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Sirius moaned one last time as Remus retrieved her fingers from her. Sirius’ hair was spread over the pillow like a halo, and her cheeks were a lovely shade of pink. From the bedside table, Remus procured a clean flannel, which she used to clean first her own hand and then slipped in between Sirius’ thighs.
When Sirius’ breath finally steadied, she pulled Remus into a deep kiss. Soon enough, her tongue was breaching Remus’ mouth. It was slow and lazy, unlike the heated kisses they had shared at the beginning of the night. Remus enjoyed these kinds of kisses the most. She could run her hands along Sirius’ body without hurry, feeling the softness of her skin as she roamed over her curves.
The only downside was that Sirius’ hands would explore in return. And so, when they slipped under Remus’ T-shirt, Remus stiffened under the touch. Because while Sirius was completely naked, and had been for a while now, Remus was still wearing her top and her knickers, as it usually happened.
There was a reason behind that.
First, Remus was skinny, unhealthily so. Her collarbones were sharp, her ribs protruding, and her hips bony. She was naturally thin but unable to gain any weight. In the days leading to the full moon, a feeling of nausea settled at the base of her stomach, and it rose to her throat when she tried to ingest anything that wasn’t a sugary cup of tea.
Then, there were the scars. They marred her whole body, from the tip of her toes all the way up to her scalp. Some were raised in an angry shade of red, others were thin white lines that had almost faded. What they all had in common was that they seemed aggressive and had a history of violence behind them, even if that violence was inflicted by and to herself.
Such a heavy contrast with Sirius’ soft, gentle figure.
There were other reasons she dared not spare much thought to.
When she was brave enough to strip off her top, she became very aware of her breasts. Although small, they were there; they existed. Instead of feeling sexy or attractive, a sense of shame took over her. Dread consumed her when one of Sirius’ hands cupped her or when her tongue licked a scarred nipple.
The few times Remus had let Sirius pull off her knickers were full of contradictory feelings. She moaned and gasped under Sirius’ ministrations, pleasure building up in her core. But she never got over the edge, no matter how hard she tried, because something did not sit right. There was something wrong; there was something amiss. At the end, she always stayed up wondering about what had failed
“What’s wrong, love?” Sirius asked, pulling away from the kiss. “It’s alright if you’re not in the mood, you know that.”
Everything. Everything is wrong. I am wrong.
“It’s nothing,” is what Remus settled for. “I think I need a minute, do you mind?”
“’ Course.” Despite her gentle tone, her eyes were filled with worry.
Remus leaned in for one last kiss before she could backpaddle and go back to bed with Sirius. She really needed a moment to think.
“Be right back,” she assured with what she hoped was a genuine smile as she closed the door behind her.
Next to the toaster, there was a pack of cigarettes, and by the gas hob, a box of matches. Remus took both before sitting at the small table they had in their kitchen.
After lighting up her cigarette and taking a long drag out of it, Remus ran a hand through her short hair. Since she had cut it, she had felt more like herself than ever. She knew her long curls fit her better, that she looked undeniably prettier, and mourned her long hair when she looked at the pictures from their time at school. But she couldn’t bring herself to grow it out.
Not only had she been happier staring at her reflection, but she couldn’t stand the thought of being perceived as a feminine woman. That was the reason why she had stopped wearing the dark lipsticks she loved so much.
Walking down the street, during Order meetings, with her lover in their bed. They all saw a woman. And she couldn’t put her finger on why it frustrated her so much.
She didn’t want to be a man; that much was clear. When hanging out with Jamie, Pete, and Sirius, she wanted to be part of the girls. And she was, in a way. She engaged in the conversations, was part of the same inside jokes, and was an active participant in their mischievous endeavours. But she couldn’t help feeling like an impostor, like she didn’t belong and was tricking them into thinking that she did.
Remus stared at her reflection in the toaster. It was as if someone else was staring back at her. Sure enough, those were her eyes, her nose, her cheekbones, and, undoubtedly, her scars. As a whole, it did not make sense, and it pained her that that was what others saw her as.
Her way of being wasn’t a part of the problem. She was quiet, bookish, and calm. She was content with who she was. The problem was other people. When they expected her to be and act a certain way. When other students at Hogwarts told her she was too strong-minded, or when she was scolded by Slughorn for behaving to unlady-like. When her mam cheered when she was wearing a dress, or when her da let her know his expectations of her finding a good man to settle down with.
She would never settle down with a man. She now knew it, but, for a time, she did not. Picking boys to have a crush on, kissing Liam Evans as a dare in third year, feeling miserable at the idea of having to marry someday. She had not considered that there were other options in life. That was until fifth year, when Liam (who had become one of her closest friends) had very subtly suggested she might be queer when she had opened up to him one cold winter night.
That explained so much. Her weird obsession with that Ravenclaw girl during fourth year, why she had craved so much the approval of Professor Robinson. And, of course, the bundle of feelings Sirius Black stirred up in her.
Once she understood it, it was easy to accept it. She knew she had to be cautious, and that it was one more thing for her to hide, but she did not mind. What had been harder to accept was realising she did not fancy men. It made her feel somewhat isolated from the rest of the women in her life. As if she were living in a different reality with different rules.
After her third chain-smoked cigarette, her mind was pleasantly numb and foggy. Remus stubbed the butt in the ashtray and headed back to their bedroom.
When she entered the dark room, she could tell Sirius’ figure was wrapped up under the sheets. Hoping she was asleep, Remus got into bed on the opposite side. As soon as Remus was lying down, Sirius turned around to face her, wide awake.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Sirius whispered while taking one of Remus’ hands in between her own.
“About what?”
“Whatever it is that’s in your mind.”
Remus opened her arms, inviting Sirius to lie on her chest as they usually did. However, Sirius shook her head and gathered Remus in her own arms. Remus found herself wrapped around Sirius, her head on the crook of her neck. She inhaled the aroma of cheap tobacco and expensive perfume that could only belong to Sirius.
“You wouldn’t understand,” Remus finally answered. “I don’t think I fully understand it myself… It’s complicated.”
Sirius started to stroke her hair, and Remus melted into the touch.
“Well, whenever you’re ready to put it into words, I’m more than happy to listen.”
“Thank you,” Remus said. And she meant it. She tilted her head up to kiss Sirius’ jawline as she couldn’t reach her lips.
They lay in silence for a few minutes, Remus tracing the runes tattooed on Sirius’ chest with the tip of her finger, until Sirius asked:
“Does it have anything to do with you not wanting to have sex?”
“We do have sex!” Remus protested.
“You know what I mean,” Sirius said. “You hardly ever want to… be tended to.”
Remus took a deep breath.
“Yes. I- I think it does have to do with me… Yeah… I’m sorry.”
Sirius hugged her tighter. “No, no, no! Don’t be sorry, love. There’s nothing to be sorry for!” She kissed the top of Remus’ head. “It’s okay, we’ll figure it out, whatever it is.”
Remus’ heart broke a little when Sirius included herself in that last statement. She would be there for Remus no matter what. And that made her a little less lonely and a little more understood.