aches and
twinges, “Yeah, I’m a way off.”

“Oh, good, can I go back to sleep?” Sirius yawned. He and James had settled
themselves on the floor, and Sirius was resting his head on James’s
shoulder. Fuck you, James, Remus thought, before stopping himself. He leaned
against the wall, self-consciously.

“Oi, when’s your appointment with McGonagall?” James asked, shrugging his
shoulder to shake Sirius off.

“Err… First thing next Friday I think. Why?”

“What are you going to say?”

“Say?”

“About careers, idiot.”

“Oh, right,” Sirius stifled another yawn, his eyes watering with tiredness. “Ugh, I
dunno. Don’t really fancy the idea of a job, much. Father wanted me to go into
politics, so I s’pose… not that.”

“My mum says it’s a bad time to join the ministry,” Peter said, thoughtfully. “But
Dezzie reckons it’s the best time - when the war’s over we’ll be in on the ground
floor to rebuild.”

“Well that’s one way of looking at it.” Sirius raised an eyebrow. He nudged
James, “Go on then, tell us what your plans are.”

126
“Dunno what more he wants,” James tutted, “We’ve got detention, haven’t we?”

“Did a teacher see you?” Mary asked, as they wended their way over to their
usual seats for dinner.

“Nah, bloody Evans.” Sirius groaned.

“My dear friend Lily.” Mary said, firmly.

“Whatever.” Sirius grunted. “She just better not drag it out until tomorrow night.”

“Why?” Mary asked, smiling as dinner appeared on the empty plates before them.
Spaghetti Bolognese. “Taking me somewhere nice, for once?”

“I think the sixth floor girl’s loo is nice.” Sirius replied sarcastically. “Anyway,
no. Got something else. Marauder business.”
“Oh yeah, of course,” Mary sighed, as if she was terribly hard done by, “I forgot I
have to share my boyfriend with his boyfriends.”

James and Peter snickered, but Sirius bristled like a cat.

“Fuck’s sake,” he spat, looking daggers at her from across the table, “Why do you
have to say shit like that? Spiteful cow.”

“Pureblood snob.” She returned, sweetly, twirling spaghetti on her fork.

“Please,” Remus said, battling a headache, “Peter and Desdemona are arguing
this week. You’ll get your turn next week.”

That made everyone laugh, and went some way to calming the atmosphere.
Remus was pleased with himself. He was really getting the hang of the whole
relationship thing, without ever having to actually be in one.

By the time dinner was over, all was well again, and when James got up to go for
detention, Sirius told him he would catch up later.

“I want to make sure Mary gets back to the tower ok,” he explained.

“You don’t have to,” she said, “I’m not going alone, Remus is coming too, aren’t
you Remus?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, hoisting his book bag up onto his shoulder, “I’m finally
going to read something with a plot, now exams are over.”

142
He’d gone and fallen in love with his best friend, and almost got himself killed.
He was ashamed of himself – mooning over Sirius like that. Moony’s
mooning. Sirius would find that hilarious.

So he started avoiding James and Peter, too.

He stopped going to lessons – that was the first thing. There weren’t many to go
to, of course, with the last exams taking place, and the whole school falling into
summer holiday mode. Still, he had introductory NEWT classes pencilled into his
timetable in almost every subject except Potions - he couldn’t wait to be rid of
Potions.

The greenhouses were a good place to hide out. Remus found by the end of the
year that he had spent nearly all of his carefully saved cash on cigarettes and
weed. He told himself that was ok. Told himself he wouldn’t need money to find
and destroy Greyback, just the right scent and a full moon. Not that he thought
about Greyback much. He tried not to think about anything for too long; anger
gave way to a numbness which seemed easier to live with.

When he couldn’t be outside, he went to the library and pretended to read.

Students from his study group stopped by occasionally, but he always found a
reason to leave as soon as possible.

“Hiya, Remus!” Christopher popped out from between the stacks one afternoon,
“Glad I caught you! Can you recommend some summer reading? I’ll be doing my
OWLs next year!”

“What?” Remus frowned, groggily. He’d been just nodding off, and was annoyed
at having been woken. He was sleeping a lot, lately, but never seemed to feel
refreshed. “Oh, god, I dunno. They send you a book list.”

“Yeah, but I thought you might have some good tips!” Christopher continued,
relentlessly cheerful. “Especially in History, what did you do your final essay
on?”

“Um… The Goblin Revolt.” He shifted, trying to settle back onto his elbows.

“Cool! Hey, maybe I could write to you, over the summer? We can swap notes,
and--”

“Look, Christopher, don’t take this the wrong way, but could you please fuck
off?”

He would feel guilty about it later, but at least the annoyance went away.

158
The marauders never tried to find him, as far as he knew – he had taken the map
the first chance he had, and kept it in his pocket at all times. This had the added
benefit of helping him keep out of Snape’s. The only thing Remus wanted to
avoid more than his rage at Sirius was his utter terror at the thought of running
into Severus.

Snape had hated Remus before all of this – he was too close to Lily, he was
friends with James, he had been responsible for coming up with at least half of
the pranks on Slytherin. Since the incident, this obsession seemed to have
deepened. He was still whispering at meal times, staring at Remus all the while,
with a fresh kind of hatred that Remus could see would run and run. If Sirius had
learnt a lesson from that awful night, then Remus certain that Snape had not.

Sirius was all too keen. He apologised, over and over – he never tried to explain
himself, which was good, because if he had; if he had given an excuse, Remus
didn’t think he could control himself. it already took every ounce of nerve not to
leap across the table, or the bedroom, or the common room and shake and punch
and scream at Sirius - you bastard, you bastard, you bastard.

The apologies he could cope with. Background noise. He didn’t rise to the bait.
Not that he didn’t have things to say – not that he didn’t re-play the monologue
over and over, editing and perfecting until it was a great stream of miserable
defeat, circling his head, fuelling his mood.

Sorry isn’t good enough. Your guilt isn’t good enough. I need you to feel it too. I
trusted you. I trusted you with every last secret, I offered you every piece of me.
What else have I got, now? I could kill you. I could bash your teeth in so you
choke on them, I could wrap my hands around your throat and squeeze, I could
rip you to pieces, I could, I could, I could kiss you, you fucking bastard.  

In his dreams, Remus said these things, and more. And always, in his dreams,
Sirius stared back at him with calm contrition, as he removed his clothes and
pulled Remus towards him. It appeared that betrayal was not enough to kill
desire, though it made hiding it easier. By the time that wretched summer term
ended, the only person Remus despised more than Sirius was himself, for
continuing to love him just the same.

***

“Hello,” Lily said, gently, poking her head around the carriage door. “Wondered
where you’d got to.”

Remus grunted, a small noise which was neither friendly nor rude. Lily came
inside. “What are you doing here, all alone?”

159