Shattered Masks, Unbroken Vows - Jegulus

Chapter 7

As Remus stepped out of the Order's Headquarters, the cold night air hit him like a slap to the face. He pulled his coat tighter around himself, trying to stave off the chill, though he knew it wasn't just the cold of the night settling into his bones—it was the weight of everything, the way the war had taken so much from them, and the way he kept losing pieces of himself along the way.

Regulus was awake now, but distant. He hadn't spoken much. And Sirius... Sirius was breaking, piece by piece, though he wouldn't admit it. He never did. Always the strong one, always the one to shoulder the pain, to push through the hardest parts of life without showing the cracks.

But Remus knew better. He always had.

He couldn't stop thinking about Sirius. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw him—pacing back and forth, his face drawn with worry, his body rigid with tension. Remus had known Sirius for years, had been there for his worst moments, his triumphs, his reckless decisions. They had been through so much together, but this... this was different.

Sirius was losing Regulus, again, and this time it felt like something fragile was slipping through his fingers, something neither of them could grasp.

As Remus made his way toward St. Mungo's, his thoughts twisted into a knot of guilt and longing. Sirius Black—his best friend, the man he had loved for longer than he dared to admit, had no idea how much of this weighed on Remus's heart.

They hadn't spoken about the Prank, not in any meaningful way, and that still hung between them. The night Sirius had sent Snape after him, nearly exposing his condition—nearly ruining everything. Remus had forgiven him. He had to. But that scar lingered, invisible but deep.

And now, watching Sirius unravel with the fear of losing Regulus, that pain flared up again.

Sirius was his.

At least, he had been in Remus's mind for years. His feelings had always been there, simmering beneath the surface, but he had never spoken them aloud. There were too many reasons to stay silent—too much at risk. And yet, watching Sirius suffer, watching him bend under the weight of his emotions... Remus wanted to reach out, wanted to comfort him, wanted to help in ways he couldn't articulate.

But how?

When Remus finally reached St. Mungo's, his steps slowed, heart heavy as he approached the hospital doors. He didn't know what he expected—he knew Regulus was still distant, still cold, still pushing everyone away. But Sirius... Sirius had been camped at his bedside in the past two weeks, barely sleeping, barely eating.

Remus needed to be there. For him.

As he made his way up the narrow, white-walled corridors, his mind drifted back to Sirius again—how he looked the last time Remus had seen him at the hospital. His face gaunt, eyes rimmed with exhaustion, his shoulders slumped as though the weight of the world rested there.

The door to Regulus's room came into view, and for a moment, Remus hesitated. He needed to be strong, needed to be the steady one, the one Sirius could lean on. But he didn't know how much longer he could keep pretending his own heart wasn't breaking. He loved Sirius, but he didn't know if it was enough.

The sight of Sirius almost brought him to his knees.

As Remus approached the door of Regulus's hospital room, the heavy weight of his emotions grew harder to bear. He paused in front of the door where Sirius stood, staring at the ground, his face set in a mask of grief. The two men hadn't spoken about Regulus in the room, afraid of overwhelming him with too much, too soon.

Sirius looked up when he saw Remus approaching, his eyes shadowed, full of regret and exhaustion.

"Moony," Sirius muttered, his voice hoarse from days of sleeplessness.