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The Most Wildly Messy Thing


Remus was humiliated.

Madam Pomfrey stood at her desk, absolute silence ringing through the hospital wing, as Sirius held Remus’s shirt and she stared at the marks the Slytherins had made across his back. It seemed she was silent for multiple minutes on end, just staring and staring and trying to compose the shock she held in her face. Finally, she gasped, “Does the Headmaster know about this?”

“No, it’s just happened,” Sirius replied, “On the way back from the pitch.”

Madam Pomfrey hastily guided them into the ward and put Remus into the bed he’d spent a good amount of time in before and said, “Stay here. I need to fetch the Headmaster. Dumbledore needs to see this.”

When she’d rushed from the room, Remus took his shirt from Sirius and pulled it over his shoulders to cover the marks, not wanting them exposed anymore than they needed to be. He felt ashamed of the writing on his back, and it felt as though he were bleeding his secrets whenever Sirius looked at the words.

“Either Pomfrey or Dumbledore will get it off you,” Sirius promised for about the hundredth time. He looked anxious, though. Even as he said it, he was adding a silent I Hope to the end.

Remus nodded, but he still couldn’t look Sirius in the eyes.

Sirius took a deep breath and grabbed the stool that had never been moved from the side of the bed where he’d left it when Rey had last been in the hospital wing before, and he sat down, leaning forward, and put his palms on Remus’s knees. “I don’t give a damn if you are gay, you know.”

Remus still didn’t look up.

“James and I discussed it and we realized that it doesn’t matter to us if you are,” Sirius said, “So you don’t need to be afraid of telling us if you are. We’re gonna be your mates no matter what. Okay? And I’m not saying I think you are or anything, so if you aren’t, you don’t gotta think that we think you are or anything either. We just don’t care either way that’s all, that’s what I’m trying to say. So… Gay or not gay, you’re… you’re still Rey…. Okay?”

“That’s a lot of rhyming you’re doing there, Black,” Remus murmured.

Sirius smiled. “I’m writing you poetry, Moony.”

Remus looked up, his eyes locked with Sirius’s.

Suddenly, the door opened on the ward, interrupting the moment, and Madam Pomfrey returned with Dumbledore in tow. He looked very concerned, his jaw set very firmly, and he walked across the room with purpose. “Mr. Black, if you could please excuse us all for a few moments.”

Sirius nodded. He looked at Remus. “I’m just going to the hall. I’ll be back the moment they let me in,” he promised, and he hurried out of the ward.

“May I see what they’ve done?” Dumbledore asked Remus gently.

Remus shrugged his shirt off so that the marks were exposed again. Madam Pomfrey frowned hard when she saw it, her eyes filled with a sad concern. Dumbledore moved behind Remus and Remus felt the cold touch of his hand move along the span of the marking slowly, appraising it. Finally, he asked, “Do you know who’s done this?” His voice was a bit constricted.

“Evan Rosier or one of his close mates,” Remus answered. “Well, not Snape, he was off some place with Lily. But one of the others. Mulciber was there for sure. It - it knocked me down and they laughed at me, called me clumsy… and…” Remus paused, cheeks pinkening, “And Puffer Fish, but they always call me that.”

“Always?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“How long has this been going on?” Dumbledore asked.

“October. When Sirius Black fought with Evan Rosier on the pitch before the first quidditch match. Since then,” Remus answered.

Dumbledore put Remus’s shirt back across his shoulders softly and closed his eyes, pained. “I’m so very sorry that you must endure this, Mr. Lupin,” he said softly. When he opened his eyes, they were moist and Remus felt a lump rise up in his throat. He turned to Madam Pomfrey. “You can erase it, can’t you, Poppy?”

“Yes, Headmaster,” Madam Pomfrey nodded.

“Do.” Dumbledore turned back to Remus. “You should have come to me about this matter,” he said thickly as Pomfrey went for her cupboard of potions.

“I was embarrassed,” whispered Remus.

Dumbledore asked, “So it’s based in truth, then?”

Remus nodded.

Dumbledore reached out a hand and put it onto Remus’s shoulder. “It is a burden to carry in these times of prejudice and hatred… The hearts of man and wizard alike are twisted in their perceptions on love and what the definition of it is. They wish to put the emotion into a neat little package, but love is the most wildly messy thing we shall ever encounter as human beings. There are no rights and wrongs about it, no mathematical equations to explain it. We simply feel the way we do, with no rhyme or reason. Love is never something we should be made to feel ashamed of for it is the most powerful magic there is. Do not let any stamp out the power you possess, Remus. The strength of your love will forever outweigh the weakness of their hate. Remember that.”

Remus nodded, “Yes sir.”

Dumbledore drew a deep breath, “I know that a collection of pretty words will not heal the pain they’ve inflicted on you… but perhaps it can be a salve to the wound.”

Pomfrey arrived as though on cue carrying a little pot of salve and she went ‘round behind him and stripped the shirt away. “This will burn,” she warned.

“I do believe Master Lupin could use the company of his friend before you apply it, Poppy,” Dumbledore said, and he hastened to the door. “Remember what I said, Master Lupin. I will be keeping an eye on the situation.” He opened the door and looked down at Sirius, sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. “You’re needed, Mr. Black.”

Sirius ran inside and installed himself back on the stool quick as could be. “So what’s the verdict?” Sirius asked, “Can they fix it?”

“I’m about to apply the salve now,” Madam Pomfrey answered as the door closed behind Dumbledore.

“She says it’ll burn,” explained Remus.

Sirius took his hand, “Here. You can squeeze my hand.”

Pomfrey applied the salve and to say it burned was a horrible understatement. Remus felt as though his skin were being blow-torched right off as the salve sizzled and hissed and drew the mark from his skin, bubbling above the surface with the image of the letters. He squeezed Sirius’s hand so hard that Sirius had to grit his teeth to keep from exclaiming in pain. It took five minutes and then Pomfrey wiped away the salve and said, “I’ll need to do it a couple more times. You’ll need to come back tomorrow and Friday and we should have it done for by then.”

“Yes m’am,” Remus said, his voice still shaking from the burning of the raw flesh on his back. Putting the shirt on stung, but Remus did it anyway and buttoned it messily - the buttons not quite lined up right so that the shirt hung crooked and a bit wrinkled.

They walked along the corridors afterwards, headed back for the dormitory. Remus kept glancing over at Sirius as they walked, his mind churning with Dumbledore’s words. He was right, that wise old Headmaster, about love being a wildly messy thing. It was just so damn complicated, so many ifs and buts and emotions that bubbled just below the skin. Remus wished he knew how to tell Sirius how he felt, exactly, wished he had words that didn’t sound ridiculous the moment he thought about saying them.

They arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady and came to a stop and Sirius was just about to say the password, when Remus said, “Wait. Stop. Wait a second.”

“What? What is it?” Sirius asked.

Remus’s hands were shaking at his sides. “I… I need to tell you, Sirius. I need to because I’m going mad over here and I just… I’m so afraid that all that stuff you said earlier, that you only said it because you don’t know for sure and you’re confident that you’re wrong or something… but… but… Sirius, I - I think I am gay.”

Sirius stared at Remus, the words sinking in very slowly.

“Say something,” Remus begged after a long moment or two had passed. “Please, for the love of hippogriff.”

Sirius said, “It changes nothing, Rey. You’re still my best mate.”

Remus wasn’t sure if he was relieved or saddened to hear that particular set of words as a response.

Sirius turned to the Fat Lady, “Polyjuice Potion,” he said, which was the password, and she swung open, though she was looking at Remus with an expression of curiosity.

Remus felt odd. Almost numb. Like Sirius knew and there’d been no explosive reaction - no horror, no excitement. Sirius had gone neither hot nor cold, he just had said what he’d said and moved on, as though Remus had said something no more shocking than he liked porridge over oatmeal, rather than liking boys over girls. He didn’t understand. This wasn’t like Sirius not to react in a loud and uncontrollable manner, yet there he was, running up the steps to the dormitory as though nothing had happened at all.

“Did Pomfrey fix it?” James asked as they entered the room.

Remus nodded, “Yeah. I gotta go back for two more treatments to get it fully gone.”

“Brilliant!” James exclaimed.

Sirius announced loudly, cutting into their conversation, “Tonight we set up for The Masterpiece.”

Peter looked up from his book. “Tonight?” he asked.

Sirius nodded, “Yes. Tonight.” He turned to his trunk and retrieved the parchment. “Peter, if you could tell Frank?”

“Tonight?” Peter still looked surprised. “But… but we said next week.”

“Yeah, well,” Sirius answered, “That was before they branded Remus. We’re making our move now.”

James looked surprised, “Do we have enough supplies?”

“I’ll ask Marlene to ask around in Ravenclaw, too,” Sirius replied, “We’ll get every Filibusters we can possibly get our hands on. Most of the school is on our side, I’m sure. I refuse to rest until Rey’s been avenged.”

Remus blinked in surprise at the passion in Sirius’s voice.

“I’m done playing games,” Sirius explained.