What a lie that had been, Remus muses now, hand on Sirius’ chair, wry smile on his face. The greatest lie he had ever told; that he didn’t love Sirius Black, when he had been head over heels for him since before he knew what love was. How great of a lie, that even he had believed it until it was too late, until the knowledge of his love could be nothing more than a noose around his neck, an inability to hate Sirius for all that he had done—to him, to the Potters, to Peter—but no, Sirius is innocent, now, and Remus doesn’t have to hate Sirius, and he can forgive him. If only it were that easy.