Fic: In Betweens (Remus/Lily)

[hpraremod]

Title: In Betweens
Author/Artist: magic_knickers
Prompt: They were the smart ones. The others didn't see that there really was something to their careful, methodical process.
Prompt submitted by: janeausten4ever
Pairing(s): Remus/Lily, Remus/Sirius, James/Lily
Word Count/Art Medium: 1233
Rating: R
Warning(s): angst, sexual content, slashy themes
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thank you to my beta, P! I strayed a bit from the prompt, but it's still there. Sort of.
Summary: Remus Lupin has never kissed a girl.

“Oy, Moony,” Sirius calls out from his place on the floor by the Gryffindor common room's fireplace as Remus steps through the portrait hole. Sprawled out like he is on the rug, Sirius comes as close to Padfoot as he can while still in his human form.

“Padfoot,” Remus greets him, gingerly sitting in the armchair chair closest to the fire—there's a suspicious-looking stain on one of the armrests, so he makes sure to keep his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He doesn't have much time to settle comfortably, though, because there is a lopsided grin on Sirius's face and he is being forcibly dragged onto the floor next to his friend within seconds of sitting down. Landing in an ungraceful heap of tangled limbs, he can't help but laugh for the first time in what feels like ages. It's horribly close to the full moon, only a week away from the first night, and he can feel the other him crawling beneath his skin already.

“You wouldn't believe what I walked in on this afternoon,” Sirius whispers conspiratorially, that lopsided grin still spread widely on his face.

“I think you'll find that I'm not as easily surprised as you think, Mister Black,” Remus whispers back, smiling. Dark, slightly curling hair is falling into Sirius's eyes in such an endearing fashion that he can't help himself from pushing it back from his face.

“James and Lily—yes, you heard me correctly, James and Lily—were snogging in the Charms classroom when I went back to get my Transfiguration textbook,” he says, leaning into Remus's hand on his face as he continues. “And I don't simply mean snogging. They looked like some sort of animal mating was taking place—hands everywhere, and Merlin, the smell. I know he's been waiting for years to get some of that tail, but there's something to be said for finesse, yeah?”

It is as if somebody has removed the ground from beneath him, because that sinking in Remus's gut cannot be jealousy. There is a soft press of lips to his own—brief for Sirius, who really is one to take his time with this sort of thing—and he feels a profound sense of relief over the fact that he will not have to come up with a response to this particular bit of information.

“I've got Quidditch practice,” Sirius says, standing up. “Save me a seat for dinner, would you?”

“All right,” Remus says, his mind already elsewhere.

*

There is a note waiting for him on his desk when Remus walks into Potions the next day.

Meet me in the library after classes.

It is unsigned, but Remus recognizes the handwriting as Lily's. Large and neat, with overriding loops and swirls linking the letters, it is very distinctly her penmanship. Crumpling up the note and stuffing it to the very depths of the back pocket of his worn, charcoal-coloured trousers, Remus begins to tick the minutes down until the class ends.

He's never been good at Potions, anyhow.

*

Lily isn't at their usual table when he gets there. Her bag is sitting in a chair, though, and after debating a moment, Remus sets off to look for her.

Sunlight is floating in through the windows that line the wall closest to the grounds, and it forms dappled patterns on the books that sit in neat rows along the library's maze of shelves. Running a finger along the spines of the dusty tomes as he looks, Remus can't help but notice the slight tension in the air around him. There is an oddly familiar scent, one that he can't quite put his finger on. It leaves him unsettled, though. Hesitant. He almost wonders if he should go back to the table and wait.

When he rounds the bend into the Restricted Section, he understands why.

There is, of course, initial confusion. His mind doesn't quite register anything other than red hair and tangled limbs and that subtle, musky scent of arousal—

Oh.

He doesn't know why he's so startled, especially after what Sirius told him, but he stands there for a moment in such acute shock that he is frozen in place. A moment later and he is ducking behind the nearest shelf, nearly running away from them, from James and Lily.

Remus Lupin has never kissed a girl. It never bothered him before, either. There is Sirius, and that was—is—all that really matters to him. He feels ill, though, and he has to fight the bile rising in his throat. The clenching in his chest is pushed down as deeply as he can will it to go, and he hurriedly heads back to the Gryffindor common room with the image of them stuck behind his eyelids.

*

The smell stays in his nose long after the details of the sight fades. When he cums all over his belly later that night in his dorm, the curtains of his four-poster bed pulled tightly shut and the strongest Silencing charm he can muster firmly in place, he is unable to deny that something has changed. The last thing he moans into his pillow before finishing is but a single word—

Lily.

*

“I waited for you yesterday,” she tells him the next morning as they are reviewing their Arithmancy notes. Neither James nor Sirius takes Arithmancy, and Peter had decided to take Muggle Studies instead (the easiest class you can take at Hogwarts—even the professor says so), so the two of them often end up studying together. “I was here for nearly an hour before I gave up on you.”

“I'm sorry,” Remus murmurs, not looking up from the parchment in front of him. Charts, maps, open books, and an endless number of notes are strewn haphazardly on the table. The thought of what he'd seen the day before—of what he'd done later on—refuses to go away, and he does his best not to meet her eyes. It bothers him that he knows she's lying.

He scratches his forearm absent-mindedly as the silence stretches on, beyond the point of politeness. It's like the moon is scratching its way into his mind at this time of the month; he can barely stand going about his daily existence.

“It's all right,” she says. He can hear the note of hurt in her voice, but he doesn't say anything else. If he opens his mouth he's sure to say something he'll regret.

“Is there something wrong?” she asks. There is a pregnant pause before Remus looks up from his book to finally meet her eyes.

“Of course not,” he says, voice even and pleasantly bland. “Why would there be anything wrong?” His life is made up of half-truths and almost-lies, but the words don't sit well with him. They taste foreign and metallic on his tongue, and Remus wonders when he grew a conscience about this sort of thing.

“I don't know,” she answers, seeming to take what he's said at face value. “I guess I'm being silly.” Lily smiles at him, the look barely reaching her eyes.

*

He still can't get the smell of it—of her—out of his nose, and Remus finds himself praying for the relief of the full moon for the first time in his life.

Yes, something has definitely changed.