The Secret Keeper

            Remus Lupin had his dark side but he kept it to himself.

That was why he lived by himself in a shabby flat he could scarcely afford on his clerk’s salary from Obscurus Books.  He didn’t want to live in Sirius’ house.  He needed a place of his own, a place where he could keep his secrets.

There were things he didn’t want Sirius to see or to know.  A cruel and shameful truth like the certainty that Sirius was more than he could handle and that he, Remus, would never be enough to satisfy Sirius.  Or the sad fact that on the days leading up to the full moon, when his apprehension at the upcoming transformation mounted, he would drink vodka till everything went black.  If Sirius knew, he would want him to stop but it was what Remus had to do to sleep, to breathe, and to go on living.

                The night before October’s full moon was Indian summer warm.  The windows were open, the air smelled of curry from his neighbor’s kitchens.  The area he lived in was primarily Pakistani immigrants.  Sometimes there was violence, skinheads or just drunken sods breaking up shops, looking to make life more difficult for people who were already struggling. 

Remus disliked this, but it didn’t surprise him.   As a werewolf and a half blood Remus understood the ways people marginalized, irrationally feared and disrespected each other.   For that reason the neighborhood he lived in was right for him in a way that Sirius’ fashionable address never could be.

Besides, rents were low enough that he could manage two bedrooms.  One to sleep in, one painstakingly soundproofed and secured with a thousand spells and charms where he spent the three nights of the full moon.

He poured another three inches of vodka in his glass.  The transformation had gotten much more difficult in the past few months, ever since he and Sirius had gotten involved with the Order of the Phoenix.  It was nothing magical, nothing physical, it was only him, his fears.

The overriding fear of Voldemort succeeding in his bid for power and what it would mean for the world.  And other fears, small selfish fears that something would happen to him, or even worse to Lily, James, Peter, or Sirius.  Remus had never imagined, never hoped that he would have anyone.  Now it seemed like there was so much to lose. 

                He emptied his glass and as he moved to fill it again, entirely without warning, a boy a few years younger then Remus appeared, Apparating into the room.  He was tall, slender, deathly pale and vaguely familiar though Remus scarcely had time to register the boy’s features before he crumbled to the floor babbling random words, hyperventilating, and vomiting pure blood.

             “I won’t… Sirius… won’t do it…my brother…” the boy gasped.  From these random words Remus realized who he was.

“You’re Regulus, aren’t you?”  He said.  “You’re Sirius’ little brother.  Don’t try to talk.  I know what this is, I’ve read about it.  Someone’s put a Convomo Cruento hex on you.  I think I can reverse it.”

            Remus hadn’t laid eyes on Regulus Black since graduating from Hogwart’s two years before and he had never really known his friend’s brother.  Sirius seemed determined to keep his friends separated from the quagmire of his family life presumably for their own protection. 
    

Still, the young Slytherin had always vaguely intrigued Remus.  He was so delicate and pretty that James and Peter jokingly called him Sirius’ little sister.  Once he’d tried to get Sirius to talk about his brother.  It hadn’t gone well.  “Stay clear of Reggie,” Sirius had warned him.  “All Blacks are poison, including me.” 

Fumbling, Remus found his wand.  He tried a standard counter-hex but it made no impact.  Several more spells also failed and he began to panic. The hex was particularly powerful and he didn’t like to think where it might have come from. 

He gestured his wand in a careful casting out motion.  “Aboleo Exsecror,” he cried.  It was the strongest banishment he knew.  He’d never used it before.  If it didn’t help, there was nothing more he could do. 

Regulus, who had been doubled up his body violently heaving, grew still. Remus gratefully fell to his knees beside the younger man. 

“Are you better now?” Remus asked cautiously.  “Can you talk?  I could make you a Draught of Peace…” Regulus didn’t answer; instead he snatched up the bottle of vodka Remus had left sitting on the coffee table and drank deeply before slumping to the floor again. 

“You’re a bloody mess,” Remus said.  “Let me help you.”  He unbuttoned the blood sodden frock shirt Regulus was wearing and began to help him out of it.  “That was a nasty hex and it’s also illegal.  Can you tell me who did this?”

“Bella, my cousin Bellatrix Lestrange,” Regulus said shakily.  “I thought I could trust her.  She always liked Sirius; I thought she could help me but she was angry.  She said I’d better do what I was told before I made the whole family look like cowards and traitors and she hexed me.”

“What’s this about?”  Remus asked.  “What does this have to do Sirius?  I don’t think he’s even seen his cousin in at least…”  He stopped short, frozen.   He had his answer.  Regulus’ bare arm was marked with a symbol he had heard described but never seen - the serpent and skull of the Death Eaters, the Dark Mark.  

            “He knows,” Regulus gasped.  “He knows Sirius is with Dumbledore, in the Order.”  Remus felt a horrible chill pass through him.  He caught Regulus’ shoulders perhaps too harshly.

“Who knows, Regulus?  Who knows Sirius is in the Order of the Phoenix?” 

Regulus’ violet eyes fixed on Remus.  “Lord Voldermort,” he said. 

 “No.”

 “He wants me to kill Sirius.  He knows I still see him sometimes, that I can get close.  He’s ordered me to get whatever information I can from Sirius and then kill him.”

 “No,” Remus muttered again.  “This can’t be happening.”  Remus let go of the boy, pressed his hands against his forehead.

 “I’m not going to do it,” Regulus went on.  “I won’t do it.  Not to Sirius.  I still love him, even though he’s been beastly to me since he left home.  He’s my brother.  I won’t kill my brother.” 

 “Then why is this on your arm?”   Remus snarled grabbing his forearm.  His fingers brushed the Mark.  It seemed to burn, to writhe; he felt sick himself.  “Why did you become one of them if you’re not a killer?” Regulus jerked his arm away.

 “They were my family.  The people I grew up with, people from my house at school.  I thought I knew them.  I thought I was one of them.  I was wrong.  I was stupid.” 

 “Why did you come here?”  Remus demanded.  He was teetering on the edge of weeping, of screaming, of beating Regulus senseless just to still his own reeling thoughts.  “What are you doing here?  What do you want?”  

 “I’m going to try to get out,” Regulus said breathlessly, his words tumbling over each other.  “My… friend knows someone he thinks can help.  I don’t really believe he can get me out but, either way, I’m going away.  I’m either going to disappear or I’m going to die.   I can’t go to Sirius directly, it’s too much of a risk, but he has to know what’s happened.   You need to tell him.  Warn him that Lord Voldermort knows about him.”

 Regulus lowered his eyes, his voice became softer.  “I haven’t seen Sirius in a couple months.  The last time, I told him I’d joined up with the Death Eaters.  He wasn’t pleased about it and we ended up having a pretty vicious row.  We both said all the worst things we could think of.  I need him to know I’m not like he thinks I am, that he mattered more to me than Lord Voldermort.  Tell him I love him, tell him they wanted me to kill him but I wouldn’t do it.  Tell him I wouldn’t hurt him.” 

 Almost sobbing he took up the bottle again, drank for a long time.  When he lowered the bottle, Remus grabbed it and drank with equal abandon wishing everything would just go black.  He felt like he did at the moment of transformation, like he was going mad. He put his hand on Regulus’ Dark Mark again.  It was moving, he was sure of it this time. The snake was alive.  Voldermort could see through its eyes.  He was watching. 

 “You’ve led him here.”  Remus said.  Regulus shook his head frantically. 

 “No, I was careful.  None of them know about you and Sirius, not even Bella and she’s a terrible gossip.  Sirius never talked about you, not even to me.  He never said anything.”

 “Never?”  It tore at him; for over three years Sirius had been the center of his world but what was he to Sirius?  A dirty little secret?  “Not once?”

 “Not once,” Regulus said adamantly thinking he was reassuring him.  “I only know because I know Sirius. I saw you with him at school and I figured it out.  It never occurs to most people.  They think I’m the bent one in the Black family; they never suspect Sirius.  Lord Voldermort doesn’t know.”

 “If you know, he knows or he’ll know soon enough.”  Remus said.  His hand was still on Regulus’ arm, on the burning pulse of the Dark Mark.

 “He won’t.  I’ve never been much good at magic, potions and charms and all that.  In most respects I’m hardly more proficient than a Squib but I’ve always been aces at Occlumency.  Comes from having a Mum who was always trying to get inside my head; I’m exceptionally good at keeping things to myself.” 

 “I’ll bet you are.”  Remus felt an overwhelming animosity towards Regulus.  He wanted to tear at him with his teeth, bite his pretty face, rip out his throat.  Instinctively he moved to all fours, crawling over Regulus where he still lay on the floor.    

 He lowered himself on top of Regulus stretching his body at full length over the boy’s.  His hips rocked against Regulus’. 

 Remus bit him on the cheek.  Not hard enough to break the skin just to leave two crescent marks.  He moved to his lips, tasting them, grazing them with his teeth.  He was poison, just like Sirius said.  He was narcotic.  He tasted like oblivion.  Regulus turned his face away.

             “We can’t do this,” he whispered.  His eyes were wide and blank, staring beyond Remus as though his mind and body were completely separated.  “I’m with someone.  I’m in love with someone.  So are you.  You’re with my brother.” 

“You’re already dead,” Remus said cruelly and bit him again just a little harder.  For an instant Regulus’ violet eyes turned deepest black.  With anger?  With fear?  With realization of the inevitable?  When Remus tried to kissed him again, he kissed back   ferociously and where he had lain unresponsive before, he began to undulate, to move with the other man, to press against him moaning. 

             Remus found that sex without love freed him.  With Sirius he was mannered and attentive, always holding back, part of his mind always on what his lover was feeling.  He didn’t care what Regulus Black felt.  He didn’t care if Regulus was exhausted or sick or choking.  He thought nothing of rearranging the boy’s body to his own specifications, of bruising or biting or scratching him, of grabbing his hair and forcing his head back into place when he tried to turn away gagging.  All he thought about was himself and taking what he needed to sleep, to breathe, to go on living. 

             When Remus came to the next day, Regulus Black was gone and he was sick.  Physically sick but beyond that he was more ashamed than he had ever been of anything in his life.  He did not want to ever leave his flat again, ever speak to another person or look them in the eye.  He didn’t go to work that day; he scarcely got up off the floor except to drag himself into the spare bedroom just before moonrise and bolt the door. 

            Regulus Black’s body was found within the week.  Sirius had not talked about his brother when he was alive and he did not talk about him after he died.  

Remus Lupin learned to live with fear.  As Voldermort’s power increased, the icy grip of his anxieties, which had been nearly unbearable, became so familiar he scarcely noticed it anymore.

He never told Sirius about Regulus’ visit, never gave him the message. 

Sirius would have blamed his little brother.  “All Blacks are poison,” he’d said.   Regulus was a Slytherin, the little viper, and a Death Eater.  It would have been so easy to blame him, except that Remus knew the truth. 

He could not bear to share it so he kept it to himself.