h i d e . a n d . s e e k . ( t h e . h e l p . r e m i x)

Hide and Seek
(The Help! Remix)
[by victoria p.]

Rating: PG

Summary: Remus hides and Sirius seeks.

Notes: Written for the Remus Remix. A thousand thank yous to setissma for the kickass beta. I was assigned s.a.

Date: August 8, 2004

Original drabble by s.a.

Finding time to himself got harder and harder as the years passed. Remus had always been a sort of solitary fellow, at least when he was younger and his parents suggested books instead of Quidditch. Finally, at sixteen and a full-on Marauder despite being a prefect, he found a nice secluded corner in one of the lesser towers and often headed up there to study or read or simply hear his own thoughts, and not Peter's, Sirius's, or James's.

It was in a prime location, just a bit higher than all the spots people went to snog and just a bit lower than would be impractical. He transfigured a sheet of parchment into a comfortable blanket, and would often bring up cups of chocolate or some biscuits while he scratched away at Arithmancy or stared out at the moonless, starry night.

The whole thing was a perfect solution to a minor problem--at least, it was until Sirius followed him one night and blundered in on the whole thing.

Remus looked at him with tired eyes. "Why were you following me?" he asked.

Sirius scratched his chin, one of his many little tells. "I just wanted to know where you were going, that's all."

"So why didn't you ask?"

Sirius looked at him levelly. "Would you really have told me?"

It was a good question.

Remus had always been a solitary fellow, at least when he was younger, and his parents had encouraged it in him, suggesting books instead of Quidditch, afraid his secret would be discovered should he make friends with the neighborhood children. That changed somewhat when he started at Hogwarts, and ended up living with James, Sirius and Peter. Their friendship and acceptance had brought him out of his shell, and within a few months, he was a full-fledged member of their little group. Even becoming a prefect hadn't changed that; until recently he'd turned a blind eye to their misbehavior, making token protests in the planning stages and then laughing along with them at the results.

But James, Sirius, and even Peter were overwhelming. With all their thoughts and plans and secrets pressing in on him, Remus often felt like he had no room left in his head for his own. And lately, something had changed; Remus didn't know what it was, as he'd never felt it before, but being alone with Sirius for too long made him feel as if he was drowning. Sometimes, when Remus was reading or scribbling notes, he'd feel the weight of Sirius's stare upon him, hot and demanding of something he didn't quite understand. Sirius's glances were almost tangible; they prickled along Remus's skin like heat from the sun, or the pull of the moon, and they stole the breath from his lungs. Sirius was a force of nature, and Remus often felt like he was caught in his orbit, as helpless to resist as the tides against the moon.

When they split up to work on mapping the school, Sirius insisted that Remus go with him, leaving Peter to James, who groused, but accepted good-naturedly, as Peter was good for crawling about in small spaces. Remus wasn't certain he liked the idea, because Sirius had always been easily distracted, forever chasing after whatever shiny, new thing caught his eye. He always managed to drag Remus along, as well, and though Remus rarely protested, every so often it was too much to take, though Sirius swore it was good for him. Remus occasionally wondered if that were true; sometimes he felt as if were getting old before his time, sunk in secrets and routine and the need for safety. Sirius made sure he never grew too complacent, and Remus appreciated that, perhaps more than Sirius would ever believe.

Still, Remus had always needed time alone. The desire for solitude only increased as he grew older, but seclusion became harder and harder to find.

In his explorations, he'd found a secluded corner in the north tower, good for reading or studying. Mostly, though, Remus went because away from James's cunning plans and Sirius's unnerving gaze, he could hear his own thoughts.

No one else knew about it, and he wanted to keep it that way. He'd shared all of his secrets with the others, because that's what friends did. And while some had been shared unwillingly, they knew them all -- from his condition to his love of Muggle music to his infatuation in third year with Amelia Stinson, the Gryffindor seeker. But he needed to keep something back now, something that was only his, because he'd begun to realize, after Sirius's ill-advised prank on Snape, that while his friends could swear they would keep his secrets, they would never truly understand them.

More and more often lately, he'd made excuses and slipped away after dinner. He was still feeling his way through the changes in his relationship with Sirius, and time alone made things clearer, and forgiveness easier.

Once the map was complete, he'd never be able to hide again. But he wasn't ready yet to give up his privacy, not so soon after Sirius had given his most important secret away.

***

Every night for a week, Sirius looked up from working on the map and noticed that James was acting like an idiot in order attract Lily Evans's attention, Peter was either struggling over schoolwork or playing chess with Gretchen Diggory, and Remus was nowhere to be seen.

After ruining a third piece of parchment with illegible handwriting and watery ink, Sirius crumpled it up and threw it in disgust at Peter.

"Where's Remus?"

Peter shrugged. "He wasn't at Quidditch practice."

Sirius scowled at him. "I know that. I was there with you."

"Well, when we finish the map--"

"The sodding map." Sirius pushed at the parchment in front of him. "What do you think I'm working on? But he keeps disappearing. It's just like first year."

"He's probably knobbing some bird. You know that Ravenclaw prefect has been after him for weeks."

The bottom dropped out of Sirius's stomach, and he wondered if maybe he shouldn't have eaten that last chocolate frog.

"Christine Harrison," he said, mouth twisting in distaste. "I don't think he'd give her the time of day."

"No? She has nice tits," Peter replied. "I'd shag her if she gave me a chance."

"You'd shag the giant squid if it gave you a chance, you randy bugger."

Peter laughed, not offended. "Some of us don't have girls throwing themselves at us, Sirius. Some of us have to work to pull," he said reasonably.

Sirius shrugged, though he secretly wondered if something was wrong with him. He wanked as much as anyone (he had ears, and it had taken a while for the other boys to master the silencing charm), but he really wasn't interested in any of the girls who flirted with him. He'd kissed and groped a few over the past two years, but more and more he found himself watching the other boys in the locker room after Quidditch, and his imagination had begun supplying angular bodies and hard cocks when he brought himself off.

He knew there were blokes who had it off with other blokes, but he wasn't sure it was normal, and he hadn't worked up the nerve yet to ask anyone. He wasn't sure what James would say, either. Remus would probably drag him off to the library to find books on the subject.

Of course. "The library!"

Peter looked up from his Charms homework, startled. "What?"

"Remus is probably in the library. He's Pince's little pet, isn't he?"

Peter shrugged and went back to his essay while Sirius headed to the library.

But Remus wasn't there, either.

He knew Remus was still upset with him over the thing with Snivellus, and Remus always hid when he was upset. He pretended everything was fine, but Sirius knew him, had spent the past five years living with him, and the past few months watching him closely for reasons even he couldn't articulate. The idea of Remus hiding from him, not trusting him, of going back to the way it had been those first few months of school, made Sirius queasy.

He had to make it up to Remus, and to do that, he had to find him.

The next night, he was prepared, with James's cloak and a hastily re-spelled test version of the map, the only name on it Remus Lupin. So far, they'd managed to keep track of up to fifty people over a limited area, and Sirius and James were sure they could perform the complicated Arithmancy necessary to cover all the school's inhabitants over the whole of Hogwarts, including ghosts and animals; they just needed to fine-tune the equations and make sure they had an accurate census.

It was the school itself holding them up now -- they'd finally found the original blueprints of the castle, which were the base of the map. All the changes over the last thousand years had to be added in on top of the original plans, and spelled in much the same way as the castle itself, so that moving staircases and disappearing rooms could be accounted for.

Peter had a fine eye for detail, and was busy (when not writing essays or flirting with Gretchen) compiling the list of changes, which Remus would then put on the map, walls formed by spells they'd worked out together, written in his small, neat script.

They'd done numerous half-complete copies over the past three months, to test each part of the process, and were inching ever close to success.

But right now, all Sirius was interested in were the whereabouts of one Remus J. Lupin, so he'd fixed one of the abandoned prototypes to track him.

Sirius finally ran Remus to ground in a little used room in the north tower; he paused outside for a moment, straining to hear if anyone else was there or if Remus was alone.

He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, he pushed the door open and entered the little room.

***

Remus knew his absences were noticed -- Peter had mentioned Sirius's annoyance while making rude gestures and congratulating him on pulling Christine Harrison (which had never even crossed his mind; he found her attentions far more bothersome than Sirius's, and wished she would just leave him be) -- and he was debating whether or not to reveal himself before they sought him out. Because they would -- Sirius would, anyway. He always did. It was one of the things Remus found both annoying and endearing about him.

As if conjured by Remus's thoughts, Sirius appeared in the doorway.

"Oi, Moony. Plotting mischief without me?" Sirius said with false heartiness.

Remus looked at him tiredly. "Why were you following me?" he asked, not in the mood for playing games.

Sirius scratched his chin, a telltale sign he was not as nonchalant as he appeared. "I just wanted to know where you were going, that's all."

"So why didn't you ask?"

Sirius looked at him levelly. "Would you really have told me?"

It was a good question.

Sirius never ceased to surprise him -- just when Remus had decided that Sirius's sense of empathy extended no further than his own nose (and possibly James's), Sirius would say or do something like this.

"I--" Remus laughed then, a small, self-deprecating chuckle, and decided to be honest. "Probably not."

"You can't spend your whole life hiding, you know." Sirius sounded studiously casual, but there was an urgency to his tone that startled Remus, made his heart stutter and begin to race.

"That's exactly how I'll be spending my life," he replied matter-of-factly, better than Sirius at hiding his feelings.

Sirius grimaced in distaste and, with all the petulance of the heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black in his voice, said, "I hate when you say shit like that." Remus opened his mouth but Sirius forestalled him. "And if you say it's just the truth, I swear, I'll hex you."

Remus laughed again, his irritation at being found assuaged by the comforting familiarity of the conversation, and warm in the knowledge that Sirius would always be his staunchest defender.

"Wouldn't want that," he said, laughter dying in his throat, caught by the intensity of Sirius's stare.

"Budge over," Sirius said roughly, slipping under the blanket, which crinkled, evidence of its former life as a sheet of parchment. Sirius eyed it critically, his body pressed against Remus's warmer than any blanket could ever be. "Not your best work."

Remus shrugged, too busy processing his response to Sirius's nearness to come up with a response. He waited for Sirius to turn into Padfoot, but he didn't, which was new and strangely exciting. Instead, he laid his head on Remus's shoulder and stared out at the night sky. Remus took a few deep breaths but couldn't calm the rapid beat of his heart, or cool the heat pooling low in his belly. He didn't speak, afraid his voice would give him away.

Sirius, too, was silent, for so long Remus thought he'd fallen asleep, because silence and Sirius were not well acquainted. But finally he said, "Maybe I can hide with you."

Remus wanted to laugh again, because the idea of Sirius ever hiding, ever not shining as brightly as he could, was unthinkable. But Sirius wasn't joking -- his face was grave, his voice solemn.

"I know I can keep your secrets safe," Sirius continued, and his lips were very close to Remus's, so close Remus could smell chocolate on his breath, feel its warmth on his skin. Remus's stomach flip-flopped in what might have been fear, or pleasure, or some strange combination of the two. "If you'll let me. I promise I won't bollocks it up again."

Remus remembered the morning after Sirius's ill-advised prank, remembered James's ashen face and Dumbledore's solemn one; Snape's fury and disgust; and Sirius's uncharacteristic penitence.

Then he thought of his own inability to stay angry with Sirius, and the way Sirius always sought him out, always made him laugh, made him feel like he was human, even when he barely believed it himself.

"I think I'd like that," he answered, and let himself be folded into Sirius's embrace.

end

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