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Title: Exeunt
Author: kiltsandlollies
Pairings: James/Sirius; Lily/Remus
Summary: an early winter's night somewhere, somewhen, somehow.
Note: Merci to ffenest and almaviva for the encouragement to get this past the first four drabbles.


Sirius once imagined he could have been a teacher. A good one, too—respected, but not terrifying; respectful, but not toady. He made the mistake of telling James all this one night over three glasses of something Remus had procured.

“You’d never survive,” James had said kindly, lighting two cigarettes. “Too distracted. You couldn’t hold court on one subject.”

“But Defense against the Dark Arts, who better—“

“You are a Dark Art, Sirius.” A long breath of James’ smoke had made its way to the ceiling in the shape of a bird. “And you can’t teach your own destruction.”

~~

“It’s good, Remus,” Lily says, licking her lips after her second glass of the jammy, thick wine. “Is there any more?”

Lily’s hair is forever in her face, hiding her eyes, rolling from underneath her hats and over her shoulders like a wheatfield strafed by winds. Remus sits on his hands to keep from brushing it from her forehead and high cheekbones.

James needs her, there’s no doubt. Sirius finds her less of an interloper now, but there’s still discomfort there.

James deserves her. Sirius tolerates her.

Remus loves her, but needs nothing more than to fill her glass.

~~

James wants to say more about the difference between defending oneself and defending against oneself, but Sirius looks tired, and suddenly old. It’s not that James wishes him ill—but after all this time, he cannot give Sirius less than the truth.

Lily would know what to do, James thinks, but has no desire to find her.

“I’ve missed this,” James says, and Sirius nods, staring into the fire. “Missed you, and Remus.”

Sirius’ hand rises to cover his eyes, and James finally moves. Sirius flinches, but James is there.

“Expelliarmus, mate,” he says, one hand disappearing into Sirius’ hair.

~~

“The roof?” Remus smiles, eyes gone soft from drink and the hour.

“I know you’ve wanted to,” she whispers. “Have a look at the moon when it’s a bit more friendly.”

And only she could say that, really, without hurting him.

She climbs effortlessly, fingernails scratching into mortar around the holds she found years ago. Remus follows her, eyes on her swaying hair and her curling, careful hands.

“Here we are,” Lily sighs, stretching out on the shingles. Remus inches down the roof to settle beside her, knees tucked up to his chest.

“Remus, love,” she says. “I don’t bite.”

~~

James’ fingers, more certain two hours ago than they are now, are fumbling things, and his smile is crooked and weak. He knows he’s making a shoddy impression on Sirius—well, would be, were Sirius truly present enough to notice or care.

“I don’t say it to hurt you,” James murmurs. Sirius’ cigarette is burnt down to almost nothing, James sees, and he reaches for it, drawing in the last of its energy between his lips and exhaling blue–grey clouds.

He’s sinking, then, to the floor at Sirius’ feet—

And that Sirius follows comes as a pleasant, blurred surprise.

~~

Lily’s boots are rusty brown, crossed with laces that run longer than they need to. The leather disappears up into the folds of her skirt, that same skirt whose hem snagged weeks ago on the edge of McGonagall’s desk, if Remus remembers correctly, which he does.

Lily tuts under her breath at the overbright streetlamp, and brandishes her wand rather delicately in its direction, whispering “nox” and smiling when darkness blankets them.

Remus has never known her not to smile at even the smallest spell gone right.

When she turns that same pleased, certain smile toward him, it means—everything.

~~

He’s not going to speak.

James decides this even as Sirius moves over him, working open buttons and breathing sweet and smoky between them. He will be silent, as Sirius always is, reverent for once instead of rushed.

It is harder than he imagined.

Sirius knows it, too, from the set of his eyes and shoulders before he descends. James closes his eyes at the wet heat, and Sirius laughs against his skin, low and soft—

Just enough that the sound travels up James’ spine to make him rise and fall.

As long as he stays silent, it means—nothing.

~~

Remus falls upon Lily wildly, hands shaking and shoes scrabbling against the roof as he reaches for her anywhere, everywhere. Her laughter rings out even above his kiss, and Remus pulls away, shamed and terrified. She stops him with no charm, no spell but that of her smile, again.

“Stay. Still.” She whispers, touching one long, pale finger to his lips. “Or we’ll fall.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry—“

“Never apologize,” she says, and her voice is a sudden whipcrack, her touch harder than before.

“Shouldn’t have, should never—“

“You taste of wine,” Lily says, amused. “And now of me.”

~~

James knows Sirius will regret this come morning. And James will not make it easy for him, retreating to the loft with Lily, wherever she is now.

He would never treat her the way he does Sirius, never cajole for and demand more than she has to offer. But he can and will fall to his knees to profess and promise whatever she needs to hear. Anything to keep her and Sirius both. Anything to keep them near.

Magic, whether practical or personal, cannot after all achieve the same ends as love. Lily has taught him that, if nothing else.

~~

Lily inches them back up the roof slowly, moving with such sureness Remus feels carried, raised up by and against and for her, knowing safety for the first time since they climbed up here.

She’s found a ledge on the side of the roof—of course she has, how often has she done this—and she steadies them both there with a kiss that makes Remus want to be carried again, this time to whatever end awaits him.

“Put your hands on me,” Lily murmurs, guiding him toward the folds of cotton, underneath the folds of linen. “Trust me, Remus.”

~~

It’s as if she’s in the room with them, even when Sirius does everything he can to make it better—to make it right.

Sirius feels the blurry edges around James sharpening, growing keen with fear, and he hurries now, rising up to take James quickly, before sobriety and James’ misplaced sense of honour end this.

“No.” James is moving already, scuttling backward, face flushed and body still in obvious need. “Not here. Lily—“

“Lily knows.” The words rush from between Sirius’ bared teeth, and the weight of his stare holds James to the ground faster than any spell.

~~

He wants to tell Lily he’s done this before, that her trust is necessary for something other than instruction’s sake. But Remus doesn’t speak at all, because there are no words for this, and he doesn’t have the breath to spare in any case.

Not a moment of this will go forgotten. Remus’ hands slow in their approach, and he meets Lily’s eyes slowly. Her smile is softer now, all teasing gone, and when her thighs spread open for him Remus ducks his head again to hide his blush.

“You can look at me,” Lily whispers. “I want you to.”

~~

“I didn’t tell her,” Sirius whispers, the anger falling away. “It hardly needs telling.”

James leans forward then, curling into himself like the occasionally wounded animal he is. Sirius takes two steps toward him, then three away, before James raises his head again.

He looks a decade older, and Sirius feels it.

“Then we are finished here,” James murmurs. “I love her, Sirius—”

“You need her—”

“I love her, and I don't want this anymore.”

“Forgive me if I find that statement unconvincing, James—”

“I don’t care what you find, Sirius,” James sighs. “I won’t lose her.”

~~

The hard truth is that Remus does not want to look. Cannot, if he wants to ever again meet James’ eyes.

But he can feel. Her warmth—the damp heat of her, the scent of potions he’s yet to learn—it makes him shiver, demands that his fingers move harder, deeper inside her.

Lily hums in pleasure, a sound that begins at her breasts and takes its time reaching her lips. And then before he can fight it, she is touching him, fingernails scraping down his length through his worn trousers—

And Remus thinks he might die just from this.

~~

Sirius cannot remember the last time he backed out of a room on two feet, as a wizard, as a man.

James hasn’t moved, and won’t for hours, but Sirius won’t be there to see him through it. He can’t be near James now—can’t rest beside one who would teach him destruction without raising a wand.

At least the fire is still going, Sirius thinks as he takes the opened bottle from the kitchen and begins to walk. At least James will be warm. Not in another’s arms, perhaps, but warm nonetheless.

Sirius doesn’t imagine he’ll be that lucky.

~~

Remus cannot stop shivering, and he feels Lily growing impatient, intolerant—colder, too. He sees Lily’s eyes flit to the sky as if for guidance, and his hand falters, sliding from her, sticky and trembling down the inside of her thighs.

“Remus …” she breathes, and her voice is tired, raspy in his ear. The next sound he hears is her skirt, the fabric rustling as she’s rising to leave him.

He can neither follow nor call her back, and for now he does not want to.

The scent of her lingers around him, and it is more than enough.

~~

Lily could be a teacher, Sirius thinks as he contemplates sleep. He can see her behind a desk, surrounded by books and still wearing those damn boots.

He hears her approach the loft, hears the breath she takes as she finds him sprawled across what is always her bed, if not always James’.

“Remus?” he asks, very gently.

“The roof,” she says, one hand fluttering in the air. “James?”

“The fire,” Sirius smiles. “D’you think I’d make a good teacher, Lily?”

There is the rustle of fabric again, softer against the mattress as she settles beside him. “Among the best.”


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