Retrouvaille

retrouvaille: (n) the joy of meeting or finding someone again after a long separation; rediscovery

Class ends abruptly and you take your time putting your things away. First the textbook, then the notebook followed by inkwell and quill. You are methodical in the process, fitting everything into their exact place. Not because you have an organizational complex or anything, but simply because you want to be alone.

The door shuts with a loud bang and you look up expecting to find the room empty. Instead you lock eyes with the only other person in the room. Your heart stutters in your chest and you take in a sharp breath.

This moment has been inevitable. You knew you couldn't avoid him forever, but that didn't stop you from trying. Now, though…now you aren't sure what to do.

Sirius stares back at you with wide gray eyes. Clearly he wasn't expecting to come face-to-face with you, alone, either.

You glance up towards McGonagall's desk, but for some unusual reason, she is decidedly absent and you are truly alone.

So you stare at Sirius as Sirius stares at you. You have not looked at him properly in almost two months. Now that you have, you don't like what you see. His eyes are bruised and his skin is an unhealthy sallow color. You've kept a cursory eye on him—because he's your best friend and you're desperately in love with him—but you thought he'd been eating. Seeing him now, you aren't so sure.

The longer you stare the more it hurts to breathe and the more your eyes burn. You hate him for what he's done to you. (What he did, your brain reminds you snidely). He told your greatest enemy your secret. He put you in danger. All because he couldn't be concerned with thinking things through.

When it is clear that Sirius has nothing to say, you glance around for McGonagall one last time and make for the exit. You honestly don't have the ability to stand here and hash it out. You weren't prepared for this conversation and you have things to do.

"Rem."

Your name is broken over the tones of an anguished whisper and you feel your heart plummet into the bottom of your stomach as surprise, fear, and a slew of other emotions root you to the spot. Sirius hasn't spoken to you in several weeks—not since you told him to leave you the fuck alone or you'd personally see to his admittance to the hospital wing. The desperation in his voice hits you firmly in your heart.

So you stand facing the door swallowing thickly as you wait.

"Remus, please." You clench your eyes closed and concentrate on breathing. You had forgotten how Sirius made you feel in times like these. When he's vulnerable and begging for your attention.

"Remus." You stumble back a step when Sirius grabs your hands. An expression so hurt and broken flashes across his face that you instantly feel sick. "Please," Sirius gasps. You watch, horrified, as tears fill his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I—I don't know how else I can tell you. I am so so sorry, Remus."

Your feet act as if you've cast a Permanent Sticking Charm on them because you can't move and all you are able to do is breathe as if you've run a race. Your blood feels as if it's been pumped with acid. This is horrible.

"I swear I didn't mean anything by it," Sirius sobs, tears streaming down his face. "I didn't mean to tell him, Rem. I really didn't. You can't even begin to realize how horrible this has been for me. How guilty I feel. I've been doing everything I can to make it up to you." Sirius takes a step forward and you fall into a desk in your need to keep the distance between you. If you let him any closer you'll give in to an epic show of how horrible you are at staying mad at people.

"Remus, I'm not asking you to forgive me, but please. I need something. Anything."

You aren't sure what to say. Of course you forgive him. Of course you do. Because he's Sirius and he is your everything. But you aren't exactly sure that you're ready to forgive him. You aren't sure that you're ready to trust him with your secrets.

But something happens in the next moment that turns your life completely upside down. In a swift but very sure movement, Sirius drops to his knees and stretches his arms out until his fingers are touching the toes of your shoes and his nose is pressed to the floor. The back of his neck is bared to you and he lets out one low, desperate whine.

The wolf in you recognizes the action as a forfeit of dominance. All these years you've only ever been a step up from the bottom (a step above Peter). James is naturally the Alpha and Sirius has always been his Second. You have accepted the fact that you are just part of the pack; that you have been allowed to run with the big dogs even though you still show the gangly signs of puppyhood.

"Sirius," you choke out. This is ridiculous. You aren't meant to be dominant, especially not over Sirius. You can barely take care of yourself on most occasions! What makes him think that you should have the responsibility to take care of him, too?

Sirius continues to lay sprawled before you. He is completely still and even when you edge away from him he doesn't move a muscle. You begin to hyperventilate as the weight of what this means crashes into your chest. Sirius is submitting to you. His is completely at your mercy.

"Sirius, get up," you manage to say. You can't stand to see him on the floor. He isn't the kind of person who deserves to be on his knees.

Sirius climbs quickly to his feet, his eyes firmly locked on the floor between you. You take a few deep breaths and kick out a chair.

"Sit."

Sirius sits, his hands folded neatly in his lap. You swallow thickly and step forward, gently cupping his face in your hands, tilting it up so you can see it better. Tear tracks scar his face and his eyes are puffy and red.

You open your mouth to say something—what, you aren't entirely sure—but you can't form the words. So, instead, you lean down and press your lips to his forehead. Sirius shudders under your touch and he sucks in a sharp, labored breathe.

Unsure whether you are right in doing this, you move your lips slowly but purposefully over his face. His eyes flutter shut and you press a light kiss to each of his eyelids. You catch a tear on each of his cheeks as he leans into your touch, and you end your exploration with a gentle, hesitant kiss to his lips.

You have never discussed your feelings for him, nor his for you. In fact, you've never been sure whether he swings your way or not, but at this moment, you don't care. You take from him everything he owes you and then a bit more.

And maybe you take a little too much, but Sirius doesn't so much as whimper in protest, but rather meets your tongue thrust for thrust. You keep your touch gentle, but your entire being is snarling at you to take him as your own. You settle for mercilessly dominating his mouth.

When you are breathless and can no longer think straight, you pull back and rest your forehead against Sirius'. Your breath lingers together and more tears drip down his face.

Between your bodies, his hands clench and unclench. "Rem—" His body slowly stiffens. "I need—" He stops himself. His body shudders with suppressed sobs. It doesn't take you long to figure out what he wants.

With trembling fingers, you reach for his hand.

"Hush," you murmur, smoothing your thumb across his palm before splaying his hand across your chest. Right over your heart.