The Picture Of Sirius Black - By RJL - TinyCosmicDancer - Harry Potter (2024)

Chapter 1: I - If You Could Invite One Guest To A Dinner Party

Chapter Text

Remus glanced around the mezzanine, taking in the small but neat bed that consisted of a rickety-looking metal frame and grey woolen blanket, as well as the humble wooden desk adjacent to a tired set of drawers. “I apologise that it isn’t very grand, but I hope it will do, my boy?” Lord Potter said, slapping Remus’ shoulder and grinning. “Effie had the place cleaned up, said she didn’t want you to feel like one of the animals yourself.”

Remus shook his head, turning to face the older man. It might not have been “grand”, but the well-loved furniture, of which there was more than he’s been expecting, made the little room cozy. “No, it’s nice, thank you, milord.”

Lord Potter laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, dear boy, you must know that none of my staff have ever called me anything but Fleamont. In fact, call me Monty if you so please, but “Lord Potter” is no title I enjoy hearing in my own home.” Remus didn’t think he’d ever call his master “Monty” but he supposed Fleamont would do. “Now, the job isn’t a big one since it’s just the three of us, you see, so you’ll have plenty of time to yourself as well. You’ll mainly be checking on the horses’ health, taking them to be shoed, saddling them when necessary, or assisting the footmen with carriage preparation, but if you’ve any questions, our under-butler, Filch, can help you, or the first footman, Slughorn, but you’ll meet them all later. Now, please, settle yourself in.”
Remus nodded thanks as Lord Potter went to descend the stairs, but on the final step at the bottom, he paused and turned back to Remus. “I knew your Father. He was a good man, and I’m glad to help his family in whatever way I can.”

“Wussit when he used to have the country house?” Remus asked.

Lord Potter nodded. “We had many lovely summers staying there before he moved to Yorkshire and took up horses and sheep. Now, I best be off, we’re having guests tonight and Effie will be rushing about to prepare for our hosting. Afternoon, Lupin.”

Once Lord Potter had rounded the corner and strode across the lawn away from the stables, Remus crept down the stairs to acquaint himself with the land. As he trudged behind the stables toward the forest line, he kept in his mind the horror stories he’d heard of other stablehands taking horses out on hacks or roaming and coming back to find them foaming at the mouth and feverish. Remus scanned the ground for anything poisonous; ragwort, foxglove, even some ivies or acorns could hurt them if Remus wasn’t careful. Lost in focus and with eyes trained on the ground, Remus didn’t notice the sound of smooth piano notes floating through the air until he’d come to a clearing. How long had he been walking?

Across the clearing was a huge manor house, its gothic exterior appearing to be something of Edgar Allan Poe’s creation. In an open window on the second storey, two sheer, white curtains billowed in the soft breeze, caressing the music that slipped through them and poured over the window sill. Remus had heard the song before; Erik Satie’s Gymnopedie 1, he believed, though he couldn’t be sure. However, though he’d heard it before, something in the way the notes came, the fluidity of the tune, was unlike anything else. Remus found himself sitting on the grass to listen and to feel in that strange way that only music could prompt. When, after a while, the music stopped, Remus reawoke internally to realise he’d left the Potters’ estate for far too long. He stood, dusting his trousers off and offering a final glance at the window, before turning back the way he came and somehow forgetting to keep looking for poisonous plants along the way.

Back in the stables, Remus went to greet the horses after refreshing the water troughs. He’d always loved horses growing up, and while the Potters’ fondest memories may have been at his father’s old rented-out country house, Remus had never been happier than when his mother taught him to ride as a boy. From the stalls alone, Remus could tell the Potters loved their horses, with the doors each having a plate reading the occupant’s name. The first horse was apparently named Nimbus, a sleek chestnut thoroughbred, though Remus didn’t get much further than that before the gate’s latch clicked and he turned on his heel to see a young man of a similar age to him staring back. He grinned broadly, flashing a set of straight, pearly teeth. Remus jumped a bit. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“S’orright.”

“Oh, good. Maa sad you were about my age. Say, how old are you then?”

“Eighteen,” Remus replied awkwardly.

Somehow, his grin widened even more. “Excellent guess then, I’m eighteen as well!” There was a pause, the beaming boy hovering some five feet from Remus before he quickly added. “I’m also James. I’m eighteen and I’m James.”

“Oh, Lord Potter’s son then? I should have introduced myself-”

James waved his hand, and Remus could see the resemblance now; the same handsome brow, unruly dark hair, and even similar round spectacles. Though, behind the frames, Remus saw a hint of mischief in James’ warm eyes. “Nonsense, I knew who you were, there was no need. Are you busy? Can you get away for the night?”

Remus looked around the stables confusedly. “The hay is fresh and the horses seem content. Your father did mention the job isn’t very time-consuming. Why’dya ask?”

“We’re hosting a dinner tonight to welcome my childhood friend, Mary. Maa’s sponsoring her for the season, you see, so she’s staying with us. In fact, she’ll be here soon, so why don’t you come inside and she can help you choose which of my suits to borrow.” James replied, chatting away as he strode back out onto the lawn with a reluctant Remus loitering behind. He stopped when he realised Remus was still staring at him quizzically. “Why, I mean for you to join us for dinner, of course.”

“Really? What would your mother think?” Remus said, stuffing his hands in his pockets in a poor attempt to reinforce the fact that he definitely wouldn’t fit at a posh dinner party.

James waved his hand again as if Remus had said something absurd, and led him by the shoulder in a similar manner to Lord Potter as they crossed the lawn back toward the house. “She won’t mind at all, think of it as a welcome for you and Mary. You’ll like Mary.”

Emboldened, Remus asked, “What makes you say that?”

James grinned widely again. “Everyone does.”

—

“Prongs, when your driver mentioned you had a new stablehand, he never said he was so adorable!” Mary squealed after she had embraced Lord and Lady Potter and kissed James on the cheeks a few times over. Remus ran a hand through his hair, unsure how to properly greet her. Mary was indeed beautiful, with dark curls piled on top of her head and spilling around her cheeks to frame her face which sported a pair of delicate, pouty lips.

With Lord and Lady Potter off running errands across the house after reaffirming that Remus could dine with them, Remus turned to James. “Prongs?”

“Silly nickname,” James replied, leading the trio up to his bedchamber.

“Go on, then, tell him the story!” Mary insisted as she gathered her skirts in one hand and clutched the railing of the stairs with the other. Behind her, manservants carried her multiple suitcases and bags.

“You tell him,” James said, pushing open white double doors into a lavish bedchamber with a color palette of gold and red. On the mantel above an elaborately carved fireplace were framed miniatures of Lord and Lady Potter. In the corner was a pile of all different sports equipment, and on the mahogany side table next to the pile, was a stack of messily opened letters. James took note of Remus’ survey of the room. “Maa says I shouldn’t rely on others to clean up after me. It’s a fair sentiment, but it does mean my room is often untidy. Now go on, Mary, tell him.”

“Fine, I will then,” Mary said, flopping on James’ bed. Remus idled by the door, but when James raised an eyebrow, he sat by Mary’s head. “You see, Potter here has two other friends that he wreaks such havoc with in our proper high society that they are nicknamed the “Marauders” by everyone that knows them, which mind you, is everyone.”

Remus smirked a bit. “We don’t “wreak havoc”, thank you, Mary.” James huffed, yanking off his jacket and rifling through a generous closet. “Shall I keep this waistcoat, then? Green? Or something else?”

Remus wondered why James was so concerned with his appearance. He’d looked fine before, effortlessly attractive even, though his hair could benefit from a comb through. “Green is nice with your cream jacket with the gold buttons. Wear that.” Mary winked at Remus. “As I was saying, these friends, Peter and Sirius, decided that on their first hunting party, they’d invite me along, as well as our other friends, Marlene and Lily. Oh, and James is helplessly in love with Lily, you should know, that’s quite important for the story.”

So that’s where the concern over appearance was from. James popped his head out from the closet doors. “I’m not helplessly in love! She just has such lovely hair and eyes, and she’s talente-”

Mary chucked a cushion at James’ head, musing his hair even more. “As I mentioned, quite in love. But it’s because of this event that she now despises him.” Remus was suddenly quite interested. Though James’ energy was a little overwhelming, he’d made Remus feel quite at ease. He didn’t see how anyone could dislike sunny, golden James. “Sirius was useless as usual, attempting to teach the dogs how to dance on command, therefore earning the name Padfoot. Pete was sure he’d found some animal tracks in the fallen leaves, which he was thrilled about until we realised we’d been tracking a very fat rat instead, earning him the name Wormtail. And finally, Jamesy here managed to shoot a stag, so naturally, he beheaded the thing and pranced around with his prize-”

“I was very young and silly-”

Mary looked up at Remus, hands behind her head. “He was sixteen. Well, in the process of his dance with the stag head, he accidentally dropped it at Lily’s feet, the antlers ripping two gaping holes in her skirts and exposing her undergarments. Now he’s Prongs. The end.”

Remus gawked at James, who hung his head. “Lily and Marlene are attending tonight with Peter.”

Mary jumped up, clapping. “Ooh, so we best get you fitted into a suit then Remus! You’ve such lovely hazel eyes, I think something red would do nicely.”
Remus shrugged, forgoing the urge to mention he was some three inches taller than James and the trousers would most definitely fall too short.

---

Remus was right to believe the trousers would be too small, for sitting at the table, he could feel that his socks had slouched and his hems had ridden up, everything now sitting awkwardly against his legs and exposing his skin. On the other end of the table, Mr. and Mrs. Mckinnon were chatting quietly with Molly and Arthur Weasley, a couple only a few years older than Remus himself. Apparently, Lady Potter enjoyed sponsoring ladies for courting seasons, and Molly was proof of her success in such endeavors. James had mentioned casually that she’d wished she’d had daughters, or any more children at all, when he caught Remus watching Lady Potter greet the Weasleys. Marlene’s brother, Daniel, was attempting to enliven Lily’s older sister, Petunia, however, a persistent scowl conveyed Daniel’s failure. Next to him, Mrs. Pettigrew animatedly recounted a story about a fishing trip as Lord and Lady Potter listened eagerly along with Mr. and Mrs. Evans. Remus’ end of the table was far quieter, and though Lady Potter had assured him he was most welcome (and requested he call her “Euphemia” or “Effie”, to which he smiled and nodded politely), Remus couldn’t help but feel his presence was limiting conversation subjects.

Finally, Lily spoke up, smiling kindly at Remus over the table. Remus hadn’t missed how she elected to sit furthest from James, wedging herself between Marlene and Mary. “So, Remus, where were you working before your employment here?”

“I worked with my mother on our farm in Yorkshire. It’s a sheep farm, but we fostered horses too.” Remus replied, spearing a piece of chicken with his fork. Lady Potter had made the main course, a lovely chicken curry that Remus was only slightly embarrassed to admit was too spicy, but he smiled through it.

Lily’s emerald eyes sparkled, a striking vibrant colour in the candlelight. “That’s nice. How come you moved out to London to be a stablehand then?”

Marlene looked mildly impressed, raising one blonde eyebrow. “You’re the Potters’ stablehand? You could have fooled me.” Mary nudged Marlene in the side from behind Lily, though Marlene glanced back at Remus with a look in her eye that told him she meant no offense.

Remus nodded, answering Lily’s initial question. “My mother took ill, so we sold the farm and moved her into a cottage closer to the town doctor. I took up this position to pay for the visits. The farm wasn’t making enough profit.”

Mary frowned. “I’m sorry to hear about your mother. That’s a lot of pressure to put on you, Remus, what say your father?”

“S’bit hard to say anything when you’ve been buried for thirteen years. So probably nothing.” James spat out his wine while Peter, or “Wormtail” made a noise of surprise. “Sorry. Silly joke.” Remus said sheepishly.

Mary shook her head. “No, no, I should have picked up on the context clues, of course.”

There was a heavy silence at their end of the table for another while.

James broke the silence this time. “What other hobbies do you have then? Pete, Sirius, Marlene, and I love some light football. Daniel joins us sometimes as well.”

“I’ve never been good at sports. I do like to paint and draw, though.” Remus tried.

“That’s brilliant!” Lily grinned.

Peter reached across the table for a paratha. “But you should play with us sometime, Remus. Preferably on my side, with those long legs.”

Remus nodded bashfully. “‘Preciate the offer.”

“There you go, Evans, now you’ll have to come to watch us play since your new friend will be on the field. Won’t that be smashing!” James smirked at Lily, who rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please, Remus is sane enough not to blame me if I decline. We all know what happened last time you decided to show off in front of me. I loved that dress, you know.” Mary petted Lily’s arm sympathetically.

James sighed, defeated. “I know.” suddenly his eyes brightened. “You know, Remus, since you’ve met everyone now, you should come to the Black family’s ball next week. As our guest, of course.”

Remus shook his head. “Haven’t been invited, have I?”

Marlene scoffed. “Oh, with the sheer number of people in that ballroom, they’ll hardly notice one extra body.”

“Can hardly dance either.” Remus tried.

Marlene smirked. “Neither can I, and I’ve been having lessons with Lily since we were children. You should come, it’ll be fun. Or at least, entertaining.”

Remus was not escaping this one, though why they all were so desperate for his presence, James particularly, he couldn’t say.

---

Up on the mezzanine that night, free of James’ ill-fitting suit, Remus lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. After a moment of listening to the quiet chorus of the night, to owls hooting and crickets chirping, and to the steady rush of the creek not far from the stables, Remus heard the gate latch click. He sat up in bed as James’ head came into view from the stairs. “I don’t mean to bother you, I just found these in my room and thought you’d like them,” James whispered, shuffling over to the desk and placing a box on its surface. “They’re my old paints and charcoals. Gifts I never used. I’ve never been the creative type.”

“You’re not bothering me.” Remus yawned.

“Pardon?”

“You said you didn’t mean to bother me. You didn’t.”

“Oh.” James sighed, smiling.

“Thank you. For the paints. That’s thoughtful of you.” Remus replied.

James hovered by the stairs, as if he wanted to say something else but wasn’t sure how. Remus waited, but instead, James just said. “Well, goodnight then.”

As James turned back toward the stairs, Remus found himself saying “I hope Lily comes around. Everyone knows you’re sorry. If she can’t see that-”

James shook his head, and Remus cursed himself for making things awkward. But as James looked at him again with those soft eyes, he knew there was no need. “Petunia is not yet engaged to her suitor, so Lily can’t court yet. It wouldn’t be right, so it doesn’t matter anyway. But thank you, Remus.”

Remus fiddled with the thread on his blanket. “Weren’t any skin off my bones to say it.”

“See you tomorrow. I might go riding in the afternoon. Oh, and you’ll have breakfast with the other servants so tell me what you think of Minnie. Alright, bye then!” James called, dashing down the stairs in one of those bursts of energy he seemed to get.

“But who’s Minnie?” Remus asked, though his question was followed by a click of the gate latch, and James was gone.

Chapter 2: II - Greetings And Grass Stains

Chapter Text

Remus stood at the end of the long dining table in the servants’ hall as the eyes of every member of the Potters’ staff peered at him over newspapers and toast. Next to him, the older woman placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. “This is Mr. Remus Lupin, the new stablehand. He’ll dine with us for breakfasts and suppers.” she began in her musical Scottish accent. “Closest on the left here is Ms. Poppy Pompfrey, head cook, beside her is Ms. Pomona Sprout, still-room maid, Mr. Horace Slughorn, first footman, and Mr. Argus Filch, our under-butler,” she said, gesturing to those at the table. “And I am Minerva McGonagall, head lady, and ex-governess, though some days it feels as though Mistress Potter and I still struggle to wrangle young master James.”

Minnie. Remus nodded, silently taking the empty seat beside Ms. Pomfrey, who smiled and offered him some marmalade for his toast, which had already been laid out on his plate for him. Remus accepted the jar, took his knife, and cut his toast into four small triangles. On the first, he applied the marmalade, the second butter, the third raspberry jam, and the fourth blackberry jam. Ms. Pomfrey looked at him quizzically. “I’ve never been so spoiled for choice,” Remus mumbled quickly.

Ms. Pomfrey nodded. “I made those yesterday so they’re fresh. I’m glad you enjoy them. The other laundry maids will be in shortly so good to get the best spread first, hm?”

Through the entryway came a much older man who looked like he could have been some sort of wizard with the long white beard he sported and garments that looked part suit and part mythical robe. However, as he swept into the room gracefully to be seated at the head of the table, Remus didn’t miss the way all the servants’ straightened in their chairs and greeted him warmly. From across the table, McGonagall cleared her throat, and the older man’s gaze flicked to Remus at the prompt of her gesture. “Good morning, Mr. Lupin. I am Albus Dumbledore, the Potters’ head butler.”

Remus chewed quickly before politely introducing himself despite Dumbledore already knowing who he was. McGonagall turned back to Remus, not smiling but crinkling her eyes at the sides to indicate her demeanor. “I heard you met James’ friends the other evening. How was your encounter with the marauders?”

“Not all of them. Not Sirius. But they didn’t cause the trouble they’re so infamous for.” Remus replied over his mug of tea.

Ms. Pomfrey chuckled. McGonagall's lip twitched. “I’m surprised. It isn’t often James is without Master Black. The boys attended Eton together with Mr. Pettigrew. As if being dormmates at school wasn’t enough, I’d have my work cut out for me when they returned home during breaks and insisted on staying in James’ bedchamber. Mistress and Master Potter were always so good to them. I dare say Mr. Black is staying home in preparation for the upcoming ball.” McGonagall stood from the table, carrying her plate with her. “Well, I’ve much to do today, but it was lovely meeting you, Lupin.”

Remus stood with her, his neck now craned downwards. “I’ll take that with mine. I best be getting on now too.” Remus took McGonagall’s plate before heading into the hallway and then to the kitchen to leave them on the closest bench. He was startled as he turned back to the doorway to find Filch leering at him. Remus nodded, attempting to get past, but Filch didn’t move. “I’ve got my eye on you, boy. There’ll be no slacking, you hear?”

Remus frowned but affirmed he understood, moving past Filch who only marginally stepped aside for him. Odd man.

---

After spending the better part of the morning and first part of the afternoon in the stables working, Remus stepped around the back of the rustic building for a smoke in the not-yet-golden early evening. Dappled light danced across his freckled nose as he leaned his head back against the ivy-covered wall and sighed. For the second time that day, he was jolted by the sudden presence of another person, though when he went to tap off the ash and hide his unsavory habit, he realised with much relief it was only James. He didn't know what Filch would have done, and he had a feeling he should keep an eye out for the under-butler. If he’d noticed, James didn’t say anything.

James beamed, covered in grass stains and sporting lopsided glasses, huffing a little. “We’re playing a new game if you want to join us. Daniel Mckinnon’s here, too.” at Remus’ skeptical look, James clapped him on the shoulder. “It’ll be grand! Give it a go, now, Remus! We don’t expect you to be bang up to the elephant.”

Remus, knowing he wasn’t getting out of this, sighed and acquiesced. Subtly stowing away any evidence of his smoking habit on their way over to the Potters’ lush green lawn, Remus listened as James regaled him on the details of the last match. Into view came Daniel, who waved kindly, Peter, and, to Remus’ surprise, Marlene, who sported an oversized pair of breeches. “When you mentioned that Marlene enjoyed football, I didn’t think you meant she played. I thought you meant watching.”

James shook his head. “She’s never really listened when her mother or Mrs. Pettigrew berated her for joining in. She’s just as good as I am, though, perhaps better. You mustn’t tell her that, though.” Remus considered Lady Potter, who watched from the porch with a teacup in hand and the ghost of a smile on her face, and decided she was a marvelous host to James’ friends.

“How come?” Remus asked. “Does she get a big head sometimes?”

James chuckled at that. “No, we just don’t express ourselves so explicitly. We never have, really. But if you’re talking about a big head, Sirius is the one with the ego.”

“You’ve a sturdily inflating view of self too, Potter.” Daniel grinned as James and Remus approached. “Don’t single Black out.”

“Marlene’s the one whose pride led her to duel Barty,” Mary remarked, sauntering across the grass to kiss Remus on each cheek, to which he stifled a crimson heat that burnt beneath his skin.

“Marlene dueled Barty?” Remus asked. “Who’s Barty?”

“Barty Crouch Jr is just some silly dandy. He made a snide comment about Mary’s many failed courtships-”

“Thank you, James, for saying that-”

“So Marlene challenged him to a swordfight and she won. They stole the swords off decorative armor stands in the hallway. There would have been some two dozen witnesses aside from just our friends.” James grinned. Remus’ gaze glided across the green to land on Marlene, who was practicing some tricks with Peter, the ball bobbing between them. “Right then, you’re with me Lupin. We don’t have enough players so it’ll be an easier game, eh?”

An hour later, James was finally able to admit that Remus, in fact, did not have an affinity for sports. Aside from his smoker’s lungs, he simply had no passion for it. Retiring to the shade where Mary and Lily were sitting chatting, Remus swiped a hand across his sweaty forehead and gratefully accepted some lemonade from Lily. “I hope Potter didn’t tire you too much out there. Come sit for a while with us.” Lily smiled, copper strands of hair glowing in the flax early evening light.

Remus sat between Mary and Lily, observing the book in Lily’s lap that she was reading, while Mary was lying on her stomach scribbling something with a tongue poking out of her plush lips. “What are you reading?” Remus asked Lily, who suddenly looked bashful as she pushed the book across the picnic rug so it nudged Remus’ thigh. Remus read the title aloud. “A Vindication Of The Rights Of Women? I like Mary Wollstonecraft. Is this good?”

Lily’s eyes lit up as Remus passed the book back. “The theology is fascinating. The writing technique leaves a little to be desired in my opinion, but it’s still worth the time.” Remus nodded at Lily, finishing his lemonade and glancing out from under the tree to find that Marlene, Peter, and Daniel had foregone the structured game and were now running circles around James in a sporting creation of their own. Lily was biting her lip. “I promise I’m not a liberal reformist or overly forward, I just think women could be owed the tiniest bit more credit, that’s all.”

“Of course you do. Any sane person should.” Remus said as Lily slackened slightly, banishing her temporary nervousness. They didn’t say much else as the rest of their party drew closer, abandoning the green. James panted happily, eyes slightly wild.

“You’re still writing?” Peter asked Mary, who peered up at him through dark lashes. A coquettish smile graced her face as she folded the pages in front of her.

“I am. I can’t keep the gentlemen waiting for my response now, can I? I might see William Bronstein at the Black’s ball, and Earnest Fairfax wanted to be the first to promenade with me upon my return to London, so I’m writing him as well.” Mary preened, before sitting up and fitting the pages into two envelopes. “I’m off to find some wax.”

At Mary’s departure, Peter turned to Remus and smiled with round cheeks flushed peach from exertion. “And what are your plans for tonight, Remus?”

Remus shrugged. “Might go to a pub. S’long as it doesn’t bother you?” Remus turned to James, who shook his head fervently as if the notion of Remus’ request for permission was absurd. “Well, then. Best be off. Thank you for the invite.”

The party bid Remus good evening and slowly meandered toward the house. They ascended the porch stairs, and James attempted to snatch Lily’s book jokingly, though he missed and was instead batted on the shoulder with the brick of a text. As Remus turned back toward the stables, smiling slightly at Lily’s chagrin, he felt a tug on his sleeve.

Marlene stepped back from Remus, looking determined. Her blonde hair had come undone from its messy chignon and her blouse was untucked from, upon closer inspection, what appeared to be James’ breeches. “Take me with you?”

Remus frowned. “I don’t understand?”

Marlene exhaled comically. “Of course. I meant the pub. I’d like to come with you, is that alright?”

Remus’ frown did not falter. He went to question her but having seen Marlene dashing around with a football and hearing of her victorious duel, Remus kept his mouth shut. What was it to him, anyway? “I’m not your master. Come if you like.”

“Dinner will probably finish at seven o’clock, but I could feign a headache and get away earlier. I’ll see you on the other side of the gate at, say, eight o’clock?” Marlene asked.

Remus nodded, hands in pockets, before Marlene turned back toward the house, seemingly satisfied. Continuing his walk down to the stables, Remus wondered if it was such a good idea to accompany a young woman in Lady Potter’s care. Should something happen, he’d certainly be to blame. Though he was already at the stables’ gate, Remus decided to take a walk.

Whether subconsciously or not, Remus found himself back on the same path he’d taken the day before. Though the sun was steadily setting, the unkept path was still visible, and sure enough, Remus ended up in the clearing in front of the gothic manor. Upon realising there was no piano music, Remus sighed. Why would there be? As if the mystery musician would intuitively know of his incoming presence. He loitered for a moment, before resolving to head back to the Potters’.

The sound of hooves thundering on the ground, snapping twigs, and jostling the leaves on the low branches of the tree line was followed by the arrival of a metallic-coloured andalusian. The horse slowed when it noticed Remus, allowing the boy who hung onto its reins a break from running behind it. Remus couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s puffing which amusingly juxtaposed his tailored suit. “Alright there?”

The boy, though still recovering, kept a neutral expression. He was quite handsome, with blushy cupid-bow lips and romantic grey eyes, as though he wasn't fully human. He was how Remus pictured the demigods in Mum's copy of Greek mythological tales. “It is illegal to trespass.”

“I’m not?”

“You are. You are on my property. The trees mark the estate’s border.” he said, and though he should have sounded angry or offended, he conveyed neither. Remus wasn’t surprised he lived in the big gothic manor, he certainly matched the house’s exterior. Remus went to ask if he had been playing piano when, from the same window as the day before, Gymnopedie 1 began to flood from the ledge. It sounded just as divine as it had the other day, and though Remus had heard the song many a time, never had it been so diaphanous.

“You ought to keep a steadier hand on that horse, you know,” Remus replied, somehow unafraid of offending a member of a seemingly influential family.

“It wasn’t his fault. Kreacher was spooked.”

Remus fought back a cackle. “Your horse is called Kreacher? Christ, if I was your horse I’d run from you, too.”

The boy’s brow quivered, but the stoicism remained. “I named him when I was young, not that I care for your opinion. What are you doing on my property?”

Remus shook his head. “Nothing. I’m leaving, alright? Don’t call the bobbies on me.”

Before the boy could respond, Remus walked briskly back through the trees, annoyed at the boy’s attitude but even more so by the fact he couldn’t listen to the rest of the song.

Another day.

Chapter 3: III - The Fiddler

Chapter Text

Just as she’d said, Marlene was waiting for Remus on the other side of the gate, hidden by some elegant bushes trimmed to perfection. She exhaled plumes of warm breaths, white against the cool darkness of the night, and when she saw Remus, Marlene smiled, nodding her head to gesture down the path. Once Remus reached her, he didn’t say anything, and neither did Marlene, so they walked on silently, accompanied only by their boots crunching on the gravel. As it turned out, the Potters lived a significant walk from London, and by the time the properties on either side of the road had dwindled into townhouses and streetlights had to begun to appear, Remus and Marlene had been walking for almost half an hour. Remus was relying solely on his memory as navigation, which made him insecure in Marlene’s faith that they’d arrive easily.

Once they’d left the suburbs, and the streets were dotted with people, Marlene finally whispered. “I wasn’t sure what to wear.”

Remus glanced down at her, which albeit, was not a long distance for Marlene was quite tall. She was wearing a dark men’s long coat, probably James’, and beneath that, a maroon skirt or dress. Remus thought she looked rather pretty, in her own, slightly garish, way. He’d never noticed the soft slant of her nose nor her heart-shaped face. “You’re orright. No one’ll notice.” then, because he had been wondering since he met that romantic-looking boy who seemed to be the epitome of high society, he asked, “Why did you want to come?”

Marlene didn’t look at him, instead focussing on the sway of her hem over her dark riding boots. “I saw someone…no, it was inconsequential, actually. Forget I mentioned it. I was just curious for I’ve never been to a pub and my mother would have my head if ever she found out.”

Remus stared at Marlene pointedly, before clearing his throat, not wanting to push her further. Seen someone…

Finally, much to Remus’ relief for his memory hadn’t betrayed him, the pub came into view. Remus’ head nudged the sign that hung from the door as he passed under it, and Marlene read the text aloud. “The Three Broomsticks? Queer name, is it not?”

“Haven't half thought about it ‘ave I?” Remus replied as Marlene hit him on the arm for his sarcasm. Inside the pub was hazy with the smoke of customers alike, for it was just a single hall with a staircase to the right that presumably led to rooms for the inn guests. Along the back wall were two dozen stag heads positioned unevenly and of odd sizes. Remus shared a look with Marlene before they both burst out laughing, Marlene surely picturing the way James had pranced around with the stag head and Lily’s horror-stricken face when she’d seen the tears in her beloved dress. “That’s a shrine for Prongs if I ever saw one.”

The pub wasn’t too busy, so Remus and Marlene had no trouble finding a bench for themselves before Remus ordered for the both of them, sensing Marlene’s hesitancy at anything other than champagne. Just as their drinks arrived, a hoot echoed across the room and Remus turned to see two young men sauntering over. “Good grief…” Marlene muttered. “Evening Rosier. Crouch.”

“Fancy seeing you here, McKinnon! I was hoping for some womanly company for the night. Ah, seems I’m out of luck then, for there's not a member of the fairer sex in sight.” Barty, the darker-haired boy, sneered. Rosier, who was of a frostier colouring, snigg*red but stood some way back from Barty, who’d started leaning on the table.

Marlene rolled her eyes. “As if any woman would prod you with a ten-foot pole. Besides, you’re wrong anyway, because there’s a lovely woman over there. Now off with you before I best you in another duel.” Remus turned with Barty to see a young woman tuning her fiddle, and as mentioned by Marlene, she was indeed lovely. Half of her dark braids were twisted up behind her head while those that hung around her waist were adorned with gold cuffs, matching nicely with her emerald skirt that swished just above the floor.

“I’ll tell your parents I saw you here.” Barty tried again.

After Marlene had dragged her eyes from the woman, who’d started playing a lively jig, she said “Then you expose yourself as also having been here. I’ll tell them Rosier was with you too.”

Barty didn’t move for a moment before he finally allowed Rosier to tug him to their table on the other side of the pub. Remus glanced back at Marlene, oddly awestruck by her courage, though he supposed they’d all grown up together so Barty wasn’t all that intimidating to her. Marlene, however, was still staring at the fiddler, her bottom lip slightly slack. Remus didn’t know she had such an appreciation for the fiddle, but he couldn’t deny that when the song ended and the woman took up a new one accompanied by her angelic voice, she was quite enrapturing. “You could ask her to teach you,” Remus murmured across the table, though Marlene only registered that he’d said anything when the song ended and the fiddler was brought a drink by the bartender.

“Pardon?” Marlene said, shaking her head slightly as if to rouse herself.

Remus couldn’t help but smile a bit seeing how invigorating the fiddle was to Marlene. “I said you could ask her to teach you how to play. Since you’re so impressed.”

“Oh,” Marlene breathed. “Yes, perhaps that’s an idea.” she fiddled with her glass, absently running her fingers across the rim and tracing the grain of the wooden table with her eyes.

“I meant now. You could ask now she’s taking a break.”

“Oh! Yes, right, easy. Right.” Marlene stood abruptly from the table, causing a few heads to face them, including the fiddler's. Remus watched as Marlene, with false confidence, waltzed up to her and struck up a conversation. He expected a nod or a shake of the fiddler’s head and for Marlene to return a few minutes later with a yes or no, but as the fiddler laughed and Marlene rubbed a hand up the back of her neck like James sometimes did, Remus settled in and curbed any expectations of her immediate return.

It had been an hour, and still, Marlene was engaged in a seemingly invigorating conversation with the fiddler. As Remus twiddled his thumbs and thought about how a bit of music wouldn’t be so bad about now, he was graced with the presence of Barty Crouch again, though this time his friend was nowhere in sight. “Ugly scar on your nose.”

“It is impossible to underestimate you,” Remus mumbled. “Did you come for something or is being a menace your usual forte?”

Barty scoffed. “Pretty lofty for a stablehand to be using words like “forte”.”

“Is that just because you don’t know what it means? Also, how did you know I’m a stablehand?”

Barty looked down his nose at Remus. “Regulus told me.”

“Okay. I don’t know who that is.”

“Oh, you truly are uncultured!” Barty scoffed, and Remus had had quite enough. He stood from the table, and Barty widened his eyes at Remus’ sudden height over him. He obviously failed to notice that, other than slightly toned arms, Remus had the stature of a string bean.

“Marlene, let’s go,” Remus called, downing the rest of his drink and pushing out onto the bitter street.

A moment later, Marlene was by his side. “Do we have to go?”

Remus started to trek down the road with Marlene skipping a bit at his heels. “Yes. It’s late, and I’m responsible for you.”

“Are not! I’m perfectly capable on my own.” Marlene retorted, folding her arms as she matched his pace. Remus could do with a smoke, but he wasn’t sure what Marlene would say.

“I know you are, but no one else does. You’re still a woman and I’m still your accompanying male and it’s my job on the line here.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, it isn’t but it’s how it is.”

Silence. Footsteps. The occasional call of domestic voices drifted into the night.

“You’re not going to ask what the fiddler said?”

Remus sighed, finally slowing. “I’m sorry. How did she react?”

Marlene grinned. “Her name is Dorcas. Dorcas Meadows. Doesn’t it suit her? Meadows. She looks like she belongs in a meadow. Alice and Frank pay her in drinks, so she can hold her own well. Alice and Frank own the pub with someone called Rosmerta. Oh, and she-”

“Did she say yes to the fiddle lessons?”

“Oh, yes. She did. So I suppose we’ll be back then?”

We. Remus guessed this would have to become a regular occurrence then.

---

Remus and Marlene finally reached the gate of the Potter residence just before midnight, and just before their legs would give out. Remus hoped another arrangement would ensue between Marlene and Dorcas or they’d be making that trip more often than either of their poor feet could handle. As they crept around the side of the house, staying close to the wall, Marlene said “You know, we could organise for a carriage next time or-”

Suddenly, Remus stopped in his tracks, causing Marlene to bump into the back of him. He was sure it had been…

Quickly, Remus grabbed Marlene and pulled her to a corner where the walls of two rooms met. He whispered, “Someone’s awake.”

They listened silently, their breaths shallow, as footsteps squelched in the muddy grass, coming closer and closer to the side of the house. “Oi! Who’s there?”. Remus cursed himself. Of course, it had to be bloody Filch!

“They’re getting closer, what do we do?” Marlene hissed.

Remus leaned down to murmur “Start slowly moving around the corner so he doesn’t see us.”

“Left or right?”

“Right.”

Marlene nodded. “Alright.”

“Be quiet, whoever it is can’t be sure we’re out here just yet,” Remus said, before edging out of the join and toward the end of the right wall. His heart hammered at every slight noise his feet made in the mud. Filch’s voice had come from the left, all they had to do was make it to the other side of the corner and they could sprint. To Marlene’s credit, she was being incredibly stealthy, Remus couldn’t hear her at all. “Once we turn the corner, run.” Remus frowned when he heard no response. “Marlene?”

He turned. She was gone.

“Ha! Gotcha!” Filch said with an air of satisfaction as Marlene yelped some distance away. She'd gone the other way!

Remus bit his fist. If Marlene takes the blame, they’ll never know he had allowed her to come with him. But then, who’s to say she won’t mention his name, and he’ll look dishonest as well as lose his job? Mum needs the money...

He’d said yes. This was his mess to clean up. Honesty. Sighing in defeat, Remus went toward the sound of Filch’s voice, when, just as he was about to reveal himself, another joined in. “Marlene, are you alright? Mary told me you’d been crying and came to get some air.”

James. Golden bloody James.

Marlene sniffled falsely. “Yes, just…womanly troubles.”

“Thank you for taking care of her, Filch, I’ll stay with her now,” James said. Remus waited a little longer until he was sure Filch had left, before stepping out from behind the wall.

“I said to go right,” Remus mumbled, hanging his head.

“I went right! Just my right, not your right. We were facing different ways when you told me.” Marlene complained.

“What are you both doing out here?” James asked, folding his arms. “Marlene’s mother was under the impression that her permission to let Marlene stay until the Black Ball meant she’d be kept safe!”

“I was safe! And you’re not my guardian, Potter! Don’t blame Remus, either, I forced him to let me come.”

That wasn’t exactly true, but Remus resolved that if Marlene wanted to say or do something, no one could stop her. “So you both went to the pub?” James asked, slightly less angry. Remus should have known he’d be worried about Marlene. He should have told James. He was protective, a trait it hadn’t taken Remus long to notice. “Why didn’t I get to come?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Can we just go inside? We can talk in the morning, but I don’t want to wake anyone else.”

“Fine, let’s go. And is that my coat?”

“What about it?”

They both turned to Remus, who’d failed to contribute a single word to the conversation. “So I’ll just…be off then.”

James nodded, pursing his lips, and Remus’ heart dropped with the thought he might tell his parents. “Goodnight.”

As James marched toward the back door, Marlene said “Thank you, Remus. Sorry you almost got in trouble.”

Remus smiled. “I’ll teach you to know your lefts and rights next time.”

Marlene followed James.

---

Remus tried to sleep that night but struggled most severely. After a half hour of restless tossing and turning, Remus leaped from his bed to light the kerosene lamp on his desk. He hadn’t touched the art supplies gifted to him by James, so it took him a few minutes of rifling through the box to obtain a pencil and some paper. Once he did, however, his mind was at ease as he began to sketch out shapes that turned into faces that turned into familiarity. He hadn’t been sure who he was drawing when he’d started, but by the time his pencil had been flicking and dragging across the page for fifteen minutes, it was clear. The swoop of the nose, the crease of the navy eyes, the quirk of the lips, and it was obvious that Remus had drawn Marlene. With James now in mind, his next rough sketch came out much nicer than the first, and soon a bespectacled boy with a mischievous smirk hovered over Marlene’s shoulder.

A knock on the wall by the stairs made Remus drop his pencil. “I came to tell you I won’t tell my parents,” said James. “And I know you couldn’t have said no to Marlene.”

Remus nodded. “I couldn’t have, no.” and then, because honesty was to be his policy, “I didn’t try very hard, though.”

James walked over to sit on the edge of Remus’ bed. “I suppose I’m up here because…I suppose I want to be friends. Real friends. I’ve always wanted a brother.”

“What, Marlene doesn’t count?”

James chuckled. “The closest I have is Sirius. He lived with us briefly when we came home for break, and I’ve been sharing a room with him and Peter for the last five years so…I miss it.” Remus nodded silently. “Ah, I’m such a sop. Sorry. What were you doing at the desk?”

Remus shrugged, his face burning as James stood from the bed to look at his sketch. “Just drawing. Thank you again for the pencils. And the other bits.”

James stared at the page awestruck, picking it up in his hands to study it more closely. “This is incredible. You told me you drew but…this is…did you ever go to school for it? Art school?”

Remus shook his head. “No, just a hobby. Not much to do on a farm in the way of leisure.”

James looked at Remus again. “Next time the marauders pull a joke, will you join us? We want to do something at the next event after the Blacks’ Ball.”

“Stakes aren’t quite the same for you lot as they are for me,” Remus replied, getting slightly agitated that everyone was forgetting he was still just a servant.

“Don’t worry, we’ll all protect you.” James winked. “Benefits of being friends with a Potter and a Black. You can do anything.”

Remus scoffed. “How modest. And I’m not Sirius’ friend. We don’t even know each other. In fact, it feels like something of a Shakespearean entrance.”

“A what?” James replied, sitting back on the bed after returning the sketches to their place on the desk.

“You know, Shakespeare?” James nodded, but still looked lost. “Shakespeare always has characters talk about the protagonist before he enters to build assumptions in the audience. Like Prince Hal in Henry IV. Seems like this Sirius is something of a lead.”

James cackled. “Don’t go telling Sirius he’s a Shakespearean protagonist! He already thinks too highly of himself. Go mentioning he’s the next Prince Hal and his head will explode.”

“I don’t think he’d want to be Prince Hal. Not in part one, anyway. All he ever does is drink and neglect his responsibilities.” Remus retorted.

“Sounds eerily like Padfoot, actually.” James sighed. “I best be getting back to bed. Sorry to keep you up.”

Remus shook his head. “No, it’s been…nice.”

James beamed, an expression that wasn’t often absent from his face, and said “Goodnight again.” before turning for the stairs.

“‘Night, James.”

Chapter 4: IV - The Blacks’ Ball

Chapter Text

The days had flown by like the sea past a ship’s bow and soon it was the day of the Blacks’ Ball. Remus had fallen into a routine of breakfasts with the other staff, mornings and early afternoons working, and late afternoons and evenings with James and his friends.

This day had been no different. Sweat trickled down Remus’ back as he heaved hay about the stables, Nimbus snuffling his neck every time he got close enough. He didn’t usually have favorites, but it had taken him no time to realise Nimbus’ affectionate personality and docile demeanor, yet incredible strength when ridden was entirely admirable. He was James’, of course, and in the past week Remus had watched James practice jumps on the green or race Peter through the forest as Remus sat on the porch steps cleaning mullens covered in saliva or mud-caked reins.

Lily was perched on the stairs to the mezzanine, her delicate hands unusually empty of a book. She’d been sitting there for the past hour, as people often did. James would come in and talk Remus’ ear off about his football tactics or his bowling technique in cricket, Peter would complain about James talking to him about football tactics or bring a portable chess board to ponder moves quietly, and Mary would detail all her possible suitors and their attributes, Marlene would sometimes help Remus with his chores to get them done faster and Lily would sit and read, often aloud. However, she had a somber expression on her freckled face as she sat, gazing out the gate toward the house where Lady Potter and Mrs. Sprout tended to colourful flowerbeds that lined the porch while Lord Potter read the paper on a recliner beside them. Finally, once he’d caught his breath and given Nimbus enough attention, Remus wandered over and sat beside Lily. “What’s upset you?”

Remus was never good with people’s emotions, despite often being confided in (He had no idea what would possess someone to choose him for such an interaction), but he knew Lily was a logical person. If something had her wound up, it would be far from frivolous. “Oh, I just…I have a friend.”

“Really?!” Remus said sarcastically as Lily threw hay at him.

“Yes. The others don’t like him very much. No one does, really. He’s going to be there tonight and I suppose I don’t want any drama or theatrics to ensue. We’ve been friends since we were young, you see, and he’s never had anyone other than me.” Lily wrung her hands.

“Sounds like a lot of pressure.”

Lily sighed, rubbing her hands up her face. “I can’t cut him off, but he can be so nasty sometimes. Not just to me but to other people. But then he apologizes and I know he has no one else so I forgive him. And it goes like that over and over. I don’t know what to do.”

Remus pondered for a moment. “You wanna know what I’d do?”

Lily swiped at her cheek and nodded eagerly. “Please. I need someone who doesn’t hate him so viciously. Not that the hatred isn’t entirely undeserved but…”

“The first thing I’d say is you are the only permanent thing in your life, so you have to be gentle with yourself. You can’t take on the emotional strain of someone else from guilt at your own expense. And secondly, quite simply, do it until it doesn’t make you happy. I see so many people who have so many options stay with one thing because they feel they have to when they can just do it for a while and then stop because it no longer makes them happy. If this friend makes you happy more than he makes you sad, then stay. If he doesn’t, that isn’t your problem and it never was.” Remus stood, slapping his hands on his thighs awkwardly, before adding, and only because Lily had caught him with a cigarette in hand yesterday and had said nothing about it, ”I need a smoke.”

As Remus lit his cigarette by the window, Lily said “You sound like a wise old wizard. Like the Potters’ butler, Dumbledore. I was sort of scared of him when I was a child.” she was silent a moment, and while her eyes were on the floor, Remus watched her with a tender expression. No wonder James was destroyed by her rejections. Then Lily met his gaze and whispered “Thank you for listening. Sometimes it feels like no one else is.”

And though Remus usually found other people’s emotions a burden, he replied. “Always”

The moment was interrupted when Mary pushed open the gate, her hair strangely flat and shiny. “There you two are! Remus, are you finished for the day? We should all start getting dressed and ready.”

Lily stood, running her hand through Mary’s curls and pulling away with slick skin. “What’s in your hair?”

“Effie put some of her Ayurvedic oil in it. She’s going to wash it for me when we go inside. She did it for me last season and it worked wonders!” Mary gushed.

Lily linked her arms with Mary and Remus and started to lead them back to the house. “She’s full of incredible remedies that Lady Potter.”

———

Remus sat on the end of Mary’s bed while Lily had a ladies’ maid twist her fiery hair into an elaborate updo. Already in her ballgown, she looked a vision in a metallic green with gold detailing and matching hair pins featuring leaves on the ends reminiscent of an ancient greek wreath. Marlene, who had been ready for an hour, donned a statement white dress with bold black applique, and snigg*red at Mary.

Mary was bent over a bathtub as Lady Potter, dressed but borrowing Mrs. Pomfrey’s apron to protect her gown, scrubbed soap through her hair before tossing a jug of water over Mary’s head to rinse the suds. From under her dripping mop, Mary spluttered. “Almost done now, beti.” Lady Potter said.

Finally, Mary sat up from the bathtub and allowed Lady Potter to dry her hair with a cloth before crawling over to the fireplace with a comb. There was a knock at the door, and all eyes turned to Remus to answer it. Remus pulled the divider across behind him to block any view of the room before opening the door. Why the ladies had insisted he help them dress, he did not know. Perhaps it was because he was a servant?

“How come you’re allowed in?” Peter whined when Remus opened the door.

“How come you’re so keen to be let in?” retorted Remus. When James and Peter, looking neat and handsome in their suits, gaped at him still, Remus added, “I don’t know, they just asked. Or rather, dragged me, and your mother had none to say about it.”

“Right, well your turn to be transformed.” James said, clapping Remus on the shoulder and leading him across the hallway to his bedchamber.

———

Two hours later, for that was how long it had taken Mary to get ready with the help of four others, Lord Potter, James, Remus, and Peter waited at the foot of the stairs for the ladies to descend. Remus was glad Mcgonagall had taken the hems down on James’ jacket cuffs and trousers so at least he didn’t look like a child that had far outgrown his clothes. “Now, Remus, I hope you don’t mind, but you’ll be taking the carriage with the girls, while my wife and I travel with the boys.”

Remus nodded, unable to come up with any reason why he shouldn’t, when Lady Potter swept down the stairs in an ensemble of vibrant violet silk. She truly was a most elegant woman, and Lord Potter advanced toward the stairs so as to kiss her hand like they were a newly courting couple and not spouses of over twenty years. “The girls are just finishing up. Remus, beta, don’t you look dashing!”

“If the girls look half as beautiful as you, jaanu, they will be sure to capture the entire ballroom’s eyes.” Lord Potter said, sweeping Lady Potter off her feet as she giggled and slapped his chest before he set her down.

Marlene and Lily were next down the stairs, and Remus swore he heard James’ breath hitch in his throat. Peter bumped Remus’ arm and gestured to James, who was slightly dribbling. “Alright there, Prongsy?” Peter chuckled, slapping James' jaw shut.

“Why’d she have to wear green with her red hair? Drives me bloody…” James whispered, turning away comically as Lily raised an eyebrow and Marlene grinned. Remus was about to step forward to distract everyone from James’ aneurysm-like symptoms, but he was beaten to it. Gliding a gloved hand down the railing, Mary descended the stairs in pale pink that contrasted her deep warm complexion. In her hair, which was recovered of any oil and now in a voluminous spiral atop her head, were the peonies Lady Potter had tended to the other day. The gentlemen at the ball would be visiting the doctor in the coming week regarding pain in their knees from falling on them.

“I promised my first dance to Petey.” Mary said matter-of-factly, linking arms with Peter. Lord Potter looked at Slughorn, who affirmed that the carriages were prepared. Remus knew this, afterall, he’d prepared them earlier thinking Mary wouldn’t take a millennia to get ready.

As arranged, Remus joined the girls in the second carriage, and soon they jolted along the road he and Marlene had walked the night before. Lily was still twisting her gloved hands and staring anxiously out the window. Marlene placed a hand on Lily’s wrist and Mary one on her thigh to stop her leg bouncing. “Oh, I don’t want him to ask me to dance! If I decline publicly, he’ll be humiliated! Sirius will make fun of him for it forever!” Lily whined.

“That’s alright, just have Remus fill in every dance on your dance card the minute we enter. Then he can’t ask.” Marlene soothed.

“And I can’t dance.” Remus interjected. Then, he added as casually as he could. “But James can.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “So you’re on his side now? I’ll ask Peter.”

Mary shook her head. “His first dance is with me, and that’s only so he can catch the eye of Evangeline Moresby before he asks her.”

“I won’t dance with Potter.” Lily folded her arms. “He’s so co*cky! It’ll be all “Finally succumbed to my charms, Evans?” Or “I knew you were just pretending to despise me so, Evans!”, gosh the audacity!” Lily put on an exaggeratedly low voice to impersonate James.

“He doesn’t sound like that. And it’s James or Snape. He’s the lesser of two evils.” Marlene said.

They hadn’t noticed the city lights flashing through the curtains nor how smooth the road had become until the carriage stopped and they realised they were at the ballroom. The Blacks apparently hired the ballroom every season for they believed that only the most noble should be allowed within the vicinity of their home with an invite. The Blacks’ Ball was a way for them to show off their immense fortune annually in order to remind all of London how dreadfully important their pureblood family was. Remus couldn’t wait to meet Sirius if that was his family…

Mary clasped Lily’s hand, “Quick, ask Potter or someone else will!”

Lily looked to Remus for reassurance. “Do it until it doesn’t make you happy.” Remus shrugged, and Lily smiled a little, then quietly agreed to speak with James before they entered.

Slughorn opened the carriage door for them, assisting the ladies with their exit. Lord and Lady Potter led the party through the grand double doors and around the side, up a narrow flight of velvet carpeted stairs, and then over to an announcer. “Lord Fleamont Potter, and my wife, Lady Euphemia Potter.” Lord Potter whispered. The announcer repeated their titles as Lord and Lady Potter descended a wide, lavish staircase that dipped into a gilded baroque ballroom swollen with glittering guests. Most heads turned to watch their entrance, and at the foot of the stairs, a stern looking couple dressed in mourning attire greeted them stiffly. Next, Peter stepped forward with Mary.

“Young Mister Peter Pettigrew and Miss Mary Jaqweshia Macdonald.”

James beamed down at Lily, who reluctantly threaded her arm through his as though his jacket had a layer of slime on it. “Young Lord James Fleamont Potter and Miss Lillian Josephine Evans.”

Marlene pulled Remus forward, who’d rather do anything but have an entire ballroom watch him lumber down the stairs after how regally James had descended. The announcer leaned in to hear Remus’ name before calling, “Mister Remus John Lupin and Miss Marlene McKinnon.”

And then, in a flash of a racing pulse and a yank of his elbow, Remus was down the stairs and in a sea of people whose jewelry alone could pay for Remus to return home and for Mum to have the necessary doctor’s visits. If only she could see him now; being paid a more than fair wage to swan around with aristocrats.

Before he had time to get his bearings, a woman cleared her throat accompanied by the clinking of a spoon against a champagne flute. All around him, guests ceased their chatter to join the clinking using various rings or cuff links until the room had quieted, heads turned to a platform where the couple that had greeted Lord and Lady Potter stood. “Who died?” Remus whispered to Marlene in response to their dull but expensive looking garments.

“Their love for their children.” Marlene replied, leaving Remus confused.

The woman spoke. “Thank you all kindly for attending our annual ball. We are honored to host the event that marks the beginning of a fruitful season where appropriate and pleasing matches are found amongst the suitable members of high society. Now, as I’m sure you’re all aware and anticipating, our son and heir has prepared a performance to start the evening.”

“They do this every year, it’s so dramatic.” Marlene murmured.

“Who are they?” Remus asked as the man’s voice boomed, though he wasn’t listening.

Marlene glanced at Remus with a frown. “Lord Orion Black and Lady Walburga Black, of course. It’s their ball!”

Remus didn’t have time to register how pompous their names were before a speedy piano piece floated through the air and the whole room seemed to freeze. Though the song was much faster than Gymnopedie 1, the way in which the sounds came, that intensely familiar liquidity, Remus knew he had found his mystery pianist.

What he hadn’t expected was for him to be absurdly gorgeous.

Sirius Black.

Chapter 5: V - Scum

Chapter Text

Remus often found beauty when others struggled to find it. There were very few people who he failed to find beautiful in some way; the curve of their jaw, the arch of their eyebrows, how their lopsided grin exuded warmth, the way their ears stuck out just a bit, dwarfing their features in an endearing way.

So it was no wonder at all that Remus was completely astounded by the visage of Sirius Black. Of all the words in his vocabulary, pretty was the first to come to mind as Remus watched Sirius entertain the ballroom. Inky waves, curled around his chiseled cheekbones and framed his angular jaw, his fine brow, and pouty lips. Pretty, pretty, pretty.

Now that he could see him properly, Remus was able to appreciate his prowess even more. Though his hands flew across the keys, he didn’t frantically read the sheet music to keep up with the tempo, nor did he frown at his hands in concentration. He simply let his eyes flutter shut and the melody pour raw from his chest, as though the grand piano was merely an accessory and the piece was a product of his own flesh. Remus had never seen anything like it. Dorcas the fiddler had been skilled and jovial, and Mum was a competent singer, but while they worked to master music, Sirius was made of it.

Much to Remus’ dismay, Sirius’ fingers slowed until the performance had ended and the entire room erupted in applause, Remus perhaps the most enthusiastic of them all. Once Sirius had taken a poised bow, he left the stage and came down to meet the guests. Remus stood on his toes to try and locate him again, but Marlene pulled him over to a corner before he could catch a glimpse of those raven waves. “Come along, everyone meets over here after the obnoxious performance is over.”

Once they made it over to a settee slightly obstructed by decadent floral arrangements, they waited only a minute before Peter and Mary joined them, Peter offering coy smiles at a young woman across the floor who fanned herself excitedly. That must be Evangeline Moresby, Remus guessed. Lily was next to meet them, and trailing behind her were James and Sirius. “Wormy!” Sirius exclaimed, pulling Peter in for a quick embrace and a kiss on the head, almost sloshing champagne down Peter’s back in the process. “Mary, my darling, don’t you look ravishing!” Mary squealed, leaning forward to kiss Sirius on either cheek, as was her usual greeting. “McKinnon, you’ve cleaned up nicely.”

Marlene rolled her eyes. “Charming as ever, Black.”

Then Sirius’ eyes turned to Remus, and suddenly the room was quite stifling. Before Sirius had a chance to speak, the orchestra began to play for the first dance. James winked at Sirius as Lily huffed and dragged James toward the floor, followed by Mary and Peter. Upon their departure, Lady Potter and Mrs. McKinnon, accompanied by a young man who looked like a true dandy with his coiffed hair, arrived to greet Sirius. “Sirius, beta, you played wonderfully!” Lady Potter exclaimed, pulling Sirius in for a fierce embrace.

“Thank you, Maa. I missed you.” Sirius replied, gazing at Lady Potter as though she were the sun.

Mrs. McKinnon cleared her throat, and the luxurious gentleman stepped forward. “Miss McKinnon, may I have this dance?”

Marlene gritted her teeth, and in response to her mother’s glare, responded in a slightly strained voice. “Yes, of course.”

“We’re going to go watch the first dance, but it was lovely to see you, beta, please come by more often!” Lady Potter said, pinching Sirius’ cheek. “Have fun, Remus.”

Once they’d turned to leave, Sirius downed the rest of his champagne and faced Remus. “Yes, Wolf John Wolf, you best enjoy yourself,” he said in his posh accent, all rounded syllables.

“Wolf John Wolf?” Remus replied.

“Your name? It means wolf, but your middle name is John, so you must be Wolf John Wolf.” Sirius grinned.

Remus chuckled a little. “I suppose.”

They were interrupted when a party of four approached them, preceded by the romantic-looking boy from the gothic manor. Glancing between the boy and Sirius, Remus finally noticed how similar they looked; the same dark hair, defined jaws, and lean build. But while the boy’s features were soft and gloomy, his grey eyes created with watercolor paint to avoid the certainty of harsh lines, Sirius’ eyes was sure and sultry. “Mother wishes to see you.” the romantic-looking boy asserted, before turning to Remus. “The stablehand,” he said as a statement and not a question or an acknowledgment of recognition.

“The horse torturer.” Remus quipped.

Sirius cackled. “How’d you come up with that one?”

“You wouldn’t feel tortured if you had to respond to “Kreacher”?” Remus retorted. “Besides, it’s not as though I know his Christian name.”

“But you know his horse’s?” Sirius responded, before shaking his head with a grin. “Well, this is my darling baby brother Reggie.”

“Regulus Arcturus Blac-”

“And his henchmen! The one who looks like he has a stick rammed up his arse is Bartemius Crouch Junior and the lemon sucker is Evan Rosier.” Sirius gestured, earning a growl from Barty.

“We are quite acquainted,” Evan mumbled into his champagne.

“And how could I forget! This is Evan’s much better half, Miss Pandora Rosier. I’ve nothing negative to say about her.” Sirius claimed as Pandora, a woman with the same icy colouring as Evan, obviously his twin, offered a spacey smile.

Regulus huffed. “Stop with the antics, Sirius, Mother wishes to have you request a dance with Miss Emmeline Vance.”

Sirius scoffed. “Mother can wish all she likes, I do not wish to dance. Remmie and I have some introductions to make.” Sirius slung an arm around Remus’ shoulders and pulled him away from their corner and toward the double doors he’d entered through at the start of the night alongside the Potters’ party. Instead of leading him left as Lady Potter had, Sirius hauled them right until they overlooked the ballroom from behind the banister of an interior balcony. Remus felt like he was in an opera box. “Mother can’t see me up here.”

“Why don’t you want to dance?” Remus replied and Sirius handed him a champagne flute he’d taken off a tray on their way up.

“I’d rather get drunk and watch my cousins begrudgingly mingle with people who aren’t of our “pureblood” nobility. They likely think everyone in here but them is diseased.” Sirius pointed over the banister to the middle of the dancefloor brimful with twirling couples. “That’s my cousin Narcissa, and her fiance, Lucius Malfoy. He survived the rounds of interrogations apparently, as he proposed last week. Hideous ring. That’s Bellatrix and her husband, Rodolphus Lestrange. They have a sister in the middle, Andy, but she’s sane so she married for love and never looked back. She sends me sheet music that my mother would hate me playing so I can spite her.”

“How about Crouch and Rosier? How come Regulus can be friends with them?”

“Alright, listen carefully, because there is a lot of incest in my family. These past generations have been alright, but go back too far and it’s like trying to unwind a bundle of string.” Sirius said, waving his flute around as he spoke. “So, Bella, Andy, and Cissy’s father is my father’s brother, Cygnus. But my aunt, Druella, her maiden name was Rosier, so in a way, we are related to the Rosiers. Barty Crouch Senior is a marquess. So I suppose that makes little Barty “suitable”.”

Remus closed his eyes for a second, trying to register what Sirius had said. There were a lot of people with very imperious names to remember. “Right.”

“Easy way to remember; if someone is dressed and acting as though there has been a death in the immediate family, it’s probably a relative of mine.” Sirius studied Remus for a moment, causing Remus to shift uncomfortably. Remus focussed on the dancefloor, watching James beam at Lily, who danced with precise technique and practiced footing. Mary and Peter had moved on to different partners, and Remus smiled as he saw Evangeline in Peter’s arms. Of course, he’d requested a waltz with her. Mary danced nicely, though not as skillfully as Lily, and her eyes darted around to absorb the multitude of stares directed at her; ladies’ whispers of envy and gentlemen’s goggles of desire. Marlene’s expression conveyed that of a hostage situation as she tripped over the dandy’s feet, who must have booked a few dances in advance. Amongst various pastels and vibrants, were swirls of black, navy, and brown fabrics that belonged to members of the House of Black. “So, you’re a stablehand? That’s what Reg said?”

“We met when I was taking a walk. But yes, James dragged me here, even though I am his servant.” Remus said itching to go outside for a smoke. Sirius took Remus’ flute and left it on the banister before grabbing his wrist and pulling him, something he’d done twice in the hour Remus had known him. “Where are we going?”

“On second thought, perhaps you should acquaint yourself with high society and pure nobility.” Sirius grinned, pushing through crowds of people until they were face to face with Walburga Black. “Mother, I’d love for you to meet my newest friend, Mister Remus John Lupin!”

Walburga’s already slim lips pursed even more as she raked her eyes down Remus’ lanky frame disapprovingly. “I don’t recall offering a Lupin an invite?”

“Oh, no, Mother, you silly sausage, you! Remus was brought by the dear Potters! He’s their stablehand of course.” Sirius exclaimed with false enthusiasm, slapping Remus’ shoulder like James often did. “Isn’t that just grand!”

“Sirius, a word.” Walburga gritted, yanking Sirius by the arm to drag him away, as Sirius turned back to wink at Remus.

Remus looked down at his borrowed suit, then back up at the room, all the priceless diamonds, the extravagance, ghosts of haughty laughs and gloved hands that popped expensive canapés and hors d'oeuvres in mouths leading to ever-full stomachs. His peer fell on James, who was still dancing with Lily, a smile of satisfaction on his face having won.

This was why James wanted him to come. To blow Walburga Black’s head off with a mere servant’s presence then glide across the dancefloor dripping in privilege.

He knew how happy it would make Sirius.

Remus seethed, rushing out the grand double doors and gulping air as though he’d been suffocated. He fumbled in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes before lighting one and sighing against the building. He’d gone too far. He’d said yes to too many things. He needed to remember who he was. They didn’t really want him, they didn’t truly admire his personality, and enjoyed his character. Mary only paraded him about for something to do, Lily only wanted his ear and nothing else, Marlene befriended him so she could go to the pub, Peter used him as a comparison to know he was enough and James had Remus play substitute for his old Eton arrangement.

Remus didn’t know how he’d been so blind.

Remus heard the doors open and was met with the person he wished to see least. “Was wondering where you’d gone off to,” Sirius said, sauntering over to Remus and looking expectantly at his cigarette. As if Remus would offer it to him.

“Were you? That’s new then.” Remus replied.

“How so?”

At that moment, Remus desperately wished he wasn’t as hot-headed as he was, but alas, the anger had been boiling in his chest too long and now bubbled to the surface in a tidal wave that Remus had no hope of controlling. “Well, you only ever seem to think of yourself! So forgive me for believing it’s so odd that you’d consider where I’d gone? Of course, if you wanted my presence to further rub the fact that a lower-class scum had managed to weasel into your perfect little ball, then I’d understand for that is a characteristically selfish sentiment for you.” Remus dragged a frustrated hand over his face. “I was wrong. You aren’t bloody Prince Hal, you’re Falstaff; using people for your own benefit, heaven forbid the slightest consideration of their feelings.”

“I’d say I’m most like Poins actually.” Remus scoffed, “Remus, come inside-”

Remus raised his hands as if to surrender. “No, I won’t further encroach on your courting season. Tell James how grateful you are for his organising of a servant to attend in order to displease your mother, and tell Lord and Lady Potter I’ll be walking back to the estate.”

Sirius reached for Remus’ arm, but he pulled away. “You can’t walk, it’ll be more than an hour in the dark!”

“Try me! I’d prefer that over the likes of this company.” Remus hissed, before marching toward the gate and leaving a gaping Sirius at the ballroom’s door.

“You don’t talk like lower-class scum!” Sirius yelled.

Remus whipped around. “But you act like it! And I can read, thank you, yet another assumption of yours!”

And with that, Remus was onto the street, empty and aching. Like a little boy, and for the first time in weeks, he thought to himself I want Mum.

Chapter 6: VI - Fy Nghariad

Chapter Text

Remus arrived back at the Potter residence just after one o’clock in the morning. After he’d stomped away from the ballroom he’d realized Sirius, the bastard, was right. It was too far, and if his vague knowledge of London served him correctly, he would have had to go through shadier areas dressed in a fine suit, which would never have ended well. By the grace of god, a cab had passed Remus just as he felt in his pockets, or rather James’ pockets, a handful of coins.

Thus, Remus arrived safely at the Potter mansion. He took the stairs two at a time, fumbling slightly in the dark so as to not wake any staff. The door to James’ bedchamber creaked as Remus nudged it open. He began to undress, taking care to fold each borrowed item and lay it neatly on the bed, before slipping into the rumpled pile of his own clothes that were still strewn across the floor in the far corner by James’ sports equipment. Once dressed, Remus stared at the suit lying neatly on the end of the unmade bed, before deciding to write a note. He peered around in the dark, spotted James’ desk, and then advanced toward it in search of a piece of paper and a pen or quill. His rummaging was successful, and hastily, Remus began to scribble.

James,
Thank you for lending me your suit. Please ask McGonagall to fix the hems for you. I will not be needing it again.

Remus.

“I knew you were up to no good from the moment you stepped foot in this house.” came an annoyingly familiar voice from the door. Filch eyed Remus, lamp in hand. “Come to pocket a few things off Master James, ‘ave you?”

Remus shook his head, holding up the paper. “I was only leaving a note.”

Filch grunted, yanking Remus by his ear, which both shocked and hurt him more than he’d expected. It had been years since anyone had grabbed his ear, probably because it had been a while since an authority figure had been tall enough to do so. Filch was not an imposing man, but his grimy nails dug into Remus’ lobe and he was pulled down to Filch’s height. “Likely story, one Dumbledore would love to hear before he relays it to Master Potter. And where ‘ave you been all night then?” Filch sneered, dragging Remus down the stairs, Remus still with the quill in his hand, leaking ink down his fingers.

Once again, Remus had a golden saviour. Mrs. Pomfrey came into view once they’d turned the curve of the staircase, waiting at the foot wearing her frilly pink nightgown and an incongruous frown to go with it. “He was brought as a guest to the Black’s Ball. McGonagall was telling us all at dinner this evening, which we had early for that very reason. Where were you, Mr. Filch?”

Filch released Remus’ ear, causing Remus to grunt a bit as he stumbled from the lack of tension. “I was feeding Mrs. Norris.”

“For almost two hours? I won’t further interrogate you, but know that you’ve woken more than just myself for no good reason.” Mrs. Pomfrey said sternly, causing Filch to glance at Remus impertinently before silently slipping away, presumably to the servants’ quarters. Mrs. Pomfrey stepped forward, reaching up to touch Remus’ red ear with an expression of concern. “He shouldn’t have manhandled you so. I’ll ask McGonagall to speak with him about it.”

“S’orright,” Remus mumbled, and upon the improper pronunciation, recalled what Sirius had said to him as he walked off. You don’t talk like lower-class scum.

Mrs. Pomfrey looked at him a moment longer. “I see something has happened tonight that’s upset you. I won’t ask, but please talk to me if ever you need a confidant.” she sighed, then quickly added, “Oh, and the post arrived! I left yours on your bed.”

Remus nodded, thanking Mrs. Pomfrey for her kindness and slumping off to bed, quite exhausted from the night. His eyes lit up when he realised the letter was from Mum. He eagerly ripped open the envelope, discarding it before pacing the room to read.

Remus, fy nghariad,
How are you? How are the Potters treating you? I have every faith they are taking care of you, for they were always such lovely guests at the country house. You’ll be pleased to know Dr. Fauntleroy is visiting three times a week to treat my pneumonia. As for those pesky knees, he referred me to a skilled physician who will be helping me with some exercises to strengthen my muscles again. I’m so grateful that you’ve taken up such an opportunity to work in the city, not just for the financial benefits, but for the experience. Though I miss you terribly, I cannot wait to hear of your adventures in the big smoke. I promise to take my time getting better, so you best come home with some real tales!

Ni allaf aros i'ch gweld eto, fy mab.
Mum

Remus embarrassed himself by smelling the paper once he’d read the text twice, trying to pick up the faintest scent of his mother; fresh linen, the sky before it rains, homemade lavender soap, pastry, chamomile. He only smelled paper.

He located the envelope and fit the letter back in before stowing it in the drawer under his desk, discarded his slightly stale clothes in favor of clean, short underpants, and hurled himself into bed, glad tomorrow was Sunday and he would be granted a lie in. If he slept until midday, then dragged out his chores, he wouldn’t have to face James or Mary, and by Monday, they will have forgotten about him and he could go back to being the plain old stablehand he’d planned to be.

Apparently, when in the vicinity of the Marauders, nothing ever goes to plan.

---

The next few days went by just as Remus had expected. He woke up late on Sunday and spent the rest of the daylight hours meandering through his chores as slowly as he could. James had come by once to ask why he’d left, and Remus lied about a headache. He spoke very little at dinner that night and returned to his room to sketch absently, and only feel slightly guilty that he was using James’ art supplies. Monday arrived, and Mary requested two horses to be saddled as a suitor had called and they wished to go on a scenic hack. She’d also questioned his sudden absence, asking if she and James could invite Peter to take supper outside on the porch with him, but Remus declined, lying about being tired. On Tuesday, James left to visit with Sirius, and Mary tried again to talk to Remus about her courting escapades, but Remus insisted she speak with Lady Potter for he had no knowledge in the way of romance.

The granite light of Wednesday’s dawn peered through the window beside Remus’ bed, and Remus rolled over to tug the curtains shut, knowing he had an hour more to sleep before he had to rise. When he turned back on his side to face his room, he yelped at the sight of a lean figure reclining in the chair at his desk and sifting through his sketches.

“Sirius!” Remus gasped, leaping from the bed. “I mean, Mr. Black. I mean, what are you doing with those!” Remus pulled the sketches from Sirius’ fingers, dumping them face down on the desk.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, tracing the length of Remus’ person with his eyes. Remus pulled a sheet around himself, fuming from the intrusion. “It’s Lord Sirius, but knock my father off and I can be Lord Black. Those are quite good, you know. Very stylish.” Sirius gestured nonchalantly to the sketches on Remus’ desk. “Who’s the woman that isn’t Marlene or Mary? The older one?”

“No one! What are you doing here? It’s five o’clock in the morning!” Remus hissed.

“I stayed with Prongs last night. See, you’d know that if you weren’t being so icy toward him as of late. In fact, I stayed with him because he’s been so miserable without you.” Sirius explained, still lazily leaning back in the chair like a bored prince.

“What, so you’ve accosted me at the crack of dawn to tell me to be friends with James? After making a public spectacle of my class? Well, what an astounding apology, Lord Sirius.” Remus replied bitterly.

Remus thought he saw a look of regret pass Sirius’ face, but his fine features fitted themselves back into his usual cheeky indifference so quickly he couldn’t be sure. “James didn’t invite you to the ball to make a fool of you. I did that. He would never have thought of what I did. You know him, he’s kindness personified. Don't punish him or Mary for my actions. They wanted you there.”

Remus gritted his teeth. “I’m not punishing them. I’m knowing my place.”

“He’s giving you a chance to be included, why won’t you accept his offers? Effie and Monty have no qualms at all, they’ve said it so themselves.” Sirius said, not quite raising his voice, but slivers of emotion cracked through his words.

“Of course you won’t understand! Parading around in borrowed suits drinking other people’s champagne doesn’t make me one of you! It makes me a wolf in sheep’s clothing!” Remus yelled, causing Sirius to stand from the chair in order to meet him.

“It absolutely does! That’s all it is, any of it! Just caviar and cigarettes and being well-versed in etiquette! With James by your side, you can do anything, and he wants you to, so do it!” Sirius matched.

“He said the same thing to me once, and the first time I attended an event, a ridiculously handsome lord decided to drag me over to his mother, one of the most influential women in high society, and have her cause a scene over my existence!” Remus shouted.

Sirius pointed at him in triumph, “Ha! You think I’m handsome, you’re jealous!”

“And you’re infuriating!” Remus ranted as James ascended the stairs, glancing between them.

“Pads, you said you were off for a glass of water, what are you doing? Why are you both yelling? We can hear you from inside!” James huffed, obviously having run over. Remus really wished he was wearing a shirt and not draping a sheet across his chest.

“Lord Sirius was just leaving,” Remus said, yanking on a blouse and some crumpled trousers.

“Lord Sirius? You’re funny.” James laughed. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but I haven’t been able to find you,” James started, as Sirius gave Remus a pointed look which he ignored, “Marlene’s been going on about some fiddle lessons at the pub, so would you take us both this time?”

Sirius perked up. “Pub? What pub? Oh, this should be grand, Prongs is a terrible drinker! It should be fine entertainment to watch him swing from a chandelier!”

“There are no chandeliers at pubs, and even if there was one-”

“You lot have woken me up with your screeching!” Mary complained, tottering up the stairs and fussing with her hair. “When are we going to the pub?”

“We’re not, I said to Marlene-” Remus started.

“What’d you say to me?” Marlene yawned, trailing behind Mary.

“Marlene? What are you doing here?” Remus exclaimed as his room became increasingly crowded.

“We both stayed over last night,” Peter said, looking out the window.

“Peter? How long have you been here? I didn’t even see you-”

“So, when are we going to the pub?” Mary asked again, and Remus sighed.

James stepped forward, putting a hand on Remus’ shoulder. “We know you’re worried about getting in trouble, but the only people who can really punish you are my parents, and they’ll hardly care so long as you’ve done your chores. In fact, I’ll say I forced you to come, and that it was my idea, and neither of those are a lie!”

“And if Sirius comes then between the two of them, it’ll be obvious who suggested we go.” Peter tried, prompting nods across the room.

“And really, if we want to go, we will. I must as I said I’d meet Dorcas.” Marlene added.

Mary grasped both of Remus’ hands. “But we want you to come, so please do!” after glancing around the room at the four eager faces and the single raised brow that belonged to Sirius, Remus scrubbed at his face before nodding slowly. Mary cheered, and James clapped him on the back. Suddenly, Mary turned to James and said, “Oh, Lily’s coming early for breakfast this morning, so you best go inside and greet her. She’ll be here soon.”

James’ eyes widened behind his spectacles. “By myself?”

“Now, Prongs, it’s your house she’s come to. Go on, meet her first, then the rest of us will come in a few minutes later.” Peter said reassuringly as he, Mary, and Marlene shuffled down the stairs behind a nervous James.

Remus faced Sirius, who was still idle by the desk, brow furrowed at a sketch that had turned over. “Aren’t you going to go meet Lily?” Remus asked.

Sirius shook his head. “My darling mother wanted me home this morning. Something about a discussion regarding my enrollment in Oxford.”

Remus swallowed, Sirius’ stare never faltering, and the tension of their shouting match thick in the air. Remus expected an apology, an acknowledgment of wrongdoing, or anything at all. Instead, Sirius said quietly, “See you at the pub.” and strode past, down the stairs, and Remus rushed to the window to watch him cross the green, morning light catching the blue hues in his dark hair.

---

Remus had just finished the last of his tasks for the day, which, due to his early awakening and nervous energy, had been completed much faster than usual, and it was only just past midday. The familiar click of the gate latch was followed by Lily’s entrance, and thankfully, she was clutching a book in her hands. “Suppose nothing too awful happened with Snape at the ball, then?” Remus said, plunging his hands into a bucket of fresh water and scrubbing at them with a rag.

“What do you mean?” Lily asked, leaning on a stall door. "And why did you leave?"

Remus ignored her second question and gestured to her book. “You’re reading.”

“Oh, well, yes I suppose Sev didn’t bother me, so I’m feeling much better.” Remus nodded his satisfaction with her answer. “Will you take me out on the lake? The Potters have a boat shed there. It’s a short walk.”

“Am I allowed to?” Remus asked, drying off his hands and shutting the gate behind them.

Lily held the book to her chest as she walked, the soft breeze making stray hairs fly about her face. “Don’t be absurd, the Potters are inclined to allow you anything you please so long as your work is done. And besides, think of this outing as work since I’d have to ask another manservant otherwise.”

“You could ask James?”

Lily whipped around, “I could not! Imagine the serenity of the cool calm lake, the singing of sweet birds, and the soft call of crickets, and then “OI EVANS! WATCH ME THROW MYSELF OFF THE SIDE OF THE BOAT SO AS TO MAKE MY SHIRT CLING TO MY PERFECTLY SCULPTED CHEST!”. Forgive me if that’s not my ideal afternoon.”

Remus smirked, offering his arm to Lily as they navigated over tree roots and odd rocks. “Sounds like it is your ideal afternoon. Say, never have I thought of James’ chest as “perfectly sculpted” until you mentioned it. I’m glad to know someone has noticed.”

Lily huffed. “You vex me. And you know what I meant. He’d do anything to show off, and he has for years! I don’t know why he’s so taken with me.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Your modesty is almost embarrassing. You know that you’re one of the most talented and smartest and wittiest debutantes there is.”

Lily lowered her eyes as they reached the lake. “Witty and smart are not the best qualities for a wife, are they? A woman’s first blood comes from biting her own tongue.”

““Taught from their infancy that beauty is woman's sceptre, the mind shapes itself to the body, and roaming round its gilt cage, only seeks to adorn its prison.”,” Remus replied, pushing open the doors to the tiny, cornflower-painted wooden boat house. It was a darling little thing, with white scaffolding, and inside, rustic racks housed multiple row boats.

Lily helped Remus guide a boat down and into the water. “Wollstonecraft! See, this is why I much prefer you over Sirius or James. I don’t know that they can even read.”

Remus chuckled, steadying the boat. “Doesn’t Sirius speak three languages, and James two? Surely you aren’t giving them enough credit.” Remus helped Lily onto a seat before fitting the oars and wobbling in himself. He’d never rowed a boat before, but it didn’t seem hard.

“Enough about those boys. They’re so butter upon bacon.” Lily sighed, beholding the view of the lakeside that they were slowly gliding past. Long reeds sprouted along the banks like tufts of green hair, and schools of fish skidded past. The water was so clear one could make out the outline of every single rock below the surface when in the shallow. “Although, I appreciate your confidance. Marlene’s a chukaboo, but she often struggles to see things any way but black and white. And Mary, as good a listener as she is, can be a bit of a church-bell so I don’t know that I can trust her mouth to stay shut.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Remus rowing and Lily dipping her pale fingers under the surface of the water. “What are you reading?” Remus asked as they neared the middle of the lake.

“A play. The Importance of Being Earnest. It only premiered in February. I’ve decided to give Wollstonecraft a rest. Pet says it’s making me too political.” Lily answered, opening her bookmarked page.

“She only says that because she can’t think for herself,” Remus responded as Lily playfully hit him with the book.

“That’s my sister! Anyway, here, let’s read. You be Cecily and I’ll be Gwendolen.” Lily said, passing the book to Remus, who set the oars down. “From the top of that page.”

Remus cleared his throat. “You must not laugh at me, darling, but it had always been a girlish dream of mine to love someone whose name was Ernest.”

“No, you must squawk it! Cecily is described as squawky.” Lily teased. “Read it again!”

“yOu MuSt NoT lAuGh At mE, dArLiNg-” Remus tried, but they both quickly descended into giggles so consuming they almost tipped the boat.

Chapter 7: VII - The Black Brothers' Night Out

Chapter Text

Remus lurked behind a thick tree, holding his lamp low to the ground and peering around the trunk. On this side of the mansion, only one window on the second floor had the glow of a fireplace, and a moment later, Sirius’ head popped into view. He squinted for a moment, and Remus waved his lamp a bit to get his attention. Sirius grinned, lifting the window and sticking a leg out before adeptly using ledges and chips in bricks to climb down onto the ground, landing in some red rose bushes. He yelped a bit at the thorns, taking time to avoid snagging his clothes as he exited the bushes. “Merde, I forgot she put those there,” he muttered. Just as Sirius began to advance toward Remus, another head came into view through the ground-floor window, though Remus couldn’t see who it was. He silently pointed to the silhouette, causing Sirius to whip around. Sirius’ shoulders relaxed. “What is it, Reggie?” he whispered.

Regulus slid the window open slowly to avoid it squealing. “Where are you going? You’ve already quarreled with Mother, she’ll kill you.”

“Se détendre. I started that fight so she’d lock me in my room and refuse to be the first to speak. It’s perfect, she won’t even notice I’m gone unless you rat me out.” Sirius started to walk away, but stopped, that Sirius Black grin stretching across his face. “Reg, why don’t you come?”

“What?” both Remus and Regulus said.

“Yes! Come, make an excuse to Mother, she trusts you more than me!” Sirius said.

Remus stepped forward, “Sirius, no, we’ll all get found out.”

Sirius shook his head, stubborn as ever. “Reg, go tell Mother you forgot you had late-night bible study with the Potters.”

“I’m sure she’ll believe that given the Potters are Hindu,” Regulus replied flatly, crossing his arms.

Sirius waved his arm. “But they attend mass so it’ll be fine. And besides, all she can say is no.”

“You know that’s not all she can do. You’ve forgotten.”

Sirius faltered at that, swallowing and shifting. “I haven’t. Goodnight.”

Sirius turned away and trudged off into the darkness, Remus skipping a bit in an attempt to catch up. Their pace slowed, and soon they were both clinging to the light of the lamp in order not to twist an ankle falling in a ditch or rut. Remus was still angry. Trust Sirius’ posh arse to be unable to put his pride aside and apologise for how he’d treated Remus at the ball. Suddenly, Sirius stopped in his tracks and whirled around to squint about the forest. “Do you hear that? Another set of footsteps?”

Remus paused. He was right, in the distance, the sound of shoes squelching in fallen leaves that had become mulch could just be heard. Remus raised the lamp in the direction of the sound, before nudging Sirius. “Your dreams have come true.”

Sirius whooped, no longer having to keep his voice down now that they were a fair walk from the Black Mansion. “Reggie! You came!” Sirius pulled Regulus in by his neck and scruffed his hair, which was shorter than Sirius’ but the same thick jet-black mop.

“I’ll change my mind if you don’t stop.” Regulus huffed. “Where are we going?”

Sirius grinned. “Remmie’s taking us to his pub.”

“It’s not my pub,” Remus grunted, walking faster so as to leave the Black brothers a few paces back, but they both hurried to match his stride.

“Can we slow down?” Regulus said peevishly as he navigated the uneven ground in the dark considering Remus was so far ahead with the lamp.

“Keep up, horse torturer.”

---

“Did you get confused about which was which in the dark, then Remus?” James asked as he pulled Sirius into a rough hug, grasping him by the back of the neck and matching his grin. A look passed between them, a glance that spoke a language that was only theirs, secrecy and willing servitude coloured by fleeting youth. Sirius and James, James and Sirius, but never one and not the other, perhaps in distance but never in thought. James then turned to Regulus. “Glad you could make it.”

Sirius nudged James. “Don’t make me forget I’m your favourite, you sop.”

James, one arm around Sirius’ shoulders and the other around Remus’, began to walk around the side of the Potter residence toward the bushes on the other side of the gate where Marlene would be waiting with the others. “How did you know where to go, Remus? I never told you how to get to the Blacks’.”

Remus looked to the ground as Regulus and Sirius stared at him expectantly. Somehow, the thought of telling them he’d rushed through his chores in his first week at the Potters’ with the thought that he might get a glimpse of the mystery pianist, fractured notes of a new melody, or a shard of perfect chords when he went for his afternoon walk was too strange, so he just shrugged. “I stumbled across it once. Put two and two together after the ball.”

They met with the rest of their party on the other side of the gate. James hadn’t had to lie to his parents, but Lily, Peter, and Marlene had snuck out, and Mary had told Lord Potter she was going to visit Marlene who was experiencing “lady troubles”. Remus had learned that the term “lady troubles” really meant “I don’t want to tell you so don’t bother me”. He sometimes wished he could say the same thing without getting odd looks. The party greeted Sirius enthusiastically but gawked a bit when Regulus appeared behind the trio. “Baby Black’s coming too?” Mary asked, and Remus swore Regulus’ cheeks turned pink.

“We’ve a daredevil on our hands ladies and lads!” Sirius announced, clapping a stoic Regulus on the back who seemed to be seriously regretting his life choices. “Now, once more unto the breach, dear friends!”

As the group began to walk, they split off into pairs to keep to the side of the road. James and Lily were at the head of the caravan, James talking animatedly, effortlessly handsome highlighted by the moonlight, and Lily listening begrudgingly, though the quirk of a smile bested her lips occasionally before being replaced with seemingly false irritation. Marlene and Regulus discussed cricket techniques and plays they’d seen, Regulus apparently being a skillful batter and a worthy opponent the few times he’d been forced into a game with James and Marlene. Mary and Peter chatted excitedly about the baked goods they were planning on making for Lady Potters’ upcoming tea party, Peter was certain about macarons while Mary argued for iced biscuits because they could be pink and decorated exquisitely. Peter countered this point by saying macarons were more impressive, and by then, Remus had lost track. He was too focussed on Sirius’ breathing. Why did he have to breathe so loud? Was he impersonating a rhinoceros having an asthma attack?

Finally, the intense breathing, which may have not been so intense but Remus’ disdain for the elder Black brother acted as an amplifier, ceased and Sirius spoke. “How did you know where my house was? I thought James told you.”

“And I thought I told you that I stumbled upon it, Regulus found me and demanded I leave at once, and when I met you both at the ball, I figured that it was where you resided. Do you need it said slower?” Remus replied, shoving his hands in his pockets like an upset child.

“You aren’t telling me something. Secrets, secrets with you.” Sirius tutted, though he smirked a little, soft lips parting ever so slightly. Remus tensed his jaw, keeping his eyes ahead. “I don’t know why you called yourself scum. I’ve been thinking about it. What do you like to read?”

Remus wanted to yell, to shake Sirius and rant that he’d used Remus to displease his mother, he’d taken a mosaic of experiences that society has shaved down into a simple term of “class” and made a mockery of it. How could he saunter along next to Remus, strutting as though they were old friends when he’d done such a thing? Remus didn’t want to have another angry outburst, so he exhaled, then said, “Anything I can get my hands on.”

“The Potters have a magnificent library. And so do we, if you were interested, though the room itself is dreary and not conducive to the imagination if fiction is your preference. And actually, though they don’t have a library, Lily has a personal annotated collection I’m sure she’d lend you so you could talk-”

“Are we going to pretend then?” Remus cut Sirius off as the path turned from dirt to cobbles and the city drew nearer. They’d be at the pub soon, whatever discomfort ensued in the upcoming conversation could be abandoned when they reached The Three Broomsticks.

“Pretend what?” Sirius asked. Remus went to answer, though Sirius started a new sentence before he could. “No, I know. It was silly of me to ask. I thought since you were a friend of Prongs’, that you’d be a friend of mine. Had James or Pete been in the same position as you, they’d have laughed along and shared the joke. I forgot you wouldn’t have known the impact of a small victory such as a tantrum of my mother’s. I apologise for my actions, and again because it has taken me so long to do so.” Sirius said quickly, gesturing with his hands and pausing often to think, to carefully select his next words. “And you were right. I don’t understand where you’ve come from.”

Remus inhaled deeply, the vague smell of pine mingled with smoke from the chimneys which increased in density as they walked soothing him. The city smelled like freedom and choice, like one knew there was an abundance of roads and paths and decisions that were all theirs and held little consequences. The smell of people and feeling; humanity, and the history of civilisation whittled down to the innate need for connection. It was something he hadn’t grown up with, yet had grown to love in his recent travels. “Yorkshire.”

Sirius looked at Remus, eyebrows raised as though he hadn’t expected a response. “Pardon?”

“I come from Yorkshire, Padfoot,” Remus added, and Sirius grinned that Sirius Black grin.

Sirius elbowed Remus. “We’ll have to get you one of those. No more hunting parties though, that was a terrible idea, though I’m a much better shot now.” Sirius nodded toward the pub which was coming into view. James held the door open for the group to enter, the amber light of the hall pouring out onto the street.

Remus smiled as he watched Marlene wave at Dorcas, who had just finished a song. She set down her fiddle and rushed over to pull Marlene into a warm embrace, kissing her on the cheek when they pulled apart. “How are you, my love? I was starting to think you wouldn’t come,” she said, a soft dimple appearing as she grinned. Her locs were tied under a bright red scarf in a bundle at the nape of her neck, two having come undone and swaying beside her face. Around her fingers were rings of gold and silver with varying stones, and her bracelets clinked as she moved. “Who are your friends? I remember the tall one.”

Remus waved, which Dorcas returned before she stared up at Marlene expectantly. Marlene’s mouth stayed agape, then she burst into a fit of giggles, her face going slightly red. “These..ah..this…so…”

Mary stepped forward, bringing Lily with her. “I’m Mary, lovely to meet you. Though, I feel I already have, what with Marlene’s incessant chatter about her midnight fiddler.” Marlene had regained her senses enough to smack Mary. Remus wondered what about fiddle lessons made her so nervous and giggly. “This is Lily, that’s James, Peter, Sirius, Reggie-”

“Regulus Arcturus B-”

“And the sycamore is Remus.”

“I’d say I’m more of a redwood, actually,” Remus said.

Sirius interrupted. “Enough about American tree variations, may we order our drinks?”

Dorcas smiled. “Of course, Alice and Frank will serve you. Come now, Marls, there’s an empty room where we can have some quiet. Can’t learn if you can hardly hear yourself playing!”

“Playing! The fiddle! Yes!” Marlene said quickly, eagerly grabbing Dorcas’ dark hand and allowing herself to be led away.

Mary folded her arms. “She does that all the time, doesn’t she, Lily? She gets so excited to see certain friends, then never talks to them again. Remember Laura Farthing? They were thick as thieves, and Marlene would get all flustered, then nothing! They haven’t spoken in years. The same thing with that Maud from her embroidery class when we were fifteen. She ought to stop getting in fights.”

Lily put a hand on Mary’s shoulder. “If you know it’ll pass, don’t be jealous. Besides, it isn’t right to go about saying Marlene starts fights when we don’t know that they stopped talking due to conflicts.” Mary and Lily looked to Remus for input.

“Lady troubles?”

Lily and Mary nodded seriously as if he’d contributed something insightful.

“Look, he looks just like me! And there’s me again! Oh, and so does he! It’s me, again!” James shouted, pointing at the wall. Everyone looked confusedly at where he was gesturing, and Lily groaned when she saw the array of stag heads on the wall.

“You’re absurd,” she said, sitting at a bench and pulling out a new book. Remus supposed she had finished The Importance Of Being Earnest.

Mary scoffed. “Only you would bring a book to a pub.” Peter came over with their drinks, and Mary called for cheers, resulting in clinking glasses. “To getting entirely inebriated and having to bear the consequences of our own actions tomorrow!” She yelled, the entire pub encouraging her by raising their own drinks.

“Alright, alright, a game first,” Peter said, putting a hand over the rims of Mary and Sirius’ drinks. “Who’s playing?”. Mary, James, and Sirius agreed, but Remus had a feeling it’d be best if he stayed sober that night, and Lily wasn’t interested either. Everyone turned to Peter, waiting for instructions for the game. He faltered after a moment, shoulders slumping. “Remus, do you know any drinking games?” Remus thought for a moment, before shaking his head. In Yorkshire, he hadn’t had many friends, only neighbours that were all decades apart from him in age. It made Remus consider that he’d pushed the marauders away because he didn’t actually know what friendship felt like, only what looked like. He was so used to being in his lonesome he didn’t recognise himself anywhere else, and he suddenly wasn’t so sure how to feel about that. Tuck it away for another day, he thought, I'm no Freud and thank goodness. I don't miss Mum like that.

“Ooh, how about we play dares, and if you refuse to execute the dare you are given, you must drink!” James said, as Sirius agreed avidly and Mary commented on the idea being boring while simultaneously accepting to partake.

“Me first then! Mary, Mary, my dear darling Mary, I dare you to…lick the table.” Sirius said slyly.

“What? Black, that’s foul!” Mary protested, and Remus and Lily exchanged side eyes.

“Dare’s a dare. So you refuse?”

Mary eyed the table, which the flickering light of various candles around the room emphasised as being sticky in some patches. Remus dusted some crumbs away to be helpful. But Mary sighed, being the first one to drink.

Sirius grinned. “Well, since she forfeited, my turn again. Wormy, same dare.” Peter bent over the table, flicking his tongue out so quickly it barely skimmed the surface, but it was still obvious enough contact had been made. “That hardly counts!”

Peter smiled triumphantly. “You never said how long. Jims, go ask that woman over there to dance with you when Dorcas comes back to play.”

“Pete, I can’t! You know I can’t, bugger you! Not bloody fair, that was targetted…” James grumbled into his glass.

The game continued on like this for an hour, with Remus silently spectating and the four players becoming more and more unsteady on their feet and less and less enunciable. Lily paid no mind, her evergreen eyes scanning the pages in front of her, and biting her small lip. When Remus glanced back to the game, they’d somehow gotten Regulus involved, though he vetoed every dare, instead opting for a drink. It was unlikely he’d ever been out drinking in his life, and he’d probably never had anything but fine wine. He’d learn by tomorrow morning what a bad influence Sirius was. Though neither brother would remember anything in the morning, Remus smiled to think of the memories being created. So intangible, but all the same so solid and real. At some point, Marlene and Dorcas returned, and Dorcas started a lively tune to accompany the anarchy that was James’ self-invented yet basic drinking game. Marlene came to sit beside Remus, face flushed. Remus nodded to where Dorcas played. “Why don’t you show us what you’ve learned?”

“Oh, god no, I’m still dreadful, I’ve only just started,” Marlene replied, taking a swig from Remus’ drink and fiddling with a ring. Remus frowned, having remembered seeing it somewhere, but not on Marlene. Marlene noticed his staring and smiled, a soft smile that was only hers yet Remus was lucky to be privy to it. “Cas gave it to me. It’s hers. That’s nice isn’t it?”

“Cas?” Remus asked. He glanced over at Lily, still engrossed in her book, and Mary, who may as well have been following a zig-zag line on the floor with the way she was walking, or rather, stumbling. Remus leaned in closer to Marlene, who looked at him with concern. “Who’s Laura Farthing? And Maud?”

Marlene’s face dropped. “Did someone mentio-”

“OI EVANS! EVANS OI! CARROT-TOP! HERE, WATCH THIS!” James shrieked as he balanced on the railing of the staircase. Dorcas had stopped playing, and the entire pub had turned to see what was going on. Lily slammed her book on the table.

“James Fleamont Potter, what are you doing!? Get down! You’re such an idiot!” Lily yelled, putting her arms out as if to stop him.

“I LOVE IT WHEN YOU’RE MEAN TO ME! YOU’RE SO BEAUTIFUL!” James hollered, the ends of his words tapering into a slur.

“Go on, Prongsy, show her!” Sirius encouraged, and Remus grabbed his elbow, yanking him toward the table.

“What are you doing? He’s going to kill himself! What was the dare, try to fly?” Remus hissed.

All too late, Remus realised he was wrong about the pub not having a chandelier. Though it wasn’t the crystal kind that Sirius had meant, there, in fact, was a chandelier, if one could classify it as such. A simple metal hoop with unsteady candles hanging from the ceiling. James braced himself before leaping off the staircase.

Remus felt like he was holding his breath for an eternity, and to his and everyone at the pub’s horror, James missed the hoop and went plummeting to the ground. Remus closed his eyes and winced, Marlene’s knuckles white from gripping his arm. He waited for the crack of bones or screams of pain or clamouring and panic, and yet, not a soul spoke.

When he finally opened his eyes, James was hanging by the back of his waistcoat from one of the many stag heads’ antlers. There was a ripping noise, before the back of James' waistcoat succumbed to gravity and tore, leaving him a heap on the ground but physically fine. The pub resumed its chatter and James wobbled over to the table. Lily folded her arms. “Now you know how it feels to publicly tear a garment. And I’m not impressed. In fact, we’re all leaving.”

“Yes, now.” Remus supported, as he, Marlene, and Lily grasped armfuls of their friends in various states of sobriety and herded them out the door, questioning how on earth they’d trip their way through the dark with five drunkards to protect.

---

“We’ll take Mary to her room, will you be alright with the boys?” Lily whispered in the Potters’ hallway after they’d not-so-silently entered the house. While nothing ever went to plan with the marauders, it seemed god still smiled upon them for they’d made it home safely. Remus nodded as Lily and Marlene kissed him goodnight, and Mary attempted to do the same but ended up slamming her forehead into his chest instead.

Remus closed the door behind him, facing the room of currently incapable young men. Peter was already passed out in James’ armchair, and Sirius was a mere black mop of hair peeking out from under James' duvet. Though, when searching for two more dark-haired boys, one with wild waves and the other with soft tresses, Remus panicked when he realised somehow he’d lost James and Regulus. He slipped out the door, creeping down the stairs in an attempt to locate them while desperately trying not to get fired having entered the Potter residence after midnight on multiple occasions. The sound of giggles from the parlor made Remus speed up to try and intercept any funny business, however, he stopped short behind the doorway when the giggles were accompanied by low whispers. He didn’t enjoy eavesdropping, and he really didn’t mean to, but he’d caught a glimpse of James’ face, which was far too solemn for the situation. He couldn’t interrupt.

“She justttt doesn’t see me, Reg,” James mumbled, his head lolling to the side as Regulus sat beside him on the settee, less drunk but still decently tipsy.

“She saw you tonight,” Regulus replied, shifting to pull his knees to his chin in a way sober distinguished gentleman Regulus would never have done.

“Buuut she didn’t like my stunt! And we talkedd, you know, when we wereee…walking.” James replied, slowly banging his head against the back of the settee. The grandfather clock in the corner chimed three in the morning, the gold pendulum swinging absently. “And ‘twas good, but then I have funn, and she doesn’t like me againn!”

Regulus swallowed, staring at his hands. “You scared her.”

“You think so? She was…worrieeed?”

A nod. No eye contact.

“I do.”

“You’re handsome, Reggie. You could be a paintinngg. Remus will paint you. Remussss. Remusss!” James called, and Remus winced at the volume, but Regulus beat him to it, clapping a hand over James' mouth, which he hurriedly retreated when James ceased his ramblings.

“I…I was glad you didn’t get hurt, too.”

Remus bit his knuckle, but James’ eyes had been closed for a minute before he stepped into the room, Regulus' eyeline flying toward him. “C’mon you two. Up to Prongs’ room.”

Regulus shook his head. “I have to be home, Mother will have my head.”

“That’s absurd, you can’t go home drunk. I’ll wake you early in the morning so you can go home hungover instead, with Sirius trailing behind. C’mon, now, help me get James up since you’re half sober.” Remus insisted, snaking an arm around James and hauling him to his feet.

“Remusss! Was just talking ‘bout youuu.” and James was gone again.

After much strenuous effort, Regulus and Remus fitted James into the bed beside Sirius before Regulus took the other armchair as his resting place for the night. Remus checked that everyone was alright, before tip-toeing toward the door, at the creak of the doorknob, Sirius sat up. “What is it? Are you going to vomit?” Remus asked, searching the room for an appropriate bucket or bowl-shaped item, and calculating whether he had time to run to the kitchen instead.

“Where’you goin?” Sirius said, scrubbing his eyes, delicate lily-white wrists stark in the navy darkness.

“To my bed…”

Regulus chimed in, apparently not yet asleep. “You cannot. You said you’d wake us so we could return before Mother throttles us.”

“I’ll return in the morning-”

“Nooo, stayyy, don’t be out there all coldddd.” Sirius whined, and Remus rushed forward to shush him in fear of waking James and Peter.

“I can’t, Sirius, there’s nowhere for me to-”

“Stayyyyy”

“Shh, shh, shhh alright, alright, where do you propose I sleep, because there isn’t another four-poster canopy bed that I can see.”

Sirius rolled over, shuffling closer to James and leaving space on the end of the mattress. “There, skinny boy, you’ll fittt.” Remus pursed his lips, but quickly slid on top of the crimson duvet when he saw Sirius’ mouth open in order to avoid more whining. Sirius yawned. “Wake me in the morning, horsey boy.”

Remus was about to offer a rebuttal, a snide comment of the usage of “skinny boy” and “horsey boy” in the same span of time, however, he lay still on his back and focused on his breathing. Inhale, exhale, the rise of his chest and the heaviness of fatigue on his back.

“Goodnight, Padfoot.”

Chapter 8: VIII - Golden

Chapter Text

Remus scrubbed Nimbus’ hooves, whistling a tune he’d heard months ago, though he couldn’t recall when or where. He’d been up before the sun rose, though he usually was, but this time it had been to wake the Black brothers in time for them to arrive home without Walburga Black noticing their absence. Regulus had, despite a seemingly feral hangover, tidied himself and stood to wait by the door while Remus coaxed Sirius out of bed.

“Your mother will be angry, get up!” Remus whispered, shaking Sirius’ shoulder and trying to pull him away from James in case he nudged him awake. They’d all need to be nursed for the remainder of the day, especially James’ pride when he woke to find a partially shredded waistcoat on his floor.

Sirius lazily slapped a hand over Remus’ nose before dragging it down his face, tugging at his bottom lip as his palm slid over Remus’ chin. Remus swallowed. “No, five more minutesss.”

“Oh, for god sake,” Regulus muttered, annoyed. He wrenched Sirius out of bed by his arm, causing him to land with a thud on the floor. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“See you later, Moony,” Sirius mumbled as Regulus jerked him toward the door without offering a goodbye of his own.

So now, with Remus’ hands occupied, he wondered and wondered why Sirius had called him Moony. Maybe he’d meant to say Remus, though they didn’t sound similar, or perhaps Lupin, though that wasn’t close either. Lost in his thoughts, Nimbus kicked angrily when Remus accidentally stabbed the little triangle-shaped piece of tender, exposed skin. He whispered a soft apology to the horse, coming around to his front to pet his nose in a poor attempt to console him. He should have been paying more attention. Remus started for the tack room, looking to lead Nimbus into the small paddock for an afternoon in the sun along with the other horses when he heard the familiar latch of the gate. Expecting to meet Mary or James, Remus called “I haven’t finished just yet, and no, I will not be playing cricket-”

“Remus, beta, don’t tell me James is forcing you to play cricket against your will! I’ll speak with him.” Lady Potter said, looking dignified and smiling warmly. Standing on the hay-strewn cobbles, with worn wooden stall doors on either side of her, Lady Potter looked like a goddess who'd come to grace the mere mortals with her presence. She was wearing a cream robe-like dress, presumably a tea dress, and she straightened the front every so often.

“Sorry, I thought you were James. You look lovely, Lady Potter, are you preparing for your tea party?” Remus asked, the smile Lady Potter offered him making his heart ache to tell his own mother that she looked pretty and to ask about her plans for the day. For her to have plans at all.

“Oh, beta, I have been rushing about the house for hours, and Mary and Peter are labouring in the kitchen despite both having sudden headaches. Mrs. McKinnon, Mrs. Evans and Mrs. Pettigrew will surely be impressed. Oh, what a joy it is to have Mary here.” Lady Potter rambled, glowing as she spoke of her loved ones, the extended family she had built herself on kindness and inclusion. “But you mustn’t let me ramble now! I came to bring you something, not to bore you with old lady talk.”

“You could never bore me,” Remus said as Lady Potter passed him a small folded piece of paper. “Thank you.”

Lady Potter pursed her lips. “Forgive the intrusion, but I read it you see, for I thought it was intended for me as a servant of the Blacks’ brought it.”

Mr R.J Lupin,
Please arrive at the Black Manor at 12 o’clock precisely. Should Lady Euphemia Potter have an issue with your departure, have her contact the Black residence for reimbursem*nt of your absence.

Lady Walburga Black, The House Of Black.

Tourjours Pur.

Remus closed the note, looking at Lady Potter for reassurance, guidance, direction. Did she know? Was she aware he was about to have the scolding of his life, possibly worse, for the borderline kidnapping of the Black brothers?

“Toujours Pur is their family motto. They sign any and all documents with it, it’s not personal to you, beta.” Lady Potter said.

Remus nodded slowly. “So, may I go then…?”

“Oh, of course, of course, and no reimbursem*nt is needed, you complete your work to a highly admirable standard, Remus, please. Though, when you arrive, would you invite her to the tea party this afternoon on my behalf? Perhaps it would be kind to include her…”

“Yes, certainly,” Remus said, stowing the letter in his pocket. “I best leave now, then?”

“That is wise. Good luck, beta.” Lady Potter said, unexpectedly pulling Remus into a brief but affectionate hug. If Lady Potter was scared for him, Remus ought to be quaking.

---

Remus shivered slightly, unsure whether it was because the room was cold or because Walburga Black had the iciest glare he’d ever encountered.

Walburga kept her beady stare trained on him, barely moving her lips though articulating clearly as she said “Do you take sugar and milk in your tea, Mr. Lupin?”

“Yes, three sugars and milk,” Remus said reflexively, before catching himself. “I mean, no, I won’t have any tea. Thank you. I apologise. Sorry. Lady Black.”

“I do not like people who ramble or stutter.”

Remus went to apologise again, but he forced his mouth shut and waited for Walburga to speak again. She did not. Remus gazed around at the parlor, which was entirely different from the warm, homely parlor at the Potter residence. The Potters had countless parlor games stacked in the corner, a fireplace with a mantel adorned with miniatures of family members and memories and sentimental pieces; birthday cards decorated with colourful scribbles that reflected the artistic skill of a young James, a sculpture of a vibrant elephant with gold jewelry, James’ infant footprint in clay, even a child’s drawing of the family that included another boy, presumably Sirius. The Blacks had no evidence of life in their living room. An imposing portrait captioned “Phineas Nigellus Black” loomed over the dying fireplace, and an organ leered at him from behind the drab grey settee that Walburga was perched on like a hungry bird. Who on earth wanted an organ in their parlor?

“Do you know why you are here?” Walburga asked, sipping her tea gingerly.

“No,” Remus answered as neutrally as he could. He did. He waited for the rant. He waited to be told he was devious and cunning and had planned to corrupt her sons, to drag them into the depths of his sinful lifestyle, his dark and dingy pubs. If Walburga saw The Three Broomsticks, she’d know the opium dens and brothels her husband frequented were far more corrupting than Dorcas’ fiddle and the smiles of Alice and Frank who watched over their customers as if they were old friends.

“I have an unusual request. I believe you will accept it.”

Walburga waited for a response as if she’d asked a question. “Yes?” Remus mustered.

“Sirius is…you are aware that he has not yet accepted his responsibility as our heir. I have a portrait commissioned of each of my sons biannually. Regulus does not struggle as Sirius does with adhering to instructions, therefore his portrait has been finished. However, Sirius refuses to sit for anyone.” Walburga said, each sentence carefully constructed to leave out the obvious child abuse Remus had not missed. Though he did not know the extent of her actions, Remus knew Walburga was not a loving mother.

When Walburga did not continue, as she often did not despite there being far more to be said, Remus replied “I don’t understand what you are requesting of me, Lady Black.”

Walburga leaned over the small tea table between them, lifting a piece of paper and passing it over to Remus. Lost, Remus unfolded the paper and was shocked to see his own rendition of James and Marlene staring back at him. “Sirius tells me you are a skilled painter in addition to your sketches. While I do not condone commissioning an official Black portrait from an artist who is not established, nor one that has not received sufficient education from an art school, I admire the way you have constructed Lord James Potter’s features. Since Sirius will not sit for anyone else, and I do not wish to explain why I’ve only a portrait of one of my sons, I wish to have you paint the second portrait. No one else in London will have anything similar.”

Remus stared at Walburga in disbelief. Sirius had stolen his work! Gone behind his back without so much as a mild discussion! “I am a servant of the Potters’. I would have to take a significant amount of time away from them. I cannot ask them to hold my position, I’d be unemployed at the conclusion of our arrangement.” was all Remus managed.

Walburga looked at him pointedly, and he read her mind precisely. You don’t talk like lower-class scum.“I am aware of that. However, I am willing to pay what you would be earning under their employment five times over. I will not have cheap artwork on my wall.”

Remus’ eyes almost bulged out of his head, which was starting to spin. With that kind of money, he could finish the portrait, afford to return back to Yorkshire, pay for Mum’s doctors, and for them to move back onto the farm. He could go home.

Walburga set her teacup down, placing her bony fingers in her lap. “I will be expecting a sample by tomorrow. It will be the size of that sketch, and indicative of the piece I will be receiving. I presume you have the necessary supplies to craft an oil painting?”

Remus shook his head. “I can paint, but I only have some old oil paints of James', Lord James Potter, and they won’t be sufficient for the scale you require.”

Walburga pursed her lips. “I will take this into account when viewing your sample. Before you begin, I will purchase the pigments. You’ll paint in the music room upstairs. I will see you here tomorrow with your sample. Good day, Mr. Lupin.”

Remus stood awkwardly as a footman appeared at the door, as if he shared telepathy with Walburga, ready to show him out. “It may not be what you are after.”

“I will decide that.”

As Remus reached the door, he stopped. “Oh, and Lady Potter invites you to attend her tea party this afternoon. I believe it begins at three.”

“You believe it begins at three or it begins at three?”

“I’m not sure. Lady Potter mentioned the time in passing, though didn’t explicitly state it when she asked me to pass on her invitation.” Remus said, feeling the footman grow silently impatient.

“That was irresponsible of Lady Potter. I will not be attending, thank her for the invitation.”

Remus gritted his teeth, suppressing the urge to defend Lady Potter, and followed the footman to the front door. As he faced the footman to thank him, he spied a face peering over the stairs from the landing. That Sirius Black grin. Remus didn’t know what to make of it, but he bore into Sirius’ grey eyes; acknowledgment. They’ll talk soon.

Remus walked along the street to return to the Potters’, mind whirring. He would be going home in a matter of months. There was certainty and surety, he had a timeline and financial security. He could surprise Mum. He saw her face, bright with shock, happy tears streaming down her rosy cheeks, turning her mousy features shiny. He felt her hands on his shoulders, her nails tickling his back as she held him. “I missed you, I missed you, I missed you.” she’d shriek. He’d roll his eyes, say something like “I was hardly gone” or “C’mon, Mum, don’t be silly, let me make you some tea” but he’d be thinking exactly what she was saying. I missed you, I missed you, I missed you.

Though envisioning a joyous reunion thrilled and comforted Remus more than he thought imaginable, there was a strange part of him that hesitated. He thought of James, the closest thing to a best friend he’d ever had, and Peter, who’d never judged him, never raised an eyebrow at him, and Mary, who’d made him feel more included than anyone. He thought of laughing over Cecily Cardew on the lake with Lily, and of Marlene’s strong strides and table-tennis banter. Somewhere along the way, he thought of Sirius too, though what about him, Remus couldn’t quite place.

Somehow, Remus had walked himself all the way to the stables without even noticing. The decision was made; he was leaving. Before, he wasn’t sure how long he would have had to stay, if he was ever going to get the farm back, or if Mum’s doctors became more expensive, if even the Potters’ wages would cover such costs. Lady Black had depleted any of those worries with her offer, and yet Remus was now struggling to breathe. His chest tightened. Lady Potters’ face fell “You’re leaving? Remus, beta, after everything?”, Lord Potter stood taller than he ever had. Remus was so small “You’ve influenced my son to galivant around London, only worked half days, and now you’re going?”. Remus sat down on the bottom step of the stairs to the mezzanine, burying his face in his clammy hands. He yanked at the collar of his blouse. How would he tell them all? After nothing but kindness. Where would he stay? He hadn’t even thought of that. "You can’t stay in my bedchamber, you’re abandoning my parents! Padfoot was right, you are selfish.” James seethed, shadows dancing across his features. Shadows, shadows, shadows…

“Remus? What’s wrong?” asked James, frowning as he leaned over Remus. Remus shook his head, unable to respond. James turned back to the gate where two redheaded children, presumably Weasleys, waited. “Sorry, no joy rides today. Go back inside and have some more macarons, alright? I’ll be with you soon.” James smiled as the children turned and skipped back off toward the house.

Mary eyed the children confusedly as they rushed past her. She was dressed for the tea party as well, stunning in a turquoise tea gown. When she noticed Remus, she rushed to sit by him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? What’s happening? Why can’t he breathe? Go, get Effie!”

“No! Please, no.” Remus croaked, leaning back on the stairs and closing his eyes. There was a stabbing pain in his sides like his ribs had collapsed. He grasped his waist desperately, grunting with the hot white punch of it.

“What do we do?” Mary whispered. “How do we help?”

James sat on the other side of Remus, putting a hand on his chest. “Sit back again, lad, just work on breathing. Come on, in…out…in..out…there you go, you’re alright.” James soothed, watching his hand rise and fall.

Mary rubbed circles on Remus’ shoulder. “You scared us for a bit there.”

Remus wiped the tears from his eyes, recovering from the shock of it. James looked away politely while Mary offered her handkerchief. “Sorry. M’fine now.”

“What happened? What got you all worked up? Was it Walburga? That cow-” James said.

Remus tried to imagine how to tell James he was leaving. He couldn’t. Nothing came to him. Shamefully, he lowered his head. “I…I need to talk to Lily.”

James lurched. “Is it her? Did something happen to her?”

“No, nothing like that I just…she..”

Mary nodded, grasping Remus' hands. “She’d understand.”

“Yes. She would.” Remus agreed. He felt hollow as he stood from the step, still shaking a bit, guilt seeping up into his throat as James and Mary eyed him cautiously. “Is she here? Did she come with Mrs. Evans?”

Mary tucked her handkerchief back into her pocket. “Yes, she’s in my bedchamber. Just go in, I don’t mind.”

Remus offered a smile, feeling the stretch in his cheeks. “Thank you. Both.”

---

Lily hugged a pillow to her chest, looking quite casual with her hair loose down her back, only half pinned up. “I’ll put it back up when we go downstairs. You’ll join us for tea won’t you?” she’d said as she’d taken it down and shuffled to sit against the headboard for Mary’s bed. That was an hour ago.

Though her hair was loose, Lily still appeared afternoonified in purple, her huge puffy sleeves acting as a pillow for Remus. “So, you’re definitely going then? You’re taking the position then leaving?”

Remus nodded, picking at a hangnail. “Yes.”

Lily sighed. “Well, I can’t say I’m thrilled to be letting you go, but, you must return to your mother. She surely misses you terribly.” Lily paused, then reached for Remus’ hand. What amazing friendships he’d found, just to leave them all. Fleetingly, he considered asking Mum to move to London, but he knew the smog would make her worse or even kill her. He shuddered at that. “I’ve known Lord and Lady Potter since Marlene and I were young. We met at dance class, and of course, the McKinnons are old friends of the Potters, and you know how it all went from there. In all my years of being in their vicinity, all my seasons and schooldays, never have they ever given me the slightest inkling that they’d ever hold a grudge or even be angry at all at your choice to terminate your employment.”

Remus was silent.

Lily sat up on her side to look down at Remus. Should anyone come through the door, they’d surely think something indecent was occurring, but Remus could never imagine that. Though they fought and quarreled, Lily was always James’, and Remus would never dream of impeding on that. From the window, voices floated into the room from the green below. The Weasley children were playing with James, Peter, and Marlene. The more Remus listened, he realised a fourth voice, posher and co*ckier, sly and smooth, joined in. Sirius had arrived. He must have heard Remus offer the invitation to Walburga. Then again, Sirius was always welcome so he probably sauntered over because he felt like it.

Lily spoke. “Before my first ball, I spilled wax down the front of my new dress. My family… isn’t as well off as the Pettigrews or McKinnons or even the Blacks and Potters, so it was a lot for me to have a dress that wasn’t Pet’s. Of course, we’re quite comfortable but that dress was my pride and joy. I’d brushed past a massive ornate candle too quickly and the entire thing had fallen on me.

The flame missed me luckily, and no one saw, and a servant quickly cleaned up the mess but I was still mortified. I rushed off to some hidden alcove to pick the wax off, but it was no use. The blobs left patches of fabric stiff and shiny, and the dress was silk so the heat of the wax ruined it. I sat there crying, embarrassed to have left the party. Effie found me. I was even more mortified since she was so beautiful. She wore an orange and pink lehenga and was covered in gold jewelry. She still had her nose pierced then too. She told me it was alright and gave me the scarf from her lehenga to wrap around my front. It matched my dress, coincidentally, and despite it meaning she was missing part of her attire from the evening, Effie insisted I have it so I could dance. When I came back into the ballroom, arm linked with hers, Monty strode over and announced loudly how beautiful I was.” Lily sniffed a bit, finally looking at Remus. “I’ll never forget that. Anyway, the niceties end there because James asked for a dance and ranted the whole night about what a good bowler he is. Oh, and the skirt from that dress? That was the one he tore at the hunting party.”

Remus chuckled at that. “Sounds about right. Say, you don’t truly think he’s so annoying now though, do you? He’s changed some hasn’t he?”

Lily looked bashful. “He has changed.”

“He fancies you, Lily. And I know you know that, but he truly does. He doesn’t always know how to express his feelings in the most appropriate way but he thinks you’re grand. He thinks you’re smart and clever and kind and all things that you are.” then Remus added for good measure, “Mary Wollstonecraft would approve. You can’t say that about many other gentlemen.”

Lily slapped Remus, though she left her hand on his shoulder where it landed. “Don’t bring Wollstonecraft into this! I know he fancies me, it’s just that if he really knew me, wouldn’t he know I value conversation and sincerity over silly stunts?”

“I think he’s afraid of…vulnerability. He’s scared to talk to someone he thinks is so much smarter than him because you’ll see him for what he really is, so he distracts you with extremities.” Remus said, worrying he’d exposed more of James than he’d meant to.

Lily pondered this as she reached for her pins on the bedside table and began winding her hair back up onto her head. “You know, you’re awfully perceptive, Remus. You’ve only been here for two months and you’ve hardly missed a thing.” Remus smiled bashfully. “You said “for what he really is”, but what is James, then?”

Remus grinned because he knew the answer straight away.

“Golden.”

Chapter 9: IX - The Marauders’ Plot

Chapter Text

Lord and Lady Potter sat beside each other on the settee while James sat in Lord Potter’s armchair behind his slick dark-oat desk, dwarfed by the huge red leather back. Remus felt awkward standing before them all in Lord Potter’s fashionable study of azure floral wallpaper and baroque bookshelves, but when he asked Lord Potter if he could speak with them as a family, feeling bad about leaving James out, Lady Potter insisted they meet privately upstairs. Normally, for such a discussion, one would speak with the butler first, who would then inform the mistress of the household, but that felt wrong and impersonal considering the Potters' generosity.

“Please, Remus, beta, tell us what’s the matter?” Lady Potter said kindly, her thick brows furrowed with concern. James sat up straighter upon seeing his mother’s worried face, and Remus’ stomach shredded itself with guilt.

So Remus took a deep breath, righted his posture, and told them all everything. He detailed his meeting with Walburga, why he needed to get home to Mum, how he planned to get the farm back, and most of all, he mentioned time and time again how grateful he was for their support.

“So…you’re leaving?” Lord Potter asked. James looked sullenly at Remus, ripping at his shoulders and numbing his spine. Shadows, shadows, shadows.

Please.

It was James who stood first, morning light catching his glasses, confident as ever. He strode over to Remus, all untamed hair and lopsided grin and sunkissed hickory skin and loving eyes and cheeky brows and familiarity. “You’ll stay with us until you go. We’re on borrowed time here, Remus. We’ll make the most of it.”

Though they hadn’t often seen eye to eye the few times Remus and Sirius had conversed, Remus knew at that moment that Sirius had put it best. You know him, he’s kindness personified.

And of course, the parents of “kindness personified” nodded in agreement, and there was naught Remus could say that would have convinced them they needn’t give him the world.

---

Remus, having realised he’d spent the rest of the day on his sample, prayed that it would dry, and moved the small, desk easel over to his window in the hopes the afternoon sun would assist his hopes. It was of Sirius, of course, and Remus surprised himself with just how easily he could recall Sirius’ features. The sample was less about capturing Sirius' likeness and more to show off Remus style and skill. When painting instead of drawing, it became even more obvious that Remus’ main inspiration was the works of Franz Xaver Winterhalter, and combined with Sirius’ dark hair, pale skin, stormy eyes, and girlish lips, the sample was facily adroit.

Remus decided it would be wise to tell McGonagall he was leaving for the Blacks considering as of late, he’d neglected to inform her of his whereabouts. Remus entered the servants’ quarters through the side door, but when he asked the kitchen staff where McGonagall was, having been unable to find her, Mrs. Sprout told him she had gone to the parlor to greet a guest requesting her presence.

Remus thought this strange, but being second in command, it wasn’t improbable that she received visitors often. However, as Remus neared the parlor, he heard the passionate chatter of two butter-upon-bacon boys.

“C'mon, Minnie! Surely it’s me!” Sirius was saying, pushing James aside to stand directly in front of a less-than-impressed McGonagall. “I’ve always been the better-behaved one!”

“Not in the slightest!” James interrupted, pushing back in front of McGonagall, who now had a hand on her forehead. “You smashed a window in ‘89! Minnie, I’m your favourite. You’re my governess!”

“Master James, you are eightee-”

“Hardly my fault you wouldn’t let me bowl. And how many vases have you knocked over? That’s what I thought. And Maa’s china! You may as well have broken a Fabergé egg!” Sirius countered. “It’s me!”

McGonagall finally cleared her throat. “Would you like my answer?”

Both Sirius and James stopped their quarrel to stare at her eagerly, hoping to best each other.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear, for my favourite is Remus, and there he is at the doorway,” McGonagall said, gesturing to Remus. “May I help you, Mr. Lupin?”

“I wanted to tell you I am leaving for the Blacks’ residence now,” Remus said, and McGonagall nodded her head, eyes twinkling behind her lenses.

McGonagall swept off, trilling something about organising for Slughorn’s leave he was taking the following week. James trailed after her, chatting her ear off. “I have to be your favourite! You watched me grow up! Pads was always the bad influence…”

Remus and Sirius listened to the ranting grow quieter as James followed McGonagall across the house until the echo dulled to nothing. “Suppose we just lost some respect for Prongs there,” Sirius said, turning to Remus and quirking a perfect brow.

“Why did you take my sketch?” Remus said abruptly, expecting to see Sirius’ face fall and guilt seep through his expression.

But of course, Sirius knew no such feeling, and his handsome gaze stayed infuriatingly unwavering. “Do you often ask questions you know the answer to, Moony?”

Remus tensed his jaw, looking away. Sirius could be such a minx! He knew if he yelled, said Sirius had no right to take his sketch, or demanded to know why he was called “Moony”, Sirius would take the challenge and Remus would never get any real answers. “We may have…we may have come to a rickety truce that night on the way to the tavern, but we still can’t keep from arguing. Why would you want to spend hours in a room trapped with me? That, I do not know.”

Sirius chuckled a bit, quietly to himself as if he’d watched a small child fall off their rocking horse or a dog chase its own tail. “”Rickety truce”. So you’re a poet now? I suppose they’re artists too, though their medium isn’t quite the same.”

“You’re dancing around the question.”

“I should hope so, I’ve been waltzing since I was seven.”

“Is it so hard to just answer the question? Why did you want me?”

Sirius regarded him for a moment. “I wanted you because…you matter to James, and no one matters more to me than James. We cannot be at odds. Also because every other painter I’ve sat for has been forty years my senior and had the personality of flour. You’ll be far more invigorating.”

Scoffing, Remus echoed. “Invigorating.”

“Besides, you should be so obliged to paint me, I’m the prettiest muse you’ll ever have,” Sirius said, batting his eyelashes coquettishly and dragging a sarcastic finger down Remus’ chest.

“Well, I’m yet to show your mother my sample. She may refuse me.” Remus said.

“I’ve blackmailed her. She’ll say yes.”

“Blackmailed her with what?”

“Now, now, shall we leave some things as discussion points for our sessions? We don’t want to reveal everything all at once.”

“Sirius!” came a chirpy voice from the doorway.

“Mary, ma chérie, tu n'es pas ravissante ! Personne ne porte de crème comme vous, et personne ne peut raviver la régence. Qui est l'homme chanceux aujourd'hui?” Sirius said in rapid French as Mary danced down the stairs to meet him. Sirius kissed her hand before spinning her in a circle, causing her very elegant cream skirt to fan out into a trumpet shape.

“Oh, Black, you act as if they’re on rotation,” Mary replied once she’d stopped spinning.

Sirius scoffed. “Alors tu es réglé?”

“You aren’t the only member of the opposite sex to chain me down.”

Remus looked between the two and wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. “Pardon?”

“Oh, Mary and I courted for a couple of months when we were sixteen. It annoyed my mother and brought even more attention to dear Mary, so it all worked out alright.” Sirius said, waving a hand like James often did as if to waft the silliness of Remus’ confusion away. “You never needed me for that though.” He grinned at Mary.

“We still had fun, didn’t we?” she replied, petting Sirius on the arm before kissing his cheek.

Remus frowned but shrugged. How strange their friendship was. “So now you speak rapidly to each other in French? What an outcome.”

Mary nodded. “My family is originally from Haiti. When I say originally, I mean it was called Saint-Domingue when my ancestors left. But somehow, we just keep having more relatives move over to the English countryside with us who all speak French.” Mary sighed, and Remus felt strange thinking she might live in a house similar to his father’s old country house that he rented to the Potters years ago. Mary fit right in with the city folk, one would hardly know she lived in a quiet town for nine months of the year. “Well, I best be off, Amos Diggory is waiting out front so we may promenade. And leave poor Remus alone.” Mary said as she trotted off to swing the front door open excitedly.

“You act as if I’m harassing him!” Sirius called after her. “Speaking of harassment, you’re assisting in the marauders’ next prank. We’re expropriating mass next week, but we need a face the priest doesn’t know, and you aren’t a part of our parish.”

“That’s because I’m Jewish. And this sounds…dangerous.” Sirius shook his head, following Remus who had turned for the back door to retrieve his sample from the mezzanine. As they trudged across the green, the wind whipped at Sirius’ hair, pushing it back from his perfect cheekbones.

“The Potters are Hindu and Mary’s atheist and I think the Evans’ are Anglican so don’t worry about being smited by god. Mass is a social event. That’s why it’s perfect for our plan.” Sirius continued, matching Remus’ long-legged pace, as Remus pulled the gate aside and jogged up the stairs to the mezzanine.

“I’m going to be late to meet your mother.”

“Just meet us in James’ room tonight. You aren’t a servant anymore.” Sirius said as Remus dabbed a finger over the surface of the sample. It stayed clean, and confident the paint was dry, Remus pulled an old flour sack over the canvas so Sirius wouldn't see. It was a little smaller than he would have liked, but it was the only one he could find in James’ old crate.

“Fine, whatever you like. Goodbye.” Remus rounded on Sirius, holding the canvas to his chest and sighing. He was antsy to hand his sample in, even though Walburga had only said evening, not a specific hour. Sirius nodded goodbye as Remus slipped back out onto the green, though not fast enough to miss Sirius’ final words of farewell.

And Sirius, knowing his mother’s answer, still shouted, “Good luck, Moons!”

---

Remus sat in front of Dumbledore’s desk as the old man stared at him in the way older people did when they were being patronising without having to say or do anything. Remus cleared his throat, drumming his fingers on his thighs. Dumbledore sat back in his chair as if he had all day to survey Remus like a smug cat, which was funny considering McGonagall was always rushing about doing tasks Remus thought belonged to a butler. “I would like to ask why you are resigning, Mr. Lupin.” Then, he offered a tin to Remus, which he took. “Lemon sherbet?”

Remus shook his head, not wanting to make a fool of himself by attempting to articulate around a lump of candy. “I’ve told you, sir, the Blacks have hired me as a painter and the Potters have been so kind as to let me stay with them until my employment with the Blacks ends. I’ve spoken to the lord and lady already, and now I am here asking if there is any paperwork or statements I have to write in order to terminate my current position.”

“But that is not why you are resigning, it is only the reason,” Dumbledore said plainly. Sure, he was speaking, but he wasn’t actually saying anything.

“Generally the question “why?” requests a reason,” Remus said with more angst than he’d meant to.

“I see you have formed a connection with the young Lord James. And you seem to harbour affection for the lord and lady. What would make you want to leave?” Dumbledore asked again, either missing or ignoring Remus’ slight annoyance.

Remus swallowed. “My mother is ill. I have to return to her.”

Dumbledore nodded as if he knew and had been trying to prod the information out of Remus, before sitting forward in his chair to clasp his hands. “Very well.” Very well. Sod! "Since you have discussed your employment with the lord and lady already unless they request it, there is no need for a document. You are officially a guest of the Potters’. However, I have a personal entreaty if I may.”

You may not.”What is it, sir?”

“Would you assist, then, in training any new stablehand that may arrive? We won’t be having anyone entirely incompetent, so it should only be a week of your time if that.” Dumbledore asked, and Remus thought he was awfully good at not doing his job.

“Of course.” Remus replied, for the sake of McGonagall, of whom he was “the favourite”, and the Potters, who deserved a decent stablehand. Not that that was ever Remus, especially with his influence on James.

Dumbledore stood and extended a hand for Remus to shake. Remus offered one solid tug, then retreated quickly from the office.

He realised he was earning a wage with the Potters as he climbed the stairs to the foyer, which suited him well when he was sending it back to Yorkshire. But Walburga would pay him in full when the portrait was completed. In the meantime, he only had his little savings from the Potters’, and he still had to get by himself. He’d never starve of course, but he really ought to have thought this through more thoroughly, or voiced his concerns to Walburga. She would have been the nasty cow she is about it all, but she was really, in a strange way, at Remus’ mercy. She was being mysteriously blackmailed, and Remus was apparently the only man in the land who could wrangle Sirius Black and was half-decent at portraiture. Though he was safe and comfortable now, something had to be done in the meantime to make sure Mum was able to pay for her doctors and Remus could stay afloat without relying on the Potters even more than he already did. It was Remus’ fault Mum even needed doctors, so it was his issue to compensate for.

As Remus reached the foyer, footsteps bounded down the stairs before a dark face popped around the banister. “Moony!”

“You picked that up too, then,” Remus said, though he smiled as James came to meet him.

James slung an arm around his shoulders and started to lead him up the stairs. “It’s sweet. Something to soften your brood, eh?”

Remus rolled his eyes but didn’t object to letting James pull him into his bedchamber where Sirius and Peter were sprawled across the floor with a chessboard between them. Peter grunted as Sirius checkmated his king. “He’s the only one that can beat me. Not even Lily has bested me.” Peter said, picking up a sticky orange ball from a plate beside him and putting it in his mouth. “Ladoo?”

James stepped forward to pluck a ladoo from the plate before flopping on his bed and loosening his tie. “Maa made them.”

Remus sat on the floor beside Peter. “Can we go halves?”

“Of course,” Peter replied, breaking a ball in half and offering one side to Remus. “Here, warm up, it's bloody cold tonight. I wonder if Mary’s promenade went well with all the wind.”

Remus accepted the cup passed to him after finishing the ladoo, which was delicious and tasted of saffron and pistachio. The tea in the cup looked a bit strange, and smelled sweet, too, but James knew he took his tea with four sugars so perhaps they’d made it for him. However, as he brought the cup to his lips and sipped, it seemed the world shifted and he discerned that he’d never had anything so incredible. He held his face still, and asked as indifferently as he could “What’s this?”

James frowned as he flipped through a periodical entitled Lucifer. “It’s chocolate? You’ve never had it?”

Remus shook his head, but quickly returned the rim to his lips, downing the chocolate. He lifted his eyes which locked with Sirius’ grey, amused stare. “You like it, then?” He asked with a soft smile.

Remus felt his cheeks burn at having been seen so plainly, but he nodded, setting his cup down. “So what’s all this about mass?”

“Right! Yes!” James cheered, setting Lucifer aside.

Sirius grinned devilishly as Peter, James, and Remus leaned in. “Alright, Moons, you’re the main here,” he said, glancing around at the other boys. “Let’s discuss the plan.”

Remus grimaced.

Chapter 10: X - Sacrilegious

Chapter Text

Remus stood in the middle of the aisle and looked around the rows of pews, the depictions of different scenes of biblical people labelled with roman numerals that Remus could only assume were the stations of the cross, the wooden confession box, and a tall lectern at the front of the church. Now that he was in the church, he realised he didn’t actually know how to find the priest. He glanced around before creeping toward the double doors next to the lectern and pushing them open into a courtyard.

Above him, the church bells tolled, and Remus supposed it must be about nine the morning. He turned back to the paved courtyard at the sound of footsteps, and across the way coming out of another building, was a man in liturgical vestments. Remus really hoped he was right when he said “Father McKenzie?”

The man looked up and smiled, his robes swaying as he came toward Remus. “Yes? Can I help you, young man?”

Remus wasn’t sure what to say next. Why couldn’t Sirius have done this? He was the best liar of them all. “I’m from the Catholic Church of the Immaculate Conception. You’ve probably heard of it? In Mayfair?”

Father McKenzie nodded. “I have heard of it.”

“Well, we are having a meeting with priests who lead Sunday services to discuss…education in the church. I’ve come to request your presence tomorrow at our church at nine o’clock. I’m sure you have someone else to run this week’s mass then?” Remus lied, hoping he was getting the Catholic terminology correct.

Father McKenzie frowned. “I’ve never attended a seminar such as this before. This seems very sudden?”

Remus thought quickly. “Yes, the children are…straying from…god…so that’s bad. We must take action quickly.” then he added, “Have you written your sermon already?” It almost made Remus sad to think of Father McKenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear.

“I have written the homily, yes. Father Brown can read it this Sunday then. Thank you for the invitation…?”

“John. John…Howell.” Remus said, using his middle name and Mum’s maiden name.

“Thank you then, John.” Father McKenzie said, and Remus almost sighed with relief at being believed.

“Before I go, is there a water closet here I can use?” Remus asked as Father McKenzie walked past him toward the doors to the church.

Father McKenzie nodded. “Just in there, first door to the left.”

Remus waved thanks and walked over to the doors before breaking into a jog when Father McKenzie could no longer see him. He headed past the first door on the left and up the stairs as Sirius had told him to, then to the right, trying the door handle. It swung open easily so Remus called “Hello?”

Three heads popped up outside the window and Remus hurried to let the others in. “How did it go? Did he believe you?” James asked.

“Yes, even though I called it a sermon and also none of you bothered to check I knew what I was talking about before sending me in,” Remus grumbled, regretting his life choices.

“Ah, well, it’ll be too late by the time he realises. As long as Father McKenzie goes and the other priest who doesn’t know my mother or me leads mass, we should get a good laugh in.” Sirius said, sauntering over to the desk in the corner and rifling through the papers. “He said he wrote it?”

“Yes,” said Remus, coming to stand beside Sirius and look through the pages. “What will it look like?”

“Christian propaganda. Ramblings about Jesus and how he loves us or a bible reference and how it can help parishioners blah blah blah.” Sirius said.

James stepped between them and pulled open the top drawer where a neat document lay with that Sunday’s date in the top corner. “Why didn’t you check the drawer first?”

“Here, how close did we get?” Peter asked, stepping forward with their copy.

James scanned the papers side-by-side. “Hmmmm, we need to add the date, and the handwriting’s not quite the same, but do you think Father…?”

“Brown,” Remus said.

“Father Brown will know? Surely he hasn’t memorised Father McKenzie’s handwriting?” James asked, glancing around at the other boys.

Sirius scoffed, taking their copy and setting it on the desk. “Let’s just add the date and go. Father McKenzie will be back any minute.”

After they’d scribbled the date in the corner and pocketed the original homily, the marauders climbed back out the window, which was much harder for Remus being the lankiest of them all and having to contort his spine slightly. Why they couldn’t climb the much shorter fence in the courtyard, Remus didn’t know. It took some maneuvering with ledges to get down, but they all made it back to the ground, though Pete slipped and fell from six feet up the wall.

“Alright, Wormtail?” James asked, as Peter coughed, but nodded, a little winded.

“This better work or we lied to a priest’s face for nothing,” Peter said, wheezing a bit as they started back toward their respective homes.

“No, I lied to a priest. You’re not getting caught, Pete.” Remus muttered, pulling out a cigarette from his case. “Besides, everyone will know it was Sirius and James. You’re both so obnoxious.”

“The point isn’t not getting caught, the point is to make my mother go red in the face and to remind everyone of mine and Prongs’ assets.” Sirius countered.

Remus rolled his eyes as he inhaled from his cigarette and sighed out the smoke.Assets.

---

Walburga Black pursed her lips as Remus was led into the parlor by the butler, and Remus thought about how he’d never been greeted by her in any other way than a grimace. “Please, follow me. I will show you where you will begin.”

Remus climbed up the stairs behind her skeletal figure, the sweeping staircase drawing them closer to an ornate chandelier of rubies and diamonds, with gold detailing on the structure. Remus tried to hide a snort as he recalled Sirius thinking there would be one of those at The Three Broomsticks. He was led to a closed door, black as everything else in the house was, with a gilded doorknob. For such elaborate and expensive decor, the Blacks had a dreary taste, their house never feeling quite lived in. “Sirius is waiting. I will give you a cheque when the portrait is completed to the expected standard.”

Remus nodded, and when Walburga had descended the stairs, he pushed the gothic door open. He realised, as he looked around at the sheer white curtains, one of the palest interior pieces in the Black Manor, and the piano in the corner, that he was standing in the room Sirius had played in before the Blacks’ Ball. Sirius was splayed out on a chaise lounge, whistling. He sat up when he saw Remus. “Welcome. She’s a right bitch isn’t she?”

“Your mother?” Remus asked, walking over to a tall easel with the canvas already set out on it, and on the table beside it, multiple clean palettes and new paints.

“Who else,” Sirius replied. “So how do you want me? From behind? How about the side?” he said with a wink.

“I want you with your mouth shut,” Remus responded, picking up a pencil and gazing between the window and the canvas to judge the light.

“Aww, but my mouth does so many incredible things when it’s open,” Sirius whined, lying back down on the chaise.

“Are you going to pose on there?” Remus asked. Sirius nodded. “Well pose, I have to see the light.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told, and sat upright, slightly angled from Remus. Remus wondered how many hours he’d sat like that before. “Am I alright here?” he asked, so softly Remus was almost shocked at the lack of jest.

He lifted his eyes from the canvas to stare at Sirius, knowing that, because it was Sirius, no bad lighting could diminish the portrait if he painted as he saw the scene. “You’re fine.”

Remus began to block in the shapes he saw, simple thin lines, then he mixed contrast shades to block the shadows. Once he was done with this, he told Sirius he could move a bit if he liked, but not too much. He broke away from the easel to mix colours on one of the palettes, starting with the cool tones. “You were in a trance.” Remus looked up to see Sirius with the ghost of a smile on his face. “When you were painting, you were in a trance. You couldn’t even hear me.”

“Oh. Sorry. What did you say?” Remus asked, squinting at Sirius’ hair to figure out the silver in the shine of it. He needed to add more cool red; it was violet not blue.

“Can I move? If I get right back into position?” Sirius asked, and Remus nodded, having a reference blocked on his canvas of where Sirius should return to. Sirius crossed the room to an accent table near the grand piano and retrieved a small teapot and a cup, both with gold edges and rims. Remus wondered if the Blacks had gold leaf put in their meals. Sirius set the cup down on the table next to Remus’ paints and poured from the teapot. “Don’t get it mixed up with your brush water.”

Remus glanced down at the cup before a huge grin spread across his face. “Chocolate?”

Sirius returned to his pose exactly. “I thought you might want some.”

Remus almost groaned when he took a sip, but luckily he stopped himself. “Thank you.”

“Are you going to go back into your trance again?” Sirius asked as Remus advanced toward him with a palette and a slip of paper. He leaned in close to the top of Sirius’ head and held the smear of grey to the strands that caught in the light. He realised that he could feel Sirius’ soft breaths on his neck. “What are you doing?” he whispered, looking up at Remus through long lashes. Sirius had a smaller freckle below the larger one on his left upper cheekbone. Remus hadn’t noticed. He’d have to put that detail into the portrait at the end.

“I’m colour matching. I was pretty close.” Remus replied, swallowing and showing the colour swatch. “And I’ll try not to slip into a “trance” again, but no promises,” he said as he returned behind the easel.

Sirius grinned. “Good, let’s play a game.”

“Am I going to like said game, or will it just be a glorification of your teasing?”

“Only one way to find out. It’s not really a game. We just take turns asking questions. Reg and I used to play it when I’d come home from Eton, so we didn’t miss too much about each other growing up. It didn’t work apparently, since he still acts appalled by half of my behaviour.” Sirius said as Remus hummed satisfied with the highlights in Sirius’ hair on the canvas. He’d do the curtains next, then work forward from there. “So, what’s your favourite colour?”

Remus raised an eyebrow and peered around the canvas to look at Sirius. “That’s what you’re starting with?” a nod. “It’s green.”

“That’s all I get? Not an emerald or fern or lime or sage? Just green?”

“Fine, sage. I like sage. What’s yours?”

“No repeating questions.”

“What’s your favourite food?”

Sirius faltered for a moment, looking down at the ground before lifting his head again. “I didn’t mean to move my chin.”

Remus frowned. “It’s alright. You didn’t answer the question.”

“I don’t have a favourite food. Anything Effie cooks that’s mild, maybe.” Sirius replied. “Have you ever tried opium?”

“We went from favourite colour to opium indulgence,” Remus said plainly, swiping at an uneven edge on the back of the chaise lounge he was painting.

“Ah, so you’ve indulged.” Sirius grinned.

“I’ve tried it once or twice. What’s the worst thing you ever did at Eton?”

“We accidentally burned down part of a classroom we were having a bonfire behind.”

“We as in you, Prongs and Wormtail? Why were you having a bonfire?”

“Yes, Prongs and Wormtail. The grade had just received their exam results, and one test was particularly hard so no one had succeeded. Our peers came and went to burn the evidence.”

“You couldn’t have just used your fireplaces?”

“That’s not very climatic or cathartic. And you’ve asked way too many questions, so I get to ask twice now. Why did you take this job?”

“Pass.”

“You can’t pass.”

Remus finished his chocolate and then looked at Sirius pointedly. “Pass. Ask something else.”

“Fine. Who was your first kiss?”

Remus paused. He supposed it was given there was no lying in the game, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t refrain from elaborating. “A friend.”

“Did you do anything else with her?”

“We were never unclothed in each other’s presence if that’s what you’re asking,” Remus replied.

“Moony, you casanova!” Sirius said slyly.

Remus smiled as a thought popped into his head. “Why do you call me Moony?”

“Pass.”

“You can’t pass!” Remus replied, and Sirius laughed with satisfaction.

“You did.”

Remus grumbled.

---

That night, Remus stood on the street by The Three Broomsticks after having a drink with Marlene and Dorcas. Marlene still had nothing to show for her lessons, which Dorcas surprisingly didn’t charge her for. He offered his cigarette to Marlene when she finally emerged, Dorcas on her arm to see them off. “Oh, Marls! You’re ridiculous,” she said, her wide nose crinkling as she laughed up at Marlene, obviously reacting to a joke shared inside. Remus didn't think Marlene was especially funny. “Oh, I completely forgot to give you something, darling, come back in for a moment. Sorry to keep you waiting, Remus.” Remus said he didn’t mind as the girls returned inside, before he glanced around the street, hoping for the visage of a carriage to shuttle through the darkness, but instead, his eyes caught on the movements of a hunched figure on the other side of the road. Remus paid the figure no mind and shuffled off down the road to get the slightest head start back home. He thought about paying for a cab, but he hadn’t any coins on him, since he was trying to save as much as he could at the moment. His mind wandered back to Sirius, thinking about what he was doing, what Regulus was doing, whether they were fighting, or maybe joining forces against Walburga. Remus wondered why he never saw Orion, but the family didn’t seem like the kind to sing jovial songs around the parlor fireplace with mugs of tea, so perhaps he was shut off in the study or bedchamber. Lost in his thoughts, head bowed to the ground, Remus almost collided with what he assumed was the figure from before. He looked up from the ground to find a knife pressed into his chest, held by a knobbly hand belonging to a boy not much older than him. “Hand it over.” he gruffed.

Remus pulled himself up to his full height, and under his bulky coat, he must have looked intimidating because the boy faltered a little, putting some inches between Remus and the blade. “You can search me if you like, I’ve nothing on me,” Remus said with false confidence as if being mugged was just a mild displeasure to him.

The boy frowned, and Remus removed his coat, handing it to him. The boy eyed Remus warily, and Remus hoped and prayed to any god listening that Marlene didn’t choose now to come out of the pub. He expected there would be a few times he’d be accosted during his time in London, it was inevitable and had happened on occasion during his journey here. The boy took Remus’ lighter and cigarettes but stopped his rummaging when he came across some crumpled sketches. He unfolded them, and Remus forgot he’d been wearing that coat during his first meeting with Walburga. The boy stared at Marlene and James’ faces, a contemplative look creeping onto his face. “These are good.”

Remus laughed in shock. “You’re terrible at robbing people. Aren’t you meant to shank me now?”

The boy laughed back, and suddenly, they were two young men cackling in the street over a minor absurdity. Once they’d calmed down, the boy handed Remus his coat, now missing his smokes, and looked up at Remus for a moment. “You any good wiv’ sharps? Needles n’ that?” he asked.

“No? Are you quite finished with me yet?” Remus replied, eyeing the boy.

The boy chuckled again. “Meet me ‘ere tomorrow night. I’ve got a job for you.”

Remus scoffed. “That sounds mighty safe.”

“And you’re “mighty” poor if you’ve got no dosh on ya.” the boy said. “‘Ere, sundown.”

Then he walked away as if it were just another night another crime, and Remus blinked, dumbfounded and confused by what had just happened. Good with needles?

“Who was that?” Marlene asked, coming up beside Remus and snaking an arm through his.

Remus shook his head. “An absolute madman apparently. C’mon, let’s go.”

Chapter 11: XI - The Death Of Walburga and Orion

Chapter Text

Remus lingered next to a very giddy James that Sunday as Lord and Lady Potter waved at the Pettigrews who were just arriving. Two girls, one older and one younger, accompanied Peter with his parents, and Remus assumed they must be Peter’s sisters, both very excited to see Mary. He’d always thought Peter was the youngest in his family, but perhaps that was just his demeanor. Peter hurried over to Remus and James when he saw them, not wanting to be roped into an adult conversation, and the boys started to walk into the church.

“So how long does mass go for? And when do they say the homily?” Remus asked as Peter dipped his fingers in the holy water basin in the church's small foyer.

“About an hour. It’s normally said in Latin, or some parts are, but the homily is in English.” James replied as they walked down the aisle past pews of familiar families. The Weasleys were there with their brood, the Blacks at the front looking stern, the McKinnons were behind the Blacks, then the Evans’ to their left, the Crouches, the Rosiers, and other relatives of Sirius’ who Remus recalled were the Lestranges since Bellatrix was sitting in their pew, and the Malfoys, which Narcissa had joined for the mass sporting her chunky engagement ring which was more like an onyx finger weight.

Peter sat in the pew behind where the Potters would sit when they entered. “Remus, if you’re from Yorkshire, then why are you Jewish?”

“Oh my god, Peter, you can’t just ask someone why they're Jewish.” Mary hissed, sitting beside Remus.

Remus laughed. “Well, Wormtail, when I was little, I waited one Christmas Eve night for Saint Nicholas to come rattling down the chimney, but instead, the Hannukah Fairy came and threw a menorah at me while yelling “Mazel tov!”. I’ve been Jewish ever since.”

“Is that really what’s in the Torah?” Peter asked as James smacked him, having taken a break from making faces at Sirius through the heads between them. Sirius was receiving a scolding from Regulus for his behavior.

“Pete, the Torah is basically the same as the Old Testament,” James said.

Remus shook his head. “It’s fine, Pete. My father was Jewish, but my mum isn’t, so I don’t really follow it. We celebrate Hannukah, but you’re right, we don’t have many people in the countryside of Yorkshire to invite over who also celebrate.”

Peter was about to respond when the priest entered the church and everyone in the congregation stood to watch him come down the aisle, proceeded by a child in a white tunic carrying a huge cross and another man carrying a book which Remus assumed was the bible or something similar. Remus looked over at Mary, realising Lord and Lady Potter had joined them without his noticing. The trio arrived at the front of the church, and Sirius glanced back at Remus and James with an exuberant grin on his face at the knowledge that Father Brown would be reading the homily. Remus half hoped their plan hadn’t worked and Father Brown wouldn’t read their creation to every one person Remus knew in London.

The mass started, and Remus followed along when people stood or signed the cross or did other gestures with their hands, and he mouthed the words to the songs that he didn’t know. Finally, the moment all the marauders had been waiting for arrived, and Father Brown began to read the script they’d set for him after a reading of the gospel.

“This week, I will not be speaking of the word of the lord, but paying respects on behalf of the congregation to the Black family for their recent loss.” Father Brown frowned at the page but kept reading as the congregation started whispering and sharing perplexed glances. Remus caught Lily’s eye, who was looking at him questioningly, but Remus just shrugged. “The passing of Walburga and Orion Black was an unexpected and violent event.” now the whispers were increasing as Sirius’ parents stared at him accusingly. “Never in this parish have we had a couple killed as they were, by dancing so vigorously they both fell into the same strangely large fireplace and burned to death.” Father Brown brought the page closer to his face as if he wasn’t sure he was reading it correctly but continued on. “Their son, Sirius Orion Black, and his best friend, James Fleamont Potter, are shocked by such a loss, which furthers the tragedy of this circ*mstance considering both young men are astoundingly handsome and gorgeous-”

By now, Father Brown had stopped reading, and Remus was surprised he made it as far as he did. Sirius was cackling in his pew while the rest of the church gasped or giggled. Mary looked at Remus and James, but more James, with a gawk, while Lord and Lady Potter both stared straight ahead, grimacing. Once everyone had calmed down, Father Brown shakily continued the mass, as if another sabotage was waiting for him. But probably much to his relief, everyone took communion and there was not another incident for the rest of the hour. Remus, though he couldn’t see Sirius’ face, knew the weight of such a small victory. Though frivolous and childish and infantile and not entirely logical, Sirius had won. And for the first time, as the morning beamed through the high round windows, making Sirius’ hair turn that specific violet, light dripping down his lean shoulders, Remus saw clearly; it was all about power. Such an exaggerated mask of excessive extroversion and extreme co*ckiness was control for him, it was bearing down on every memory of torment and pain. Through the thrills and triumph, and boyish glory, Sirius was only little, a thought that made Remus inexplicably sad.

---

“So what did your mother say?” Remus asked later that day, dusting his brush over Sirius’ cheekbones on the canvas.

“Nothing. I told her I won’t sit for my portrait and I won’t go to Oxford if she tries anything. She knows I mean it now.” Sirius replied, and the way he leaned forward ever so slightly drew a champagne-coloured glow up his cheek from the nearby lamp. “Poor Prongs and Wormtail are grounded, I heard. You’ll be the one bearing the brunt of cooped-up James for the fortnight.”

Remus pursed his lips. He wanted to ask if the “now” implied that once, Sirius had had to make empty threats in an attempt at survival. That’s not for today. He’d won today. "What say Regulus?”

Sirius smiled slightly but fitted his lips neutrally again when he realised he was disturbing Remus’ view. “He scolded me for being so obnoxious, but I saw him smirking about the fireplace part. He couldn’t stop looking back at Prongs, although he’s always looked at James. He’s probably jealous of him. I am a bit, as well, handsome bugger.” Sirius rattled.

Remus scoffed. “You know you’re laughably elegant, don’t fish for compliments.”

“I wasn’t fishing. You said that of your own volition.” Sirius replied slyly, and Remus hadn’t the heart to argue. Let him have it.

“When does Regulus go back to Eton?” Remus asked instead.

Sirius’ mischievous glint faded, and his face fell contemplative. “He isn’t. He’s finishing with a tutor at home. Then he’ll attend Oxford.” then, quietly. “I don’t know why.”

The music room had become something of a liminal space for Remus and Sirius. Sirius, so loud and excitable normally, so quick to dance around questions and dodge any seriousness, was almost docile when atop the settee. Remus, ever deflecting questions, protecting his privacy to an absurd degree, and never feeling quite like he could say what he wanted to, spoke with minimal hesitancy and little of the usual regret he felt at having expressed himself. It was strange, walking out of the Black Manor knowing that, outside of that airy room of inception, Sirius would be more Sirius Black than he was himself.

“No need to play your questions game then if you won’t miss each other.” Remus tried, unsure how to respond to the sudden gloom. In fact, now that he was paying attention, the weather had been quite dreary as of late as well. Since Mary’s promenade, It had either been raining, or the ground had been muddy and sleek, and granite clouds billowed overhead like sails of a ship with no compass. Good ol’ England. Remus stood from his stool to turn the lamp up and open the curtains more in an attempt to replicate the lighting he was so fond of. He tugged at the curtains, then the dial on the lamp, then the curtains again, judging the shine on the edge of the polished wood framed settee. When he looked at Sirius, Sirius was looking back, and something heavy sat between them, so close to being tangible that Remus felt the peculiar need to step around it on his path back to the stool behind the easel.

“We can play, though. The questions game.” Sirius said, the faintest croak in his voice. Remus leaned over to set his chocolate next to Sirius since he had finished the background for the most part. Sirius shook his head, glancing down at his proxemics before retrieving his cup of plain, black tea, and returning precisely. Remus wondered how on earth he drank the vile stuff without milk and sugar. “How did you get the scar on your nose?”

Remus froze, before quickly returning to his brush strokes, feeling the heat of Sirius’ attention. “Pass.”

“You cannot simply pass every time. That defeats the purpose. And it’s boring.”

“Fine, I was attacked.”

“What? Why? How-”

“You’ve asked your question, it’s my turn.” Remus interrupted, though he had to think for a few minutes about what it was he would ask. He wanted to strip Sirius down the way he’d just been rendered; abruptly naked and exposed. That wasn’t fair, Sirius didn’t know how it had happened, it wasn’t a purposeful attempt at an uncovering of trauma. “Do you think James will ever court Lily?”

“Yes. He’s far too persistent not to succeed.”

“But Lily’s stubborn. And sure.”

“She looks at him.”

“Everyone does.”

“Touche.” Sirius smiled. “What do you like to read?”

“Everything. Anything. Whatever I can get.”

“You have everything now, what will you start with?”

Remus shrugged. “Something old. Something that I can say I’ve read in a haughty voice.”

“The Iliad. You should read that.” Sirius said. “I hated it, but you’d probably find some deep hidden meaning or expression of soulful humanity.”

“What makes you think I look for such subtleties? I’ve never said that.”

“For every word you say, there are a million thoughts.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“A hyperbole. So, to an extent, it’s true?”

“That’s subjective.”

“Whose turn is it?”

“I don’t know.” Remus said, leaning over Sirius to reach his chocolate, before setting down the empty cup.

Sirius watched him sit up again. “Would you like some more?”

Remus blushed and mumbled. “Yes, please.”

---

This is so dangerous, Remus thought to himself as he stood in the shadows, trying to blend in with the darkness pooling around the worse-for-wear buildings so that only someone who was looking for him would find him. He went to pull out a cigarette but forgot he’d been very gently mugged in this spot the night before. The situation was so jarring, and it baffled him so intensely, that he couldn’t fathom not coming. Curiosity would have seized him in his sleep and he never would have stopped wondering

Remus watched the figure of the boy grow closer and closer in the distance, his visage being lit from above every time he stepped beneath a streetlamp, making it appear as though his body was flashing. When he arrived a few feet from Remus stepped out from the dark alleyway, the boy raised his eyebrow with recognition. Remus shoved his hands in his pockets. “Were you expecting me to come?”

“I told you to, din’ I?” the boy replied, smiling a crooked smile, before gesturing with his head for Remus to follow him. Remus did. What if? What if? What if?

“That doesn’t mean I was going to come,” Remus replied, his eyes darting around the streets in an attempt to memorise the path they were taking.

“It does. You woulda wondered what wussit I were talkin’ ‘bout.” Remus balked at being seen so plainly, though nothing was so bizarre as his willingness to follow this stranger about the dingy streets. “Wutsya name?”

“John,” Remus replied. “Yours?”

“Fleet.” The boy said, darting into a narrow side street, emerging into a wider lane with some stray cats and children sitting in the gutters, then slipping into an alleyway.

“Your name is Fleet?” Remus asked.

“Mhm.” the boy nodded, rapping on a door hidden around the bend of a crumbling house’s wall. The door had a tiny barred window at the top, and below it, a peephole that looked like a red demon’s eye might lurk behind. “When I wus a young ‘un, I ran away from e’rything. The mates call me Fleet because I fleed.”

Remus frowned. “But it’s pronounced Fleet? And you mean you fled.”

Fleet shrugged. “They can’t spell. I can’t neither. Dunna matter to us if we don’t know.”

The door swung open abruptly, and a young man barely older than Fleet and Remus, though aged by his haggard appearance, stood in the frame. “This ‘im?”

“Aye,” said Fleet, shoving past the man who leered at Remus. Remus’ heart thudded as he crossed the threshold into a dimly lit room where barely half a dozen other boys of varying ages lounged idly. It smelled terribly of smoke, and Remus supposed the chimney was blocked. There was a curtain of cheap calico that acted as a wall, but in the “room” Remus had entered, there were a variety of shabby settees and armchairs, odd manky cushions on the floor, and a depressing kitchen that sported a sad hob. “Quick meetings, yeah? That’s Jimmy, Jackie, Pebble, Davies and the big boy is Tatt.”

Remus' head swum with the intrusion of the colloquial names. “I’m John,” he mumbled, and the boys glanced at each other silently.

“Leads me to your job, then,” Fleet said, clapping a hand on Remus' shoulder which made him shudder, visions of James and Sirius surging through his mind. “We’s a gang, you see. But we lost some’un.”

The room was silent, some of the boys hanging their heads, and Remus whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Fleet looked at Remus like he’d just skinned his cat and left it in his mailbox; like it was shocking and strange that Remus would offer his condolences. “He was our drawer. We got other boys, too, doin’ other jobs for us wiv’ their small hands. But we mark em’, see, stop em’ goin to the bobbies and dobbin’ us in.”

“Mark them?” Remus gulped, picturing Fleet and Tatt, seemingly the oldest, holding a boy down to scar him. It made Remus want to cover his own nose.

Fleet nodded, pulling up his sleeve to reveal the wonky shape of a skull on his wrist. Around him, the rest of the gang revealed similar marks, but when Remus turned to Tatt, Tatt pulled his sleeves all the way to his shoulders to reveal entirely decorated arms. Remus had never seen anything like it, but he’d heard of travelling circus shows with similar people, though their bodies from their necks to their toes were covered. “That’s why we call ‘im Tatt,” Fleet said. “But, see, we other boys are wantin’ the same as ‘im. More than jus’ our skull. Can you do it?”

Remus looked at Fleet wide-eyed. “Tattoo people? I don’t know how.”

Fleet laughed at that, reminding Remus of the way they’d both barked when they realised how terribly silly Fleet’s attempt to mug him had been. “If Jackie can do it, you can. Jus’ carve the pitcha in the block, then stamp it an’ start pokin’.” Fleet grinned again, sunny in the dank room. “It’s why I wan’ned you. You can draw.”

Remus felt dizzy as he said. “You’ll pay me?”

Tatt crossed his arms and nodded solemnly, and Remus realised how very trapped he was, how he very much could not leave, and most of all, how he very very much needed money and this was…easy. He could do it. He’d learn. He’d switch his mind off. He’d manage. “So?” asked one of the boys on the floor, presumably Jackie.

Remus swayed. “Yes.” because he couldn’t say no.What if? What if? What if?

Tatt stepped toward him. “So we know you won’t go runnin’ ta the peelers, you gotta prove yerself.”

Mum’s sunflower coloured headscarf blew in the breeze, below it, her caramel hair was loose around her shoulders in natural waves. Remus loved her like this; gummy smiles and girlish squeals. “Go, Remus, go! Lean into it!”

Remus cackled, throwing his head back toward the sky and feeling the horse’s hooves rumble below him, the earth rushing past their feet. He leaned forward as they neared the low, stone fence, bracing for the jump. He waited, the world sprinting by, wind whipping at his ears, calculating, timing. White, childishly bony knuckles clenched over reins. A breath. Suspension. A hitch in his throat and back to the ground he came with an internal crash of adrenaline that was almost inhuman.

Remus turned back to see Mum rushing over, hand atop her scarf to keep it on and the other clutching her skirts. “Well done! You did it, and so beautifully too!” She said, standing on her toes to pull Remus down by his collar so she could kiss his cheeks. “Your father would be so proud of you.”

Remus felt a bead of sweat seep into the crevice between his lips. He panted “Are you?”

Mum reeled back, an expression of horror on her face. Remus knew he had her hair, her face shape, and her waifish build, but often he looked in the mirror and filled in the holes with his father. Where Mum’s eyes were blue, Remus’ were a dark hazel. Where Mum’s legs were short, Remus’ were long. Where her nose was round, Remus’ was tapered and he wasn’t yet self-conscious of the scar that hadn’t yet been formed for the assault hadn't yet been committed. It was strange to think the things that weren’t Mum’s weren’t really Remus’ at all, but those of a stranger whose character Remus didn’t know but silently yearned for.

“Of course I am, silly boy.” Mum smiled. “Come inside now, remember that jam I made the other day? There’s a loaf to have with it.”

Remus slid off the horse, one hand leading it back by the reins and the other entwined with Mum’s.

Remus hid his shaking by pulling himself to his full height. “What do you need me to do?”

Fleet stood between them. “It’s what we’ll do for you. It’ll only be lil’ and only take a secon’.”

“Who was that?” Marlene asked, coming up beside Remus and snaking an arm throughhis.

Remus shook his head. “An absolute madman apparently. C’mon, let’s go.”

Chapter 12: XII - A Fantasy He Didn’t Know He Was Allowed To Have

Chapter Text

“Remus?”

Remus froze, feeling dwarfed by the size of the foyer. He looked up slowly to meet his eye, his guilt making the staircase seem so much taller and foreboding. He hadn’t done anything wrong but…

“Sorry for coming in so late. I was held up,” he said, hoping the assumption that he was held up at the Black Manor was made.

Lord Potter, in his robe, which made Remus feel even more guilty for waking him, beckoned for Remus to ascend the stairs. “I have something to show you,” said Lord Potter.

Remus followed Lord Potter down the hallway, both of them creeping silently until they reached the door of the study where Remus had told them all he was leaving. Some days since then had hurt more than others, Remus picturing James and Marlene and Lily and Mary and Peter all living their lives while Remus was all the way in Yorkshire. Sirius sitting for someone else, Sirius saying “Am I alright here?” with the same tenderness he had to Remus. Someone else setting the lamp next to Sirius and missing how his cheeks turned that champagne colour. Someone else being offered chocolate. But then there was that sunflower-coloured scarf and Remus knew he had to make amends.

Lord Potter strode over to his desk, picking up a framed photograph Remus hadn’t noticed before. “I was looking at this today, and I realised something.”

Remus hesitantly came to stand beside Lord Potter, who smelled just like a father should; tobacco, wine, something citrus yet warm. “What is it?”

Lord Potter smiled at Remus and handed him the frame. “The question is who, not what.”

Remus peered at the photograph. Unlike other photographs of families, the Potters did not have a neutral, dignified expression of posh indifference, but beamed three sincere smiles. The picture was a few years old, with Lady Potter sporting a very 80s hairstyle and Lord Potter with thicker, dark hair similar to James’ hair now. The biggest giveaway, however, was toddler James, whose grin only consisted of two tiny teeth. In the background was a sweet, creamy-coloured stone house with a floral garden. Standing by the front of the door, was a tall, broad-shouldered groundskeeper. “Is this my father’s country house?”

Lord Potter smiled. “And your father. There, do you see him?”

Remus nodded slowly. “I do.”

When he looked up, Remus’ eyes locked with Lord Potters’, who had been watching him study the photograph. “You look like him. His eyes were like yours.”

“Were the two of you…friends?”

Lord Potter pondered this with an expression of consideration. “I wouldn’t say friends, but he was always kind, and seemed genuinely pleased that we enjoyed his house so much. We mightn’t have been close, and he may not have been the warmest person, but he was good.”

Remus focussed on the ground, handing the photograph back. “Mum always said he could be stoic.” and for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from saying “I don’t know that they loved each other.”

And then it was there. In front of them. Raw, a torn scab, bleeding.

The blood stained as Lord Potter gazed at Remus with intense sympathy. When he opened his mouth, Remus hoped he wouldn’t say that he was sorry, or that he was sure they did love each other, or that it was all alright. As much as Remus loved him, he didn’t want Lord Potter to be James at that moment, to be so golden that nothing else was allowed to be drab and dark. Instead, he said, “Would you like to attend art school?”

“Pardon?” Remus asked, having been caught off guard.

Lord Potter chuckled fondly. “You’re exceptionally talented, Remus. I would be honoured to fund your schooling. If you like, you may think of it as a loan and you could pay me back in installments.” Remus shut his gaping mouth. “What do you think?”

Remus shook his head. “I’m sorry, Fleamont, I cannot. I have to return to my mother.”

Lord Potter’s face fell as a fantasy Remus didn’t even know was one he was allowed to have dripped down the drain through a grate made of his own actions. His own neglect. He could be saying yes if Mum wasn’t sick. If he hadn’t…

“Well, if anything changes, please do write to me.” Lord Potter said, smiling tiredly.

“Sorry to keep you awake,” Remus mumbled, unable to look Lord Potter in the eye.

Lord Potter shook his head. “No, it is I who is keeping us both awake. Please retire if you wish.”

Remus shuffled toward the door, but as he turned the knob, he inhaled sharply and looked Lord Potter in the eye.

“Thank you.”

Remus hoped that the nod he received in response was acknowledging the depth of those two words. It was giving thanks for the offer to send him to art school, but beneath that, there was more Remus hadn’t the courage to be explicit about. Thank you for raising James to be who he is, thank you for letting me stay with you, thank you for offering your ear and your heart though I’ll never take it, thank you for being a haven I don’t deserve, thank you for letting me forget.

And then, though something about the notion felt intrusive in his mind, Remus thought one more thing as he closed the study door behind him.

Thank you for knowing the Blacks.

---

Dear Mum,
I hope you’re well. I received your last letter, and I apologise that it’s taken me so long to respond. There isn’t much to say in the way of “big smoke adventures”. I’ve been to a pub called “The Three Broomsticks” a few times. You’d probably smack me up the back of the head if I were telling you this to your face, but luckily, I’m not. The Potters have a son, you may remember him, called James, who is my age. Under my highly irresponsible supervision, he and his posh friends attended the pub with me once, and before that, his friend, Marlene, came with me.

Lady Potter is sponsoring Mary Macdonald for the season, and we converse quite well since she’s so excitable and has no qualms speaking openly with a servant. She’s from the countryside, but she’s no farmer’s daughter. In fact, she has captured the eye of many gentlemen this season, yet another thing she has no qualms with.

Peter Pettigrew is another childhood friend of James’. He introduced me to chocolate and I’m afraid nothing else I’ll ever consume will be close to comparing (though I look forward to sampling your jams to test such a theory).

The aforementioned Marlene McKinnon is boyish and brazen, but she’s so much fun everyone forgives her. I’ve never met anyone like her, so sure and headstrong, but Lily comes in as a close second in that category.

James has fancied Lillian Evans for years, but she’ll never show interest. She reads a lot, and we often discuss our favourite novels. She has lent me her annotated copy of Little Dorrit, and the margins are swollen with commentary. She has fiery red hair and an even more fiery personality to match her blazing green eyes, but she never starts conflicts or quarrels. She’s selective and articulate with her passion and it’s entirely admirable. Of all the people who frequent the Potters’ home, she is the one who understands me without me having to verbally express myself. You’d like her, Mum. She sits on the stairs to the mezzanine and reads to me as I work, and sometimes she asks me what I think.

Then there’s Sirius Black, who you may have heard of. Son of Lord Orion and Lady Walburga Black? I’m sure his family was in the paper at one point. His brain is really just a portion of James’.

So no adventures, but I offer you descriptions of many kind people. And Sirius.

Take care of yourself and write to me when you feel you can.

Thinking of you always,

Remus

Remus sealed the letter with some old wax he’d found in James’ art crate. So the information may be slightly dated, and perhaps he was leaving some events out. But none of it was untrue, and really, he should have written to Mum long ago, when all of it had been current.

Remus sighed.

---

Remus frowned in the early evening light, twisting the block to reach the nooks and crannies he’d missed. He’d never been very good at whittling, but his drawing had been precise, and so far he’d hardly gone outside of the lines. When he was finally finished, covered in wood shavings, he leaned back to examine the blocky ship only just smaller than his palm. Hopefully, it would look better printed. “This orright?” he asked, then corrected himself with an awkward cough. “Ahem, alright?”

Fleet nodded, smiling widely, with poorly hidden awe, at the carving. “You know what ya doin’ for the resta’ it?”

Remus chuckled humorlessly. “You better hope I do, it’s your blood I’ll be poisoning.”

Fleet shook his head, reclining on the settee that had so much patchwork on it Remus wasn’t sure what colour or fabric it was originally upholstered with. “Nah, chuck some grog on it when ya done.”

Remus was about to argue that he wasn’t sure that would stop his blood from being poisoned, but he wasn’t even sure if he was right in thinking that. He could ask Lily, but he didn’t think he could say “Do you know if pouring alcohol on a fresh tattoo will prevent blood poisoning?” without being bombarded with questions. Fleet pulled his shirt over his head, his braces hanging loosely by his bony hips. “Where do you want it?”

Fleet pointed to just below his ribs. “Give us the bottle before ya start. Bloody hurt, this one will.” Remus passed the cloudy, green bottle over to Fleet, who took a swig. From the face he made, whatever it was, it was strong. “Fanks for the idea.”

Remus nodded as he brushed ink over his handmade stamp. An hour ago, Fleet wasn’t certain what he wanted to get, but he’d insisted on something big and bold, like the tapestry that was Tatt’s arms and presumably, the rest of his body. Remus had made a joke about getting a fleet of ships for his name, but Fleet had liked the idea more than Remus had anticipated. They were settling with just the one boat today, though; a mean pirate-looking vessel. Remus had tried to explain that pirates generally didn’t travel in fleets, but none of the boys had cared very much. Remus dragged the rusty razor over Fleet’s pale skin to clip any fine hairs that could inhibit the process, then poured some of the bottle's contents over a rag to wipe the area with for good measure. He pressed the block just below Fleet’s lowest rib, and much to his relief, a clear image appeared. Remus had to work quickly now before the ink bled, so he cleaned the excess and readied his needle.

“Ow! Wotchit!” Fleet yelped as Remus started.

“I can’t tell if I’m going too deep or if you’re a wuss.”

“I’d get ya for that if I could,” Fleet grumbled, his chestnut hair flopping over one eye. “How long will it take?”

Remus shook his head. “You can’t rush art, Fleet,” Fleet grumbled a complaint again, but after a moment, pulled his head up to rest on his hand so as to watch Remus.

“How old are ya?”

Remus frowned in concentration. “Twenty. You?”

Fleet stuck his chin out. “Nineteen.” Remus looked up at him to raise an eyebrow. Fleet turned away to eye the floor before mumbling. “In two years…”

Remus huffed a laugh. “So you’re seventeen?”

“Nah, sixteen!”

“Three subtracted from nineteen is sixteen,” Remus said, having finished the outline of one sail.

“Oh. Well, I’ll be seventeen this December.” Fleet replied. “Gotta wife? Or kin? Plucked ya off the street I did, whose waitin' at home?”

Remus steadied his hand. “No wife. I have…a brother. And a sister.”

“What’re they called? Not more posh tosh what Remus is.” Fleet asked, hissing as Remus hit the underside of his lowest rib.

Remus wiped his hand on his thigh. He wondered if he could ask to distinguish the fireplace. “Ja-immy and Mar-ie. Jimmy and Marie.”

“What, forget their names, did ya?”

“You ask an awful lot of questions for an almost seventeen-year-old,” Remus said quickly, trying not to be mean. Then his eyes flew up from Fleet's hip. "And...my name's John."

"An' I'm the king o' England," Fleet said. "I told the others your name's John, but." he tapped his nose.

Remus, after a long pause, returned to poking Fleet with the needle. "You better have."

Fleet lay his head back again.

---

Remus returned to the Potters that night with heavier pockets.

Remus checked that James wasn’t going to pop out from a corner or Mary accost him as he crept up to the mezzanine like some sort of criminal. It was perfectly legal, what he was doing, but he knew the boys were far from innocent, so in some way, he was breaking the law by not turning them in. He couldn’t afford to be questioning morals or wondering what kind of people would be coming to get that skull on their wrists. Was Tatt in charge? Surely there was someone bigger than them, and someone bigger than them. There must be rings of criminal activity, and Remus had no idea where he sat in it all.

The first thing Remus did was check for any loose floorboards, but when he had no luck, he pushed back the bedframe to see if he could stash the money behind it. However, he realised the metal bars offered nothing, so he crossed the room to rummage through James’ art supplies. He found two small canvases, attempting to fit them together in order to make an unassuming pocket, but that didn’t work out, and he realised if ever anyone did become suspicious and decide to look through his things, not that he could see anyone doing that but one could never be careful, the first place they’d look would be in the art crate. Remus scrubbed his hands through his hair, scanning the room for a suitable hiding place when his eyes fell on his bedside table. He picked up his old copy of A Christmas Carol, turning it over in his hands. He’d brought it with him to London as a source of comfort, having had it since childhood. But he’d read it so many times, and it was so popular he’d be able to source another copy easily. So he took a scalpel from the art crate, flipped a quarter into the book, and began to slice at the pages. It took a long time, and was messy, leaving shreds of paper all over the floor, but after a while, he’d hollowed out the middle of the pages. He glued the last few to the back of the book, then opened and shut it a few times to check his handiwork, before putting half his earnings inside and stowing A Christmas Carol away in a drawer.

He needed to be careful with how much he spent and how often, for if anyone realised that he currently wasn’t earning anything, or at least he shouldn’t be, he’d have to start lying. He was sick of that.

Head swollen and hands jittery from just how much Remus had been thinking over the past couple of days, he sat at the desk. It hadn’t even occurred to him that it had only been a few days since he’d first met Fleet. Remus did what he did best, and busied himself with a pencil and paper. As usual, he wasn’t sure what he was drawing, but then the shape of piercing eyes spied him from the center of the page and the nose and cheeks followed soon after. Perhaps it was because he’d stared for hours and hours, because it was his “real” job because it was his liminal space where he lost himself only the find what he’d misplaced in the music room dancing through his mind hours later, but Remus drew Sirius. He didn’t have to think hard. Like Sirius at the piano, his hands flying furiously though he wasn’t really there at all, Remus let his pencil run wild while he stayed perched on the wall watching. Am I alright here? You’re fine. For every word you say, there are a million thought. That’s an exaggeration. A hyperbole. Chocolate? I thought you might want some.

“Moony?”

Remus flipped the page over, embarrassed. “Hello, Prongs. How’s house arrest?”

James flopped on Remus’ unmade bed. “Fine.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “That’s all?”

“Oh, why, I’m bloody miserable! I’m not even allowed to kick the football around.” James said, crossing his arms. “And how come you’ve been out all day? I could have used the company.”

“Where’s Mary been?” Remus asked, coming to sit cross-legged at James’ feet.

“Out with Lily and Marlene.” James sat up now, shoving a hand in his pocket to feel around. “She brought me something, though. I don’t usually like gossip but I’ll take anything-”

“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours-”

“I’m in isolation for a week! You’ll sneak letters to Pads and Wormtail, won’t you?”

Remus sighed. “Sirius, fine, but I don’t know how I’ll get Pete. He’s in trouble, too, isn’t he?”

James shook his head, staring at the leaflet he’d pulled from his trousers. “We’ll figure it out. Here, I got a good laugh from it.”

Remus frowned at the paper. “The London Ton?”

“Silly name, I know, but it’s just gossip about everyone participating in the season.” James replied, “But look.”

Remus flipped over to where James was pointing.

THE GRIN REAPER
Grins were shared at Sunday mass when the marauders struck again, and though this was one of their milder shenanigans, it was satisfying to see the faces of Orion and Walburga Black fall at the mention of their comical death. Of course Sirius Black and James Potter were at the forefront, with Peter Pettigrew as their usual accomplice, but is there a fourth marauder? Sitting in the Potters’ pew was a tall, handsome, and brooding “Moony”. Who is this mysterious gentleman, whose only other appearance this season being at the Black Family Ball, and is he engaged?

James took the paper back. “So now you’re “tall, handsome, and brooding”. Don’t tell Sirius he has competition.”

Remus shoved James. “I was always tall.”

James pushed Remus back. “But handsome and brooding is new.”

“Don’t be silly, you and Sirius command the season, everyone is vying for a dance!” Remus teased and James leaped forward to tackle him against the wall.

Remus went to press a hand into his forehead, but James headbutted him like a stag. “Take the compliment! And how would you know? You never come out with us!”

“That’s because I’m not invited!” Remus cackled and James thrashed around against his outstretched palm. James swerved Remus’ hand, falling onto Remus’ chest. Remus yelped, hissing in pain and embarrassment.

James recoiled, eyes wide. “Sorry! Are you alright? What happened?”

Remus shook his head. “Nothing. Just ‘ave a bruise there, s‘all, m’fine.”

James stared at Remus momentarily before moving to sit beside him and leaning against the wall. “You do that often.”

“Do what?”

James turned to look at Remus, shoulders heaving. “Change your speech. Your rhetoric. If it weren’t for the Yorkshire accent, I’d never guess where you are from.”

Remus fiddled with the sheets, the sketches of Sirius on the desk burning a pale hole in his peripheral. “I suppose. I don’t mean to.” Remus cleared his throat. “So, who’s,” he turned the pamphlet over, “Rita Skeeter? Unfortunate name.”

“A pen name. I’m pretty sure it’s just Marguerita Steelington, though. She’s a few years older than us and lives vicariously through the youth of today since she married a few seasons ago. Everyone sort of knows it’s her, and she never reveals any secrets, just documents people’s notable attire or who was promenading with who. Like a public journal. Sometimes she flat out lies.” James replied. “She’s just a bored churchbell, but if you want to take her work seriously this time, no one will disagree,” James added, winking as he stood.

Remus looked up at James, handing the pamphlet back. “Aye, aye alright, kiss me tomorrow, hm? And if you like, I can find a way to get a letter to Lily.”

James smiled. “I’ve got too much time to think about what I’d write. Thank you, Moony.”

“In return, you must help me make Sirius confess why he started that nickname.”

“You don’t like it?”

Remus huffed. “It’s nice, but I don’t understand it. So you’ll help me? Letters for answers? A quid pro quo?”

James frowned, not knowing what a quid pro quo was, but nodded. “Anything for our Moony. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Prongs,” Remus said as James turned down the stairs. Once he was out of sight, Remus rubbed at his chest, pulled his shirt over his head, and retrieved the handheld mirror from his closet to look at the mark.

Though it was angry and red, it was healing, and unmistakably, a coin-sized skull.

Chapter 13: XIII - Dreamcatcher

Chapter Text

“Prongs is so pent up that this morning over breakfast, he told me the Earl of Rosebery’s Liberal Party government has just fallen. Have you ever known him to read political headlines?”

Sirius barked a laugh. He wasn’t in his usual dignified attire of a dark suit with plum-coloured brocade waistcoat and cravat, but in a simpler crimson waistcoat that hung unbuttoned, his neck and chest absent of a tie, leaving his shirt gaping and exposing a few inches of a pale chest. Remus had told him last session he didn’t have to wear what he wanted to be painted in since Sirius had complained about the discomfort of his mother’s chosen suit. Remus was only refining what he already had today. Remus had not expected this, however.

“Poor boy,” Sirius said, shaking his head and sipping on his usual black tea. Remus’ stomach was warm with the comfort of chocolate. “But he’ll be free by tomorrow night, won’t he?”

Remus shrugged, cleaning his brush off. “Lady Potter said a week, I believe. So, yes? Why does it matter that he’s free tomorrow night?”

Sirius sat up a bit. “He hasn’t told you? The Yule Ball is tomorrow night. I thought he would have asked you to come.”

“Yule Ball? It’s June. And he knows I don’t particularly enjoy balls.” Remus replied, looking pointedly at Sirius, who rolled his eyes.

Sirius lazed back again, lounging and letting his hair fall over the back of the settee. His eyelashes lit up like catherine wheels in the sun. It seemed light gravitated toward him. How convenient for Remus. “It’s not a real ball. It’s more of a gathering. I don't know why we call it the Yule Ball, but we brought it back from Eton. We have a bonfire, and everyone comes. And Marlene’s asked Dorcas and Alice and Frank to be there too. And you can drink as much as you like. We have it in the woods behind Wormtail’s house.”

Remus shook his head. “Sounds loud. I’ll pass.”

“You and your passes.” Sirius tutted. “It’ll be fun. And you have to come.” then, grinning devilishly and sitting up just enough to gaze at Remus, a halo of mused inky hair around his head, he said, “No more chocolate if you don’t.”

Remus hid his surprise, darting his eyes back to the canvas. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

Remus pursed his lips. He really liked chocolate. “Be serious.”

Sirius glanced down at himself. “I do that pretty well.”

“Fine, I’ll come,” Remus mumbled.

“We need our tall, handsome, brooding Moony.”

“You read that, did you?”

“Everyone has,” Sirius said, standing to stretch, and Remus watched as his muscles rippled with the extension of his arms. “Now, let me see what you have so far. I’m sick of sitting.”

Remus stood, almost knocking over the stool. “Be patient. And what else would you be doing?”

“Warming a lovely lady’s bed. Say, would you convince your mother to buy a softer mattress? I have a delicate back.” Remus groaned at Sirius’ crude humor as Sirius started to come around the other side of the canvas.

Remus grabbed his shoulders before he could crane his neck enough to see anything. “It isn’t finished,” he grunted as Sirius pushed against his arms.

After a moment’s struggle, Sirius stopped pressing abruptly, and Remus stumbled forward into him embarrassingly. He grunted at the pressure on his healing tattoo. “What, is your artistic process too vulnerable?” Sirius murmured his nose millimeters from Remus’ ear. Remus swallowed, nodding.

“Yes, you understand, so stop being such a sod and sit down.” when Sirius didn’t move, a daring smirk on his lips, Remus shoved him, causing him to collapse girlishly on the settee with a cackle.

“I didn’t agree to be manhandled! I should have you fired for such behavior.” Sirius said, laughing.

“It’s what you deserve for making fun of me. Now sit and be good.” Remus said, perching on the stool again, his forehead warm and heart pounding. Trust Sirius to get on his nerves like this. Pretty brat.

When he looked up again, Sirius was sitting upright without a trace of humour on his face. “I wasn’t teasing or making fun.” and then, with his Arlecchino mask back on, “So, what is your mother like?”

The question caught Remus off guard. “Pardon?”

“My question. For the game. What is your mother like?”

“Oh.” Remus thought for a moment. How could he even begin to describe Mum? When one loved someone, it was easy to conjure words to describe them. They came instantly, like another voice was giving him the answers because he knew them so well it was natural to explain who they are. James was golden and loud and brotherly, and Lily kind, intelligent, empathetic, and ambitious. Mary was beautiful, youthful, and flirty, Peter soft, quietly loving, someone who liked to sit with his own thoughts while he baked or played chess against himself since no one but Sirius was an even match. Marlene was smiley, proud, warm and inclusive, and sporty.

When one loved someone, it was easy to conjure words to describe them. But Remus more than loved Mum. It wasn’t affection of the heart but a feeling of the soul. Mum was his, and he was hers; so incomprehensible that language cannot possibly capture it. “She likes horses.”

“What else?”

While words could not capture who Mum was, Remus smiled at the opportunity to try. When he told people Mum was sick, they often nodded sympathetically and avoided asking any more questions in order not to upset him. Remus used to think this was for his benefit; they didn’t want to make him sad. But he’d realised it was so they didn’t have to handle his sadness, didn’t have to feel it with him, as was a condition when caring for another. But as Sirius gazed at Remus, the hint of an idle smile on his lips, Remus knew that Sirius asked because, if Remus did get sad, he could handle it. He could marinate in hollowness with Remus if need be. Sirius had looked hurt in the eye and laid his head on its shoulder.

That’s who Sirius was.

Contrary to popular belief, Remus really wasn’t sad. By asking about her, Sirius had brought her to London; had helped her sit on the settee beside him so Remus wouldn’t have to miss her. “She used to wear a sunflower coloured scarf. And she has the same colour hair as me. She likes making jams with whatever berries and fruits appear on the farm, and they always taste better when the fruit is grown wildly. She snorts sometimes at cheap jokes in the paper. She makes soap and cordial from dandelions and sells them at the market when it comes to town. She has a cat, Seville.”

“Seville? Like Seville oranges?”

Remus nodded. “He’s her ginger cat. Well, he was her ginger cat.”

“He changed colour? We should ask Evans if all gingers can do that.” Sirius laughed before his face fell. “Oh, god, the cat died didn’t he.”

“No,” Remus said, setting his paintbrush down. He was trying to paint a dark, fine line, but he couldn’t stop shaking. “She had to give him to a neighbour when she moved into her cottage. There were a few nights when she couldn’t get up and he almost starved. The neighbours still let him come visit her, though, and even if they didn’t, Seville would still find his way back to her.”

Sirius was quiet for a moment. “Your turn.”

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“No reusing questions.”

“That was ages ago!”

“A rule’s a rule.”

“Fine. Gosh, I don’t know. You always seem to make me squirm with your questions, yet I’ve got nothing.”

“You do. You’re just afraid in a way that I am not.”

“How so?”

“I ask what I want to know, despite it being uncomfortable. It doesn’t matter if I bring it up or not, you’d be thinking about it, so I may as well let you say it aloud.”

“I don’t know what you think about. How to vex me, maybe.”

“I don’t need to think about that, I’m too good at it.”

A beat. Remus picked his paintbrush up again, noticing the carmine red blob it had left behind on the desk.

The door to the music room burst open and Walburga strutted in, voice nasally and clipped as she harped “Sirius! The guests will be here in half an hour and you look debauched! Go and prepare at once!”

“Oh, but Mummy, Remmie likes me all hot and exposed, don’t you?” Sirius pouted.

Walburga turned her beady eyes to Remus. “I..um-”

“I’ve told you before that I dislike people who stutter. You aren’t progressing very quickly, Mr. Lupin.”

Sirius came to stand beside Remus, and Remus swiveled the easel away. “I’ve been annoying him, Mother. It’s not his fault. Besides, you aren’t paying him by the hour so what does it matter?”

Walburga fumed. “Talk to me like that again and you best hope your brother locks his door tonight. Now go and dress.”

And with that, Walburga stormed from the room. Sirius stared at the open door.

“Who’s coming over tonight?” Remus asked as Sirius finished his tea and strode out the door, Remus following him despite being unsure if he should.

Sirius climbed another staircase, just as gothic as the one winding up from the foyer. “Family dinner party.” Sirius huffed, throwing a door open that, once they were inside, Remus realised led to his bedchamber. It had originally been furnished as drearily as the rest of the house, but Remus noticed specks of Sirius floating around the room; a detention slip framed on his desk detailing the mischief he’d gotten into with James and Peter, a hoop, string woven like lace in the middle with azure feathers hanging from it, a birthday card presumably from the Potters. Sirius threw open his closet doors and started tossing garments about. Remus thought back to how James had asked Mary what he should wear the first night Remus dined with them. He hadn’t even met Sirius yet. It was hard to imagine not knowing Sirius now. Sirius tossed his waistcoat behind him. It landed on Remus’ head.

“Padfoot, stop. Pads, stop it you’ll hardly be able to find your floor if you keep-” Remus stepped forward when Sirius didn’t stop assaulting his wardrobe’s organisation system. “Sirius!”

Sirius panted, letting his arm go limp in Remus’ hand. “She’s a bitch.”

“I know my question now.” Sirius looked up at Remus, silver eyes shiny. “Why does Regulus need to lock his door?”

Sirius looked to the ground, but he didn’t shake Remus off. “She sneaks up on us. She doesn’t punish us immediately. Sometimes, she waits hours, sometimes days, then she gets us when we think we’re safe. She knows we’re stronger than her physically so if she can catch us off guard-”

“Oh god, Sirius.”

Sirius shook his head. “She hasn’t done it to me in ages. Not since I graduated from Eton. She tried, but I kicked her in the nose. That’s why it’s wonky, the cow.” Sirius grinned unsettlingly, freeing his arm from Remus’ grip to lift his pant leg. A purple, jagged scar the length of Remus’ hand tore down the back of Sirius’ calf. “Now we match though, hm?” Sirius said, tapping Remus’ nose. Remus wanted to cry for him, but they’d made a silent promise. No sympathy, only understanding. Sirius had promised that when he asked about Mum.

“So, she uses Regulus to punish you?”

Sirius shrugged, returning to his closet and calmly picking through the tornado of cloth on his floor. “Not a very logical woman is she?” Sirius chose a black suit to match his family’s funeral-esque attire. He threw off his brown trousers before picking up two almost identical black pairs of breeches. “Now, this pair make my arse look scrumptious, but this pair…well actually they both make my arse look grand.”

Remus looked at the hoop that hung above Sirius’ bed, under the canopy, while Sirius dressed. It was so brightly coloured and strangely handmade for the rest of the room. Remus didn't notice when Sirius returned to his side, their shoulders brushing. “What is it?”

“James, the snitch, told Reg I was having nightmares at Eton in our first year. Reg made it for me. He has a book on Native American culture. It’s called a dream catcher. I took it back to Eton with me when I returned. I didn’t have nightmares after that. He used to be so funny when he was little. Reg, I mean. Once he asked me if he looked more like mother's or father’s side of the family.” Sirius said, laughing. “I hadn’t the heart to tell him it’s the same side. We have a family tapestry, but it looks like a child’s scribble. Andy's name is burnt off it.” then, abruptly, “Come on, Mother will have my head if I don’t go down and join everyone. I can hear voices.”

Sirius marched out of the room and down the stairs, but as Remus headed for the front door, Sirius grabbed his hand and led him around the other side of the stairs. His fingers were slim and cool. Remus’ hands were always warm, sometimes too hot and clammy. “Sirius, what are you doing?” Remus hissed.

“Dine with us.”

“I can’t! Your mother will fire me!”

“Ah, but she is at my mercy!” Sirius whispered back.

Remus stopped him, halting their flight through the hallway toward the amber glow of a murmuring dining room. “What about Regulus? Won’t she hurt him for this?”

“Sirius!” called a sweet, feminine voice from the front door, and Sirius’ face lit up at the sight of a young woman with mousy waves piled on top of her head and a striking ruby velvet gown.

“Andy!” Sirius cheered, rushing to envelope Andy in such a fierce embrace that he lifted her off the ground, though she wasn’t a large woman so it wouldn’t have been hard to do. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you were home from Eton for good. I wouldn’t make you sit through your first family dinner since being back alone. Ted and Dora aren’t coming, though, I couldn’t do that to them.” then she turned to Remus, her eyes the same grey that it seemed all the Blacks’ were but without Regulus’ romanticism or Sirius’ sultriness. “Who’s this?”

“This is Remus Lupin. He’s staying with the Potters while he paints my portrait.” Sirius grinned, putting a hand on Remus’ shoulder.

“Ah, well I’ll say it was my idea you dine with us then, Wolf Wolf, spare Sirius for one night shall we? Now, come, let’s go make my sisters’ faces turn red.” Andy smiled, looping her arm through Remus’ and leading him into the dining room.

When a stunned Remus entered, with Andy on one side and Sirius on the other, the dining room reacted in an array of ways, from dropping cutlery, spilling wine by choking on it in shock or rising suddenly to accommodate their surprise. Orion was at the head of the table, with Walburga next to him. Next to Walburga were Cygnus and Druella, and across the table, Bellatrix and Rodolophus. Lucius had been invited, apparently, as he was seated beside Narcissa. The Rosiers filled the space between Regulus and the Blacks, with Evan and Pandora seated across from Regulus, but the other end of the oversized table was empty. Everyone composed themselves, turning to Walburga to address the situation. “Look, Mother, Andy’s here!” Sirius squealed sarcastically.

“I see that.” Walburga forced herself to whisper.

Andy matched Sirius’ childish sarcasm. “Oh, dear Aunt Walburga, could Mr. Lupin dine with us tonight? I’d love to hear of his progress with Sirius’ picture.”

With the table’s eyes on her, a vein began to bulge in Walburga’s overexposed forehead, given her hair was in such a tight and severe bun. “That is undignified-”

“Walburga, do not make a scene. Let them sit. It would be distasteful not to.” Orion interrupted, placing a forceful hand on Walburga. She twitched under the added weight as Sirius and Andy took seats by Regulus. Remus did the same, but with intense trepidation.

The rest of the family turned their heads after a while, though Remus was still subject to many side eyes, and they spoke in French so as to exclude him. Good, shove it up your derrieres. Evan and Regulus sat solemnly at the table. The first course was brought out, something Remus didn’t recognise. He looked at the plethora of utensils beside his plate, all lined up. “Work from the inside out,” Andy whispered with a smile.

Sirius tossed his food about with his fork, looking rather pale. He must be scared for Regulus. “Well, this is exhilarating,” Regulus mumbled.

“As if you’re as thrilling as a circus show, horse torturer.” Sirius retorted.

“You’re making him do all the work to distract from the fact you aren’t funny,” Regulus said, as Pandora dabbed at his chin with a serviette. Regulus looked at her, raising an eyebrow, but Pandora returned an absent yet content gaze. Remus guessed she often did strange but endearing things such as this, but it was sort of sweet. Regulus probably wouldn't let anyone else touch him. "At least I don’t have to drag my portrait painter to a family gathering to be considered interesting.”

“Thing is, Reggie, no one considers you interesting,” Sirius replied.

“I do,” Evan said, spearing what looked like a piece of asparagus with his fork.

“You don’t count.” Sirius retorted. Andy and Remus shared glances as they put forkfuls of whatever the entree was in their mouths. Something creamy, maybe with garlic?

Evan didn’t look up from his plate as he quipped “You’re inbred.” with no emotion.

“Alright Darwin, well so is Reg,” Sirius said. “Still want to kiss his webbed feet?”

"Your feet are webbed? You must be a good swimmer." Pandora mused, her doe eyes blinking slowly.

Sirius guffawed humourlessly. "He used to be terrified of rowing classes at Eton. Thank goodness you aren't going back this year, eh?"

Remus hadn’t expected Regulus to use his spoon as a catapult to launch some saucy asparagus at Sirius. It landed in his collar, causing Sirius to erupt in laughter and Walburga stood. Her chair flew back as she pointed a finger at Regulus. “How dare you! Are you serious?”

“No, I am!” Sirius said, wheezing.

“Two Sirius puns in one day-” Remus muttered.

“I expect such behaviour from your brother, but from you?”

“Walburga, sit down!”

“No, Orion, he is stepping out of line-”

“Sister, Orion is right, be reasonable-”

“You don’t understand, Cygnus, your daughters are proper women of society-”

“Andromeda has disgraced us!”

“Thanks, Mother, I’m right here-”

“You don’t get to be offended; you chose to go suck Ted Tonks’-”

“Bellatrix! Have some decorum!”

Andy grinned at Lucius “You married the normal one. The Black ink ran out, that’s why her hair’s stark white.”

Lucius looked at Narcissa, who appeared bored. “We’re engaged.”

“You’re stuck here now, good chap.” Sirius jeered, leaning back in his chair to watch his family members rant at each other. Rodolphus was finishing Bellatrix’s entree.

Amongst all the screaming and shouting, no one noticed the footmen, dressed like they’d fallen out of 18th-century Versailles with their snowy wigs and heavy coats, with their trays carrying the mains. They began placing the dishes in front of the guests, having so efficiently removed the entrees that Remus had hardly noticed, only just catching one footman with Sirius and Andy’s plates on his arm, Sirius’ still full. Walburga, in a screaming match with Druella, knocked one of the footmen, sending a bowl of soup flying over the table and landing on Lord Rosier’s head. The room froze.

“Nice hat, Uncle,” Sirius smirked. “Come on, Moony, I’ll walk you out.”

Silently, for if he made a noise, Remus was sure he’d fall through a hidden trapdoor or something medieval like that, Remus rose and followed Sirius out of the room, bidding Andy goodnight.

Once in front of the house and on the gravel driveway, Remus felt he could breathe. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” Sirius said gleefully. When Remus kept looking at him, Sirius exhaled a cloudy breath in the cool night. It was still summer, so the crickets chirped happily, and the mist that drifted off the fountain in the middle of the driveway sprayed Remus’ cheeks ever so slightly. Still, the nights were cool. They never seemed to be at the Potters’. “I won’t let her get Reg.”

Remus shoved his hands in his pockets and forced himself to look away and let Sirius be. It didn’t sound like that was a promise Sirius was in a position to make. “Alright. I best go then. Thank you for the entree, I suppose.”

Sirius reached for Remus as he started toward the gate, Remus expecting his hand to land on his shoulder or arm. Somewhere Sirius’ touch already knew. His cool fingers grazed Remus’ neck but didn't settle. Remus wondered if he hadn’t stopped, would Sirius have left his hand there to pull him back? “Remus…”

Remus huffed through his nose. Not a laugh. Close to it. “Not Moony?”

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, and Remus turned to face him entirely now, worried. “I’m sorry if I used your class again. To make my family upset. I didn’t mean to, your unexpectedness irritated them, not the fact you’re…you could have been anyone, really. They didn’t even want Andy there.”

Remus exhaled, relieved. “I know.”

Sirius stepped back, nodding. Though he’d cackled and barked laughter into the air, pulverising the atmosphere at the dinner table into a melodramatic show rather than a representation of the truth behind the Black family, Sirius was still as small as he’d been when he’d had his victory at mass. “Do you want a carriage to take you home?”

“I think your organising that would send your mother into hysterics,” Remus said, pulling his cigarettes from his pocket. Fleet had given them back.

“That’d be incredible.” Sirius grinned, and it was that Sirius Black grin; cheeky and boyish and not really him at all. Remus wanted his music room smile. He wanted to see it in every light, in moonlight, in sunlight, and lamplight, sunrise and sunset. He never knew who he was talking to when Sirius grinned like that. Remus stuck a cigarette between his lips, fumbling in his pocket for his lighter.

Frosty skin against his jaw. Sirius. His fingers pulled his face around. His eyes were still grey in the dark. Remus imagined how it would feel to soak up their pigment with his paintbrush. He’d cover every canvas in it. He hadn’t understood at first, but a flicker of heat erupted by his lips, and Remus looked down to see Sirius with a fancy gold lighter. After Remus took a shaky drag, Sirius plucked the cigarette from his mouth and set it to his own plush lips. “Thank you,” Remus murmured, turning away to breathe out the smoke.

“Prongs had it made for me,” Sirius said, inhaling, then coughing. “Merde, how do you make it look so lush and effortless?” Sirius choked.

Remus chuckled, taking the cigarette back. “Not so slick now, hm?”

“Shut up,” Sirius wheezed, batting Remus away through shallow laughter.

“I better go,” Remus said.

“Goodnight, Moons. Thank you for staying. And come to the Yule Ball!” Sirius said.

“Don’t take it right into your lungs next time,” Remus replied, waving the cigarette, the end glowing in the night.

“I won’t.”

“Okay,” Remus called, walking backward out of the gate.

“Alright.” Sirius hollered after him.

"Goodbye!"

"Farewell, my love! My Moony-"

"Stop it, you'll wake the neighbours-"

"What neighbours? I don't see any neighbours! Only you, Moony moon moons-"

"You're absurd!"

"The ladies love me!"

Remus threw a pebble at Sirius, not trying very hard to aim, before turning to walk forward, taking another drag. “‘Night, Pads,” he whispered.

Chapter 14: XIV - The Yule Ball

Chapter Text

Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only Beauty. There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.

Remus picked up his pencil and scribbled in the margin. “If he can come up with art like this before his conviction, imagine the twisted beauty he’ll be able to capture after his sentence ends. Or maybe it’ll harden him so cruelly that he never writes again! Who knows? :)”

“What are you writing there?” James asked, peering over Remus’ shoulder. Remus slammed the book shut. He’d rather the other marauders think he was some genius writing intellectual analysis of the literary devices employed.

“That’s between him and Lily,” Peter said, rolling out some dough on the bench. “Only those two can decipher each others’ codes.”

“That’s unfair! I read!” James protested. He pranced into the available empty space, cleared his throat, and theatrically delivered the line “Well, I believe we have some power over who we love, it isn't something that just happens to a person.” he said in an awful American accent, batting his eyelashes.

Sirius leaped from where he was sitting on the edge of the bench, a position that had resulted in a smear of flour on the side of his breeches. “I think the poets might disagree,” he replied in a much better attempt at portraying a Yankee.

“Well. I'm not a poet, I'm just a woman.” James said sadly, turning to the ground and clutching his chest like a wounded widow. Sirius advanced toward him, cupping his face with false sympathy. Remus didn’t think this was how this scene was written, but he was enjoying the show. “And as a woman I have no way to make money, not enough to earn a living and support my family. Even if I had my own money, which I don't, it would belong to my husband the minute we were married. If we had children they would belong to him, not me. They would be his property. So don't sit there and tell me that marriage isn't an economic proposition, because it is. It may not be for you but it most certainly is for me.”

“Bravo! Bravo!” Peter clapped, dusting powdered sugar all over the floor. They were all in the kitchen keeping Peter company as he baked shortbreads for the Yule Ball that night. Sirius had been permitted the day off from sitting for his portrait, and as much as Remus enjoyed their time together, (though he’d never say it because he’d never hear the end of it) he was glad for the break as well. Since Peter was occupying the Potters’ kitchen, the staff had been given the afternoon off as well and had all gone into town to shop. Except for Filch. Remus suspected he was lurking with his creepy little cat as usual. From two stories above them, for the kitchen was below the house to keep it cool, the girls shrieked with laughter. Remus remembered the chaos of them getting ready for the Black Family's Ball and was quite glad he was tucked away with the sweet aroma of Pete’s baking surrounding him.

“Since when are you two Louisa May Alcott enthusiasts?” Remus asked, bookmarking his book with a tiny sketch he’d done of Lily weeks ago.

James picked up a scrap of dough and put it in his mouth. “Lily once said she loved the portrayal of girlhood and how accurate it was, so I read the thing front to back hoping to start a conversation about it with her. I never got the chance.” James shrugged. “I ended up liking it more than I thought I would.” James turned to Sirius, who had returned to sitting on the bench and getting flour all over himself. “You know, Laurie sort of reminds me of Regulus. I don’t know why.”

“Me either. Laurie is funny and charming and excitable like Jo. Regulus reads violin sheet music like a novel for fun.” Sirius complained, using a cloth to swipe at Peter’s nose which had collected a smear of flour or powdered sugar on it.

“But that is impressive, isn’t it? That he sees stories in the notes?” James tried.

“Psh, I could do that. Moony could do that!” Sirius said.

“Why did you use me as a comparison? Don’t I have a thousand thoughts for every word I say or something?” Remus protested, folding his arms over the back of the wooden chair he was straddling.

Sirius shook his head. “Speaking of Evans and starting conversations, how will you get her attention at the Yule Ball? And as fantastic as it was, I don’t think trying to hang off a chandelier is a good idea.”

“There are no chandeliers in the woods,” Peter said, cutting out star shapes in his rolled dough and setting them on a tray.

“See, Moony said there are no chandeliers at pubs, and yet when we went to one, voila!” Sirius said, leaning back on his arms and crossing his long, lean legs. Considering he wasn’t particularly tall, Sirius was perfectly lithe and angular, without the gangly limbs Remus had. No one could ever call him scrawny. Damn him and his absurdly good looks.

Peter sighed, pushing his tray into the oven. “Moony, mind reminding me to check on the temperature every five minutes? The oven can be temperamental.” Remus nodded, picking up the smallest hourglass timer on the bench and flipping it so that the sand started to run. “But Padfoot is right, how are you going to impress Lily?”

They all looked to James, who tried to say as nonchalantly as he could “I don’t think I will. I think I’ll let her be. She doesn’t want me.”

Three jaws dropped.

“Prongs? What? No, no, Evans is stubborn, sure, and she’s hot-headed-”

“Passionate-” Remus interjected.

“Fine, passionate, but she’s always been yours!” Sirius finished.

James took off his spectacles, cleaning them on the hem of his shirt. They didn’t have any marks on them to clean. “But that’s just the problem. Thinking like that. She’s never been mine, she’s been her own person. That’s why I liked her so much. But it just isn’t supposed to happen.” then he added, without much conviction. “There are others.”

Peter, though unsure and glancing between Remus and Sirius, said “That’s good, Prongs. You’ll save yourself some heartache, right Moony?”

Remus nodded. “It’s…unexpected…but mature. You really do know her, and I think if you stay with this mentality, Lily would love to be your friend.”

Sirius spun around the room to glare at Remus. Remus returned his look unwaveringly. “Have you lost your minds? This is Lily and James we’re talking about! James and Lily! We can’t just give up! What if Snivellus snatches her up!”

James stepped forward, putting his glasses back on to look at Sirius properly. “Then it’ll happen because she wants it. And we would never give up, but I would. And I am. It’s not fair anymore, we’re grown.”

“What about all those nights at Eton we spent thinking about how you’d win her when we came home for vacation? What about all of last season?” Sirius shouted.

Remus stood, pushing Sirius away and into the corner. “Shush before you say something you regret. Those nights aren’t lost. Now leave it, it’s none of your business.”

Sirius’ chest heaved as the room went silent. “Fine,” Sirius whispered.

“Oh! Good! The final batch is done! Let’s all go upstairs and get ready now!” Peter trilled, trying to lighten the mood as he took his tray out from the oven.

“Good plan, you have flour all over your arse,” James said, slapping Sirius’ behind on his way up the stairs. Though he tried to hide it, it was obvious he was shaken by Sirius’ reaction. Why couldn’t he see this was good for James? And Lily? Why did he have to be so unreasonable?

---

They all stared at the carriage. So Remus had prepared it for them, but they didn’t want to tell the Potters they were borrowing it, therefore they had no driver.

“Well, up you go then, Remus,” Mary said, her pink skirt fanning out around her legs under her traveling cape.

“I don’t know how to drive a carriage. I mean, I know the basics, but it’ll be a bumpy ride-”

“We’ll drive it!” James said, pulling Sirius in by his neck. “Pete? Coming up?”

Peter shook his head, his hair neatly combed. He looked very dapper, his clean-up bringing out the sapphire in his eyes, but everyone knew he would only be wooing Evangeline. “I’ll stay inside.” Peter tapped Remus on the chest as he climbed inside and murmured, “Safer that way.”

“Suit yourself,” Sirius said. He took off his jacket, going to toss it in the carriage, but he stopped, shooting a glance at a shivering Marlene. “Here, McKinnon.” he handed her the bundle, which Marlene slipped into, trying to hide her eagerness. Remus thought it was a rather flashy piece, with all the glitter, but he supposed that’s just how Sirius dressed away from his family’s eye. Sirius climbed up onto the driver’s seat, grinning gleefully as he took one rein while James held the other. They giggled up there giddily. One rein each was surely no way to steer.

“Are we really letting those halfwits drive?” Lily asked, folding her arms under her cloak.

“Well, together they’re a full wit,” Marlene replied, offering to help Lily into the carriage, a hand which she accepted. Remus went to do the same for Marlene, but Marlene kept her hand outstretched, so Remus took it and allowed her to “help” him into the carriage, though he was scared to put any weight on her hand. Marlene clambered in behind him.

Everyone yelped as the carriage, after a few minutes stationary with the vague sounds of Sirius and James arguing floating down into the compartment, jolted to life and rumbled along the road. They’d pushed it out of the Potters’ driveway so they wouldn’t be seen pulling away, and now Remus was still slightly sweaty from the effort. Remus relaxed a little when they didn’t immediately fall into a ditch. Lily was chuckling at Remus’ annotations in their book, while Mary and Peter chatted away about who they wanted to see at the Yule Ball. “No, I’m not courting Amos anymore. He’s a bit boring. Alright, fine fine, Pete, he’s “eccentric”. If other gentlemen were as gentlemanly as you, I wouldn’t be able to choose! Well, I know I can’t choose now anyway, but you understand what I mean.” Mary said, gesturing with her hands as Peter replied with short responses. Remus turned turn to face Marlene, who stared out the window biting her lip. “What’s got you riled up?”

Marlene shook her head. “Nothing. Just, what if Cas doesn’t come?”

“She’d never miss an opportunity to see you looking so dapper in some man’s coat.” Remus joked. “Why wouldn’t she come?”

Marlene lay her head against the glass, watching the darkness whizz by. “I don’t know.”

"Mhm, Pete, these are incredible! What do you put in them?" Lily mumbled around a shortbread that dusted crumbs onto her skirt.

Peter grinned. "Always, always, always put just a pinch of cinnamon, a dash of vanilla, and an even smaller dash of almond essence. Those are my tricks.”
"Magic tricks," Lily replied, finishing the biscuit.

After they’d be rumbling along the path for ten minutes, Remus felt his heart fly up into his throat as the sensation of suspension gripped the carriage, and everyone inside was thrown about. Marlene was flung forward into Remus’ chest, her nose squished against his neck while Peter grunted into Remus’ side. On top of Pete was a tangle of limbs belonging to Mary and Lily. Once they’d stopped moving, arms and legs pushed and prodded until all bodies were upright again, though this was hard to do now that the seats were at an odd angle to the ground.

“So,” wheezed Marlene after checking Remus was alright and crawling from his lap, “Who wants to bet they crashed the carriage?”

Lily slammed the door open with a groan. “Together they make a full wit she said!” Lily grumbled, scowling at Marlene.

From above the door, James popped his face down, spectacles lopsided on his nose. “Is everyone alright?”

“Potter get off the roof and help us! What have you done?” Lily said angrily. Despite her request for help, she battered James’ hand away as she heaved herself from the carriage, which was now partially on its side.
Remus pushed himself out next. “Are the horses hurt?” he asked Sirius, who was standing a few feet away and surveying the darkness. He shook his head, making room for Marlene and Mary to appear as James helped them out.

Once Peter had also exited the carriage, they stood in the dust of the accident. “Well, it is dark. Anyone would have missed this monster of a ditch,” said Sirius, slapping James on the shoulder.

Lily linked her arm with Remus’ and started to strut through the dark. “Remus wouldn’t have. Now we’ll have to walk the rest of the way! Sirius and James, you have to lead the horses and tack them up when we get there since it's your fault.”

"It's me who will get in the most trouble. It's my parents' carriage!" James hollered, helping Sirius to free the horses.

Mary came around Remus’ side to take his other arm. “There, there, Lils, it’s no longer a walk than what we normally endure going to The Three Broomsticks.”

“And we all complain of sore ankles upon our return, Lily’s fair in her complaints,” Marlene said, putting an arm around Mary’s shoulders.

Mary turned to her, and even in the dark, something sour glinted in her eye as she said “Then how come you always go? Why’s that fiddler so special?”

Remus halted them, sharing a quick glance with Marlene, whose lips were in a thin line. “Oi, you lot keep up!” he called back.

“Not everyone walks on stilts, Lupin,” Sirius called back but came running up behind Mary to grab her around the waist, causing her to scream laughter into the night. “Who’s your pick tonight then, Macdonald?”

“Go away, wouldn’t you like to know?” Mary squealed, slapping Sirius off. "And go get your horse or it'll run off!"

---

It took half an hour for the group to arrive at the clearing where a huge, blazing bonfire crackled away in the middle of a crowd of people. A fallen tree with the branches and leaves cut off was being used as a bench for drinks, and chopped logs were scattered as stools. After they'd left the horses with the other attendees' carts and carriages, Marlene was the first to leave the group, rushing up to Dorcas who was absently playing around with notes on her fiddle. Maybe in a drunken haze, Marlene would finally try playing tonight.
“Oh my god!” Sirius hollered, cackling and clapping his hands together as James and Remus followed his line of sight. Both Remus and James gawked as they spied, in a circle of Evan, Barty, and Pandora, Regulus Arcturus Black reclining on a log. “Reg! Reggieee, you crazy kid! What are you doing here?”

Regulus rolled his eyes as Sirius and James strutted over to him. “Please, Sirius, you’re so butter-upon-bacon, pipe down.”

“I like him now,” Lily whispered, standing on her toes to speak into Remus’ ear. “What’s wrong with Potter, anyway?”

Remus frowned as Dorcas, Alice, and Frank walked around the bonfire to come and meet them. “Nothing? Why? Did he say something?”

Lily shook her head, though it seemed she was thinking something that she wasn’t saying aloud as she replied “No, he just…seems quieter? Well…” they looked over and James and Sirius, both obnoxiously jumping over the flames of the fire while party goers egged them on. Remus winced as the flames licked Sirius' trousers, though he made it over without turning into a blazing pile on the other side. “Perhaps not quieter but…forget it.”

Frank handed Lily and Remus drinks before putting his arm around Alice’s shoulders now that it was free. “We travel miles from The Three Broomsticks just to serve you drinks in the middle of the woods. How’s that for a good time?”

“Thank you, Frank.” Lily smiled, impressing Remus with the hearty gulp she took. Somewhere, an amateur band was playing a jig on various string instruments. Mary and Peter returned, but only to grab Lily and insist she join the barn dance since they’d forced Marlene as well. “You should come too, Remus!”

Remus held up his drink. “Better keep Alice, Frank, and Dorcas company.” but when Remus turned to gesture at Alice and Frank, Frank was carrying Alice over to the forming lines, Alice laughing as her loose brown waves caught the light of the fire and her round, pink cheeks glowed peach. “Better keep Dorcas company, then.” Remus corrected.

As Lily, Peter and Mary followed Alice and Frank over to meet Marlene, the jig lightened and the dance began. Even Evan and Barty had paired up, with Pandora standing on the sidelines to bop her head and clap her hands in time with the music, swaying along and occasionally waving to Regulus, who hadn’t left his log. James and Sirius had joined the dance as well, but they were more focused on making a show of twirling each other and blowing kisses than actually staying in time with the music. “She’s a bit funny, in’she?”

“Who?” Remus asked as Dorcas folded her arms and nodded toward Marlene who was doing a very clumsy job of keeping up with Lily. “I suppose she is. She still hasn’t played me a single song on that fiddle.”

Dorcas huffed a laugh at that. “No, we get a bit distracted.” Remus raised an eyebrow, but Dorcas smirked, emphasizing “We talk too much. Last time, I read her palm.”

“You can read palms? As in, tell someone’s future?”

Dorcas traced her dainty finger around the rim of her cup, her rings glinting. “Come sit by the lamp and I’ll give you one?”

“It’ll probably be proper sad,” Remus said as he followed Dorcas over to a log with a lamp suspended above it. It seemed everyone who’d come to the Yule Ball had brought a lamp, for odd sizes and shapes, some glass and finely crafted, and some makeshift and homemade, swung gently in the breeze from tree branches. With the alcohol setting in, the slight blurriness of Remus’ vision made them all look like stars.

Dorcas tutted, laying Remus’ hand over her pink palm. “Have faith.”

“In who?”

Dorcas cast her eyes up. Sober jet-black eyes. “Whoever you like.” Dorcas tilted Remus’ palm toward the light, dragging a fingernail over a crease that ran from his index finger down a centimeter below his pinky. “Have you met someone, Remus?”

“Many people.” Dorcas rolled her eyes at Remus' sarcasm. “No. Why?”

“This line here, it’s long, so you’ll find love and live happily with them. But doesn’t have a large rise and fall, so you’ll only love a few times, perhaps only once.”

Remus finished his drink, and Dorcas topped him up with her flask. “How fatalistic.”

“Have you a second job?”

Remus' head shot up. Did she know about Fleet!? “Pardon?”

Dorcas chuckled. “Oh, I forgot, you were a stablehand and now you’re a painter. You have two money lines, see?”

Remus relaxed his shoulders, downing his drink. “Oh. Yes, that might make sense.”

Dorcas pointed to a line extending from Remus’ thumb. “See how this one is long, thin, and clear? It means you’re smart.”

“So far that’s the only thing I’ve been satisfied with. Is this palm reading business accurate?” Remus asked, Dorcas’ features starting to go fuzzy.

Dorcas shrugged. “Have faith, I said. If it’s not in this, then so be it. Do you want to know more?”

“Go on then.” Dorcas scoffed a laugh quietly as she studied Remus’ skin. “What now?”

“I read James’ palm the other day. His marriage line said he should be careful of love triangles, isn’t that funny? It’s these ones here. He had two, clear and equal lines. You aren’t so spoiled for choice.”

“Why not?”

“Yours veers up and is short and shallow. You likely won’t marry.” Dorcas said. “Sorry.”

“S’orright,” Remus mumbled. “I don’t care. Ne’er thought ‘bout it.”

Dorcas peered at Remus, and though her image shuddered a little, and Remus started to feel light in his legs, he could tell she was curious. “Where are you even from, anyway? Yorkshire, I know, but…”

“I read a lot.”

Dorcas chuckled at that, though Remus hadn’t meant to be funny. “I’m going to find Pandora. I said I’d read her palm next, and I don’t know how responsible Barty and Evan are.”

“I didn’t know you were friends. And don’t worry Reg’s good.” Remus slurred, going to point at Regulus perched on the log, but to his shock, Regulus had replaced Sirius in James’ arms and was being spun around and around. When Regulus had stopped spinning, the formation of a barn dance entirely depleted at this point, Evan stepped forward, shoving a violin into his hands. Regulus went to slot the end under his chin, but James with his brute strength and drunken bravery hoisted Regulus’ fine figure onto his shoulders. After recovering from the initial surprise, and after much prodding from the crowd, Regulus started up, from atop James’ shoulders, a fast, epic sonata that juxtaposed the drunken cheers from the party. Regulus frowned into the instrument, articulate and precise and perfect despite being intoxicated, and yet, he wasn’t Sirius. While he played with exemplary clarity, and no one could possibly find a fault in his technique, the music didn’t extend from his chest the way it did when Sirius sat at the piano. Regulus was a puppet while Sirius was the receptacle for something incomprehensible.

Dorcas, now standing, glanced down at Remus with a skeptical expression. “You were saying? Have a good night, Remus.”

“Et toi.” Remus mumbled. Dorcas had only been gone a minute when Marlene came stumbling through the darkness, hiccuping.

“What were you two talkin’ about?” she asked, missing the log and landing in the dirt. Remus pulled her up beside him and dusted off her skirt. “She was holding your hand.”

“Yes, palm reading. She did yours din’ she?”

“Did you ask her to?” Marlene said, not answering Remus' question. Her eyebrows were lifted toward her hairline above wide eyes with midnight irises darkened by the approaching death of the lamp’s flame.

“No. What’s it matter?”

Remus and Marlene were distracted by Sirius and James, as usual. Regulus was slumped over the log he’d been lounging on, having finished his show atop James’ shoulders, and Pandora rubbed circles into his back while Dorcas held her hand, tracing the lines and murmuring. Sirius and James staggered about “Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna in the highest! Lord we lift up your name with hearts full of praise be exalted oh Lord my God! Hosanna in the highest!”

When Sirius locked eyes with Remus, he pointed, and both he and James, without saying a word to each other, continued their drunken hymn. “Moony, Moony, Moony in the tallest! Moonshine we lift up your name with hearts full of love be exalted oh Remus my Moony! Moony in the tallest!” they sang, fighting about the words between lyrics.

Sirius winked at him, and Remus feigned annoyance before putting his hand on his chin while his elbow rested on his knee. Sirius only broke away from James when a pretty, young girl Remus recognized as Emmeline Vance grabbed him by the neck, pulling him in for an overly public display of oral affection. James cackled like it was the funniest thing in the world before wandering off, leaving Remus to watch as Sirius pulled Emmeline in by her waist, her arms draped around his neck. “Does he do that often? Does she?”

“You cannot simply…just…touch her. She’s a lady!” Marlene said, and Remus shifted to find her glaring at him.

It took Remus a moment to realise Marlene was still talking about Dorcas. “Since when has that mattereddd to you miss…breeches and cricket,” Remus said, unsure if he was joking or jabbing.

Marlene slumped forward, and when Remus tried to help her up again, she shook him off angrily. “Can’t…you cannot play about with her.”

“Who said I was?” when Marlene didn’t sit up again, Remus felt his own anger and irritation grow in his chest as he snatched up a cup that was sitting by them, though it belonged to no one they knew, and finished it. “Fine. Don’t know what crawled up your arse n’ died…but it wasn’t me. Mary was right about you being stupid possessive.”

“Fine!” Marlene slurred after him as Remus trudged away, feeling buzzed and slow at the same time.

He stopped when he felt soft warm fingers curl around his wrist, and for a moment, he pretended they were thin, cool, and lean. Pretended they were pale and absent of long, feminine nails as he traced up the tawny arm of Mary. “You haven’t danced yet, and I think you should.” she purred, and Remus relented as she pulled him over to the group that was still standing. Lily was still up, and so was Pete, but they hardly danced so much as tilted to opposite sides as they lay their heads on each other’s shoulders. Peter, eyelids drooping shut, smiled dopily at Evangeline asleep in Alice’s lap. “They’re so sweet aren’t they?”

“You’re steady. Where’s your drink?” Remus mumbled down into Mary’s neck as they stepped out a slow waltz Remus could follow. He didn't need to be drunk to be useless at dancing.

“I’ve had my share. Have you?”

“Mhm.”

Mary looked at the ground, her full lips twitching, before she lay her head on Remus’ chest. Her curls, wild and free tonight with her signature blushy flowers weaved amongst the spirals, tickled Remus’ nose. “Why do you think my courtshipsss’ive never worked? Why don’t they want me?”

Remus went to shrug, but he didn’t want to disturb Mary. “Why do you want them?” he whispered.

Mary pulled away, beaming, and Remus could practically see the spots in her vision. “See…I like you for sentiments such as that. Anyone else would have told me “nooo Mary, you’re so pretty” but you? That was nice.”

“You are pretty, Mary.”

“How pretty?”

And because he had been thinking about it for a while, and he wasn’t quite sure why this next step never occurred to him, Remus said “This pretty.” and kissed her. Her lips were softer than he’d expected, and so so warm, and bigger than his. There was nothing forceful about it, they were lazy and giggled as they dragged teeth and tongues along skin without knowing where they’d go next. Mary moaned delicately. They hadn’t thought about it for long enough to have planned where they’d like to kiss; which parts they wanted to taste. They weren’t really doing it for each other, or because it was each other specifically, just for themselves because they were both there and both beautiful. Why shouldn’t they?

Remus pulled back, breathing heavily. Mary cupped his cheek, returning to leaning on his chest though she kept her hand on Remus’ jaw. “That was nice.”
Remus lifted his head back to gaze at the sky. Glitter, glitter, glitter all around, and he simpered absently under the expanse of it all.

When he brought his head back down, pulled himself down, down, down until he was back on the ground with Mary, he found himself being stared at. Remus smiled at him. Sirius, lurking under a tree, and Remus only knew it was him because he’d know him anywhere, offered nothing but his piercing grey regard.

Chapter 15: XV - En Plein Air

Chapter Text

Remus tapped his foot on the floor, drumming on the table with his fingers as he stared at the paints he’d mixed ten minutes ago. He’d arranged and rearranged the paint brushes in the front of his apron, and he’d scrutinised whether the easel was in the exact position it always was.

It was.

Finally, the door swung open, revealing Sirius at its threshold. He’d never been tardy before, he was always waiting for Remus on the settee, always perking up when Remus entered, always offering a witty remark or diving straight into an anecdote about how prudish Regulus could be or how he’d bested Walburga. So it was jarring seeing Sirius silent. Remus supposed he had been late because he was struggling with the usual symptoms of the morning after a night out, but Sirius looked as put together as ever, the only indication of the Yule Ball’s occurrence being his slightly paler face.

Sirius walked over to the settee and sat. He did it so plainly that it almost shocked Remus to watch him move without his usual strut or stride and see him sit down with a simple lowering of his body rather than throwing himself across the furniture.

Remus cleared his throat when Sirius did not speak. “Prongs had a lie in this morning. Can you believe it?” when Sirius did not speak, Remus continued. “When he finally did get up, we went to go pull the carriage from the ditch. Filch almost caught us bringing it back. So you’re welcome. Your mother would have found out if we hadn’t gone.”

“I don’t care if she finds out.”

“Oh.” was all Remus said. Sirius stared straight ahead, his eyes blank. Remus was unsettled by how he was even able to create such an expression, or rather, a lack of expression, on his face. It was more unsettling to consider how he’d learned to do such a thing. “I need you to look at me.”

“Why should I?”

“For the portrait, Sirius. I’m refining the face today, I need your eyes here because that’s where they’ve been every other session.”

“You’ve already painted my face. Last week. You don’t need to do it again.”

“Who are you to tell me how to construct a portrait? Have you ever considered that paint must dry and so one must do sections over and over again in layers?”

“Fine.” Sirius moved his eyes so that they locked with Remus’. They’d always been icy but never cold. They were frigid now.

Remus put down his paintbrush and came around the side of the easel to stand over Sirius. Sirius brought his gaze up to Remus' face. Remus' heart pounded at the sudden feeling of nudity. Down there he looked so… "What’s the matter.”

Sirius pouted. “Nothing.”

“Don’t be childish. Tell me.”

Sirius stood from the settee, pushing past Remus, though it was clear he had no destination as he stopped in the middle of the room. “It isn’t childish to care about the preservation of your friendship circle.”

“Preservation? What do you mean?” Remus frowned.

Sirius whipped around on his heel. “I mean you shoving your tongue down Mary’s throat!”

Remus blinked. “Pardon? That’s why you’re upset? You’re…jealous?”

Strangely, Sirius looked shocked. “I’m not jealous of her. Of you, I mean. Being with her. It isn’t about that, you can do what you please.”

“Not without your judgement and pouting.”

“I never pout, it isn’t my fault you’re always staring at my lips.”

“For goodness sake, can you go a minute without a crude joke? How is my being with Mary any different from you and Emmeline?” Remus hissed, not wanting anyone else to hear them fighting.

Sirius crossed his arms. “It just is. Mary lives with James. You’re being cruel to James!”

Remus scoffed, scrubbing both hands over his face and then through his hair. “You hypocrite! If you wish to talk about the cruelties James experiences, fine, but we cannot do that without discussing how nasty you were to him when he said he didn’t want to pursue Lily anymore. He’s trying to be mature and you’re dragging him down!”

“I wasn’t nasty! And don’t distract from the real discussion, which is you and Mary. You cannot court her, it wouldn’t be right.” Sirius huffed, and it annoyed Remus that he could stand so still and sure, while Remus had to pace the room to maintain control.

Remus stopped. He made a point of slowly turning his head to face Sirius. Let him writhe. “Is that the real discussion? You and I know I cannot court her, she’s a proper lady and I’m…it was one night. I wasn’t planning an affair with her behind James’ back in his own house. No, no the real discussion here, Lord Sirius, is your fear of change.”

His eyelids flickered. “Pardon?”

“Your discontentment with James’ choice to leave Lily alone? Your annoyance at my kiss with Mary-”

“It was more than just a kiss-”

“You can’t handle change! Because outside of these walls you have control and you feel wanted and anything to threaten that-”

“Stop-”

“Threatens you! Well, it’s silly. They’re still your friends and they always will be.” Remus finished, panting. “God, Sirius, do you think anything could part you from James? Do you think I could ever come between you and Mary? I mean, really, you must be awfully fit with all that jumping to conclusions.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sirius said, jaw clenched. “And…I think you should leave. I have a headache.”

Remus wanted to yell again. But he’d done that. So he took off his apron, covered his palette, drew the cloth over the portrait which had dried, and wiped his hands on his cloth. Sirius watched. With there being no chocolate to guzzle on his way out, Remus yanked on his coat and stepped out the door.

As Remus started down the stairs, he felt the familiar prick of someone spying on him. Remus looked down the hallway just in time to see Regulus striding away. “Oi!” Remus called, cursing himself internally for yelling in such a crude manner as he followed Regulus around the corner. That was his and Sirius' forte, not something to be done outside of the music room. “Regulus!”

Remus almost flew into Regulus’ back when he came to a sudden halt. “May I help you?” Regulus asked, wearing his usual expressionless romanticism.

“You were eavesdropping,” Remus said, unsure of what his plan was supposed to be when he actually caught Regulus.

“It isn’t hard, you weren’t being quiet.” Regulus let that hang in the air between them before mentioning “Your quip about jumping to conclusions was humorous.”

Remus straightened his back. “It was unnecessary.”

“You were right. About everything you said.”

Whose side was this kid on? “And how would you know who was right? You didn’t even know what happened.”

“I do. You kissed Mary and now Sirius is upset.” Regulus said. For all the glaring differences between them, it couldn’t be denied that the Black brothers were always so certain of themselves. Well, certainty is the image they both succeeded in conveying to others, that is. People are put in mental institutions for seeing things that aren’t there, and yet, everyone sees falsities every day. Remus was looking at one right now.

“Well, you don’t know, because if you did, you’d know that’s not really what he was upset about,” Remus said. “Now leave him alone.”

As Remus stalked off, Regulus called after him, unaffected by Remus’ rudeness. “He’s my brother. I know him.”

And because Remus was a rifle that didn’t need reloading, he replied “Not like James does.”

---

Remus hated feeling childish. After all, he’d just used the word to describe Sirius’ behaviour, which he was not currently fond of, and yet here he was. Curled up in the seat of the library’s bay window with the Potters’ copy of A Christmas Carol, wishing he hadn’t cut his up. It had been a dramatic and rash decision. So what if someone found his earnings? What could they accuse him of? Then again, Remus had thought he was doing an incredible job of keeping the slums of London separate from the pretty properties that dotted the outskirts of the city, but Fleet had found out his name wasn’t really John.

“Moony? I’ve been looking everywhere for you. How successful were you in getting the carriage back here?” Peter asked as he came trotting into the library. “What happened? You look miserable.”

“Nothing happened.” Remus tried to say brightly, but it came out strained and defensive.

Peter frowned and came to sit beside Remus cautiously. “I won’t tell Prongs. If it’s about him.”

“It isn’t.”

“So there is something then?” Peter asked. Remus huffed in defeat, tapping his book on Peter’s knee and sitting up properly. “Go on. Broody Moony is irritating.”

“Actually “Rita Skeeter” is under the impression it makes me desirable,” Remus said. When Peter still stared at him with a worried look, Remus sighed. “Sirius and I fought. I was right.”

“He was being a real meater.” Peter grumbled, and Remus bit his tongue, frustrated with how he’d still wanted to defend Sirius. It’s that stupid pretty face of his. “So did you tell him off for how he treated James?”

“Yes. he didn’t take it well.” Remus swallowed, fiddling with his hands in his lap. They’d been cleaner the past few weeks than they’d ever been in his life save for a few specks of paint every so often. He’d always had dirt under his nails in Yorkshire no matter how hard he scrubbed. “He also wasn’t happy about…Mary and I.”

Peter looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Remus leaned his back against the side of the bay window and brought his knees to his chest. “How drunk did you get at the Yule Ball?”

“Ummm…I don’t remember anything after everyone started jumping the fire.” Peter scratched his head. “Sorry. So what happened then?”

Remus shook his head. “Nothing really. Nothing at all.”

Peter didn’t believe Remus, and he sat hunched at Remus’ feet waiting for a further response before he said. “Well, whatever it is, you should talk to Mary. In fact, you must. You can’t hu–”

“Hurt her. I know. I don’t want to.” Remus said quickly. At Peter’s taken-aback expression, Remus added. “Thanks for the ear, Pete.”

Peter nodded as Remus stood from the bay window. Outside on the green, James was running laps with Daniel McKinnon. Strangely, Frank was there too, and he was quite fit himself, able to keep up with the other boys. Then again, he wasn’t that much older than James, and he was probably younger than Daniel. The pub must have closed for the afternoon before opening in the evening. The Weaselys and Alice were in the shade with Effie taking tea, watching the boys egg each other on. With the saturated shamrock grass, summer florals blooming in arrays of purples, pinks, yellows, and blues, the inattentive sway of the trees’ branches, and the echo of whoops and laughter, Remus could have been looking at the work of Monet. It was impressionism; blurred colours, fleeting shapes, the feeling of slipping visuals, and dripping imagery. An ephemeral canvas.

---

“Come in.”

“Thank you,” Remus said awkwardly, closing the door behind him. Should he leave it open? If someone caught them in a room alone…

“You’re looking at me like I’m some ghost. Come sit down.” Mary smiled, shuffling over on the edge of her bed and putting her crochet aside. She wasn’t bothered by the door being closed. It’s her virtue at stake, Remus thought. Remus looked at what seemed to be the beginning of a small, scarlet sleeve. “It’s for the new Weasley twins. Well, for one of them anyway. I’ll do a different colour for the other.”

“That’s cute,” Remus said. “I’d like to…confirm something…with you.”

Mary stopped fumbling to clear the bed’s surface. She instinctively took Remus’ hand, and as much as he loved her, he wished she wouldn’t. But surely, it didn’t mean anything. She’d have held the hand of James or Peter or Sirius if she thought something was bothering them. “Of course. Is it…about the Yule Ball?”

“Yes. If you wanted to…uh…continue to…I wouldn’t want to…we both live with James. So…” Remus had never mumbled more in his life. Walburga’s forehead vein would be bulging if she could hear him now.

Mary squeezed his hand. Warm and soft, and now Remus was thinking of slim, pale wrists and cool skin. “I don’t want that. Do you?”

Remus shook his head quickly, turning to look Mary in the eye. He’d never lied when he said she was pretty. He’d always think that about her. “No. I just wanted to come and confirm that with you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Mary bowed her head, chewing on her thick bottom lip the way Lily did when she was anxious. Remus’ friends often mirrored each other. They felt so deeply they didn’t consciously express it in words but unknowingly through subtle ticks. It was beautiful. “You couldn’t hurt me. I do that to myself.”

“What do you mean?”

Mary sighed laying back on the bed and throwing her arms above her head. Remus felt warm watching her like this, any ladylike facade now absent. “I court so many gentlemen, and some of their characters are quite pleasant, and we converse well, and they’re physically lovely, but there just seems to be an in-between part missing. Like, when James talks about Lily, he loves her for her mind and her body, but also her heart. I suppose, for me, the heart part isn’t there. There’s nothing to fill the space between conversing and…well with all the failed courtships, people are thinking that I'm doing something wrong. It's no longer me being popular enough to reject whoever I want, it's now a question of who am I desperate enough to take...”

Mary trailed off, and Remus ached as he heard her voice catch. Remus was never good with emotions, despite many people confiding in him, but that tiny croak had made him so very sad. It was like seeing Sirius, all grins and laughs at mass, and knowing he was really so much smaller than that. “And that bothers you?”

“There’s something wrong with me.”

Remus’ instinct was to disagree and tell her she was very wrong to think that, and that she was perfect, but that wasn’t Mary. “Why do you think my courtshipsss’ive never worked? Why don’t they want me?” “Why do you want them?” “See…I like you for sentiments such as that. Anyone else would have told me “nooo Mary, you’re so pretty” but you? That was nice.”

“To say that there’s something wrong would suggest there is a right alternative. But how many people can truly say they experience that “right” alternative? Sure, James and Lord and Lady Potter fill that…gap you speak of, but you and I both know how rare that is. If you weren’t expected to love someone’s heart, then would it bother you that you don’t? If not, it seems the issue was never with you but with the expectations of everyone else.” Remus said, sounding out each word slowly and carefully.

Mary sat up, wet cheeks glistening. “You’re too intelligent for this world, my love.” Mary petted Remus' knee, sniffling. “Now use those fine, fine words to convince Marlene you’re sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Remus said confusedly.

“Marlene told me that you told her that she was overly possessive,” Mary replied, crossing the room to flick through her hat stand.

“Those were your words, actually, and was that all she said? Because I said that in response to her accusing me of trying to take advantage of Dorcas. Between her and Sirius, one would think I’m some kind of rake. The only rake I know is the one used to scrape up leaves because that’s the only kind of rake I’ve engaged with because everyone is forgetting that I’m just a stablehand. That’s what I know.” Remus said, regretting it all immediately.

Mary faced him, a huge sunny yellow hat with bows and flowers galore atop her curls, and clasped her hands. “Marlene and Sirius are like that sometimes. I am too, but at least when Lily tells me I’m being jealous and unfair, I can control myself.”

Remus ignored the bitter tone in Mary’s voice. One night out, and he wakes to an array of emotional messes where he apparently plays the role of a sex god. He was too tired to deal with any of it. “Are you going down for tea?”

Mary nodded, the brim of her hat wobbling. “I am. You should join us.”

Remus shook his head. “I’m going to sketch. I need to clear my head. Will you send James and Peter in when they’re finished doing whatever they’re doing?”

Mary kissed Remus' cheek. “Of course.” then, she cupped his face and whispered. “Love you.”

Then she swept out the door, the sound of her shoes clacking on the wooden stairs growing fainter and fainter. Remus was relieved that he was finally sure of one thing. Now he just had to wade through Marlene and Sirius, and perhaps everything would be as it was again.

---

“I wish Sirius was here. He’d be playing something right now to drown out the sound of our melancholy.”

James threw a cushion at Peter. “Shush, Wormtail. As if you’re the melancholic one, Evangeline has been yours since the Black Family Ball. And besides, we’re mad at Sirius right now, remember? Let me and Moony wallow.”

They were all lying on the floor of James’ bedchamber, heads together, and staring at the ceiling as shadows crept around the room with the descent of the sun. Remus reached for his cup of chocolate but put it back. Damn Sirius. “Why are you wallowing again, Prongs?”

“I know I said I’d leave Lily alone, and I am, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. I miss her.” James said, his head shifting against Remus’.

“Do you miss her, or do you miss pursuing her?”

This time, it was Peter who threw a pillow at Remus. “Stop being so deep and dark, Moony. You’re not helping.”

“We’re wallowing, you’re supposed to feel bad,” Remus replied, tossing the pillow back on James’ rumpled bed.

James sat up, taking off his spectacles to rub his eyes, dark hair sticking up everywhere. “This is so silly. What are we even doing? We need to take action, not just sit around.”

Peter pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Like what?”

“Something rebellious,” James said, jumping to his feet. “We need Pads, too. That’s how we’ll convince him he’ll never lose us and make him feel included again.”

Remus rose, albeit with less energy, to meet James. “You can’t tell him I told you that. He thinks he’s good at hiding.”

“What will we do that’s rebellious?” Peter asked as he finished Remus’ now cold chocolate.

James pondered for a moment. “A brothel.”

“What!?” Peter and Remus cried at the same time, sharing a shocked glance.

“Yes! It’s rebellious and naughty and fun and Sirius will have to say yes and it’ll fix everything!” James said. “And I’ll get over Lily, and Moony, you’ll prove to Sirius you don’t fancy Mary by having someone as well.”

Remus raised his hands. “No. That’s completely ludicrous!”

“That’s why it will be so great! You don’t even have to do anything, but just the fact that you went will tell Sirius everything he needs to know.” James tried again, a wild look in his eye as he put his hands on either side of Remus’ neck.

“Prongs, this is such a bad idea,” Peter said, stepping closer and pushing one of James’ arms off Remus' shoulder. “Do you really want to do this? This is so unlike you.”

James hung his head, took a deep breath, and raised it again wearing his usual beam, but something in it made Remus’ stomach churn. He could feel Peter stiffen next to him as well. “We don’t have to do anything we don’t want to. But there are games and drinks and queer entertainment and it’ll be a gay time! Just because it’s called a brothel, that doesn’t mean that’s all it is.”

James looked between Peter and Remus, hands outstretched. Remus thought he looked like he was raising his hands during the “Our Father” at mass. Somehow, neither Catholicism nor Hinduism seemed to have a place in James’ mind at that moment.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Pete? What are you talking about?” Remus hissed as Peter went to stand next to James as he always did.

“That’s two against one. A majority. We’re going.” James grinned.

Remus tried to use his height in an attempt to gain some sort of power, but James was only about three inches shorter than him, so Remus’ posture wasn’t very effective. “What about Sirius? He hasn’t said yes.”

“Yet. And he will, of course, he will.” Peter said, earning him a pat on the back from James. Meater.

Remus scowled. He was almost tempted to dob them in to Lily or Lady Potter or McGonagall so they could get a real scolding that would actually mean something, but then no one would be happy and they’d all be exactly where they were before. Would this really work? Remus couldn’t even afford to go to a brothel. Then, wouldn’t that be the perfect excuse when they got there? If they got there? That would also cover up his job with Fleet and the boys…

“What if he does say no? Then we’ll come home, alright?” Remus said finally.

“Then we’ll come home,” James confirmed.

Sirius bloody Black better say no.

Chapter 16: XVI - Polari

Chapter Text

Tink… Tink... Tink…

Sirius slid the window open as the fourth pebble came soaring through the air. “Ow!” he complained. “You could have marred my perfect skin. What do you want?”

“Come out with us!” James whisper-shouted. “Bring some money.”

Remus really wished he could see if Sirius was looking at him, but the only light was from James’ lamp. Peter’s shivering was starting to irk him, too. It seemed this night was one big itch, and the uncomfortable prickling sensation only intensified the closer they got to Sirius. Now that they were at his window, Remus couldn’t help tugging on his collar. “Where are you going?”

“It’s a surprise! Come down and find out, why don’t you?” James called again. “You could even bring Reg?”

“No. He won’t come. I don’t want him to. Now go away.” Sirius said. As James’ shoulders’ slumped, something in Remus boiled beneath his skin, and he found himself scaling the wall using the dead vines that snaked up the bricks. James and Peter muttered questions about what Remus was doing, but Remus pretended he didn’t hear their breathy concerns.

Remus jammed his hand between the window and the sill, stopping Sirius from shutting it and biting his tongue to keep from whining when his fingers got caught. “Move.”

“What?”

“Move.”

Sirius stepped aside as Remus shoved the window up as high as he could, causing a screech to howl from its charcoal-coloured frame. Remus hoisted himself up onto the ledge, then swung his legs inside, before landing next to Sirius’ bed. “What are you doing? I told you I’m not coming.”

Remus, blood bubbling, grabbed Sirius' neck, forcing him toward his face. Sirius' neck was so slender and as cool as his hands. It fit in Remus’ hand perfectly, and Remus could just feel where his hairline started, could almost snake his fingers up… “You’re coming. Have qualms with me, but you need to come for James. I don’t know what’s happened, but he’s gone a bit…wonky.”

Remus felt Sirius tense under his hand. If he moved it, would Sirius still look at him? Sirius, all steely glowers until now, took Remus’ hand from his neck. He did it slowly, only his thumb, index, and middle fingers tugging Remus away by the palm. Am I alright here? Hands at their sides, they hovered for a moment. Sirius went to his bedside and turned up the lamp. The dreamcatcher sent shadows twisting around the room in the shape of a spider web. “What does wonky mean?”

“He suggested we go to a brothel tonight.”

“Oh. Yes, that’s…wonky.”

“So let’s go.” Remus went to pull out his cigarettes, but realised where he was, and tucked them away again. “Maybe you can talk some sense back into him.”

“Bold of you to assume he had any to begin with.”

“I just want to get this over with. He won’t budge, so Pete’s pretty strong on the idea now as well.” Remus said gruffly, wiping his hands on his trousers and tossing a leg out of the window.

“Moons?”

“What?” Remus snapped.

Am I alright here? “I’m sorry for sending you away yesterday.”

Outside, James and Peter had their necks craned, Peter on the tips of his toes as if that would help him see better. “I talked to Mary. Neither of us…want anything.”

“That was never the problem,” Sirius murmured. Remus hadn’t even noticed him glide closer.

“I know.”

---

Sirius knocked back a glass of whiskey, slamming the crystal onto the small table again. They’d been quite shocked when they’d arrived, and by the look on James’ face, Remus had guessed the plethora of bare breasts and overt indulgences made James question his decision. However, once they recovered, Remus had asked how on earth James knew about the place. Daniel McKinnon and Frank told him, despite the fact that neither frequented the institution. It seemed to be a scene of very few rules, therefore, the marauders found themselves on a bright red velvet settee in front of a small table. There was a bar in the corner which they ordered from, it being the only service they were confident in, but over the past hour, men and women and people in between (which was such a thing, apparently) passed pipes over to them. Remus inhaled without hesitation, and Sirius did too, trying to hide his excitement, but James and Peter waved it along.

“I need to piss,” Sirius murmured in Remus’ ear in order to be heard over the noise, and Remus shuddered at the warmth, nodding as Sirius strode away.

“Where’s he going?” Peter asked, leaning forward for a glimpse into the room next door, which seemed to host multiple gambling games.

“To piss, apparently. I doubt he’ll be back.” Remus replied, feeling free to smoke indoors. While he and Peter had long recovered from the confrontation of the room's nature, James still seemed slightly uncertain. “Alright there, Prongs?”

“Yes,” James replied, the clipped response causing Remus and Peter to share a glance. “Here, Wormtail, go play something. Be strategic.” James said, dumping a sack in Peter’s lap.

Peter grinned. “I’m unbeatable at chess, save for Sirius. Strategy is my discipline. I’ll double this.” He stood, and before he went to step around the table, he said “Oh, and don’t…wait for me. I’m faithful to Evangeline.”

“Mazel tov, Pete,” Remus replied, raising his glass. Then Peter was off into the gambling room, which wasn’t nearly as rowdy as the ones Remus knew. Then, he supposed, everyone here was James or Sirius or Peter. Just rich boys trying to feel naughty without having to experience anything truly perilous.

After a moment, two women approached the settee, being very forward as they sat on either side of James and Remus. They were scantily clad, both with their hair loose over their shoulders and wearing skirts that barely reached their ankles. The one with the darker hair spoke first, putting a hand heavy with rings on James’ shoulder. “We heard you two were after some fun tonight?”

“Of course, I’ve heard all about the entertainment here,” James replied brightly, and Remus wanted to slap his forehead at his innocence.

The woman looked at him with hunger in her eyes. She didn’t look much older than them, or even older than James and Remus were at all. “Yes, I don’t imagine you find what you’re looking for often.”

Remus thought that was an odd thing to say considering it really wasn’t hard to find a prostitute, but perhaps she was referencing the stage which the tables and lounges all faced. The current performance consisted of half a dozen women dancing vaudeville-style accompanied by a simple piano melody that Sirius would have transformed had it been born of his fingers. “Surely you’re after somewhere more private considering the nature of your needs.” the second woman, with hair that had obviously been lightened artificially, said as she traced a finger up Remus’ arm. It might have destroyed him if her skin was cool.

“Uhhh…what needs?” James asked though he allowed himself to be led away from the settee. Remus stood quickly, not wanting to lose his naive friend, and the second woman stood with him.

“We’ve been told all about your escapades, Mr. Potter.” The darker-haired woman continued as they followed her down a hallway that became increasingly dimmer the further they went. The woman arrived at a curtain, which she started to pull aside. “And we’re fine for you to join us, Mr. Lupin, since you favour such experiences as well.”

Remus balked, pulling James back from the doorway. “Who has been talking to you? And what did they say? What experiences?”

The darker-haired woman blinked, slowly looking to the second woman for reassurance, eyes wide. “That you enjoy each other’s company? We’ve no issues, as we mentioned before…”

“Who said that?” James asked, bewildered.

“Mr. Black of course.” replied the woman, now looking very confused and slightly afraid. Horrific was the thought that she’d been put in a similar position before which meant she should be scared now. Remus wanted to assure her neither he nor James would hurt her over an overly evident misunderstanding. If someone handed me a snake but promised it wasn’t poisonous, I’d still be bloody scared.

Remus and James turned back the way they came to see Sirius lurking by the end of the hallway with that Sirius Black grin smeared across his face. “Right. Thank you for uhh…this. Good night ladies.” Remus said, dragging James behind him who was still a bit lost. “Have you lost your sanity?”

Sirius’ grin didn’t fade for a second. “Never had any, did I?”

“That much is clear. I mean, really, Prongs is the last person you’d expect to be the Oscar Wilde type.” Remus mumbled, pushing James by his shoulders back over to their red velvet settee which was miraculously still available.

“Why am I the last person?” James asked, plonking down as Sirius held up his fingers to order them more drinks. He better be paying for mine, Remus thought.

“You’re not exactly fluent in Polari, Prongsey,” Sirius replied, sitting down and slinging an arm behind James along the back of the settee. Remus' eyes flickered over to look at Sirius, and for a brief yet excruciating moment, they met, and a sensibility that escaped language passed between them before it was gone again and Remus was back in his skin. “Where’s Wormy?”

“Gone to go play some games. He claims he’ll double what James lent him.” Remus said, wishing those drinks would arrive faster.

James leaned forward, hanging his head between his knees. His back rose and fell quickly with heavy breaths, causing Sirius to run a fretful hand from the middle of his spine up behind his head. He did it so carelessly. “Prongs? Are you sick?”

James, still keeled forward, shook his bowed head. Remus passed an arm across James’ front, pulling him up, then readjusting to help him to his feet. “C’mon, there’s so much smoke in here, I’m not surprised you can’t breathe.”

Sirius was up with them instantly. “Should I come too?”

“No,” James said, and when he didn’t say anything else, a flash of hurt ran across Sirius’ face, but he nodded. Remus helped James back out onto the street, navigating through couples engaging in public rendezvous and weaving through stumbling men whose parents could afford to buy the entire establishment thrice over.

Now on the street, cool air nipping at their cheeks and numbing, blue darkness enveloping their surroundings, Remus and James sat in the gutter. “Are you feeling much better?”

James threw his head back, breathing deeply through his straight nose. The midnight glow on his warm skin was alluring, and there was that beauty Remus managed to find where anyone else would miss it. Though Remus wasn’t very fond of himself, that was a quality of his he’d never want to lose because if he did, he’d never paint or draw again. “Yes. I can breathe now. Thank you for helping me out.” Remus nodded, scoffing with the humor of having escaped a hazy room only to pull a cigarette from his coat. “Is that what it felt like?”

Remus raised an eyebrow, cigarette pursed between his lips. “Is that what what felt like?”

James swallowed, tossing a pebble on the ground about with his shoe. “That day in the barn. With me and Mary? You couldn’t breathe, but then it just…stopped. Is that what just happened to me?”

Remus exhaled away from James, taking the opportunity now that he was faced away from him to whisper. “Aye, Prongs. I think it is.”

“What caused yours? When you had to tell Lily?”

Remus prolonged taking a drag. “Having to tell you I was leaving.” he flicked ash onto the ground. “What about you?”

Remus heard James sigh. “I suppose I’ve realised how…unsteady everything is? Of course, I’ll never fall on hardships like others have but…I’ve always planned to marry Lily the minute she finally said yes, then partner and eventually take over my father’s business, then die of old age with a dozen grandchildren by my side. But now that the Lily aspect of my incredible plan won’t happen, it’s overwhelming to think of…”

“Yes.” was all Remus said, his cigarette finished.

“Tonight was supposed to be my chance to prove to myself I can do what I want and take risks, but it was stupid and I don’t even know why I suggested it,” James mumbled. “I mean, for god sake, as if I could have slept with one of those women! I don’t want that.”

“Apparently you want to watch me instead.” Remus joked, and he and James shared a weak laugh over it. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s fine, Prongs.”

James smiled, much softer and more silently content than the volumes that his usual beam spoke. “I couldn’t do this with Sirius. He’s my brother, and I love him more than anything, but I’m his escape and sometimes he’s mine. We don’t say anything, we just take care of each other. But this…these thoughts needed to be said.”

Remus wanted to reveal something of his own, to return the vulnerability. With James’ eyes on him, Remus pulled back his coat and started to unbutton his shirt. “Do you remember that bruise I had? Here?”

“Yes. Sorry for hurting you, again.” James said, looking guilty, but curious. “Has it healed?”

Remus pushed back the thin fabric, revealing the left side of his chest down just below his nipple. “You might say that.”

James’ eyes widened. “How did you…did it hurt? And when did you-”

“You can’t tell anyone. Not Sirius, or Peter, and certainly not Mary.” Remus said sternly, and James ceased his rambling to stare at Remus’ skin solemnly.

“I won’t,” and then, a twinkle in his eye, “It looks good. Why did you get a skull?”

Remus shrugged. “Are you ready to go inside again? Wormy and Pads will be worried otherwise.”

“Yes, I am. The show was fun, I wonder if they’ll come back on again.” James commented as they walked back to the door.

Once back in the main room, they started toward their velvet settee, only to realise it was now taken by a group. Remus scanned the space; the flames atop dyed candles bobbing, elegant glasses being passed around, ties and cravats loose around shoulders, heaving breasts, the low stage with James’ favoured dancers, a miniature band in the corner, tall drapes of the same ruby velvet, chestnut tables tastefully sculpted with matching chairs, a winding staircase with a railing of matching wood to the floor and doorways covered by curtains leading to an array of indulgences. Remus’ eyes landed on an empty table of four chairs, where Peter sat counting his earnings. He seemed to have more than doubled his original amount. “There, go sit down and I’ll find Sirius.”

James nodded, hovering for a moment to pat Remus’ back. He might have needed to talk but didn’t need to say everything all the time. Remus smiled an I know and James was pushing through groups to meet Peter, who waved his sum in the air. What a smart idea to show everyone how much dosh he had on him. Then Remus remembered where he was. No one here was keen on violent muggings for none of them had the guts nor capability to execute such a crime. Fleet would be amazed to hear of a place such as this.

Remus crept along the back wall, sticking his head through the various doorways to look for the familiar head of glorious raven hair. When he had no luck on the ground level, Remus climbed the sweeping stairs up into a much smaller hallway than the one he’d been led down by the women. There were only two doorways here, and neither had a curtain.

Remus, once through the first door, was confronted with the scene of two men engaged in a passionate tryst. They paid him no mind, more focussed on removing each other’s shirts. Remus backed away, but he collided with someone.

“Pardo-”

“Prongs said you came up here,” Sirius said, peering over Remus’ shoulder. When he landed on the men, he returned to Remus’ face. “Did you have fun in there? Maybe I wasn’t lying about your voyeurism.”

Remus scoffed, pushing past Sirius. “You’re absurd. Come back and watch the show now that I’ve found you."

“I found you,” Sirius said, stepping to prevent Remus from going back downstairs. “You thought I’d be in there?”

Remus shoved his hands in his pockets. “Thought it best to check.”

“Why?”

“You could have been anywhere.”

“In there?”

“Yes.”

Sirius was looking for something in Remus' expression. There was nothing to find. “There especially?”

“Anywhere.” emboldened by the whiskey in his veins, Remus said, “What are you insinuating?”

“You knew what Polari was.”

“Who said that?”

“You looked at me. You knew as soon as I said it.”

“So did you. It’s a language. I know about the sky but I’m not a cloud am I?”

“You chastise me for being childish yet here you are,” Sirius smirked. He came closer, so so close. His breath ghosted over the space between the bottom of Remus’ nose and his top lip. “One more question?”

“Am I painting your portrait? I thought the game was only for the music room.” Remus breathed.

Sirius leaned against the railing. Voice lowered, gravelly and hot, he said, “Is that why you…don’t want Mary?”

Remus didn’t blink as he said, quietly but surely “No.”

Sirius exhaled, and in a dramatic switch, tossed an arm around Remus’ shoulders and walked them down the stairs together, waving at James over the banister.

Chapter 17: XVII - Tachycardia's Interlude

Chapter Text

When I look around me and find myself alone, I sigh for you again; little sigh, and vain sigh, which will not bring you home.

I need you more and more, and the great world grows wider… every day you stay away — I miss my biggest heart; my own goes wandering round, and calls for Susie… Susie, forgive me Darling, for every word I say — my heart is full of you… yet when I seek to say to you something not for the world, words fail me… I shall grow more and more impatient until that dear day comes, for til now, I have only mourned for you; now I begin to hope for you.

- Emily Dickinson to Susan Gilbert

Marlene came marching into the dining room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as Gwen finished laying out breakfast. “Mornin’”

“Please, Marlene, form your sentences properly. Good morning.” Mama said, salting Papa’s scrambled eggs as he read the newspaper, his cigar hanging out one side of his mouth. Marlene kissed Papa on the cheek as she sat next to him, slicing a sliver of butter from the dish and smearing it over fresh toast.

Daniel came up behind her, snatching the toast from Marlene’s hand before she could take a bite. “Thank you!”

“Daniel! Give it back.” Marlene said, whipping around to try and steal her toast back but Daniel had already skipped away. “Where are you going?”

“To the Potters’. Training with Frank and James.” Daniel replied around a mouthful of crumbs as he tied his shoes by the door.

“Football or cricket?” Marlene asked, earning her a dirty look from Mama. I haven’t said I want to play, bugger off!

“Cricket. Pray, would Sirius Black join us? He used to be quite good at Eton.” Daniel said as he turned the knob on the front door.

Marlene turned back to the table, frowning as she buttered another slice of toast. “Ask him yourself.”

“I just thought you should since you’re always dancing with him at balls.” Daniel teased, trying for Marlene’s second slice of toast. Marlene was prepared though, pinching him by the nipple and twisting hard as he screeched. “Ow! Mama! Help!”

Mama tutted, pouring tea for Papa. “Have some manners. It’s barely past nine.”

“Goodbye!” Marlene called after Daniel as he swept out the door, clutching his chest. Marlene ate her toast triumphantly, but Papa had lowered his paper and now looked at her with curiosity. “What’s wrong?”

Papa cleared his throat. “Mr. Black? Or rather, Lord Sirius, will he ask you to court him?”

Marlene shrugged. “I’m no mind reader,” Mama told Marlene off for her sarcasm, but she was hardly paying attention. “What does the paper say today?”

“Now, no politics or sport,” Mama interjected. “It’s all going to your head. That Lillian Evans is an awfully opinionated girl, and if she just kept her mouth shut, she’d make a fine debutante indeed. She’s quite accomplished in every other regard, she left finishing school with fine academic credentials, did she not? By making so many political comments, she only draws more attention to her family’s social-”

“Petunia is engaged and set to be wed this June, so the Evans’ are not in need of your judgement.” Marlene countered, feeling the need to defend Lily.

Mama was about to chastise her for talking back, but Papa stopped her. “Marlene is right. You needn’t talk about others so harshly.”

Mama bit her tongue. After an uncomfortable lack of conversation, the only sounds being the clinking of dining ware and utensils, Mama smiled brightly. “You best get dressed into something nice, for I believe someone will call on you today.”

“Who?” Marlene asked as she downed her tea. No chance of going to join Daniel at the Potters’, then.

Mama raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. I had Gwen sponge your nice afternoon dress.”

“But it’s not afternoon?” Marlene replied.

“Please, Marlene, just go and dress,” Mama said defeatedly, putting a hand to her forehead and then waving it about in that way mothers always did.

At least the afternoon dress in question was one Marlene liked. It was simple and easy to wear and Marlene never received too much unwanted attention in it. Marlene placed her cutlery in the middle of her plate, thanking Gwen for retrieving it. She was very fond of Gwen since she wasn’t too much older than Marlene and didn’t tell Mama things she probably should have if Marlene asked her not to. The Potters, the Macdonalds, and presumably the Blacks, though Marlene wasn’t sure for she’d never been inside the Black Manor, had mansions built for entire networks of staff. They had passages around the edges of the home so servants could travel without being seen as if work was being completed magically, and they practically had entire apartments below the house for maids and footmen alike. The McKinnons, the Evans’ and the Pettigrews lived in newer houses, and they weren't as well off, so the servants they employed slept in a shared room in the attic. Marlene liked knowing Gwen was close, and she enjoyed seeing her in the hallways polishing vases or on the stairs sweeping. They often chatted when they met, and it was a great comfort to Marlene that she knew who lived with her. She couldn’t imagine having someone like Filch residing with them.

Marlene thumped up the stairs, and she knew she was being a bit bratty for Mama was only trying to help, but it still brought a smile to Marlene’s face when she heard Mama complain of how heavy-footed she was to Papa. Marlene’s heart sunk at the thought of another certain someone vexing his mother, and the thought that his mother would do more than complain. Marlene hadn’t seen any of her friends since the Yule Ball, except Mary very briefly since Marlene’s house was on the way to the Weasleys'. Mary had been going over often to take tea with Molly, and while Marlene and Lily were her closest friends in London, Marlene knew Mary missed her older sisters, and the hole their absence left wasn’t the right shape for Marlene to fit.

Thinking of her friends, Marlene’s mind wandered to Remus, but she pushed the thought away immediately. She’d done nothing wrong by reminding him he oughtn’t pursue Dorcas! When Mary came to visit, she mentioned that Remus was a bit annoyed with Marlene over her outburst and that he wasn’t after Dorcas, in the same way he wasn’t after any of his other friends. Marlene asked if having one’s tongue down another’s throat was being “after” someone, and Mary had to leave very quickly after that.

Frustratedly, Marlene kicked her suitcase, which was a well-traveled brown leather piece with brass clips and lots of interesting bits and bobs stuck to or hanging off it. Daniel took it with him when he went to Greece and Italy and Spain and Portugal. The thought that Marlene would never get to travel as he had done after finishing school made her feel quite bitter about being a woman. It suited Mary and Lily nicely, why not her? It suited Dorcas nicely too, but…in a different way.

Her exasperation at being the fairer sex aside, Marlene didn’t mind when James or Sirius called her pretty, and Sirius had once called her dazzling but that was just his character, and Remus had drawn her so beautifully and now Marlene was thinking of that stupid boy again and kicking her suitcase. What aggravated her the most was that she wasn’t even irritated with Remus, she was irritated by her embarrassment at her behaviour, as usual. Having sat on it for days, Marlene reminded herself Remus didn’t want Dorcas.

Marlene did.

---

Dorcas grunted when a drop of hot wax flew onto her forearm. She spun the wheel once more, letting the candles on the lowest rack dip into the vat then pulled them up again, letting the free rack be the one to hang above the wax so the other candles could harden. Dorcas picked the now cool wax off her arm as Elizabeth came into the back room, bouncing Bert on her hip. “Those are looking lovely, Cas. Mind adding the dye before you leave?” she asked as Bert reached a chubby toddler hand over to fiddle with a candle. “Bertram is out the front, but I’m off to take Bert to the park for some fresh air.”

“I’ll be at the pub tonight playing,” Dorcas said, kissing her nephew’s head as she went to reach for the small woven basket of dried lavender on the shelf and the pot of purple dye next to it, reveling in the scent. “Have fun.”

Elizabeth hugged Dorcas before sweeping out of the room to find Bert’s coat. She was so pedantic about it, even in summer. Dorcas tipped a spoonful of the powdered dye into the vat, measuring with her eyes, before spinning the candles so that each rack was dipped once, and a sprig of dried, pressed lavender was wound around the bottom. Just as Dorcas had finished, Bertram poked his head through the door. “Do you have a lavender candle ready?”

Dorcas plucked one of the first candles to go in the vat, which had rested enough to be stiff and nodded. “Here, I have to go now, so I’ll serve on my way out,” Dorcas replied as her brother-in-law traded places with her. At the countered, a young woman with frazzled orangey-blonde hair rocked a pram with twin boys sporting knitted sweaters; one crimson with an ’F’ on the front and the other a fern coloured with a ‘G’. “How may I help you? Were you after the lavender candle?”

“Oh, yes, thank you deary!” the woman said, relieved. “These two won’t sleep at night, and they share a room with my other boys, so I’m desperate!”

Dorcas smiled at the infant twins in the pram, both with tufts of apricot wisps sprouting from their little heads. Dorcas responded to the woman as she packaged the candle. “This is infused with lavender oil, so it’ll secrete through the air. I’d start burning it half an hour before you put them to bed. It works wonders for my nephew.”

“You’re a treasure!” the woman chimed, taking the parcel eagerly. “Do you have any more tricks?”

Dorcas thought for a moment. “They wouldn’t be teething yet, would they? We have honey and ginger candies they won’t choke on for when they do?”

The woman shook her head. “No, but I’ll come back for them. They would have been useful with my Percy, he was always a wuss! Well, have a lovely day.” she rambled, passing Dorcas some coins.

“You too,” Dorcas replied, reaching for her shawl on the hook by the door into the back room. “Goodbye, Bertram!”

“See you later!” he called back, just as the bell rang and Alice came through the door, her brown hair matching the walls of wooden shelves with bottles of elixirs lining them, and the dried herbs that hung from the ceiling, now crispy and dull and perfect for usage. She picked up some lemon myrtle balm, looking the tin over once before putting it back.

“I thought I’d walk with you?” she said, holding out a hand for Dorcas to take. As Dorcas came around the counter to meet her, she frowned. “Why is your bag jingling so much?”

Dorcas blushed, shaking her head. “Nothing, just some jewellery I can’t be bothered to put on now.”

Alice tutted, shaking her head as the bell jingled again upon their departure. “Why do you always dress up on Wednesdays?”

“To counter the fact that Wednesday’s child is full of woe?” Dorcas tried, their shoes clacking on the cobbles of the street which was being washed golden by the setting sun.

Alice laughed. “That makes no sense, silly.”

“No, none of it does.” Dorcas breathed quietly. Alice didn’t hear her.

---

“She’ll be down in a minute, but she doesn’t like to be disturbed when she practices. She usually allows herself an hour, and she’s been up there for about forty-five minutes, so it won’t be long.” Mrs. Evans smiled as she set a tray of tea on the modest parlor coffee table. Marlene didn’t really like tea and thought it was an adult drink. She also didn’t understand why Lily insisted on practicing so often and sooo seriously. She was the best dancer at Whitehead Ladies College, and she knew that! She needn’t bother now that the examinations had ended and they wouldn’t be entering society for another three years at least.

Marlene sighed, swinging her legs and staring at the tea tray. Next to it was a book, marked with a handmade bookmark Marlene recognised as Lily’s. Eager to have some entertainment, Marlene lifted the book onto her lap, but was sorely disappointed to find the title read “Hermann Lebert: A Collection Of Medical Findings”. Still, she was already bored, she couldn’t be even more apathetic, so she opened the page Lily had marked, careful not to move the bookmark.

Tachycardia (n.)
"Rapid heartbeat," 1868, Modern Latin,
Tachy - "swift”, a Latinized form of Greek
Kardia - "heart," from Proto-Indo-European root (a.k.a “kerd”)

Tachycardia. Rapid heartbeat. Tachycardia always came to Marlene’s mind when she saw Dorcas, for she really couldn’t ignore the way her heart hammered against her ribs. Tonight, she wore a plum skirt, and as it danced above the ground, the embroidery of varying shades of yellow and brown stitched skillfully to create the illusion of gold, flashed in the dim light of the pub. Her slender fingers which darted across the strings of her fiddle with elegance were adorned with her usual rings. Marlene had committed them to memory; a chunky silver one with a caramel coloured striped rock in the center, a thin, brassy band with jaggedly cut jade held in place by wires that curled around the stone, three amethyst chips set into gold, curved metal with florals indented that had been made from a broken teaspoon’s handle, faux garnet carved into a square attached to a ring made of beads. Marlene knew them all, and she twisted the piece gifted to her that she wore on her left ring finger.

Dorcas finished her song, taking a shallow bow before brightening as she came over to embrace Marlene. Marlene was conscious to keep their chests parted in case Dorcas could feel her heart racing. “Hello, darling,” Dorcas whispered. Tachycardia.

“Evening,” Marlene grinned.

Dorcas look her up and down, and Marlene shivered as she watched Dorcas’s feathered eyelashes flutter. “You look nice. You always do, but tonight especially.”

Marlene blushed furiously, sliding her hands over her cheeks. “Oh, yes. Mama had me entertain a suitor. He was dreadfully boring and stayed far too long, so I hadn’t the time to change my attire. Mama acted as if his arrival would be a surprise, but I knew it was going to be Earnest Fairfax. He courted Mary last season and-” Marlene looked down at Dorcas, the lilt of a smile on her full lips. The edges were darker than the rest of her skin, but toward the middle, they became paler, like her palms. They were glossy, too. Marlene had watched her apply lemon myrtle balm to them countless times and every time the sight pooled in Marlene’s sternum, thick and warm and so strangely exhilarating it was almost painful. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“No. It’s funny, the way you see your world.” Dorcas said, taking Marlene’s hand to lead her up the stairs to the room they “practiced” in.

Marlene knew exactly which rings were touching which of her fingers. “Your world is different to mine then?”

“Oh, darling, we both knew that,” Dorcas said, but she didn’t make Marlene feel stupid or ignorant. They entered the small room which was originally a walk-in closet when the pub was a Tudor home, but was now a queer little sitting room with two mismatched chairs, a table, and a loveseat. Dorcas sat on the loveseat, and just as she did every week, Marlene went to sit on one of the chairs, and Dorcas looked at her quizzically, and Marlene sat on the loveseat with her after that. In an hour’s time, they will have forgotten about the fiddle all together, and they’ll be sitting facing each other cross-legged with their knees touching, but Marlene had to wait. “What’s the matter? You seem down.”

Marlene laughed humourlessly at how she could be read so easily. Oh to have an element of mystery to her, but alas, she wore her heart on her sleeve which was usually rolled up and covered in grass stains. But this way, Marlene knew those who loved her loved her in her entirety. “I… quarreled with Remus. He didn’t walk me here tonight.”

Dorcas bit her lip before releasing it, creating tiny divots in the soft skin. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I was in the wrong,” Marlene said abruptly. “Mary says there are all kinds of politics with our friends at the moment. Sirius was also upset with Remus, but then he was also upset with James, then James was disappointed, but I believe they made up but I don’t know how? Gosh, it does my head in.” Marlene sighed, and before she could stop herself she said. “You’re easy, and I love you for it.”

Oh. Apparently, Marlene’s perception of tachycardia had been very wrong up until now. This was tachycardia.

Marlene’s head spun as Dorcas offered an ivory smile. “How convenient, for that is the same reason I love you. Life’s a bit fast and busy isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Marlene croaked. She loved her? They love each other? What?

But Dorcas was unbothered, she only nodded to Marlene’s short response before turning to grab the fiddle from behind her. She leaned forward, using those gorgeous fingers to lift Marlene’s chin and set the fiddle in place, before handing her the bow. Mary told Marlene she loved her all the time, so did Lily, and even James, and once Sirius had exclaimed it, and sometimes Peter signed letters with love. Dorcas was just another person who loved Marlene in that easy simple way. That was what they’d both just said, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?

“So?”

“Oh,” Marlene said, croaking less. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Dorcas’ brow softened, and she removed the fiddle from Marlene’s shoulder and took the bow. “You’re really wound up over Remus, aren’t you?”

“Aahaha, yes, I am. I…love him.” Marlene tried, watching for Dorcas’ reaction. Watching to see what she meant by love, and what she thought Marlene meant by love.

Dorcas’ eyes widened, and for a moment, a crushing moment, she was so stationary Marlene was scared, but then she leaned forward, huffing a tiny laugh and rubbing a hand over her face. “I didn’t know that. Oh, I should have, shouldn’t I?”

---

Marlene chuckled awkwardly. God, was she sweet when she was embarrassed. “Yes, don’t you love all your friends?”

Oh. That kind of love. Dorcas cleared her throat. “Other than my sister, who doesn’t count, the only friends I have to love are Alice and Frank. I’m fond of Pandora and Evan Rosier, though. And Regulus Black. He’s nice despite being a bit mean.” her hand was wobbling, but if she was confident enough, Marlene wouldn’t notice as she put her hand on hers. “And I like Remus, he thinks deeply and that’s a good quality to have. You should try to mend whatever has torn you apart.”

But Marlene wasn’t looking. Her navy eyes were lowered and focused on Dorcas’ forearm. She traced a finger, the one wearing the ring Dorcas had made for her and worn a few times before gifting it to her as nonchalantly as possible, over the mark on Dorcas’ skin. “What happened?”

Dorcas hadn’t expected her voice to hitch, but Marlene was tickling her finger over the spot ever so slightly that it went straight to Dorcas’ head and spun it. “I burnt myself making candles for my brother-in-law’s shop.”

“What does he sell?” Marlene replied tenderly, gazing up at Dorcas, and Dorcas hadn’t even noticed how Marlene was leaning in so close to her arm that she had to look up to see Dorcas’ face.

“Herbal remedies,” Dorcas said. She couldn’t hide her shock, for a sigh escaped her lips when Marlene leaned forward, even more, to place a kiss on the mark. “Marlene…”

Marlene sat up again. Dorcas loved the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the way her cheeks were round and ruddy when she laughed, and when she cackled at something truly funny, she couldn’t make any noise but she often slapped her knee repeatedly. When she was shocked, you could see the whites of her eyes below her cobalt irises, and when she was annoyed or angry, her eyebrows flattened and she tried to appear indifferent and standoffish, but it was really far more adorable than she meant it to look. But this expression, of lowered eyelids, of parted lips to accommodate minute puffing, and of a heavy chest, had never been one to grace her face so plainly in the presence of Dorcas.

Though it was new, it wasn’t foreign, for Dorcas knew what it was in herself as well. She’d know desire anywhere, but she was particularly aware of the tidal wave it became when she was sat here on this settee in front of Marlene, and though in the past she’d been able to hide it, she had become incredibly weak in a short span of time. Before she could reconsider it, she pulled Marlene in by both her cheeks and kissed her with the force of months suppressing her feelings.

The intense euphoria Dorcas felt when Marlene returned the enthusiasm, running her hands down Dorcas’ sides and settling them on her waist made Dorcas groan slightly. Much to her dismay, Marlene pulled away first but stayed close enough to press their foreheads together.

“Oh.”

There was that crinkled blue-eyed laugh from the girl with the swollen heart.

Chapter 18: XVIII - Pegs, Prongs

Chapter Text

Remus scrawled his name at the bottom of the letter and folded it up before tucking it in an envelope. As he turned it over to write Mum’s address, the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs made Remus smile. “So Padfoot said yes to your idea, Prongs?”

“What idea?”

Remus frowned, setting his quill down and twisting in his seat. “I thought you were James.”

“I bet you wish I was James right now.” Marlene said quietly, clasping her hands in front of her in a way Remus had never seen her do. “What was the idea?”

“Prongs had a silly idea, but it sort of relies on everyone being friends, and I don’t know that that’s the case at the moment.” Remus replied, starting to stand. He considered sitting down again, for he didn’t want to make Marlene seem small, but then, nothing really could. Not only was she physically tall, but she’d always been larger than life.

Marlene huffed a laugh. “This is the part where I say sorry, isn’t it?”

I forgave you the moment you said it. I was never angry, just confused.”Yes.”

“I’m sorry. I was being unfair and untrue. Forgive me?” Marlene said quickly, but sincerity shone in her eyes, and Remus knew she didn’t speak in such a manner because she didn’t mean it but because she meant it so much it was hard to ruminate on the words.

Remus let the sentence settle for a moment before he said “Prongs thinks we should all go camping.”

“What? Camping? In the middle of the season? We can’t all just leave, our parents will never let us.” Marlene said and Remus nodded in agreement, moving to sit on his bed which Marlene joined him on.

“I know, that’s what I said. He said something about summer being the best time of year, though.” Remus replied as Marlene kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under his thigh.

Marlene scoffed. “As if James would know the first thing about staying anywhere other than a hotel. Can you imagine Sirius and Peter in the wilderness? Or Mary? How humorous.”

Remus shrugged. “Let him dream, I suppose. It’ll never happen.”

A fortnight later, Mary, James, Sirius, Peter, Lily, Marlene, Dorcas and Remus were standing in the Potters’ driveway with suitcases in hands, staring at two carriages.

“So last time we were here, James and Sirius crashed a carriage.” Lily said. “Why do we think any of us can drive?”

Mary grabbed Remus arm. “Remus can drive!”

“Why does everybody think I can drive-”

“If Moony’s driving, I’m sitting up front!” Sirius called as Peter held him back from putting his suitcases in the first carriage’s storage.

“No! You’re so obnoxious, you were probably the reason we crashed last time!” Peter said.

Sirius feigned hurt, clutching his chest dramatically. “Wormy, you wound me!”

Lily stepped forward, somehow carrying her two suitcases and Remus’ at once and stowing them with the camping equipment. “Remus and I will drive. Whoever drives the second will be fine since the horses will follow each other. All you have to do is supervise.”

“Dorcas and I can do that.” Marlene said quickly.

Mary crossed her arms. “So I have to be stuck with some rowdy boys for hours on end? That’s unfair, they’re awful!”

“So awful.” Dorcas agreed as Marlene helped her up onto the driver’s seat.

Marlene climbed up beside her. “Just dreadful.”

“Really, the worst.” Lily agreed. “Oh, not you Remus, you’re fine.”

“I wasn’t worried-”

“I was! I’m great! What’s wrong with me?” Sirius protested as Peter shook his head and climbed into Lily and Remus’ carriage with Mary. “Go on, Prongs, tell them how great I am!”

“Padfoot is great! Grand! I’d court him if I could!” James hollered, kissing Sirius cheeks dramatically.

Sirius lifted James off his feet and spun him around, surprising Remus with how strong he was. “I’d marry you in a heartbeat, my love!”

Marlene and Dorcas were both looking like they’d rather not drive anymore. “Good luck with your passengers.” Lily said.

Marlene threw her hat at James and crossed her arms. “Get in, losers. We’re going camping.”

———

Remus sat back in his seat, letting the reins go slack in his hands as he watched the English countryside meander by in jostling images of green. Occasionally, a sweet cottage with a modest farm would appear beside the road, and that dull ache of thinking every woman with a basket on her hip hanging up washing or feeding livestock was Mum. He’d make a point to wave and say good morning to them. Lily seemed to be enjoying the fresh air, her hair in a youthful braid down her shoulder and appearing even redder against the lime of paddocks and butteriness of the wildflowers. Remus liked when she’d let her hair hang down like that. It reminded him of how Mum left hers loose at the farm, only pinning it up when she felt she had to impress someone or look presentable. Lily needn’t think about impressing Remus, and he was glad she knew that. Lily opened her eyes, squinting a bit as the sun beamed across her face, and smiled at Remus. “I’ve missed you these past few days. Apparently some incidents occured between you and the boys. And Marlene. And Mary. How was that?”

Remus shook his head. “It’s all been sorted out now. What have you been reading lately?”

“Nothing, actually. I just finished rereading an old book I got halfway through years ago. Have you ever heard of Lebert? The physician? Anyway, it wasn’t a long read.” Lily said, unfolding the map in her lap. “We shouldn’t be on this road much longer. The next turn is a left.”

Remus picked up his canteen of hot chocolate Sirius had brought him and took a sip before offering it to Lily, which she accepted. “Don’t tell Prongs, because his ego is so big all we’ll hear is “I told you so”s for weeks, but I think he was right. This is all going so smoothly.”

Lily rested her head on Remus’ shoulder, freckles dancing across her nose as they passed under trees that dappled the shining sun’s light. “I’m surprised, too. I’ve only been on holiday once, and it was only to my aunt’s house in Hertfordshire, and it rained the whole time and Pet wouldn’t stop whining so we came home early. Effie is a true friend talking everyone’s parents into letting us come. She’s so clever! I sound like Marlene.”

“What do you mean?”

“Marlene’s always loved Effie. When we were younger she’d offer to serve her tea or ask James if his mother was coming when we’d go somewhere, or offer to take her coat. She’s never done that for anyone else’s mothers, though no one else’s mothers are like Effie.” Lily said. “She’s not very close with her own mother, maybe that’s why she favours Effie.”

Remus smirked. “Yes, that’d be it. Remind me why we aren’t taking the train again? Not that this isn’t lovely, but carriages are a lot more work.”

“I think James was secretly worried we wouldn’t be able to get the tents up and would need a second plan for somewhere dry to sleep.” Lily responded, just as they heard shouting a couple feet behind them. When Remus realised he could only hear the steady clop of two horses, he stopped the carriage and jumped down to see what was happening behind them.

Mary poked her head out of the window. “What’s happened? Peter’s asleep, don’t wake him!”

“I don’t know, I’ll be back, though.” Remus jogged over to where Marlene and Dorcas were stopped, Marlene leaning around to talk to James and Sirius inside. “Why are we stopped?”

Dorcas smirked. “Yes, Black, tell your Moony why we have to go home.”

“Go home? Pads, what happened?” Remus asked, leaning on the carriage door and crossing his arms over the window ledge so he could stick his head inside.

James groaned. “He left his hair kit at home.”

“We are not going home for your hair products.” Remus said flatly as Sirius pushed James back so he was closest to the window.

“But my hair will be a disgrace! We’re swimming at the beach, aren’t we? Sea water’s no good for glossy locks.” Sirius pouted.

“You’ll have beachy waves,” Remus tried, and though Sirius’ brow softened, he remained unconvinced. “You don’t need your hair things. I’m sure we can find some in Brighton.” When Sirius still didn’t budge, Remus sighed and added “Your hair is very pretty as it is, Sirius.”

There was that Sirius Black grin, and for once Remus didn’t mind that it wasn’t as real as his music room smiles, for how could such a sunny expression disappoint him so? “Sop. Fine, carry on then.”

Triumphant, Remus tapped the window before pushing off and walking back to Lily. As he turned, James grumbled “I told you a million times your hair is nice! How come you only relent when Moony says it?”

“But you didn’t call me pretty, did you?”

“Moony said your hair was pretty, not that you were!”

“Same thing.”

“Well he called me handsome once.”

“But have you been his muse for the past month?”

“You’re paying him!”

“Shut up and admit I stole your cute little stablehand!”

“Little?”

It sounded like Sirius kicked James from the grunt that followed, and Remus winked at a sour faced Marlene. Marlene’s scowl faded when she glanced down at Dorcas whose head was in her lap. What a beautiful friendship they had.

Remus hoisted himself up next to Lily and prompted the horses to start moving again. “What happened?” Lily asked as Mary opened the window to listen in.

Remus shrugged. “Just Padfoot being a princess.”

He turned away from Lily to hide the fact he was biting back a fond smile.

———

“Alright, game plan! Mary and Wormy, you’re sourcing food, Lily and Dorcas, you can start the fire and set up all the cooking supplies, Moony and Marlene can attack half the tents while Pads and I do the others. Alright, go team!”

“James?”

James looked up at Lily from his squatting position on the ground. “Yes?”

“Since when are we your football team?” Lily asked, arms crossed.

James straightened, fixing his glasses. “Oh. Sorry, I thought it was a good plan. We’ll do it your way.”

Lily looked taken aback, and Mary and Marlene exchanged confused glances at the lack of jest from James. “No. It is a good plan. Let’s start, Cas?”

Dorcas nodded and started in the direction of the first carriage while Lily followed. Mary headed back down the road that led into the town with Peter as they discussed what cuts to get from the butcher and how they’d cook it. While they made great bakers, Remus had low expectations for dinner considering none of them knew how to cook over a fire. Marlene brought over the tents and the sack of pegs, handing two to James and Sirius. “Remus and I are making our tents. Dorcas and I are staying dry. Sorry James.”

“My tent will be amazing. And what about Padfoot? If I get wet, so does he.” James responded as he laid out the tarp and tried to not look as befuddled by it as he was.

Marlene looked back at Remus. “Oh, sorry. I assumed Pete was sharing with James. I guess Black will suffer as well then.”

“I thought that, too.” Sirius responded quickly, facing the ground as he fitted together some framework. “Wormtail’s always feeling a bit left out, isn’t he?”

“And he would if he was sharing with Moony?” James asked, frowning.

Sirius rolled up his sleeves. Remus coughed against his suddenly dry throat and drank the last of the lukewarm chocolate. “Well we all know he cares a lot about your attention specifically.” When James said nothing, Sirius continued. “I’m not offended. I’ve never minded.”

James and Sirius locked eyes and spoke silently, passing their emotions telepathically in a way that Marlene and Remus weren’t privy to, before they dropped their gazes. “Moony, what’s this?”

Remus sighed, realising how much of this trip would fall to him as the only one with any experience of the outdoors. “That is a mallet, Prongs.”

“Magnificent. I’ll whack everyone’s metal sticks when they need me to.” James beamed.

“Pegs, Prongs.” Remus murmured as he steadied a beam for Marlene.

———

Lily stood back from her and Dorcas’ creation, holding her hands in front of her as if to present it. “Voila! We’ve done wonderfully!”

James nodded, looking around at their humble but well established campsite. “We have done well, haven’t we?” The tents were set up in a semi circle facing the cliff by the sea, allowing the salty breeze to keep the air fresh against the smoke of the fire which would be lit at sundown. Mary and Peter had gotten some fish, fresh vegetables, butter and bread to make sandwiches for dinner, while all the other food was kept in the carriage. Similar to the Yule Ball, Marlene had chopped some logs to make seats around the fire, a practice a family some feet away camping similarly adopted after they witnessed Marlene wielding her axe. Remus still wasn’t quite sure what had possessed her to believe an axe was necessary to bring on their holiday, but he didn’t ask.

“What did you do to help with the tents again? Because according to my memory, it was all me and Remus.” Marlene said.

“I did the whacking!” James said.

“And I did the entertaining!” Sirius added.

“Singing French folk songs is not entertainment.” Remus replied.

Lily sat down on one of the logs and pulled out Remus’ copy of Frankenstein that she’d insisted on “borrowing”. Remus was never seeing that book again. “The fresh air is nice. This was a good idea.” she looked at James when she said that, but James was facing the sea, his brow furrowed as a flurry of thoughts swirled through his mind.

“I’ll be having a smoke.” Remus shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged through the trees, far enough that the campsite was only a few dots in the distance. Remus laughed to himself as he watched Mary boil what looked like tea, and all the girls sat around to giggle with each other while James and Peter looked out at the water with a pair of binoculars, the wind turning James’ hair into even more of a tousled mop than it already was. Remus wondered where Sirius had gone off to as he stuck a cigarette between his lips and lit it. He hadn’t even had the chance to inhale, and there he was, slim fingers plucking Remus’ cigarette from his mouth and putting it to his own. Sirius took a drag.

“I’ve gotten better, see?” Sirius murmured, and Remus’ stomach flew into his chest when Sirius tugged Remus’ bottom lip down and wedged the cigarette back between his teeth. Sirius did it so quickly Remus hadn’t the time to process it at all, but the cigarette fell from his lips and onto the ground. Remus stamped it out shakily. “I told everyone we were going into the town to shop.”

“Why?”

Sirius winked. “Because we are. You said we’d find my hair things.”

“No, I said we could try. Brighton isn’t very big, they might not have what you’re looking for.”

But Sirius was already walking along the line of the cliff’s edge, his hair blowing around his defined jaw. Those violet and blue shades glinted in the raven strands, elegantly stark against his pale skin and sweeping across the two freckles on the highest point of his cheekbone. Electric were his eyes, that sultry intensity interrupted by a foreign serenity and now he was looking at Remus and the forest was the music room and the sea foam was the sheer, billowing curtains and there was no floor. “You promised we’d try.”

“I’m regretting that.” Remus mumbled as he came up to walk beside Sirius and he tried not to trip, but Sirius was glorious against the crash of the waves below.

“But you don’t regret calling me pretty now, do you? That’s all I care about.” Sirius teased, nudging Remus.

Remus nudged him back, and even though he’d seen Sirius do the same thing with James, bumping shoulders boyishly didn’t feel right. “Says who? Perhaps I spent the whole drive here thinking about how I wish I’d never said it and that I didn’t mean it.”

Sirius pushed him back. “But you couldn’t paint me so wonderfully and not think I was pretty.”

Nudge. “I could. You don’t know that I’ve painted you wonderfully, you haven’t seen the portrait yet.”

“You couldn’t spend hours looking at me and not think I was so absurdly handsome, could you?” Sirius’ sarcasm was accompanied by another push.

When, upon Remus’ response, Sirius did not receive a push, Sirius stopped in his tracks to stare at Remus, which Remus wished he hadn’t done because he felt all the more bare when he said “No, I couldn’t.”

Sirius scoffed quietly and returned to walking, but he advanced toward town slower now. “Don’t worry, my Moony, no need to be jealous. You’re still tall, handsome and brooding.”

“Shut up.” Remus said, finally pushing Sirius back after the numbness in his hands faded.

———

They did not find Sirius’ hair things. What they did find was a beach of clean sand that soared across the length of the horizon as far as they could see. In the distance, the rickety wooden jetty jutted out over the water, and in the cove below it, families watched as their children splashed in the shallows of the water and young boys tried their hand at fishing. Remus smirked down at his jacket, which was currently under Sirius’ arse. I’ve never wanted to be a jacket before. Where did that-

“What are you smirking at?” Sirius asked, setting the basket of cherries between them.

“Nothing.” Remus said, taking one of the little red fruits. They hadn’t meant to buy any more food, but Sirius had insisted they walk through the market to get back. Remus had seen the basket, which upon further inspection, he realised had tiny bees woven into the design of the handle and he’d thought of Mum immediately. When he finally went home, it would be a lovely memento of his trip to the seaside for her. Remus didn’t know Sirius liked cherries so much, but he ended up filling the entire basket with a vendor’s stock. That was how they’d found themselves sitting on the beach, watching the sun set and wondering how they’d walk back in the dark without a lamp, and not really caring to consider the answer to that question. C’est la vie or whatever. “Princess.”

Sirius grinned, lips wet and red with cherry juice. “Do you know what princesses are, Moony?”

“What are they?”

Sirius batted his eyelashes, resting his head on Remus’ shoulder. “Pretty.”

Remus pushed Sirius off, then regretted it instantly. “You’re still thinking about that? You mustn’t get compliments very often.”

Sirius was appalled. “I get complimented multiple times a day!”

“Prongs doesn’t count.”

“Not just Prongs!”

“Lady Potter also doesn’t count.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, spitting the seed from his cherry out. “Minnie calls me handsome.”

“Does not.”

“She did once. When I was small.”

“Was.” Sirius threw the seed at Remus. It fell down his collar, and he had to wriggle to get it to come out of the bottom, much to Sirius’ delight. “Eugh, that was slimy.”

“Serves you right.” Sirius replied after shoving another cherry in Remus’ mouth before laying back on his elbows, orange glow streaming down his perfect nose.

Remus pulled the stalk off to chew properly. When he was finished, he said “I didn’t know you liked cherries. In fact, I didn’t know you liked food at all.” Remus said it jokingly, but Sirius only squinted into the distance.

“You’ve never seen my family tapestry, have you?” Sirius asked.

Remus shook his head. “You’ve told me about it. About how Andromeda was burned out.”

“She’s not the only one. I think I’ll be the third, soon.”

“Who was the first?”

“My Uncle Alphard. He always used to take me and Reg to the park when we were younger. He’d buy us cherries, and he used to bring his friend, Leopold with him. Leopold was nice. One day, when we were flying kites, Leopold had to leave early and suddenly, and I remember having this sinking feeling in my chest and trying to distract Reggie. We never saw him again, but after Leopold left, Uncle Alphard would see us more often and he’d be really really happy.”

Remus looked at Sirius’ hand. The beds of his fingernails were stained purplish-red. Remus imagined himself washing them, imagined taking soap and a cloth and rubbing each finger gently to coax the pigment off, one at a time. “Alphard sounds nice. If only he was at the dinner party when I was. Will I ever meet him?”

“You can any time. He’s at the church everyday.”

“He’s a priest?”

“He’s dead.”

“Oh. I see.” Remus offered the last cherry to Sirius. “We’ll visit him when we go home.”

Sirius looked at Remus, and even in the dark, Remus could see so clearly in his expression the emotional depth of his stare. “Alright.” and then he said, with a tone Remus couldn’t quite place the feeling behind, “but you mean when we go to my home. Your home is in Yorkshire. With your mum and Seville and the horses.”

“Yes. It is.” Remus buried the cherry seeds and stalks as he spoke, freeing the basket. “My question is how did Alphard die?”

Sirius shrugged. “He became ill very suddenly. I was twelve, so I think my father withheld certain truths from me. He’s never been an entirely present man, but he’s never been needlessly cruel. He’s never cared enough to be mean, and in a way, it makes him worse than my mother because a least I can shout at her when she gives me a reason to. He gives me nothing to be loud about, yet there is still…anger to be felt.” Sirius sat up, wrapping his arms around his knees. He looked like Regulus more than ever. “My question for you is…do you miss your father?”

Remus felt the same way Sirius felt about Orion. His father’s death had smothered Remus’ lips with glue and held them shut despite there being so much to say. Remus didn’t even know what he didn’t know about his father. He knew his name was Lyall Lupin, that he was tall, and that he was originally from Poland, that he was stoic and hard. But that was not who he was, it is only what he was. His absence had created room for anger to grow in its place, and that anger had enveloped Remus, yet he had nowhere to put it. He found himself having angry outbursts at things that didn’t matter, at comments made and conversations had and while his father was never the subject of discussion nor the center of the scenario, it didn’t matter what Remus screamed about, he was really crying “It’s you! It’s you! It’s you!”. Just as Sirius had laid his head on sadness’ shoulder, Remus had held the searing hand of anger, but as he got older, it cooled in his grasp until he found the word “grief” written on it’s palm.

But one couldn’t grieve what they never had.

“I have nothing to miss.”

“Do you have a question for me?”

“Do you believe Alphard died of an illness?”

“I believe he did if you classify a broken heart as an illness.”

“He died of a broken heart?”

“I think he killed himself.”

Raw, cracked, bleeding. “Would you like to attend art school?”. “Why?”

“He lost Leopold.” and suddenly Remus understood. He knew why Sirius had asked how Remus knew what Polari was, and why he questioned Remus when Remus had looked for him in that room in the brothel. Remus had assumed he was disgusted, and was making sure Remus didn’t think he was a sodomite, for lack of a better word. When he had searched Remus’ eyes for meaning as they’d stood on the stairs, he wasn’t looking for a judgement Remus had made about him, Sirius was looking for someone he loved dearly. But why? Was he after meaning? Did Sirius think that by engaging with contrary sexual feeling spaces, he’d find answers as to why Alphard passed away? “How did your father die?”

Remus looked to the sky, now pitch and sparkling with constellations. “The same way Alphard did.”

Remus was reminded why he submitted to playing the questions game with Sirius. When he looked over at him, Sirius was staring back without the faintest hint of pity. Just understanding. That was their deal; their silent promise that they owed each other. Sirius pointed up to where Remus had been looking. “There’s me.”

The star couldn’t be missed. It was brighter than the rest by far, twinkling almost dramatically, yet Remus knew that it was more than just a decoration among an array of glitter against the night sky. There was more to be observed, even if all he could see from earth was the obvious brightness of the dog star.

“There’s you.”

Chapter 19: XIX - Veni, Vidi, Vici

Chapter Text

“Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick!” Lily demanded the moment Remus and Sirius became visible to the camp. Everyone else looked up expectantly, metal camping plates in their laps as they sat around the fire.

“I told you we were going shopping,” Sirius said, coming to sit next to Mary on her log.

Mary folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. “The sun set two hours ago. You could have been dead!”

Sirius wrapped his arms around Mary’s waist and tugged her into his chest, kissing her hair. “But you didn’t come looking for us, did you, Macdonald? Were you really worried? Do you love us at all?”

Mary squealed, steadying her plate with her hand. “No! Not you, you brute! I love Remus, though! Argh! Remus save me!”

“Here, aren’t we nice?” Lily said, handing Remus a plate with a sandwich on it as he sat next to her. “Here’s yours, Black.”

“Thank you.” Remus said as he passed Sirius’ along. Remus bit into the sandwich hesitantly, but he needn’t have, since it was surprisingly tasty. “Who cooked the fish?”

“I did,” Dorcas said. “This lot don’t know how to debone or use spices to save their lives.”

“Bit vazey, aren’t they?” Remus replied though he said it with love. Dorcas nodded, grinning into her sandwich as everyone exchanged confused glances.

“Let’s play a game,” Peter said as James snatched an abandoned crust off his plate. “How about…Whispers and Wondering?”

James frowned. “What’s that?”

“My sisters made it up. We go around in a circle, and the person to a player’s left asks them a question about the group by whispering in their ear. For example, it might be “Who is most likely to fall over in front of someone very important?”, as well as a number between one and ten. The person who was asked says their answer aloud. Then the rest of the players choose a number, and if someone guesses the same one as the question asker, then the question is revealed. If not, you’ll never know.” Peter explained. “I’ll go first and ask Prongs since he is to my left.”

Peter leaned over and whispered in James’ ear, and James giggled. “Hmmmm…Mary.”

“Alright, choose your numbers!” Peter announced.

“Seven.”

“Nine.”

“Three.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Six.”

James shook his head, eyes alight. “No! It was eight. Ha! You’ll never know now, Mary!”

“That’s not fair!”

“That’s the game, darling,” Sirius said, petting Mary’s shoulder sympathetically.

James looked at Lily, who was suddenly very red. “Uhhh, Lily, I think it’s James’ turn to whisper in your ear?” Remus said quietly.

“I know! I just..well..yes.” Lily muttered, before finally leaning over the space between her and Remus’ log and James and Peter’s.

James whispered in Lily’s ear, then pulled away, grinning. Remus didn’t know if it was because he got to whisper to Lily or because the question was funny. “Remus! Definitely Remus.”

“Oooh, Moons, what did you do?” Sirius said, rubbing his hands together. “I guess ten.”

Everyone else gave their guesses, and Dorcas guessed seven correctly, so James told everyone the question giddily. “Alright, it was…”

The group leaned in, eager to hear, while Remus wondered if he really wanted to know.

“...who is most likely to save a kitten from a tree!”

The crickets’ chirping seemed to increase in volume.

“James…that is so ridiculously boring. Any of us would do that!” Marlene said.

“But it’s funny because Remus is so broody and dark, and Lily thought it would be him! That’s funny!” James said, gesturing with his hands in the hopes of convincing everyone.

Lily sighed. “If we were in a novel right now, and I don’t know why we would be because who on earth would write about us, but if we were, one might consider that some fine irony. Remus the gentle giant.”

“Exactly!” James agreed. “I’m on my way to becoming Louisa May Alcott!”

Lily looked up quickly. “You’ve read Little Women?”

James nodded. “Little Men and Jo’s Boys, too.”

Lily’s eyes softened, and Remus had never seen her so surprised. Normally Lily was quite aware of everything. “I didn’t know that.” Lily smoothed her skirt. “Well, my turn to ask Remus then.” Lily leaned into Remus’ ear and said “The number is four. Who…has the nicest…lips?”

“Sirius,” Remus replied loudly without thinking. “I mean! Well…I didn’t think about it! Let me change, Pete?”

Peter shrugged as Lily cackled. “If you have a more accurate answer, then I don’t see it being against the rules.”

“My answer is…well now Sirius will throttle me if I change,” Remus said.

“What?” Sirius gasped, grinning. “Now I must know! Everyone, guess well, please! I say…six!”

Remus held his breath and hoped that no one would guess the right number.

“Three.” Four more.

“Nine.”Three more.

“Two.”Two more.

“Ten.”One more, please don’t say four!

Mary thought for a moment as Sirius’ eyes practically bulged out of his head in anticipation. “Hmmm…f-”Not four! Not four! Not four! “our.”

Lily practically screamed with delight. “The question was-”

Remus was convinced that a god of some kind was real and somehow favoured him when rain, in an almost unnatural way, pelted down, killing the fire and sending everyone into a frenzy. Remus and Lily scrambled to collect all the plates and cooking equipment, fresh mud squelching under their feet as they rushed to the carriage. Marlene, Dorcas James, and Peter made a chain to pass the suitcases from the carriages into the camp while Mary and Sirius threw them into the tents of their owners. Lily had the bright idea to pack buckets, so she set them at the entrances to the tents to collect water they could use to rinse the dried dirt off their belongings in the morning.

Once everything was in order, everyone said hurried goodnights and crawled into their tents. Sirius and Remus lay side by side, panting and staring at the roof of the tent, listening to the sound of droplets smacking the tarp.

“What was the question?”

Remus groaned. “Oh, shush! Let’s change into some dry clothes and recover from the polarisation of Brighton's weather.”

Sirius sat up as Remus rummaged through his suitcase, pulling out some rumpled nightclothes. Sirius snorted. “Has no one ever taught you how to fold?”

“Who says I want my clothes folded?”

“Your singular suitcase that can barely contain your belongs because they’ve been packed so poorly says.” Sirius retorted, pulling his own folded nightclothes from one of his suitcases. Remus almost audibly gulped when Sirius threw off his waistcoat and shirt, and Remus forced his eyes back to his suitcase. “Now tell me what the question was. Mary guessed four!”

Remus picked up a knitted jersey from his pile of clothes that had exploded upon the release of his suitcase’ clasps. He lobbed the jersey at a now-clothed Sirius. “There’s your question.”

Remus faced away from Sirius to change, careful to pull his nightshirt on quickly so Sirius wouldn’t see his tattoo. Fleet and Tatt had only let him take this trip on the grounds that he brings back all the boys something nice. He’d find them some trinkets tomorrow. He had to go into town to check on the horses at the inn anyway.

When Remus turned around, Sirius was half under the quilt, his hands behind his head as he lay back on his pillow, watching Remus. “Did your mum make this? It’s so soft.”

Remus couldn’t speak at the sight of Sirius snuggled up in his jersey, so he only nodded. It was a miracle the thing still fit Remus since Mum made it almost half a decade ago, and Remus only stopped growing early last year. Sirius looked better in it. He looked better in everything.

Remus slipped beneath the quilt but hissed when something freezing cold grazed his leg. “Jesus, Pads! Your toes are so bloody cold!”

Sirius barked a laugh, and the dog star had never suited him so well. “They must be if you’re swearing with the name of a god that isn’t yours.”

“Jesus isn’t god, is he?”

“He’s god’s son, but the father, the son, and the holy spirit are sort of the same thing in different forms,” Sirius replied, yawning. “Now tell me the question.”

Remus smirked. “No. I don’t feel like it.”

“No, no, Remus, you’re being mean.”

“Why am I being mean?”

Sirius turned to lie on his side, his face hovering over Remus. “Tell me.”

“I saved your sandwich. From the rain.” Remus said quietly. “Here, you barely had any of it.”

Sirius shook his head. “I don’t fancy fish.”

“Take the fish out, then, it’s one piece,” Remus said, sitting up to reach for the calico cloth he’d wrapped the sandwich in.

Sirius returned to lying flat on his back. “I’m not hungry. I’m full from the cherries.”

Remus frowned, biting into the sandwich himself when Sirius said he didn’t want it. “Those were ages ago, though? There are scones in the carriage if you want them.”

“The cherries were enough,” Sirius replied, shifting under the quilt. “The question?”

“You’re going to get a stomach ache from them, you know,” Remus said around a mouthful. When he looked back down at Sirius, he was still lying there, waiting to know the question. Mary had gotten the number right, and Remus wasn’t being a good sport by withholding the question from Sirius. He could lie, though, couldn’t he? Say it was something less embarrassing? It could be “Who is most likely to have their portrait painted?”. No it couldn’t, that’s worse than James’ kitten one. As much as it would save the agony of having to watch Sirius guffaw at him, Remus knew he couldn’t lie, even if he wanted to. With Sirius, he found he was only able to mention snippets of the truth, but he could never directly lie. If Sirius asked him “Who is Fleet?”, Remus would be able to say he’s a friend, since that wasn’t a lie, nor stretching the truth too much since Remus would be buying him a present, even if he was only doing that to avoid being shanked. But, if Sirius asked “Are you getting paid to brand children as belongings of a criminal gang you know very little about?” Remus would only be able to say yes. “The question was…who has the nicest lips. I said you because I’ve had to study yours, and I haven’t really thought about anyone else’s, so there, that’s why. You’re not special.”

Remus waited for the laughter to start, and the teasing. He waited for “Oh Moony, you love me so!” and “Awww, so did you want a kiss, then? A little smooch?” or even “Better than Mary’s lips? How could you know? Do you wish to compare, Moons?”. Remus tried to hide his confused expression as his inner monologue’s impression of Sirius became more and more warped, but whether Sirius would actually say those things or not, he would still laugh. So Remus waited more. He could practically feel Sirius’ roaring cackle before it came.

But it never did.

“Oh.”

Remus' chest sank. “Sirius, I-”

Sirius was rolled over on his side, facing away from Remus. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep.

Remus supposed he wanted to be, though.

“‘Night, Padfoot,” Remus whispered as he snuffed the candle.

---

Remus watched from the sandy bank of the cove as Sirius and Marlene leaped from a smaller ledge beneath the cliff their campsite sat atop. They were hidden by trees from the main swimming beach, and the rocks were tucked under the cliff enough that no one would land on them when dropping from the ledge that jutted out of the water. Mary and Lily sat in the water on a smooth rock, their feet, brown and white cloudy figures, swaying beneath the surface. “You should come in, Remus. It’s lovely, and you could even stand here if you can’t swim. I can’t.” Mary said.

Remus shook his head. “Perhaps a bit later. I can swim, though.” Further out, Dorcas stood on the sandbank that separated the rest of the beach from the cove, her locks blowing around her shoulders as she held a hand to her forehead to watch Marlene and Sirius climb the ledge again. Marlene jumped first, holding up her hands like claws and spreading her legs out wide before she landed in the water with a splash. Sirius followed, though he raised his arms above his head and swiped at the air. “What are they doing?”

Lily giggled. “Dorcas is judging their jumping competition. I think they’re being bears this round.”

Dorcas pointed at Sirius, who cheered and stuck his tongue out at Marlene, earning him a splash to the face. Peter and James came through the trees carrying towels and food. “Moons, I left something back at the camp, will you help me carry it?”

Peter frowned at James as he handed Lily and Mary hats. Lily looked grateful, slapping hers on as she rubbed her pink nose. “How come you don’t want me to?” Peter asked.

James looked awkward. “You can, I just thought that you’d want to…”

“Help Dorcas judge the jumping competition. Or join in?” Lily tried, helping James. Remus was quite lost.

James smiled sincerely. “Yes! Come now, Moony.”

Peter nodded, bounding across the sand bank over to a waving Dorcas, while James led Remus back through the trees. When they had walked for five minutes, and they were nowhere near the camp or the carriages, or even in the right direction, Remus stopped James. “Prongs, what is it? You don’t really need to go to the carriages, do you?”

James pulled a roll of fabric from his pocket. “Here, you can wrap this around your chest.”

Remus took the roll, unraveling it slightly and realising it was a bandage. “Why?”

“So you can swim, of course? You know, to cover your picture.” James said, pointing to where Remus’ tattoo was. “I’ll say you pulled a muscle lifting some hay bales. We’ll be casual about the matter, now.”

Remus looked back at James. Yes, there was no other word for him than “golden”. Nothing else was truer than that. “Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a problem. Do you need me to wrap it for you?” James asked.

“No, I’ll do it. I’ll see you back there, though?”

James pulled Remus in for a quick, friendly embrace, then pet him on the shoulder and marched back toward the cove, tearing off his shirt as he went.

---

Remus dived into the water, causing Mary and Lily to scream as they were splashed with cold water. “Apologies!” Remus called back as he started swimming out to where James had joined in jumping off the ledge.

When the girls thought he was out of earshot, Mary said “But James is sooo fit. And you agree! Just kiss him already!”

Remus dunked his head underwater and pushed himself down further until he felt the seaweed growing out of the floor, and his fingers grazed a school of fish that darted away from his touch. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Remus popped his head back up to breathe, huffing happily as he watched Sirius climb atop James’ back before James hurdled off the edge with a loud “AWWOOOO!”

“Remus!” Marlene said as she swam over to him, clutching Dorcas by the waist as Dorcas wound her arms around Marlene’s shoulders and neck. Perhaps Dorcas was not a strong swimmer? Not many people in London were. “Come jump with us! Oh, why do you have a bandage?”

James snuck up behind Marlene, tugging on her foot and causing her to yelp and drop Dorcas. Remus surged forward, ready to catch her, but Dorcas treaded easily, laughing at Marlene. “He pulled a muscle. Mrs. Pomfrey said if he was to swim, he had to wear the bandage so he doesn’t pull it again.”

Sirius popped his head between James’ legs and hoisted him onto his shoulders, again impressing Remus with his strength. Remus was even more impressed with the lean, defined chest and shoulders James was sitting atop, and Remus had to sink under the water to yell a bit when he saw the smattering of fine, dark hair peeking up under Sirius’ swimsuit. Remus felt cool fingers wrap around his wrist, and though anyone’s fingers would be cold in the water, he knew these ones so well he was grinning before he came up for air. “Come jump with us, Moony!” Sirius said, James now standing beside him in the shallow. “All of us! Except for Mary and Lily, they’ll watch. Come!” Sirius panted, hair plastered to his forehead and neck. His thick eyelashes were fanned out in spikes and water dripped off them onto cheeks flushed pink and lips as red as they’d been when slick with cherry juice. Remus would never ever regret calling Sirius pretty.

Remus followed James, Peter, and Sirius up the rocks, who were being led by Marlene, and offered his hand to Dorcas behind him when she needed it. Once they were all standing on the edge, Remus surveyed the stretch of Brighton's beach behind the trees separating the cove. It truly was magnificent; stripes of sea, sand, street, town, and then the blurred distance where everything that hurt hovered. Marlene came behind Remus to hold Dorcas’ hand, and Dorcas reached for Remus while Sirius held his other hand and James held Sirius while Peter grasped James until they looked like a child’s paper chain. “What will we say when we go down?” James asked.

“What?” Remus asked.

“You have to shout something! Something to remember! A phrase!” James replied against the wind that caused Remus to shiver under its kiss.

Mary and Lily cheered from below, waving up at them from under their hats. “Veni, vidi, vici?” Remus tried, gazing out at the expanse that felt like it was miles beneath them.

“What’s that?” Peter asked.

Sirius squeezed Remus' hand. Remus only stayed standing because he was at the edge of a literal cliff. “I came, I saw, I conquered,” Sirius called. “I’d say we conquered Brighton?”

“It’s not quite the same as a victory against King Pharnaces II of Pontus, is it?” Remus murmured.

“Alright then, we jump on one?” James said as everyone nodded, edging forward. “Three! Two! One!”

“VENI, VIDI, VICI!”

Sirius held Remus’ hand all the way down and didn’t let go until they had come back up for air.

Chapter 20: XX - A Burnt Child Loves The Fire

Chapter Text

Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them.
- Oscar Wilde, The Picture Of Dorian Gray

Remus felt slightly nervous as he knocked on the door the way Fleet had shown him so that when it opened, he wouldn’t be met with the barrel of a gun being pressed to his head. Apparently, this was the usual choice of welcome for those the boys didn’t know. Remus asked them why they didn’t just look through the mail slot on the door, but Fleet had responded that Tatt had nailed it shut years ago since they never received any mail, and if they did they collected it at the post office. Remus asked why Tatt had done that, and Fleet had responded that once someone slipped a kerchief with poison in it through the slot and no one except Pebble had been in. Fleet and the boys returned to find Pebble passed out, and he didn’t wake for another few days once they’d sat him in the street for some fresher air. They never found out who had tried to poison them, and the fact that they had so many enemies they weren’t even sure, made Remus feel a bit dizzy when he thought about it.

Fleet opened the door and immediately grinned up at Remus. Remus kept his face straight as he followed Fleet in and as smoothly as he could, asked “What happened to your eye?”

Fleet shrugged, gesturing for Remus to sit on one of the settees. They’d gotten another one. “A mudlark wus bullin’ Pebble. Got in a toss-up ‘bout it.”

“Why did he pick on Pebble?” Remus asked as Jimmy, Jackie, and Davies came through the curtain which divided the small space into two rooms.

Jimmy slapped Remus on the back as he passed behind him. Remus had found out that Jimmy was actually the second oldest after Tatt, with Jimmy being nineteen. Yet, everyone here thought Remus was older than all of them. Perhaps in years, yes, but the experiences of the boys made up for their youth. “Pebs goes down to the Thames, diggin’ round the water n’ all. Others come up ‘im like, nick his finds.”

“Where is he?” Remus said, feeling silly for having asked so many questions when he often made snide comments about Fleet’s inquisitiveness.

“Tatt took ‘im to the ragged school. I don’t know where ‘es got to now.” Davies answered from the floor, rolling up his sleeve to show Remus the lion Remus had done for him that ran up his arm from the base of the skull on his wrist all the way to his elbow. Davies was younger than Fleet, but by how much, Remus didn’t know.

Remus thought it odd that Tatt cared to have Pebble educated, but then, Pebble was so much younger than the others. Tatt must see him as more of a son than a brother. As if sensing his thoughts, Fleet said plainly “Tatt had a son. Died some years ago. The ma ‘swell.”

There was silence, but none of the boys were uncomfortable, or sad. It seemed to be a fact they’d accepted long ago. Like it was simple. It was simple. The child was dead. But these things never were, were they? People just didn’t speak about the complexity of death for the state itself was straightforward. The human lived and then they didn’t. Those left did. The end. Remus wondered what their trick to being alright was, but then, were the boys numb? Remus couldn’t fathom being numb; having ice in his veins instead of flames. “I brought some gifts. For my time away.”

The boys' faces lit up, and the joy fought through the grime and exhaustion so that they became children. “Thank you!” Jackie said. He was missing a tooth. Remus didn’t know if he’d lost it or had it knocked out.

Remus handed Fleet a sack of baked goods he knew they desperately needed. There were some cornish pastries in there with vegetables that would do their health some good. It was easy to forget scurvy was not just a pirate’s illness. “Those will keep,” Remus said before he gave Jackie some playing cards, and Jimmy some marbles, since he’d seen them in the gutters with other children hitting hoops. Once, on his way, he’d spotted a child that looked like Pebble betting on rat fights, but it hadn’t been Pebble. Just another tiny child with a head of clipped, blond hair. When he’d mentioned it to Fleet, Fleet said he used to watch, and sometimes the rat that lost would be left, and he’d eat it. That was before Tatt found him. For Davies, Remus had bought a nice pair of boots he hoped would fit, and to his relief, Davies said with the laces done all the way they were perfect. Remus gave Fleet Tatt and Pebble’s gifts, which were a clean razor set and a music box. Fleet jokingly asked which was for Tatt and which was for Pebble. Finally, Remus handed Fleet a copy of A Christmas Carol. Remus hadn’t been wrong to assume he’d find it in any bookshop.

Fleet looked up at Remus confusedly. “But I can’t read?”

“You will by Christmas. I’ll teach you.” Remus said, before slapping his thighs and standing. “I best be off. I have to go work at my other job.”

Fleet walked Remus to the door while the other boys fiddled with their gifts. “Talkin’ of Christmas, you’re a good Saint Nick.”

Remus huffed a laugh. “I’ll be here next week. Make sure Davies keeps that arm clean.”

Fleet nodded. Remus took a few steps out onto the street.

“Oi, John?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“S’orright, Fleet.”

“Thaddeus.”

“Pardon?”

“My real name is Thaddeus. Almost as bad as” whispered “Remus.”

Remus laughed at that, and so did Fleet. They laughed like they had when they’d first met. “Alright. Goodbye, Thaddeus.”

“Don’t call me that wiv’ anyone else, aye?”

“Okay.”

Fleet looked like a little boy when he grinned.

---

Sirius set the teapot on the table by the easel and glanced at the clock. It was a quarter until twelve, and Remus usually came between ten until twelve and ten past twelve. The chocolate should still be hot when he arrives. Sirius looked at his reflection in the shine of the grand piano’s lid, combing his hair with his fingers and checking his collar was straight. At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, Sirius listened in and grinned when he realised they belonged to someone taller than anyone in his household. He’d memorised everyone in the Black household’s footsteps when he was seven years old. Sirius retrieved The Iliad from the accent table by the piano and threw himself across the settee just as Remus entered.

“You know how to read?” he asked, and Sirius strained to force his usual neutrality’s victory over his expression as opposed to the natural beam that pushed at the corner of his lips.

Sirius flicked his eyes up to meet Remus, who was tying his apron. His waist was slim and lean. “In three languages.”

Remus frowned. “English, French, and…?”

“Latin.” Sirius finished setting The Iliad aside.

Remus added water to his palette, rejuvenating the colours he’d been using last session. “I thought you didn’t enjoy The Iliad?”

Merde. I did say that didn’t I? "Well, I thought I’d give it another try.” Sirius replied as nonchalantly as he could. Remus would never guess he was only using it as a prop. Sirius ought to take to the stage one day and become an actor. He’d seen an opera a short while ago with a fabulous lead named Sibyl, who he’d insisted he congratulate after the show. However, when he’d gone backstage, a handsome man with blond curls was already with her.

Remus raised an eyebrow and Sirius forgot he was made of glass in this room. He was made of glass everywhere when Remus was looking at him. “I enjoyed it,” Remus said absently, pushing up his sleeves to rest on his elbows. His arms were fairly tan, something Sirius hadn’t missed when Remus had swam at Brighton, but it almost felt like a treat or a reward when he was only given a portion of skin adorned with a mosaic of veins.

Sirius faltered for a moment, wondering why Remus didn’t paint himself more often. He cleared his throat, and said “What did you think of Achilles?”

Remus shrugged. “What is there to think? He’s a hero.”

“But that is not all you think, is it?” Sirius said it at the quirk of Remus’ brow, at the twitch of his lip, those signs that told Sirius he was hiding something. Sirius wished knew what Remus kept secret as easily as Remus knew what Sirius refrained from revealing verbally.

Remus didn’t look at Sirius when he replied. Perhaps this was because he was focused. Perhaps he didn’t want to. “I think Achilles’ heel was not his weakness. It didn’t kill him.”

“What did?”

“His love for Patroclus,” Remus said, and now his eyes met Sirius’, the chartreuse ring around his pupil dancing in the light with the coffee shades in the rest of his iris.

Sirius would give his hours and hours of piano practice, his skill and feeling that he was able to conjure when performing a piece, the ease with which he composed and constructed melodies to suit his view of the world if just once he could form the picture of Remus John Lupin. But Sirius was selfish. Should he create Remus’ portrait, he’d keep it for himself. Remus would, and will, allow Sirius’ picture to be hung in the foyer for all to see.

“I’d probably destroy the battlefield if someone killed Prongs,” Sirius said matter-of-factly.

Remus scoffed. “The only thing that would be destroyed if you partook in the Trojan War would be your ego once you realised how scary the opposition was.”

“I’ll have you know I was first in fencing every year at Eton!” Sirius protested. Remus swallowed deeply, reaching for his chocolate. Heat rose in his cheeks as he sipped, Sirius suppressing a chuckle as Remus subdued the little groan that often escaped his lips after his first sip.

Remus returned to the canvas. “You’ll have to show me your skills one day.”

They slipped into a comfortable silence after that. It happened sometimes. Neither minded. Some days, the questions game didn’t feel right, and others, Sirius was itching to ask and ask and ask. Some days he wanted to be torn apart. He wanted Remus to wonder about him, and to be curious, but he never was. He’d only ever asked about Sirius’ family when prompted, and he’d never been interested in knowing anything else. Perhaps he was being respectful by preserving Sirius’ privacy, but shouldn’t he be inquisitive? The saying “curiosity killed the cat” is usually used incorrectly. The entire phrase is “curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back”. The meaning is not “don’t be curious”, it is actually “be curious until you find answers”. Remus was only human, after all. Sirius often thought this untrue, that he wasn’t flesh and bones but a figment of Sirius’ imagination, but that couldn’t be right, for Sirius could never form Remus in his mind. No one could.

So, with an internal sigh, Sirius filled the space with the sound of his voice. “I officially received my inheritance from Uncle Alphard yesterday. I turned eighteen last November, so it’s been more than six months.”

“What will you do with it?” Remus asked, and Sirius ripped apart the tone in his response, trying to find the dots of curiosity within it. Was Sirius’ apparent indifference this infuriating?

Sirius had no answer, or rather, he had a million he’d rather not say. “I don’t know.”

Remus nodded. “Could you please move your chin left a bit? You’re slightly off from last time.”

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek and shifted his chin minutely to the right. “Here?”

“No, your left.”

Sirius whipped his chin around to the left so that he was almost side on from Remus. “Here?”

“No, a bit more back to the right now.”

Sirius flung his chin to the right, though less dramatically than he had to the left. “Now?”

“No, right a bit-” Sirius twisted “no, now left-” turn “No, less! Alright well a bit more, no!” Remus stood from the stool and wiped his hands on his apron before taking Sirius’ chin in his thumb and index finger, tilting him exactly where he wanted while Sirius’ mind puddled at their feet. Sirius went limp in Remus’ grasp, causing Remus’ thumb to tug his lower lip down, the top of his bottom teeth now exposed. Remus knitted his brow together, entirely immersed in putting Sirius exactly where he wanted him.

“Am I alright here?”

“You’re fine.”You’re fine. Sirius wanted that etched in his brain in Remus’ voice. Then Remus frowned, and pushed Sirius’ shoulder, causing him to land in a reclined position on the settee. Remus tutted as he walked back to the easel. “You were teasing me.”

Sirius shrugged deviously. “And? It was funny.”

“You looked dim.”

“I don’t need to be clever when I’m so pretty.”

“My question is where do you get your ego from?”

And there it was. Shining and bright and glorious and so pathetic. Remus had asked Sirius a question because he wanted to know something. It was tragic how good it made Sirius feel. “Probably my mother’s family.”

“Isn’t that your father’s family, too?” Sirius cackled as Remus blushed having made a joke about the Blacks. “It was a silly question.”

“Why?”

“I know where you get it from.” They both knew. No one need say it aloud. Sirius had materialised it from thin air to cover something uglier that rotted in his chest.

That was why he was drawn to Remus, he thought. Sirius had picked up on the signs; Remus hardly talked about his mother, and the times he had, he’d only said surface-level traits. There must be matters that were going unsaid, pieces of her Remus was trying to chip off the visage of his mother that Sirius was creating in his head. Sirius’ heart pounded as he asked “How did you get the scar on your nose?”

Remus froze. “You can’t repeat questions. You've asked that already.”

“Touche,” Sirius said, hoping Remus hadn’t noticed the croak in his throat. “Alright, well, why did she attack you?”

Remus’ mouth dropped open, his eyes wide with confusion. “Pardon?”

“Your mother. Why did she attack you?”

“She didn’t,” Remus replied. Sirius expected him to shout, or to be angry at the assumption, and Sirius plummeted knowing he’d been wrong. He waited for the explosive reaction, but it never came. When Sirius studied Remus harder, he finally managed to draw from his face something Remus hadn’t meant to be seen. There, in the corners of his eyes, and the line of his cheek, was softness. Pity. He was thinking “Oh, Padfoot, you silly tortured creature. Some people’s mothers love them”.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Sirius said. “You could tell me, though. If you wanted to. If something…or someone.”

“She didn’t. She would never.”

“I know. I know that.”

Remus bit his lip, and for a fleeting moment, he looked like Lily or Mary. “Why did you think it was her?”

“That’s your question?”

A nod.

“Because my mother would have. You know this.” Because my house was alight the day I was born, and now I’m aflame no matter how far I run from it. I’ll be ashes before I’m free. The phoenix is a mythical creature. “If your mother didn’t hurt you, who did?”

“Who says I was hurt?”

“You.”

Remus set his paintbrush down and lifted his head and the space between them asked why they put themselves through such agony and why it felt so good. “Some boys in my town. When I used to go to school.”

“Why?” Sirius whispered.

Remus squeezed his eyes shut. Sirius would give anything to rush over to him, to take him into his chest, but he couldn’t do that. James could, and Peter could, and Mary and Lily and even Marlene. But not him. The floor between them stretched when he thought about it. “They…one of them was the friend. That I told you about. Well, I didn’t tell you about him. But that’s why. Because he is a him.”

Sirius frowned, trying to figure out what he was forgetting. It hit him like a boulder when he did. It crushed him like one, too. “Fine. Who was your first kiss?”“A friend.”“Did you do anything else with her?”“We were never unclothed in each other’s presence if that’s what you’re asking,””Moony, you casanova!”

Moony, you casanova. Sirius had said that to him. And this boy had…

“Why? Why did they…cut you?” Sirius said, a stone in his stomach and fire on his arms, and ice in his veins. The contrast of it all stung.

Remus shrugged, but his shoulders shook. “I suppose he was scared of being found out. Of us being found in some bushes or somewhere. So he made sure there would be no rumours it was him.”

They’d promised each other no pity. “Silly going for your nose. He should have done your eyebrow. Then you’d look really tough.”

Remus laughed. It was so heavy. “What, my nose isn’t rugged enough for you?”

“Why don’t we go kiss in some bushes and see if he gets it right the second time around?” Sirius jested as Remus shook his head, huffing a laugh. Sirius was not joking. Well, not about the first part. “We had a rumour like that a while ago. About Laura Farthing.”

Remus raised an eyebrow and looked up at Sirius. You’re fine. “Her name sounds familiar?”

“Oh, she’s still around. She isn’t participating in the season, though, she was married last year. She’s the same age as us, so that’s fairly young, but it happened so quickly. She’s smitten now, which is nice.” Sirius rambled. “Oh, you know, she was really good friends with Marlene, actually. Maybe that’s where you heard her name?”

Remus nodded. “Did they have a falling out?”

“Yes. No one knows why, Marlene won’t say. I think she might have been shaken by the whole thing.”

“So how did the rumour about Laura being…well… attracted to women, start?”

“She was found at the church with another girl. The other girl ran away. No one knows who she was. Then a month later, Laura was married, so I think everyone’s decided to forget about it.” Sirius said, but when he looked at Remus, Remus’ eyes were wide with realisation. “What? Why do you look like that?”

Remus slowly met Sirius’ gaze. “You don’t think…you don’t think that the other girl was…?”

“Who, Marlene?” Sirius snorted. Oh. “Oh my god. No, it couldn’t be?”

Remus stood from the stool, coming over to sit by Sirius on the settee. Sirius didn’t bother shuffling over, their hips pressed together as Remus gestured with his hands. “But it would make sense! At the Yule Ball, she was angry that I was talking with Dorcas! She was jealous! And Mary said she makes friends then doesn’t speak to them again, but what if she really fancied them? And when I mentioned Laura’s name to her, when I first heard it at the pub, Marlene looked shocked, scared even.”

Sirius returned Remus’ wide-eyed stare. “Oh my god. What do we do?”

Remus didn’t say anything for a moment. He kept looking at Sirius, leaning in and panting slightly with the excitement of the conversation. Keep your eyes on his, stupid. “Nothing. What can we do? Talk to her? Won’t it hurt her that we’ve had this conversation? And what would our discussion with her even mean? Why do we need to know?”

Why did they need to know? Why them? Yet, it felt right. Strangely, it seemed that he, Remus, and Marlene were…closer now? No, that wasn’t the right word. What was? “Yes. You’re right. So this is just ours to know then? We’ll keep it here?”

“We’ll keep it here.”

“Alright, Remus.”

Remus smirked. “Not Moony?”

You’re always Moony to me. “I like the name Remus.”

“Thanks. It was a birthday gift.”

Sirius laughed, hitting Remus’ thigh. “That was a bad joke. A small part of me regrets giving you a nickname. I don’t get to say Remus very often. Remus! Reeeemussss! Reee-”

Remus put a finger to Sirius’ lips before withdrawing it quickly. “That’s enough. You still haven’t told me where “Moony” comes from, and everyone calls me that now.”

“Peter and James are not everyone.” Sirius countered. “Maybe I’ll never tell you where it came from.”

“You will.” I will.

“Perhaps.”

---

“That’s perfect, Pads!” James hooted as Sirius stuck a tongue out of his lips in concentration. With deft hands, Sirius lowered the pillow down onto the shape they’d crafted, finishing the roof.

Maa came into the parlor with some biscuits on a plate. “Housewarming?” she said, setting the biscuits down at the door to Prongsfootlandia. Well, it wasn’t a door. It was an opening.

“Thank you, Maa,” James said, taking a biscuit.

“Yes, thank you,” Sirius said but refrained from taking a biscuit. It wasn’t time yet.

Maa ran a hand through Sirius’ hair, smiling. “Did you bring Remus back with you, beta?”

Sirius shook his head. “He went to the Pettigrews to see if Peter wanted to join us.”

“Alright, well save some for him.” Maa said, gesturing to the plate before sweeping off, calling to Pitaa, her voice echoing “Flea? Fleamont? Where did you put the stoker? It isn’t by the parlor fireplace.”

Once Maa had ascended the stairs, the front door opened and Remus entered. He looked at Prongsfootlandia quizically as he came into the parlor. “You made a fort.”

James beamed. “Prongsfootlandia.”

“Bless you,” Remus said. “Peter is out with Evangeline for the night. Sorry, but I think he’d prefer to be there than in your…house.”

“Prongsfootlandia,” James repeated.

Remus turned to Sirius. “Why does he keep making that noise?”

Sirius folded his arms as James crawled into Prongsfootlandia. “It’s the name of our empire.”

“That is a pile of cushions and blankets.”

“And that is the kind of negativity that is outlawed in Prongsfootlandia,” Sirius said hautily, before crouching to join James.

Remus’ feet didn’t move. “So you’re both going to just sit in there and eat biscuits all night?”

“Yes.” James and Sirius said in unison, giggling in the dark of their bungalow.

Remus swayed on his feet. He cleared his throat, and his trousers shifted, indicating he put his hands in his pockets. “Can I…come in?”

“I don’t know if you’ll fit, Moons,” James replied, looking about the small space.

Sirius held a hand to James’ chest, sticking the other outside the entrance as if to halt Remus, who had started turning away. “You must swear that you are loyal to Prongsfootlandia. Then you can come in.”

“You’re acting like a child,” Remus murmured.

“That’s not very nice, Moony. You’re the one who wants to come in, so who’s the child now?” Sirius said as James snigg*red.

Sirius and James jumped when Remus leaned down to stick his head through the entrance. “I pledge my loyalty to…”

“Prongsfootlandia.”

“Yes. That.”

James pulled Remus in by his arm. “You can come in now! Pads, move over.”

Once Remus, after much shuffling, had fit inside Prongsfootlandia, James dropped the blanket across the entrance like a curtain. “So what do we do now?” Remus asked, hugging his knees to his chest, his elbow grazing Sirius’.

“Uhhhh…tell scary stories?” James said, rubbing his neck, his glasses catching the flecks of light peering through the cracks between cushions.

“I have one,” Remus said, and James and Sirius turned to him eagerly, leaning in. “Once, long ago, a baby was born-”

“That’s not very scary-” Sirius started.

“His name was Sirius Black.”

“ARGHHHHHHH MOONY THAT WAS TOO SCARY!” James screeched, burying his head in Remus’ shoulder as Remus cackled and Sirius shoved him.

“Shut up, you think I’m pretty! That’s not scary!” Sirius complained.

Remus tutted. “But looked how terrified Prongs is. You’re invalidating his fear.” Remus mimicked Sirius’ voice “ThAt’S nOt VeRy NiCe.”

James sat up again. “I have a story. A nice one.”

“Is it the one about Remus saving a kitten from a tree? Because that was boring.” Sirius said. He couldn’t see Remus roll his eyes, but he could feel it.

“You’re so mean,” James grumbled jokingly.

Sirius put his arm around James’ shoulder and kissed his cheek. “Oh, but we love you, Prongsy!”

Sirius looked at Remus, and even in the dark, his eyes were still their true hazel. If Sirius composed a piece that captured their pigment, he'd play it every day. “Yes. We do.”

Chapter 21: XXI - Paint It Black

Chapter Text

I've seen people turn their heads
And quickly look away
Like a newborn baby
It just happens every day
I look inside myself
And see my heart is black
I see my red door
I must have it painted black
Maybe then, I'll fade away
And not have to face the facts
It's not easy facing up
When your whole world is black
No more will my green sea
Go turn a deeper blue
I could not foresee this thing
Happening to you
If I look hard enough
Into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me
Before the morning comes

Paint It Black, The Rolling Stones

The Black Manor, 1886
Regulus lay flat on his back, staring at the canopy on his bed. He traced the folds, where the shadows in the dark fabric stretched from, and where the light found the embroidered border. At first, one would think it was a simple floral design that stretched along the edges of the canopy’s fabric, but upon closer inspection, in swirling cursive, toujours pur could be found hidden in the motifs. If Regulus laid like this, his back completely straight, his arms by his sides, and his legs splayed out shoulder-width apart, he found it was easy to lose himself. He would start to float, and the beauty of it was, he didn’t even know where he was going, what he did there, or when he was coming back. It was as though his body was having a rest from dealing with his mind, and in turn, Regulus, whether he was his body or mind he hadn’t decided yet but he didn’t care, got to be free for a little while. Regulus was pulled from himself, and this included his senses, most importantly, his hearing.

When he was gone, he couldn’t hear Sirius’ screams.

But every time they stopped, Regulus snapped back to reality. This time was no different. There was noise, there were his mother’s shouts, and then his father’s gravelly interception “That is enough, Walburga.” and then there was nothing. Regulus had to come back when there was silence.

He knew the footsteps in his house. The clack of Mother’s heels on the marble floor, and Father never moves. He stares them down and waits for them to get up, so there was no need to listen for his steps, though if there were, they’d be a steady march. Then there was the sound of dragging. That was Sirius.

Regulus waited for the steps to come up the stairs, then pass his bedroom, and then the click of the doorknob. Regulus sat upright, and almost methodically, as if he weren’t really in control of his body, swung his legs over his bed, and stood up. Once in the hallway, Regulus crept over to Sirius’ bedroom and slipped inside.

In the dark, there was a heap on the bed, but it shook. Regulus made out the outline of Sirius’ shoulder. Regulus put his hand on Sirius, causing him to roll over with a grunt. “Where did she get you?”

Sirius mumbled to hide the fact he’d been crying, but Regulus knew. They both cried every time and it made it worse, but neither could help it. When Sirius learned how to stop the tears, Regulus hoped he’d teach him as well. Maybe they could both learn to float as Regulus did, but that only worked because Regulus lay still and no one was whipping him with a belt. “Just my back. At the bottom.”

Regulus pulled up Sirius’ shirt to reveal an array of angry stripes, five of which were darker than the others. Regulus knew they were bleeding, but was scared to open the curtains and find out how much, so he left them in the dark. He didn’t know how to help anyway. “What did you do?”

“She banned me from any food other than supper for the week because I fumbled the first piece in the new sheet music she bought for me to learn at the recital,” Sirius replied, sitting up now and rubbing his eyes.

Regulus sat on the floor in front of him. He liked it when Sirius towered over him. It made him think there was someone big on his side. “And you ate?”

Sirius nodded. Even in the dark, he had that look in his eye that made Regulus’ stomach churn. Regulus knew what he would say before he even said it. I’m going to leave. I’ll run away. You should come. Why won’t you come? It’ll be easier if we go together. When I go to Eton, I’ll find a way. I’ll come back for you. I’ll do it. I’ll go. We both can. It doesn’t matter where as long as it isn’t here. No, this isn’t normal, Reg. They don’t love us, don’t say that. You’re weak. He’d never called Regulus weak. But he’d thought it. “Reg-”

Regulus beat him to it. “You should have just eaten the supper,” Regulus said. “You knew what she’d do. This is why you can’t handle it.”

Sirius’ expression blazed for a moment. Regulus was prepared to shush him when the oncoming fight ensued, but it never came. “That’s not you speaking. It’s them.”

Regulus looked down at his hands. He practiced not crying when he whispered “I don’t know how to help you.”

Sirius shook his head, hugging Regulus to his lap and setting Regulus' head on his knees. “That’s my role. I’m the big brother.”

He was not big.

---

The Potter Residence 1892
Regulus refrained from banging on the door with his fist, instead resigning himself to a dignified knock. The under butler, whose name Regulus had never bothered to remember despite being sent multiple letters where Sirius detailed everything in the Potters' household, answered Regulus. “How may I help you, Lord Regulus?”

“I wish to collect my brother. He must return home. He has refused the many servants my parents have sent.”

“And they have sent you?” the under butler asked, and Regulus thought it quite forward of him to question a lord unnecessarily. The Potters were unlike anyone else of their social standing.

“Yes.” Regulus lied.

“I will retrieve Lord Sirius.” the under butler said, gesturing for Regulus to sit in the parlor and wait.

It had only been five minutes since the under butler had initially strode off when he returned. “Lord Sirius is not present at this time. He has gone into town with the master and mistress to shop for school supplies. Master James will assist you instead.”

The under butler stepped away and James entered the parlor. “Hello, Reg.”

“My name is Regulus.”

“Mine’s James.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Do not use contractions. They reduce the quality of your speech.”

James leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms and co*cking his head. “What did you want Sirius for?”

Regulus stared straight ahead, boring into the stack of parlor games in the corner of the room. “You know why. I have come to collect Sirius. He has not returned home for the school break as he was supposed to.”

James rubbed his neck in Regulus’ peripheral vision. “Yes. Well…he is staying here. For the foreseeable future.”

Regulus blinked, but he kept his eye line forward. “He must come home.”

James, that stupid boy, sat beside Regulus on the settee. The cushion sunk next to Regulus’ hip. “Your parents sent you here? Why did they think you’d bring him home if the servants didn’t?”

Regulus slowly turned to look at James, his gaze hard. “They didn’t.” Regulus swallowed. “I want him to come home.”

James frowned. “You can stay here too, you know. Sirius told you that, didn’t he?”

“He did. It isn’t that easy.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t understand, so don’t stick your nose in it.”

“Well enlighten me, then!” James said, standing from the settee quickly to gesture wildly with his hands. “Because from my point of view, Sirius was returning home to spend weeks being beaten, and so were you, and now he’s safe and you’re trying to drag him home again?”

“It’s not that simple. You wouldn’t understand.”

“No, I don’t!”

Regulus scoffed. “You needn’t express your dim-wittedness verbally, Potter, your actions convey it effectively.”

Regulus’ heart leaped into his throat as he was startled by James kneeling before him, resting his hands on Regulus’ knees. “Live here. With us. We’ll protect you.”

That’s Sirius’ role. He’s the big brother. “Sirius must come home.”

Something about saying those words aloud twisted a knife in Regulus’ heart he hadn’t noticed was there. He hadn’t caught who had driven it into his chest; Regulus or Mother or Sirius? Then, Sirius couldn’t have been the one to hurt Regulus, when he was never present. In the years they’d spent at Eton, Regulus hadn’t overlooked the way they had started to drift. But he’ll come back for me, he always does is what Regulus told himself for all those weeks, months, and years as he watched Sirius parade around the school with a huge grin on his face and two loyal friends by his side. But time was escaping them, and still, Sirius had not come for him. He had not stood before Regulus to offer safety as he’d once done.

The only person standing in front of Regulus offering safety was James Potter.

James looked at Regulus, eyes uncharacteristically stoic, and stepped away. “He isn’t going to return to your parents unless he wants to. He doesn’t at this point, so leave if you aren’t staying.”

Regulus hid his trembling well as he raised to meet James. “I will see myself out.” as Regulus approached the door, he stopped once his fingers grazed the cold knob. It was because of this family, this perfect household of unconditional and infinite love, that Sirius was leaving him. He only half turned back to James as he said “I wish you good luck with your studies.”

Regulus didn’t know what James looked like when he responded. In the years to come, he would remember this moment, and he would find himself regretting not looking and not knowing what James’ expression had been when he said “I wish you good luck with everything. I always have.”

That is your glory and my downfall.

---

The Black Manor, 1894
Regulus’ fingers flew across the strings of his violin, his eyes closed as his bow slid along the instrument. When the piece was finished, Regulus having memorised it to entertain at Mother’s upcoming soiree, Regulus went to stand by the window, the sheer, white curtains swimming around his feet in the breeze. Regulus watched Kreacher nibble at the grass in the paddock behind the stables, the tiny, grey figure no more than a blob in the distance. Regulus rubbed his knuckles where Mother had caned him that morning for suggesting that he be the one to complete the stablehand’s work, rather than have them hire someone. Mother ranted about how improper that was, and how if Regulus cared about her as much as he cared about that horse, he’d be a better spare. The cane didn’t hurt as much as the thought that Mother still counted on Sirius stepping into his role. In a way, so did Regulus. Sirius had two roles to fulfill in the Black family, yet he didn’t seem keen on either.

The door to the music room opened and Regulus frowned as footsteps he didn’t recognise neared him. Regulus hadn’t the chance to turn around before strong arms wrapped around his waist, hoisting him into the air and spinning him in circles as he yelped. Regulus gave one swift jab with his elbow, freeing himself so he could face his opponent, who was now on the floor.

Sirius panted, grinning. “Reggie, since when are you so big?” he grunted as he stood. “Nearly had me there. Miss me much?”

“Not at all.” I didn’t recognise your footsteps.

“Liar,” Sirius continued, tossing himself on the settee. “Alright, so my question is does Barty Crouch Jr really have a ginormous-”

“Sirius, stop it.”

Sirius sat up “I was only jesting, I know you couldn’t convince either sex to reveal themselves to you.”

“Why aren’t you at the Potters’?”

Sirius shrugged as if it were just an ordinary day. “I’m home now. I’ve graduated.”

“Why have you returned? You haven’t come home in years.”

Sirius’ grin faded. He faced forward, leaving Regulus to watch his side profile. “Alphard left us both an inheritance. And Mother expects me to attend Oxford. I’ve just got to pretend to be good, or at least palatable, until I can get the money and get out forever. I won’t take from the Potters anymore. I’ll clean my mess then leave.”

And Sirius gave him that look, and though his footsteps were those of a stranger, Regulus would always know this face. “No, Sirius-”

“Come with me, I’ll get you out, it’ll be easy once I have financial stability!” Sirius said, rushing over to grab Regulus by the shoulders. Regulus looked away, but he didn’t shake Sirius off, the child inside him wanting so badly to kneel and feel his head on Sirius’ knees once more. He wanted Sirius to be big again. “When you return to Eton for your final year-”

“I’m not returning.”

“Why? No, you must, I’ll convince Mother-”

“She is the one who has removed me.”

Sirius faltered, his hands dropping. “Why?”

“If you paid me any attention at all, you’d know.”

“Did something happen at school?” Sirius asked, his sobriety sudden and evident. When Regulus didn’t answer, Sirius said “That is my question. You can ask one too if you answer.”

“I don’t want to ask you anything. I do not care enough to do so.”

Sirius’ face dropped. “But…I’m here, Reg. I’m right here. I’ve come back for you.”

Regulus picked his violin up again and retook his position facing the window to watch Kreacher meander across the grass. “You should have said that to me two years ago”

Sirius should have said that to him two years ago. But instead, James did. With the privilege of hindsight, Regulus saw who had really driven that knife into his chest. It didn’t matter that he could have left, that he could have stayed with the Potters, that he could have physically run, he needed Sirius.

James was a stupid, golden reminder of that.

---

The Potter Residence, May 1895
Remus had an arm around Peter and the other around James, pulling both the boys into the Potter’s foyer as quietly as possible, while Lily and Marlene handled Mary and Sirius. Regulus was feeling light and numb in the way he liked, but he wasn’t drunk. When he’d begrudgingly agreed to play James’ basic drinking “game” at The Three Broomsticks, it was clear the party had expected him to succumb to the drink quickly. Regulus tried not to feel prideful about his tolerance, having had more than anyone else because he refused to actually execute a single dare, and yet he was still on his feet. Father neglecting to lock the liquor cabinet was something Regulus had been grateful for the past three years.

Remus dropped James a bit, glancing back at Regulus and mouthing “help” while Marlene passed Sirius into his now empty arm. Regulus glared at Remus as he gingerly grasped James’ forearm. As Remus pulled Sirius and Peter up the stairs, Marlene and Lily ushered Mary down the hallway, bidding Remus a hushed farewell. When Regulus went to shove James up behind them, he realised James was no longer beside him. Where had that idiot gotten to now? If he was atop another stag’s head…

James was not atop another stag’s head. He was sitting on the parlor’s main settee looking far too somber for the amount of alcohol in his system. “Go upstairs.” Regulus huffed, stumbling a bit as he came closer.

“Lily’s up there, isn’t she?”

“So? You’re being silly.”

“She says that to me all the time, you knowww. That I’m sillyyy.” James mumbled, grinning dopily.

Regulus rolled his eyes, realising he might have to pull James up, and wondering how on earth he’d do that without waking anyone else in the house. “You can’t even talk properly, now get up.”

James co*cked his head to the side. “How come you’re so fine? You had more than me!” Regulus ignored James’ dim comment, sticking an arm under his back where there was a gap between James’ body and the settee. James hunched, trapping Regulus’ arm. “Ha! Gotchaaaa.”

Regulus grunted, yanking his arm free and toppling back so that he was now sitting on the settee as well. He went to stand, but something in James’ eyes made him sit again. He found himself hugging his knees. James wouldn’t remember any of this, Regulus didn’t have to be so…icy. “What’s wrong now?”

James leaned back, staring at the ceiling, his glasses sitting crooked on his foolishly handsome nose. “I’ve tried to convince Lily to love me for years. I stopped asking her toooo…court me ages ago but. I still want to impress her.”

Regulus swallowed. “You’re tired.”

“She justttt doesn’t see me, Reg,” James mumbled, his head lolling to the side. His warm eyes opened and closed slowly. Regulus could reach out and touch him. James wouldn’t pull away. He wouldn’t even remember. Regulus would do no more than that. He’d run a finger up James’ arm, or caress his cheek, or card a hand through his wild hair, but that was all he’d do. Regulus shuddered even thinking about it. He could. But Regulus knew the difference between being able to do something and actually doing it all too well.

“She saw you tonight,” Regulus replied, shifting to pull his knees to his chin in a way sober distinguished gentleman Regulus would never have done.

“Buuut she didn’t like my stunt! And we talkedd, you know, when we wereee…walking.” James replied, slowly banging his head against the back of the settee. The grandfather clock in the corner chimed three in the morning, the gold pendulum swinging absently. “And ‘twas good, but then I have funn, and she doesn’t like me againn!”

Regulus' head pounded as he played with his hands. “You scared her.”

“You think so? She was…worrieeed?”

A nod. No eye contact.

“I do.”

“You’re handsome, Reggie. You could be a paintinngg. Remus will paint you. Remussss. Remusss!” James called, and Regulus panicked at the volume, clapping a hand over James' mouth, which he hurriedly retreated when James ceased his ramblings.

“I…I was glad you didn’t get hurt, too.”

Regulus was startled by Remus’ sudden appearance at the doorway. “C’mon you two. Up to Prongs’ room.”

---

The Yule Ball, The middle of June 1895
Regulus watched as Barty and Evan jogged along with the rest of the dancers, the firelight catching wisps of Evan’s ivory hair. Barty grinned, twirling Evan in a circle and poking a tongue out at Pandora, who clapped along happily next to Regulus. “Isn’t it all just swell?”

“Dandy,” Regulus replied, sipping on his drink. Across the fire, Remus’s hazel eyes were aglow as he watched Dorcas trace the lines on his palm. According to Dorcas’ reading she'd done earlier, Regulus wasn’t going to live very long, and he would be unlucky in love. Charming.

Pandora gazed at Regulus, her eyelids closing slowly over the pale turquoise of her irises, her lips curled sweetly. “Would you like to dance, Regulus?”

Regulus shook his head. “Perhaps after a hundred more of these.”

Pandora frowned at Regulus’ drink in his hand and came to sit beside him on the log. She fiddled with Regulus’ loose tie that was slung around his neck lazily. “You never normally wear your tie in such a way.”

Pandora often stated things in this way. Regulus liked that about her. She said exactly what she saw, and she never passed judgement along with it, nor made assumptions. She merely brought things up, allowing the other person to speak on them freely as she listened contently. “Yes, well it is the Yule Ball, after all. Isn’t everybody supposed to relax here?”

“How would you know? Is this not your first year attending?” Pandora asked without a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Regulus nodded. “It is. But I’ve heard all about it from when Sirius would attend at Eton, and now, here.”

“Evan mentioned how difficult it was getting you here.”

“Yes. He and Barty accosted me, then kidnapped me.” Regulus rolled his eyes, recalling how Barty had shoved him in the cab after dragging Regulus out of the public library with Evan’s help.

“You haven’t left,” Pandora said when she caught Regulus watching James dip Sirius, kissing his forehead dramatically. Just marry each other and run off into the sunset, why don’t you?

Regulus was finally starting to feel the alcohol seep into his mind, and he hid a smile at the creeping relief. Barty stumbled over, grinning still as he put an arm around Evan. “Come dance!”

“The music is dreadful,” Regulus replied, glancing over at some boys he recognised from Eton who played various instruments poorly.

“Why don’t you play something?” Pandora mused, just as James and Sirius came bounding over.

Regulus kept his face straight and unamused. Sirius slurred “Yesss! Play something lil’ Reggie Reg!”

“I will not-”

“He needs a stage, though!” Sirius continued, looking around at their woody surroundings.

James cackled, scoffing as he nudged Sirius. “I’ll be the stage!”

“What-”

“Yes!! Good one, James!” Sirius exclaimed, hauling Regulus to his feet by yanking on his arm. “Get on, Reg!”

“On where?”

“Here, I’ll help-” Barty said as he took one thigh and Evan took the other. Pandora giggled, waving at a now raised Regulus.

“Put me down-”

“I’ve got his back-” Sirius said, pushing Regulus’ back so that he was upright on James’ shoulders.

Good bloody grief. “Potter put me down!” Regulus hissed, leaning down to whisper in James’ ear as he staggered toward the middle of the party. Other guests had noticed and were starting to cheer.

James turned to look at Regulus, their noses inches from each other. He murmured in Regulus’ ear “Do you really want me to put you down? Say the word and I will.”

Regulus’ breath hitched in his throat at the feel of James’ warm whisper ghosting across his cheek. All he could do was shake his head. Something was pressed into his hand. He realised it was his violin.

He took up the violin and bow, readying himself before starting a lively and practiced jig. James bounced beneath him as the party blurred; dark blobs of trees melted into the sky, faces swimming in and out of his vision, lamps glittering, cheers and cries, laughter, Pandora nodding at Dorcas who she chatted with excitedly.

There was a fox in the crowd. Blazing was her hair, long and straight and silky and blood red. Snake green eyes. Constellations of freckles ran up her arms and across her nose. Regulus had never really known why he didn’t like Lily. It would make sense that they be friends, so why weren’t they? Neither had a steady relationship with their elder sibling, both enjoyed literature and academics, and both held the same political opinions. Why weren’t they friends? Why weren’t they courting? In a haze, Regulus knew, for the entire party had liquefied into foggy colours except for the twirling fox. Atop the shoulders of the sun, silent and excruciating, Regulus thought I would let him destroy me and you would destroy him. That is your glory and my downfall.

---

The Black Manor, The end of June 1895
Regulus opened the door silently as soon as he heard the crunch of gravel under feet nearing the front steps. As he had anticipated, Regulus was met with the visage of a disheveled Sirius. “Evening, Regggieeee.”

Regulus said nothing as he grabbed Sirius by the collar, hauling him up the stairs with one hand and covering his mouth with the other. Once they’d arrived in Sirius’ bedroom, Regulus closed the door and removed Sirius’ jacket to shove against the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor so as to muffle any sound.

Sirius sighed happily as he flopped on his bed, staring up at the dreamcatcher Regulus had made him. Regulus lit the lamp on Sirius’ desk that sat next to the detention slip he’d framed.

DETENTION REFERRAL FORM
STUDENT: Sirius O. Black
DATE: 3.8.91
REASON FOR DETENTION: Uniform Violation

COMMENTS: Mr. Black, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Pettigrew arrived at the Assembly Hall dressed in women’s clothing. They refused to remove such garments and trade them for the uniform. When questioned as to why they had dressed improperly, Mr. Black responded that he was, in fact, properly clothed due to the fact he donned a shift and corset as a lady should. The gentlemen dressed in this manner to protest the fact that students must wear their uniforms to the upcoming dance with Whitehead Ladies College.

TEACHER: Mr. McCauley

THIS CARD IS TO BE PRESENT AT THE DETENTION SESSION

“Why are you helping me, Reggie?” Sirius slurred as we watched Regulus read the form.

Regulus gritted his teeth as he replied “She’ll blame me if she finds out you left. She’ll say I knew.”

“You did.”

“Shut up.”

Regulus had always hated when Sirius begged him to leave. It was absurd that he couldn’t see that the reason he got away with so much, the reason he’d become slippery in Mother’s grasp, was because Regulus existed. Sirius had freedom because Regulus didn’t. He’d forced Regulus into a box Sirius didn’t fit in, despite Regulus being the same shape as Sirius. So why would he fit? If Sirius didn’t, then why was it plausible that Sirius could squeeze Regulus, limb by limb, finger by finger, hair by hair, into the unforgiving cavern? “You’re bigger than her, Reg. She can’t physically hurt you anymore. Do you remember her nose when she tried on me? You could do the same.”

Could. The word was weak and indecisive and unsure and so painfully Regulus.

“Where were you?”

Sirius grinned, the glimmer of his pearly teeth in the dim light causing the hairs on Regulus’ arms to stand up. “A brothel.”

Regulus froze. “With J- Who with?”

“Prongs, Wormtail, and Moony. It was James’ idea.” Sirius smiled, laying back on the bed and gazing at the canopy. A lifetime ago, Regulus had done the same thing in his own bed for hours and hours. “He’s changing. I don’t mind.”

You’re corrupting him. I hate you for it. “Be quiet. Don’t let Mother catch you.”

Regulus left Sirius.

---

The Black Manor, July 1895
“Master Regulus?”

Regulus turned around in his chair, setting his quill back on the desk. “Yes?”

The maidservant, a new one it seemed, pursed her lips nervously. They were always coming and going. The Black Manor had never had one set of staff for more than a few months. “There is a guest in the parlor who requests your presence.”

“Who is it?”

The maidservant bounced on her heels slightly. “Lord James Potter, sir.”

“Hello, Reg, how are you?” James beamed, looking smart in a muted blue suit and a darker blue tie patterned with burgundy leaves.

“I was faring much better before you arrived. What do you want?” Regulus huffed, killing the ostentatious grin on James’ face. Good, you look stupid when you smile so much.

James looked at the floor, mumbling a bit. Smile. Smile again. Please. “I came to see if Sirius and Remus had finished.”

“Their sessions last hours. They won’t be finished until sunset.” Regulus said matter-of-factly.

James nodded and stepped toward the front door to leave, but he turned back to look at Regulus, smiling. Yes. Stay like that. Don’t let me touch you. “You could entertain me instead?”

Merde, don’t say it like that. “Pardon?”

James returned to the parlor, which was just a few paces across the threshold of the doorway which was adjacent to the foyer. “Will you promenade with me? In the city?”

Regulus’ face reddened. “Absolutely not. What a stupid request. Am I your woman?”

“Do you want to be?” James asked, before cackling and slapping Regulus on the shoulder. He was acting like Sirius. Regulus hated it. “Fine, no public outings, but I am hungry. Come by for tea?”

“No.” Regulus shook James off, starting back toward the stairs. “Goodbye, Potter.”

“How about a hack, then? With Kreacher?”

Damn you. Regulus sighed, long and hard, and spun back to a smiling James. “You can’t ride in that.”

James looked down at his attire. "I’ll remove my jacket and waistcoat.”

Don’t you dare. “Whatever.”

James had lied about it being a “hack”. A hack would insinuate a leisurely pace, perhaps a light trot, along an established path. Instead, Regulus was rising in his saddle to account for Kreacher’s speedy cantering as he fought to catch up with James. James laughed into the wind, throwing his head back and whooping, screaming his joy to the sky. He leaned forward, and when Regulus had gained enough momentum to arrive by his side, Regulus watched James’ brow furrow in concentration as they hiked up the rocky hill.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” James breathed, inhaling through his nose as they neared the top.

It was indeed lovely, the expanse of malachite rolling hills dotted with sheep and clusters of round bushes and trees. The clouds were long and thin, stretching across the sky in shifting slate-coloured sheets. A creek wound through the dips and elevations, lined with frosty wildflowers, a flock of snowy birds soaring over it. Fences and treelines boxed paddock after paddock, creating a landscape of green honeycomb that smelled like straw and honeysuckle; fresh and natural and earthy.

Atop the hill, James panted happily, finally lowering himself down onto the horse’s back, and slouching with thrilling exhaustion. True to his word, he’d forgone his jacket and waistcoat, his shirt was billowing around his heaving torso, hair flying around his forehead and ears. His glasses gleamed the creamy light of the early afternoon, and then James caught Regulus staring. “Yes, beautiful,” Regulus mumbled in agreement before he faced the view again.

“Do you ride often?” James asked, his words whipping through the air.

Regulus shook his head, curls waving like a halo. “No. I used to. I can never get away now.”

“But you miss it?”

No eye contact. A nod.

James grinned that stupid golden grin, something in the atmosphere, the charm of the countryside perhaps, softening Regulus’ hatred of it until Regulus realised it didn’t bother him so much. He’d always thought his mind was the only place he could be free, for it was a numbing space. But here, he was free too, yet he felt everything. Everything hammered in his heart and rang in his ears and burned in his eyes, yet he didn’t mind at all when it was all painted gold.

“Then we’ll do this often enough until you don’t have to miss it anymore.”

There would come a time when Regulus would miss it so much it would obliterate him.

---

Dear Reg,
This letter is from James. I thought I’d put that first, since when someone whose handwriting I don’t recognise writes to me, I have to flick through pages to find who signed the letter, and then sometimes that means I end up reading the end of the letter before the start which is confusing. But this letter is only short, and I don’t think you know anyone else who can ramble so much on paper, and I don’t think you struggle with checking who has signed your letters as I do.

I wanted to write to you because I feel as though I have taken Sirius from you in a way. I know I am not the brightest, nor the smartest boy you know, for you know yourself quite well I should hope, but I do notice things. After all, my spectacles can be expensive, so one should hope they are functional. I have taken note of your relationship with Sirius, and I don’t mind saying this, and my assumption is that you are feeling left out. And I’m realising I’ve written the word “and” too many times. If I am wrong about you feeling excluded, or at least, uninformed about your brother, correct me.

Now I will tell you about my trip because Sirius might not, and also because it has been quite fun so far. I won’t blame you in the slightest if you stop reading now. We arrived in Brighton yesterday. The weather had been lovely, meaning I have reveled in saying “I told you so” to all my friends who decided we should go camping later in the year despite it being summer now. Sirius was being a princess about his hair kit, but Remus told him to shut up, but he said it slightly nicer than that, but only slightly since this is still Remus I’m mentioning. Sirius only ever listens when Remus tells him to do something, so other than that, we arrived in Brighton easily. However, last night, Remus and Sirius got lost coming home from shopping, so they arrived well past dark and Lily was far from happy. They cursed the camp when it started to rain very dramatically. For the record, so that I may use it as evidence, please tell me, and forgive me for the lack of context, if the idea of broody, grumpy Remus Lupin saving a tiny, cute little kitten from a big, scary tree is ironic and funny, because I think it is but not one else does. I shared my tent with Pete which was fun. Sometimes I forget how I talk to Sirius about the things that don’t matter, and Remus the things that do. Peter is the best for everything in between that. Perhaps you feel the same way with Evan, Pandora, and Barty?

We went swimming this morning, and we jumped off a ledge into the water. I remember you being terrified of the lake when we’d row at school. Are you still scared of water? I can teach you to swim if you’d like. What do you think of the phrase “Veni, Vidi, Vici”? I think it makes me sound awfully intelligent when I say it. Lily is slowly starting to like me. It feels strange. It hasn’t been easy to avoid putting on a show in the way I am so inclined to do, but it has been worth it for we are starting to converse effortlessly now. I feel you’re the only one I can really truly talk to about her. Sirius had a bit of a fit when I told him I didn’t want to pursue her anymore, so he’s off the table, and Remus is very close with Lily, so he might be a bit biased, and Peter has been the one to help me plan all my shows of adoration, so that may be a conflict of interest for me to be transparent with him. With something so heavy as my feelings, I’d normally speak explicitly with Remus, but in this case, I cannot, so I’ll write to you instead. But please know, I expect no empathy, no advice, or anything from you at all. I don’t even expect you to have read this far. You owe me nothing.

I’m not sure what else to write. Or what to ask you about without prying. I suppose I’m sending this letter to show that I care about you, Regulus. I’ve never understood you.I don’t always understand you, but I’d like to think I know you. If I’m wrong, and if I don’t know you, will you remedy that?

You don’t have to write back. Or speak to me again. The lord knows how you avoid me, but I don’t take that personally for you avoid everyone. I enjoyed our time together before I left, however, and I think we should reconvene. Next time I’ll ride slower.

I won’t tell Sirius. About anything you don’t want me to. I won’t tell him about this.

Your hopeful friend,
James F. Potter

Lord James F. Potter,
Regulus Arcturus Black has composed this letter. Now a “struggle” is unnecessary since you know who has written to you.

I received your letter. It was a surprise. I am not disappointed that your excursion is going well. I appreciate your offer to teach me how to swim, but I am declining such a proposition. I am also slightly embarrassed that my fear was so outward and observable.

Upon your return, I will inform you if Sirius decides to recount his trip to me. When he departed, we had quarreled, for I reminded him that Mother may withhold his inheritance if he leaves without permission. He retorted that she could not legally do that, which may be true however I am unsure, and also that he would continue to reside here until his portrait has been completed. I believe this is the case due to Mr. Lupin’s choice to return to Yorkshire upon the completion of the artwork. The walls in this household are as thin as paper. Or perhaps my ears are abnormally large, though I don’t believe this true. (to be read with humour)

In the case of Lillian Evans, I will mention that I do not mind if you wish to speak about her with me. While you have observed me, I have observed you. Miss Evans has always had an eye for you, though the same can be said for many people participating in the season, a fact you are obviously and painfully aware of. It would appear that, since you have become more sincere with her rather than compensate for your self-perceived stupidity, which I admit I do assist in reinforcing, she has taken a liking to you. You both share interests and similar states of mind when topics of politics or friendships are concerned. However, neither of you realised this previously. I will say, forgive me if this is forward, that Miss Evans may have benefitted from having a proper discussion about the behaviour of yours she disliked rather than berating you with shallow insults. If such a conversation occurred, I retract my last statement.

This addition to our correspondence is shorter than yours. I have no holiday to report on.

I request that, should you write to me again, have the letter sent to the servants’ address so I may intercept it.

No, you are not the brightest or smartest boy I know, but those terms do not escape you. They are still applicable, though perhaps “bright” and “smart” are more appropriate than “brightest” or “smartest”, as I can assign neither of those words to one single person in my life.

From,
R.A.B

My dearest Reg,
It is tragic that you must indicate when a sentence is supposed to be humorous. You should be more embarrassed by that than your fear of water.

Thank you for agreeing to be my confidant. I won’t speak on the matter more, for nothing else has occurred between us that I would need to write to you about. It’s sort of silly that I write to you at all since we returned from Brighton two days ago and you’re only a walk through the woods from my house. And you don’t need to worry about telling me if Sirius told you about Brighton, because I asked him if he informed you of our time there and he replied that he had not for he feared this would annoy you. I told him it wouldn’t, so sorry if that wasn’t the right thing to say. The distance between you two makes me sad because you really do love each other, you’re both products of your parents in your own ways and that’s neither of your faults. But neither of you are them. You’re both your own people, and it would do you good to remember that. But I won’t say any more about that, for I’m sure none of this is new to you. I’ll let our letters be your escape, Regulus.

I have thought about what you said in regards to Lily, and you may be right, but as I said, none of it really means anything now anyway because I’m staying with my decision to offer her friendship and nothing more unless she indicates she would want more which she never will. I’m sure you’re aware of the way I tried to “distract” myself, and what a foolish thing that was for me to do. You’re a far nicer distraction than a brothel. Upon reflection, I’ve realised that I don’t agree with engaging with prostitutes. There’s nothing wrong with the women themselves, but it is fair to say “hate the sin love the sinner” in this case. Gentlemen demand services from them and then simultaneously degrade them for providing them and the only way to dismantle such an atrocious institution is by refusing to engage. I doubt my choice to stay away from brothels from now on will make much of an impact on the system of sex work, but it will impact my view of myself.

I’m all stuck in my head about everything now. Some part of me feels bad saying this to you because you’ve been dealt a much harder hand than I, but then, that is how I’m sure you’ll understand me in my entirety when I say I’m stuck in my head. We can put our heads together and meet each other up there. Alright, so I’m no Louisa May Alcott, an author I’m sure you think is silly and girly but I love her so I don’t care. In fact, you remind me of Laurie so much, and I’m not sure why, but you do. The point of the poorly constructed metaphor was that we could start to understand each other. We’ve been in each other’s proximity since you started at Eton. God, we wasted so many days. Why didn’t you give me a sign? That you were the person you are?

Remus has just called out to me to say dinner is ready, and I’ve nothing more to say, so I’ll end the letter here. We’ll talk again soon.

Yours truly,
James

To James,
I do not think Louisa May Alcott is silly or girly. I think she is a literary genius. Of all the March sisters, my favourite is Amy. I understand the general consensus is that she is disliked for she burned Jo’s book. However, she was twelve when she committed such a crime, and though it was wrong, she just wanted to be included. Perhaps she reminds you of someone else due to that fact. It must be considered, though, that Amy is the least beloved sister for she is the only one to say what she wants explicitly and then go after it. Society doesn’t seem to like it when women do that. Even Alcott herself has Jo marry, despite Jo being the character she has inserted herself into, as a result of societal pressure from her audience and publishers. All in all, I believe each of the women represents a different internal experience for the fairer sex in our society. I do not know this from personal experience. (To be read with humour)

On the topic of my brother, let us not discuss him further. His head will grow larger than it already is. (To be read with humour)

I did hear of your trip to the city. I did not know it troubled you so. I’ve no further comment on the matter.

Yes, I do know what it is to be stuck in your head. I haven’t left mine in fifteen years. I appreciate your metaphor, though I do agree that it was poorly constructed. Alcott is disappointed. I don’t blame you for your lack of interaction with me at Eton. If all you knew of me was what Sirius told you, then I understand your disinterest. I wouldn’t have wanted you to know me then. I don’t want you to know me now, but you want to, and no one can deny you anything. I’m no exception to this. We never wasted days. We never had any to waste. We have them now. Other than my classes with my home tutor, Mother expects very little of me. This will change when Sirius’ portrait is completed. I have always known that Sirius would never be the heir, and that it would fall to me. How odd it is to think about the fact that the words “spare” and “heir” rhyme. (To be read with humour)

I’ve no more to say. You’ll probably appear on my doorstep sometime in the coming days, and I will probably begrudgingly allow you to drag me somewhere. This will happen repeatedly. I haven’t the heart to prevent it. As I mentioned, no one can deny you anything, James Potter. I am no exception and neither is Kreacher.

Truthfully,
Regulus

Chapter 22: XXII - Miss Serena

Chapter Text

Dear Reg,
Are you going to Whitehead Ladies College’s fundraiser ball? Maa’s making me go in support of the Pettigrews, whose daughters still attend the school. Mary wants to go since there will be many of her old teachers there as well as some of her peers. I won’t see Sirius beforehand since I’m busy trying to organise a cricket match before the season ends. The weather’s been so dreadful we haven’t had a nice big game yet! I do hope you come to the ball(and the game too, but I won’t get my hopes up), and perhaps if you don’t want to be seen conversing with me, we could sneak away together to chat about whatever we like. I’ll make Remus come, so Sirius will be all caught up with him and Pete. And so many girls we knew from when Eton would have events with Whitehead will be there so Sirius will be flirting with them, he won’t even notice us. However, if you do not wish to attend due to seeing old peers of your own, something I believe you’re opposed to, then I understand. I cannot hide my disappointment if this is the case.

I’ve been trying to read more poetry as of late. Sirius tells me you enjoy it. Remus also likes poetry, but he talks about it with Lily and they’re both so knowledgeable I’d feel left out if I tried to join their conversations. Perhaps we could trade?

Here is my first contribution:
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.

It’s from The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe. It’s a bit sad. And dark. I liked reading the whole poem, though. Remus lent me his collection, but his annotations make no sense and aren’t what I expected them to be. In the line “But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping”, he underlined “I was napping” and wrote “same” next to it. I wonder what deep and meaningful symbolism he’s referencing there. You might be able to tell me.

Anyway, I hope you come to the fundraiser. And I hope the piece of poetry you give to me isn’t as gloomy as you are.

Affectionately,
Jame

Jame,
Did you mean to misspell your name when signing off on your last letter? Or have you finally realised that you are in fact, only one Jame, and have decided to remedy your name accordingly? (To be read with humour)

I will be at the ball. Pandora will be attending since she is still enrolled at Whitehead, though she doesn’t board as your friends did. I cannot say whether I will or will not follow you when you inevitably request we sneak away from the event. I shall have to decide in the moment.

The poetry I have chosen for you follows:
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.

The Eagle by Tennyson. I understand the poem is about the thrill of an eagle catching its prey, but it quite reminded me of your cliff-jumping at Brighton.

We will encounter each other shortly,
Regulus

---

Remus set his paintbrush down for the final time that day as the music room was washed amber by the lowering sun. Sirius was dressed more casually today, forgoing his usual decadent attire for a simple, dark set. “I think we’re done for today.”

Sirius nodded as Remus covered his work carefully and started to tidy the paints. Sirius wandered over to Remus’ side, lazily helping him put the dirty palette knives on the edge of the table for a servant to collect and wash properly. “Will I see you tomorrow night, then?”

Remus frowned, before slumping and looking down at Sirius with a flat expression. “It’s another ball I wasn’t invited to but am expected to attend, isn’t it?”

Sirius winced. “Yes…” Remus strode away, shaking his head as he removed his apron. “But it isn’t like the others! No one family is hosting, it’s the ladies’ college’s fundraiser for the local ragged schools. There will be entertainment from the students and ex-students, and all the girls will be going. It’s a far more relaxed atmosphere than anything my family would put on.” Sirius tried, coming over to speak in Remus’ face.

Remus sighed, hanging up his apron before turning back to Sirius. He leaned his back against the wall and crossed his arms as he said “And what will I do there? Offer my great fortune? Or hover in the corner the whole night?”

Sirius lowered his eyebrows into that coy face he often made when a terrible idea was forming in his head. Pretty. Aye, pretty dim. Shut up. “You could talk to some ladies.”

Remus huffed. Of course that was Sirius’ first suggestion. Remus ought to have expected it. Remus wasn’t usually so jealous, but something about how easily Sirius managed to capture the attention of everyone he wanted to, and even those he didn’t care about, made Remus seethe internally. Well I’m “handsome” and “tall” and “broody” apparently. Take that! It didn’t matter what Rita Skeeter wrote about Remus, it’s not as if Sirius believed any of those adjectives accurately described Remus except perhaps “tall”. And “broody”. Alright so Sirius didn’t think Remus was handsome, that was the problem. Problem? Remus’ head hurt. “Sure, and with what charisma?”

Sirius smirked. “Have you forgotten that you’re tall, handsome, and broody? That’ll attract flocks.” You don’t think that. No one really does, it’s a joke.

Remus pushed past Sirius toward the fireplace and lit a spill. “And what will I say when the "flocks" come? My supposed good looks will only get me so far. Your plan is silly.”

Remus held the spill to the lamp, casting a flickering glow around the room as the sky beyond the sheer curtains darkened into a navy background. Sirius’ stupidly perfect cheekbones were illuminated, his grey eyes now neutralised in the warm light. This was the muse of a masterpiece, not the poised and expressionless figure that perched on a settee in plain daylight, devoid of all character. Remus much preferred the artful mess before him, all loose strands of elegant waves framing his simpering smiles. “Alright, I’ll teach you.”

Remus frowned. “Now?”

Sirius nodded, grinning and striding over to the other side of the room, posing by the piano. “Now, approach me.”

“What?”

Sirius broke from his position to glare at Remus. “You’re making me lose my character! Go on!” Sirius returned to his girly pose, miming fluttering a fan by his chin.

Remus shuffled over, bowing half-heartedly. “Good evening, Lady…?”

Sirius gave a high-pitched giggle. “Lady…Serena Black. And you are?”

“Uhh…Remus. I mean, Remus John Lupin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Sirius moved his head to whisper “Now you must kiss her hand.

“I’m not going to kiss your hand, Padfoot.”

“Well, you’ll never win a lady then.”

“Absolutely no one does that.”

“I’m the one who grew up attending these events. They most certainly do! Now take this seriously or I won’t teach you.”

“You’re the one taking it “siriusly",” Remus mumbled, pleasure filling his chest as he caught Sirius stifling a laugh at his weak joke. Sirius held out his hand, his fingers clad in chunky, silver rings. Remus tried his very hardest to keep himself steady as he lowered to peck Sirius’ hand on one of his rings, then shot back up and cleared his throat. “So…uhh…Lady Serena, will you dance with me?”

“Most certainly,” Sirius replied, his impression of a feminine voice surprisingly realistic. He pretended to hand Remus his dance card, and Remus hid a grin as he “filled it in”. This was beginning to be more fun than he’d anticipated. Remus led Sirius into the center of the room before realising he didn’t actually know how to dance. “Is there something wrong, Mr. Lupin?”

Remus shook his head. “No. No…let’s…umm…yes…so-”

Sirius spoke as himself rather than “Serena”. “Here, take my waist with one hand, then my hand with your other. The lady might put her other hand on your chest or hold her skirt out.”

“Whatever do you mean, Miss Serena? You are a lady.” Remus grinned, causing Sirius to laugh as he held their hands out to the side. With Remus’ other hand on Sirius’ slim waist, and Sirius’ spare hand on Remus’ rapidly rising chest, they slowly stepped out what Remus assumed was a lazy waltz. After a few minutes of silently stepping, both boys staring at each other with beams as wide as the horizon at Brighton had stretched, Remus whispered into Sirius’ ear. “So what would I say now, then?”

Sirius breathed back “Compliment her.”

Remus pulled away, trying his hardest to put on a posh accent like Sirius and James. “You look dazzling tonight.”

Sirius batted his eyelashes, pressing on Remus’ chest so slightly Remus wasn’t sure if pressure was really being applied at all. “Is that all?”

“Pardon?”

“Just dazzling?”

“Beautiful. Gorgeous. Ravishing.”

“What else?”

“Aren’t we supposed to be acting? You’re awfully yourself.”

“And you’re awfully bad at confessions of attraction.”

Remus kneeled before Sirius and recited aloud his very best rendition of a declaration that had lived in his mind since he read it. “I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you.”

Sirius was stunned, frozen in his position leaning forward so that Remus may still grasp his hand. He coughed, standing straight and folding his arms, no longer Lady Serena. “It’ll have to do, Frederick Wentworth.”

Remus sighed, rising to collect his coat. Effie would start to fret if he wasn’t home soon, and he promised Mary he’d watch her rehearse her singing performance for the ball. “Well, I’ve never been very good at acting.”

Sirius quirked an eyebrow, helping Remus slip an arm into his coat sleeve. “That wasn’t acting?”

Remus flicked his eyes over to Sirius, who was focused on flipping Remus’ collar the right way. “Well, it wasn’t real, was it?”

Sirius walked around to Remus’ front, still fixing his coat for him. It had been fine before. Granite met hazel irises hidden by dilated pupils. “No, of course not. You’d save a sincere confession for your dream woman.” Sirius bounced on his feet, lost in his thoughts. Remus wanted to hear them spoken in Sirius’ voice, but in all fairness, he wanted to hear everything as a product of Sirius’ tongue. “I didn’t know you’d read Persuasion.”

Remus scoffed. “Lily wouldn’t let me be her friend if I hadn’t.”

“She’s funny, that one,” Sirius mumbled, opening the door for Remus so as to walk him down the stairs.

Remus removed his hands from his pockets to trail down the railing as they descended. “She’s grand.”

“We’re in agreement then,” Sirius replied, opening the heavy front door with a loud swoosh.

Remus walked backwards onto the porch so as to continue their conversation. “You never used to think that. What changed your mind?”

Sirius shrugged. “Now that Prongs isn’t so intent on winning her romantic affection, I’ve realised that she’s an admirable person rather than just a prize. I feel foolish for having seen her as only that for so long.”

“Such a perspective makes you an admirable person too, Padfoot. Good night.” Remus responded, unsure whether to embrace Sirius or just wave or do nothing at all. James would pull Sirius into his chest, and maybe haul him off his feet a bit, and kiss his cheek or forehead in farewell. Remus wasn’t James.

Sirius nodded, hesitating at the threshold, before closing the door. As Remus went to step off the porch, a fraction of a voice slipped through the steadily narrowing crack between the doorframe and the door. “Were you talking about Miss Evans?”

“Go away and stop eavesdropping, Reg. Why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

The voices trailed off after that, and Remus stepped away from the Black Manor thinking about what a little sleeven Regulus could be. If he wasn’t so nice to look at, he’d have no company at all. Then, it’s not as if Barty and Evan were quality companions anyway.

---

Remus stepped out into the street, pulling his cigarettes from his coat once he was sure Fleet was well away from the door and wouldn’t open it and ask for one. If Fleet asked for one, then the other boys would, too, and then Remus would have none left and would never make it through this fundraiser event tomorrow night he was now attending apparently.

Remus trudged through the lanes as he usually did; head lowered, hands in his pockets, the sounds of the street swimming in his ears. Mothers called to their children from various windows, and men shouted from alleyways yet their voices always seemed to come from a distance one would never reach, and the odd cat would lurk in the grime of the gutters.

Remus turned down the side street he usually took to make it back onto the main road which led out of the city and toward the Potters’ mansion. Remus watched his feet tread over the worn cobbles, boots echoing in the tunnel that formed at the end of the side street due to an overpass. Remus looked up to find the shape of a hunched beggar at the end of the stretch, which met another hidden street, meaning the man was in front of a wall made from uneven bricks. Something about the way he lurked made Remus uneasy, so he turned back to take a different way to the main road. Walking back the way he came, Remus thought about how the roads all matched up. If he made it to The Three Broomsticks, which he knew how to do from Fleet’s, then he could be back on the main road before the sun started to set. Remus stopped when his footsteps were accompanied by another’s. The hunched man was creeping up behind him. Remus faced the start of the street again, ready to speed up, but another man stepped into view from the side of the building boxing in the tunnel.

“You John?”

Remus whirled around to find the hunched figure was no longer hunched, and instead, a burly man who had horrid skin and a torn eye. “Aye, I am,” Remus replied as his back hit the chest of the man who had stepped out to block the other end of the tunnel.

“What works for Tatt?” said the second man who was starting to walk Remus backward. “You marked a Billy?”

Remus swallowed, focussing on making sure his eyes weren’t too wide. He couldn’t run, but if he headbutted this man, would he have enough time to defend himself from the other and flee? “I don’t learn their names.”

The man spat at Remus’ feet. “Well, you should. Billy’s my son.”

Remus squared his shoulders. “I just do the inking. Tatt’s the one who brings them to me.”

The pretend-hunchback pushed Remus forward toward the man claiming to be “Billy”s father. “But Billy’d be clean if it weren’t for you.”

Remus didn’t have time to respond before a first collided with his cheek and he flew to the ground. Pain burst from his temple, streaming down his face and throbbing in his bones. His own laboured breathing ricocheted through his ears as warm blood dripped down his split face. Remus hauled himself to his feet, hoping to get a punch of his own in, but another jab struck his ribs, from which man he couldn’t say. Remus landed on his wrist this time and decided he wasn’t escaping or winning this fight, so he covered his neck and skull with his arms and waited.

He covered his neck and skull with his arms and waited. When no more assaults came flying, Remus gingerly opened his eyes to see Duncan and Oscar leering over him, Duncan with an insane grin plastered across his face. “What are you going to say to ye ma? That you tripped?”

Remus wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a retort. With his lips clamped shut, he watched Duncan wipe the blood from his ear that had flooded all down his shirt, and lick it off his finger all while staring Remus down. When his fingers were clean, Duncan glanced at Oscar, who’d said nothing since Remus had fallen, before he shook his head and started back toward the schoolhouse. After a few paces, he turned back and sneered “See you at school tomorrow.”

Remus jumped to his feet, unable to hold his rage in. “Not if I don’t rip your eyes out first you bastard!”

Duncan didn’t turn back as he cackled, jogging down the hill away from the back of the tiny, wooden schoolhouse which hadn’t been in session for an hour. Remus turned back to Oscar, willing his tears to stay behind his eyes where they belonged. Oscar smiled. It was devastating. “You really got his lip and ear, there.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m sorry, Remus-”

“I never told anyone! I don’t want them to know either!” Remus yelled, marching away from Oscar, who ran to catch up. “I’m not coming to school tomorrow. I’m never coming again!”

“Duncan’s just a bully, he won’t do it again.” Oscar tried, grabbing Remus' arm, but Remus shook him off and shoved him over for good measure. Oscar squinted up at Remus under the harsh, grey autumn sun. Remus wondered if this is what he’d looked like moments ago. “I’m sorry about your nose.”

Remus bent to spit his words right into Oscar’s face. “You watched him throw a rock at me. You heard him call me…you let him talk to me as if I’d started the rumour!”

Oscar lowered his head. “He kissed me. And I liked it.”

Remus reared back. “Duncan?”

Oscar nodded, a tear dripping down his nose. From the front of the schoolhouse, Mrs. Jones put a hand to her forehead, shading her eyes and frowning at them. “Are you alright, boys? You were dismissed an hour ago.”

Remus nodded. “Yes. Oscar just…lost something. We’ll go home when we find it.”

Mrs. Jones waved goodbye, her shawl crimson flying in the wind as she disappeared down the hill. Remus turned back to Oscar, who’d buried his head in his hands. Coward. “So what was I, then?”

Oscar mumbled. “You were nothing. Neither of you are anything. I’m not a…”

Remus growled, pinching the bridge of his nose, wincing at the contact, and turning away from Oscar. He wouldn’t cry. He didn’t want to look like him. “How will I explain this to my mother? Tell me what to say then never tell me anything again.”

Oscar’s lip trembled. How embarrassing. “Tell her Duncan attacked you, but you don’t know why.” Remus scoffed before turning away to descend the hill himself. “Remus!”

Remus whipped around. Oscar was standing now, though in front of the leafless old willow of spindly branches, he looked tiny. “What?”

“Why did you let him do it? You’re stronger than both of us. I’ve seen you knock kids out for picking on the little ones or teasing animals. Why’d you let him? Why didn’t you fight him?” Oscar was screaming now, sobs prying through his words when he let them. “I thought you’d fight him!”

“Why did you tell him about me?” Remus asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Why did you like it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You liked me.”

“Yes.”

“I hate you.”

Remus let himself cry when he’d reached the bottom of the hill, hissing as the salt of his tears mingled with his split nose. He learned how to sew sutures that day.

Remus felt a toe ram into his side, then another, before one of the men yelped. With a grunt, Remus sat up and almost screamed at the site of Pebble. The father of “Billy” was clutching his forearm where a bite mark was starting to bud with blood. “Pebble! Run! What are you doing?” Remus shouted as Pebble rubbed the red from his teeth. Pebble pointed at the entrance to the tunnel where Fleet had just grabbed the other man’s collar and smashed his head against the wall in one strong propel. Davies was right behind him, and now that the other man was knocked out, Billy’s father ran, dashing to the other end of the tunnel. Fleet's chest rose and fell, and in his haze of agony, Remus thought Fleet could have been thirty years old. Remus, Pebble, Fleet, and Davies watched him go. Remus lay back on the filthy ground, panting through the pain.Davies kneeled next to him. “Who was he?”

“Some Billy’s da,” Remus muttered.

“Pebble saw ye gettin’ cornered an’ came to get us,” Fleet said, pulling Pebble into his side. Remus was unsettled by the child’s smile, brown dried blood still lingering on the corners of his lips.

Remus lay his head back again and squeezed his eyes shut. “Good one, Pebs.”

How would he explain his face to Effie?

---

James tossed his flute around as he spoke. “So the match will hopefully be in two weeks' time.”

Marlene nodded, threading her arm through Remus’ as he returned to the conversation with a drink for her. “Who are you wanting on our team?”

James turned to Peter, who was making eyes at Evangeline. Evangeline looked like a cupcake in a huge, frilly pink dress as she waved from the other side of the function hall at the college. She would apparently be opening with some opera singing, something that had made Mary nervous about since she’d be performing after Evangeline. Both she and Lily were backstage now, no doubt catching up with everyone they’d missed. As Remus had anticipated, Marlene wasn’t keen on gracing the stage herself. “Would you be interested in playing, Pete?”

Peter returned to the conversation. “Sorry? Oh, right. No, I enjoy a light game but I’d be uneasy with so many spectators.”

“Well, Sirius and Daniel will certainly play. Frank and the Prewett twins might agree to join in?” James looked into his flute. “Andregulusmightsayyesmaybe.”

Marlene frowned. “Pardon?”

“Regulus Black. He’s a precise bowler. We could ask him?” James tried.

Remus was startled as he was kissed on the cheek, and he bit his tongue at the pain of having the huge bruise on his jaw provoked. He fought to remain composed as Sirius pulled away quickly, rushing over to James and enveloping him in even more kisses and embraces. He looked as handsome as ever in a fine, dark suit, with a cream waistcoat. “Who are we asking?” Sirius’ eyes enlarged when he saw the bluish splotches on Remus’ skin and his split cheek, but he said nothing on the matter.

James cleared his throat. “You! About joining our team for the cricket match I’m hoping to host. You’ll play for us won’t you?”

Sirius grinned, embracing Marlene and Peter quickly as he spoke. “Of course. Say, what events are between now and then? We should plan for another prank in before the season ends.”

Marlene rolled her eyes, downing her flute and handing it to Remus. “I don’t want to be privy to this.” she spoke only to Remus when she said, “Call me over when they grow up.”

Sirius held out his hands in false shock as Marlene strode away, her charcoal skirt sweeping behind her. “Why are you more mature than us? You do just as many silly things! The church prank wouldn’t have even happened without you!”

“I’m just smart enough not to get caught or be suspected,” Remus replied. “Who will this new prank be on?”

Sirius grinned deviously. “How about Reg, Evan, and Barty?”

James almost choked on his champagne, and Peter patted his back worriedly. “Why?”

Sirius appeared taken aback, glancing at Remus. Remus widened his eyes slightly as if to say he knew nothing, which was true. He’d rather keep it that way. Remus would be a fair bit happier if he knew nothing about anything, a goal he regularly strived toward. Sirius turned back to James. “Why not? They’re all so annoying, especially Barty. He probably eats screws for breakfast thinking it’ll make him less unhinged.”

Remus snorted at Sirius’ stupid joke, but James shook his head. “No. Let’s get Snape instead.”

“Who?” Remus asked.

Peter sighed. “Severus Snape. We had a bit of a rivalry with him at Eton since he’s always been friends with Lily, but never very nice to her. He’s not very nice to anyone but he used to manipulate Lily terribly. It’s less of an issue now that we’ve all graduated, but he’s still a menace.”

“Ohhh, he was the one Lily wanted to avoid at the Black Family Ball, wasn’t he?” Remus asked, piecing it all together while James nodded.

James handed Remus his flute, which was still quite full. Remus struggled with Marlene’s, his, and now James’ glasses, holding them all awkwardly. Since when am I a waiter? Do I look like a waiter? “I’ll be back.”

“What? James, where are you going? The entertainment is starting!” Peter called, huffing as James weaved through the crowd. Remus thought his sudden departure was odd, but he was even more confused when James slipped through a side door that seemed to lead to nowhere. Remus kept his eyes on the door, and sure enough, someone followed James through. Remus had not expected it to be Regulus Black, but it made sense he was here since Pandora was performing and the Blacks always donated large sums to show off at events such as this. Remus faced the conversation with Sirius and Peter again. I didn’t see anything.

Just as they were about to reconvene, servants started snuffing the candles along the walls, leaving the floor in partial darkness while the guests started to whisper amongst each other. Remus stopped one of the waitstaff, handing him three flutes and receiving a look of judgement in return. You would too if you weren't being paid to be here. Evangeline stepped forward on the stage, smiling as everyone’s conversations died down. “Good evening! Thank you for attending this year’s fundraiser ball. The proceeds from the night will be donated to the local ragged schools through the church. You may find programs at the entrance with the order of entertainment this evening, but I will read them aloud now. First, I will be performing an opera piece from “The Beggar’s Opera”, then Miss Mary Macdonald will sing “Won’t You Buy My Pretty Flowers?”, then the junior dance ensemble will perform ballet, followed by the senior ensemble and 1893 graduates. We will have an hour-long intermission before the stage will be occupied again. Thank you.”

The guests clapped as Evangeline stepped off to the side to drink from a glass of water handed to her, then she returned to the center front of the stage. Peter elbowed his way forward, his face alight with pride as Evangeline’s shrill performance echoed through the hall. Sirius threaded his arm through Remus’ and slowly started inching them over to one of the back corners. Though Remus appreciated Evangeline’s talent, opera had never been easy on his ears, and he was glad to have put some distance between him and the singer. Remus bent to speak into Sirius’ ear so they wouldn’t disrupt the few guests that were dotted around them now that they were a fair way from the stage. “What is it?”

Sirius murmured back, standing on his toes but keeping his eyes forward on the stage which was no more than a glowing rectangle now. “What happened to your face?”

Remus looked at the ground. “I was mugged walking home from The Three Broomsticks. I’m alright, it looks worse than it is. They just took the loose coins I had on me anyway.”

Sirius made a strange noise Remus couldn’t place the nature of before he was pulling them again, this time to one of the candles on the far back wall where they were quite a few feet from anyone else. Sirius pulled his lighter from the inside pocket of his jacket and lit the candle. He reached up and took Remus’ chin in his index and thumb, gently tugging him close enough to the light so as to see his face. “Oh, Moons.”

Remus lowered his gaze, the eye contact too intense. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“You almost yelped when I…I’m sorry. I should have announced myself verbally.” Sirius replied, cool fingers parting from Remus’ skin. Remus blew the candle out just as the guests erupted in applause. “Oh! Mary will be performing now.” Sirius said excitedly, rushing back to push through to the front. Remus saw Mary enter the stage, smiling and waving. Her hair was pulled back in a thick, curly braid that wound in a horseshoe shape around the back of her head, silver cosmic pins weaved into the dark spirals. Her dress was a glowing white with matching silver accents, and even from the back of the hall, Remus could see what a vision she was. He was about to follow Sirius when a young woman hurrying over to the entrance caught his eye.

“Marlene? Where are you going?” Remus said, eyes darting between Sirius advancing through the standing audience and Marlene at the door.

Marlene wiped her eyes. “Nowhere, don’t worry. Go watch Mary.”

Remus’ chest sunk at the clip in the voice. He came to her side, making sure no one was watching as he put an arm around her shoulder and led her through the double doors. “Come now, I watched her practice. Let us find some fresh air.”

Remus and Marlene stepped outside, and Remus felt Marlene inhale deeply against him as they walked around the side of the hall, Mary’s musical accompaniment only just audible now that it mingled with the steady chirp of the crickets. “You don’t have to stay with me.”

Remus shook his head, setting his jacket on the gravel for them to sit on. They rested against the wall, Remus offering his cigarette to Marlene, which she surprisingly accepted. “I needed to smoke.” Marlene passed the cigarette back after taking a drag, removing her gloves to avoid staining them with ash. “Do you want to talk about what’s upset you?”

Marlene looked at Remus for a long time, until he chuckled, pulling the flask he kept in his good jacket out and handing it to her. Marlene took a long swig. “I saw…Laura. I haven’t seen her in a while since she doesn’t participate in the season anymore but…it was…”

“Confronting?” Remus asked.

Marlene smiled with relief. “Yes!” Remus nodded in understanding as Marlene took the cigarette again. “Because we were such good friends. Then we had our falling out.”

Remus hesitated before he replied, taking a while to inhale his smoke and letting it linger for longer than usual so as to put off speaking. “You were…friends?”

“What else would we be?”

“You tell me.”

Marlene laughed humourlessly, her eyes sparkling in the dark with tears as she drank from the flask again. “Who told you? Mary? Does she know about Dorcas and me then?”

Remus sat up, mouth agape. “You and Dorcas?”

The cigarette fell from Marlene’s lips as she stared up at Remus in shock. “You didn’t know?”

“No! We figured it out from the way Mary spoke about you and Laura at the pub, though she didn’t actually understand the extent of what she was referencing.” Something scarily warm spread through Remus. He found himself smiling. “You and Dorcas?”

Marlene frowned. “Yes, but may we return to your response for a moment? Who is “we”?”

Oops. “Me and Sirius. We didn’t mean to talk about you, we were just conversing generally but we came to the same conclusion…” Remus said sheepishly.

Marlene grinned. “I don’t mind, and Cas really enjoys both your company, though she’ll never admit that about Sirius. It makes sense you two would know.”

“Why?” Remus frowned, taking the cigarette from Marlene which was finished. He stamped it out with his foot before sitting beside Marlene again.

Marlene looked at Remus confusedly, as if she expected him to know something he didn’t. “Because you and Sirius are…”

“We’re…what?”

Marlene’s eyes widened before she slumped against the wall again. “I’m so dim. I thought you were…oh never mind. Ignore everything I’ve said.”

Marlene stood up, helping Remus up as well and handing him his jacket. “Thank you for sitting with me. We best go back inside or we’ll miss the senior ensemble. Mary and Lily are dancing with them.”

Remus nodded, though his mind was completely elsewhere. “You go inside first. People will talk if we enter together having left in the middle of an act.”

Marlene embraced Remus, her arms strong and sure around his shoulders, before she went inside, gravel crunching under her feet. Remus hovered against the wall for a minute, listening as the music changed and the junior girls' ensemble’s performance started. Remus felt like he was going to faint. Marlene thought…she’d assumed…does that mean other people…? Lily? Did she know? Did James know? Know what? What was there to know? Marlene was wrong. And Sirius wasn’t…

But Remus was. He’d known since his nose had been split open. There were women and girls, odd experiences here and there tinged by his youth at the time, but there were boys, too. But this was different from any of those memories. They’d all been cases of two paths crossing and then parting again to run in opposite directions, forming an 'X' made from fleeting affection. It never felt incomplete or like Remus hadn’t found the closure he needed, or that he'd wanted more. He’d had them and then he hadn’t. He’d liked all of them. He’d liked Mary, and he still loved her very much, but the friendship they had felt right and fulfilling. Friends are what they were meant to be, just as Remus was meant to be friends with James and Lily and Peter and Marlene.

Remus trembled, sinking to his knees as he realised “friends” had never felt right between him and Sirius.

Remus thought back to every interaction they’d ever had. He thought about Brighton, about all the music room sessions, about the brothel. Images flew through his mind, pictures of sly grins and flirtatious smirks, the feeling of cool, cool, cool skin all over his. Fingers and wrists, a pale chest, and red lips against a white face framed by black, always in Remus’ mind. Never since meeting him, had Remus had a single moment where Sirius wasn’t dancing in his subconscious.

Remus was pulled from his hurricane of realisation when he heard a stifled groan. Remus’ line of sight ran down the wall, and he started to follow it away from the door to the hall. There was a dip in the wall where a side room that jutted out ended. If a lady was being taken advantage of…

Remus froze when he heard a gasp to his left as he passed the room that jutted out, leaving a gap of space at his side. He slowly rotated to see a woman he recognised from the yule ball and other events of the season covering her chest. Sirius pulled away from her neck, wiping his mouth. “Were we being too loud, Moons?”

Remus shook his head, spinning on his heel and practically sprinting away, heart pounding at the thought of Sirius' cool, slim fingers anywhere but Remus' chin.

Chapter 23: XXIII - Confessions

Chapter Text

A MOST FLIRTATIOUS FUNDRAISER
The Whitehead Ladies College annual fundraiser was held last Friday at the school’s function hall, an event most readers will have attended. But, dear reader, during the performance of one Miss Mary Macdonald, did you notice two heads of gold and chocolate hair escaping through the front door at the beginning? It seems Miss Marlene McKinnon’s reluctance to accept a male suitor was due to her waiting for the perfect mysteriously stoic gentleman. Has she found him at last?

---

“It’s complete bollocks!” Marlene exclaimed, throwing the pamphlet down on the table, and rattling the dainty floral tea set. “I mean, really, just because we went outside together? That’s so…so…and my reluctance to take a suitor? Oh…Remus look, it says “male.” What does she mean by that? Does she know?”

“How could she? I didn’t.” Remus frantically scribbled on the final page, before sighing with relief and shutting it. “Done.”

Marlene raised an eyebrow over her tea. “Why were you so desperate to finish it?”

“Lily wanted it read by today. Apparently, it’s quite melancholic, so she wanted me to read it first to know she could make it through.” Remus replied.

“And was it sad?” Marlene asked, flipping to the last few pages. She frowned, reading the final lines aloud. “Love.” He said. And then he kissed him.”. That sounds happy?”

Remus shook his head. “Not really. All their friends died, one lived with his lover from the orphanage he grew up in while the other was in prison for thirteen years for a crime he didn’t commit.”

Marlene’s eyes widened. “They’re both men?”

“One is a werewolf and the other is a wizard from a family that’s in a blood supremacy cult. Their sex isn’t the most absurd part.” Remus shrugged. “I think Lily will enjoy it.”

Marlene turned the book sideways. “You wrote “I am so distraught. I am sobbing so hard my chest is breaking apart. I will never be the same. My entire universe is shattered. I am a shell of the man I was before.” Marlene glanced back at him. “You seem fine.”

Remus shoved a loaded scone in his mouth. “It’s called a hyperbole, Marlene.”

“You’re right, she will love it.” Marlene leaned over the table to look down the hallway inside the house. “Speaking of, where is she? I told her you were coming at one o’clock. It’s been an hour.”

Remus surveyed the garden around them, the humble but flourishing bushes of pale flowers, the stone pathway leading to a vine-clad wooden gate wedged into a cobble wall. Tiny butterflies flitted in the morning light, illuminated wings flashing. It was peaceful and homely. Despite how welcoming and warm the Potters’ home was, the sheer size of it could be overwhelming and endless. Every corner of the Evans’ house felt lived in.

Petunia strode out into the garden, stopping in her tracks when she saw them sitting at the table. “Oh. You’re here.”

Marlene rolled her eyes. “Good morning, Petunia.”

Petunia smirked hautily as she marched over to the gate, holding a stack of parchment in one hand and her huge, lacy hat in the other. “That’s Miss Evans, soon to be Mrs. Dursley to you.”

Marlene scoffed, sitting back in her chair and folding her arms. “He actually asked you to marry him?”

Petunia scowled. “Don’t look so surprised. As if I’d say yes to your Daniel.” Marlene clenched her fists. Remus was about to stand up for Daniel when Petunia added. “Lily’s been crying for the past hour. I can hear it through the walls and it’s awfully annoying so would you go shut her up?”

Remus stood from the table, fuming, but Marlene held him back as Petunia exited the garden through the gate and stepped into a waiting carriage. “Leave it, she’s not worth the trouble you’ll get in if you say anything.”

Remus downed his tea, the undissolved sugar gritty in his teeth as he and Marlene rushed back into the house. “She’s probably the reason Lily’s upset!”

“I know, but all we can do is console her! Petunia will be married and gone soon enough.” Marlene sighed as they jogged up the stairs. Remus stopped at the top, looking down at Marlene.

He hesitated. “Should I…come in? After what Rita Skeeter wrote about us…”

“Oh, don’t be absurd. Lily would be offended if you didn’t! Her room is this way.” Marlene replied, dragging Remus down the narrow passage to the white door directly at the end. She knocked, pursing her lips before speaking. “Lily? It’s me. Remus is here, too. We heard you were crying?”

After a moment of waiting, Lily came to the door, opening it slowly. Her eyes were greener than ever against the puffy redness of her eyelids, the end of her nose shiny and flushed. Her curtains were drawn, leaving her room dark and gloomy. The sheets were rumpled. “Hello. Sorry, I invited you both here and then didn’t come down.”

Marlene shook her head, putting her arm around Lily and guiding her to sit back on the bed while Remus went to pull apart the curtains and open the window. He came to sit on the other side of Lily, who had her head in Marlene’s lap, blazing hair streaming over her shoulders. Remus put his hand on her thigh. “What did Petunia say to you?”

“Nothing.” Lily croaked. Marlene and Remus shared worried glances.

“Then what’s the matter?” Marlene asked tentatively.

Lily sat up, rubbing her eyes before looking at Remus so intensely that his breath caught in his throat. “James went to a brothel.”

Remus swallowed. “Who told you?”

“Regulus. At the fundraiser.”

Remus frowned. “He approached you?”

“Yes.”

“Was a gun being held to his head?”

Lily sniffled a laugh, accepting Marlene’s handkerchief and blowing her nose. “James…has decided he doesn’t wish to pursue me anymore.”

Remus stared at Lily for a long time, before his eyebrows softened with realisation. “And that…bothers you.”

“I love him.”

Remus’ mouth dropped open as Marlene put her arm around Lily again, kissing her cheek. “Oh, Lils.”

“It’s too late! He’s off…he’s with other women.” Lily cried. “I was so so stupid! He was always so kind and understanding and perhaps he was boisterous and loud but he loved me for who I am! He loved me truly and has never seen me as just some woman. But I couldn’t see past his act! And Remus! You even told me that he was insecure, that was why he showed off all the time, not because he saw me as some prize but because he was so in awe that he didn’t think he was good enough. But he was too good, he always has been. Now he’s gone.” Lily sobbed, long tired tears escaping, making it obvious she’d been weeping for a very long time.

“That’s…I didn’t…”

“You didn’t know? First, you miss Cas and me, and now this?” Marlene laughed.

Remus shook his head, bewildered by his blindness, but he returned to Lily quickly. “It’s not too late. I was with him at the brothel, and he didn’t lay with anyone! He was going to, but he stopped himself. He was only trying to be reckless to distract himself from you. I’m certain he still loves you.”

Lily buried her head in her hands, muffling “But what do I do? He’s still decided against me.”

“Because he thought you didn’t want him.” Marlene corrected. “You have to show him you love him before he finds someone else.”

Lily flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling while Marlene and Remus peered over her worriedly. “How?”

---

Peter eyed the three of them, a look of disquietment plastered on his face. They’d accosted him in the middle of a chess game he was playing against himself. His hand was still suspended holding a rook.

“Peter, what do we do? How did you win Evangeline?” Marlene begged as Peter sighed and set his piece down.

“How did you even get inside my house?”

“Your mother let us in.” Marlene said as Remus answered with “The window.”

Peter shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t even want to know which of you is right. And I “won” Evangeline by showing my affection from the beginning, not dancing around her for years!”

“I mean, technically you did dance around her for at least one year. You were only flirting at the Black Ball when you were dancing there.” Marlene retorted as Lily elbowed her.

Peter stood from the tiny chess table, leading them all out of his family study. “Look, I really don’t know. But, you know who would?”

“Who?” Lily, Marlene, and Remus chorused.

---

“Ahhhh! You finally admit it! You loooove him!” Mary squealed, grabbing a hand of Lily’s and Marlene’s and spinning them all in a circle while Peter and Remus sat on Mary’s bed, very confused.

Lily wobbled, catching her breath once they stopped twirling. “But that doesn’t matter if he doesn’t want me!”

“He does.” Remus and Peter added.

Mary nodded and began pacing the room. “When do you want to tell him?”

“I can’t just tell him!”

“Why not? He won’t reject you.”

“That’s not the point.”

Marlene poked her head out from under one of Mary’s hats that she was trying on. “I thought that was the entire point of us gallivanting around the outskirts of London to collect our friends and ask for their opinion on how to express your love.”

Lily threw her arms up in the air in frustration. “Well, I don’t know when the perfect time will be!”

“He’s planned a cricket match I’m sure you’re all invited to. Tell him then!” Peter suggested excitedly.

Lily shook her head, leaning on one of Mary’s bed posts. “No, it’ll distract him and he’ll be disappointed to lose the game.”

“We need to know what he’s doing the next few days. We shouldn’t drag this out. Remus and Mary, you live with him. What are his plans tomorrow?” Marlene said, balancing a fifth hat on top of her head and stepping in a small circle so as to stop them all from toppling off.

Remus shrugged while Mary replied. “I’m not sure. But there’s someone else we could ask.”

Remus groaned at the thought of more walking.

---

This is the house that built me
and I’m gonna burn it down.
This is the river I crawled from
and I refuse to drown here.
What is a home
if not the first place you learn to run from?
You’ve got to bite the hand
that starves you, and in doing so
Praise the place that birthed you.
- Courtney Love Prays To Oregon, Clementine von Radics

Sirius cackled, draped across the settee in the music room, head thrown back and neck exposed. Remus’ heart thudded at the sight of him. He hadn’t expected to see him today, and after he found him rather occupied at the fundraiser, the gravity of his realisation that he liked Sirius too much was starting to weigh on him. Having Mary, Marlene, Lily, and Peter in their room felt intrusive. He wanted them to leave. Sirius finally caught his breath, gazing up at Lily with glittery eyes as she glared at him. “Are you quite finished? I’m failing to find the humour in the situation. Peter and Remus said you’d be happy about it, not hysterical.”

“That’s because you didn’t stay up late with him for years, whispering in the dark about how he was going to capture your heart, Evans.” Sirius wheezed.

“Just tell me when and how to confess,” Lily complained, yanking Sirius up by his collar so he was sitting upright.

“Say, how does it feel to finally not know something?” Sirius teased.

Lily turned back to the group that hovered by the door. Good. Don’t step further into our room. “Would you please give us some time to…talk?” Marlene nodded, leading Mary and Peter out. Remus went to follow until Lily said “Remus, stay.”

Remus kept his eyes on the floor as the trio filed out and the door closed behind him. Sirius came to stand next to him. Remus edged away, the mere proximity overwhelming. Painful. Friends. Friends. You’re friends. “What is it, Evans?” Sirius asked, glancing at Remus. Remus didn’t return the look.

Lily bit her lip, trying to decipher how she would say this. She often looked that way when he was trying to figure out what stitch would suit her embroidery the best or the timing of a step in the dances she practiced avidly. She was searching for perfection. Don’t you see it in Sirius’ face? Shut up! Shut me up. No, he wouldn’t say that. He would. He’d be joking. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t say it. Leave! Then focus, you’ve missed everything! You’re a terrible friend. I know that. Then fix it. “I know you’re not…fond of me, Sirius. But I love him. I think I always have. Did you miss the way I blushed around James? How I’d stutter? Please, help me for his sake if you can’t for mine.”

“I’m sorry.”

Remus and Lily’s heads flew to Sirius, both startled by the words that sounded so jarring when spoken in his voice. His voice… Stop it! Talk again, please, let me hear him. You’re pathetic. I wish I was his. “Pardon?” Lily asked a sheepish Sirius.

Sirius bowed his head. “I’m sorry I made you believe I wasn’t fond of you. You’re smart and you’re so incredibly kind and the truth is…I envy the poise with which you handle each of your problems as they are so close to mine. I know I haven’t always been the most mature gentleman in your presence, or anyone’s for that matter, but I fought so hard to help Prongs because you’re the only person deserving of his heart.” Sirius said, slow and articulate, sounding out each vowel and consonant in that beautiful posh accent that suited him so well.

Lily stood frozen in front of the settee. “Well…I…Sirius that’s…”

Lily was interrupted when the music room door flew open and Regulus entered swiftly before he stopped, staring at them with that flat expression. “What are you doing?”

“As if you weren’t lurking by the door listening.” Remus scoffed, pushing off the wall to join Lily, the blood rushing to his head now that he was a fair distance from Sirius.

Sirius grasped Regulus’ shoulder, pushing him toward the door again. “If you must know, we are deciding how Lily will tell James she loves him. Do you know what that word means, little Reggie? Practice your violin somewhere else.”

Regulus whirled on Sirius just as Sirius was about to slam the door. “Something big.”

“Pardon?” Sirius replied, taken aback.

Regulus’ icy eyes flickered. “You need to tell him in a way that he would tell her. That would be a gross show of affection. He’s a romantic.”

“Regulus, just because you’ve been sneaking around with him for whatever reason, that doesn’t mean you know him better than us,” Remus said snarkily.

Sirius went to open his mouth, no doubt to question what Remus had mentioned, but Regulus spoke first. The posh accent didn’t sound as nice coming from him. “I know the man that stole my brother.”

“Stole me? He protected me! He cared for me. I begged you to come!” Sirius shouted, tossing his hands out in anger while Regulus stood still, eyebrow twitching ever so slightly like an amused cat.

“And you were meant to protect me. You and I both know how it is possible that you have the freedom you do. How she hasn’t hurt you since your return, how Remus is your painter, how you’re able to sneak out. You think she doesn’t know?” Regulus said, cooly.

Sirius folded his arms. Lily slipped her hand into Remus’ as they watched on. “She never caught me.”

“Because she caught me,” Regulus replied. In an instant, Sirius was on him, turning him around forcefully while Regulus protested. Sirius reached down with one arm, pushing Regulus’ back over with the other, and pulled up his trouser hem. Eight long, meticulous slashes stretched down to his ankle. Regulus slumped in defeat.

Sirius straightened, panting. His voice broke, misery cracking through the raw rage. “I…you…you’re bigger than her! You let her! You could have stopped her.”

“Could is a tragic word, Sirius.”

“You love her! You’re weak!”

“You’re talking to yourself. I’m not you.”

"You could be!"

"I'm the reason she didn't chase you. If I wasn't here she'd drag you back. You traded me for yourself."

Remus wanted to scream at the truth that pooled from Regulus' mouth and drowned Sirius. He wanted to shout for them to take their conversation elsewhere, to get it out of their room. Sirius would remember this. Every time he sat before the easel, looking at Remus, posing for him, and laughing at his silly jokes and lazing on the settee he'd think of this. But then, weren't there a plethora of Sirius' memories here that Remus couldn't touch? Regulus was being horrible. Sirius had fought so hard to leave. He'd done everything he could. He was a child. He'd begged Regulus! And now here he was, blaming Sirius for their mother's insanity. It seemed Regulus could fault Sirius and James and himself and everyone around him but heaven forbid he condemn the purse-lipped puppeteer pulling the strings bound to his limbs.

Sirius stormed out of the room, flying down the stairs, Marlene, Mary, and Peter’s eyes following him the whole way until he burst through the front door. Lily shuddered when it slammed. Remus glared at Regulus as he pushed past, ignoring the expectant faces of his friends.

Out on the driveway, Remus blinked at the sight of James holding Sirius by the neck in an attempt to calm him down “What’s James doing here?” Peter asked, having followed Remus.

Remus shook his head. “I don’t know. Are the girls together? Lily might be a bit shaken…”

Peter nodded as they walked across the gravel together. “Yes, they’re taking care of each other. What happened in there?”

“If Sirius regales James, you’ll find out,” Remus replied as they arrived at Sirius' side. “Prongs, what are you doing here?”

James mumbled, concerning Remus with the odd guilt in his voice despite his words of innocence. “I…came to meet you two. After you’d finished painting. I see that you didn’t have a session today.”

Remus put his hand on Sirius’ arm. “Padf-”

“I want to leave. I want to go somewhere.” Sirius huffed, marching toward the gate.

“Where?” asked Peter, no doubt as sick as Remus was of running around all day long.

“I don’t know, I just want to leave.”

“What happened?” James tried, skipping to keep up with Sirius as he turned the corner and started down the road.

Sirius stopped suddenly, running his hands through his hair and breathing deeply through his nose. Remus watch his chest rise and fall, expand and retract. “I just want to leave.”

A sunflower-coloured scarf waves in the breeze. Her voice calls, so far away but she is with him. Hooves thunder on the ground. Grey stones and brown sticks and green grass whizzes. There is so much air Remus’ lungs don’t know where to start. The horse breathes between his legs, his tiny feet bouncing in the stirrups. The wind brushes his fringe from his eyes which are squinted against the glowing sun. Warmth radiates along his bare, unmarked arms. He can’t remember anything else. He doesn’t know how old he is. He doesn’t know which hill he is on, which field he is cantering through. He doesn’t know what time or day it is.

He knows he is faster than anything chasing him

---

Sirius looked like he did by the sea in Brighton. His hair flew around his face and when he called to James, egging him on beside him, he threw his head to the clear sky. Remus knows that he is eighteen. He knows that they are shooting through the forest between the Potters’ and the Blacks’, over grey stones and brown sticks and green grass. He knows that it is five o’clock and that it is Wednesday.

He knows that he doesn’t want to overtake Sirius because then he can’t watch him and that would be a tragedy.

Sirius makes it to the oak he and James are aiming for, sticking his arm out and touching it first. James follows, groaning at the loss despite the smile on his face. “Pete? Can I beat you?”

Peter laughs, halting the borrowed horse next to James. “No-”

“But-”

“You can’t beat me.” and with that Peter dashes off, a complaining James in hot pursuit.

Sirius catches his breath as Remus arrives beside him. “This was a good idea.” he pants.

“It’s always a good idea,” Remus answers, leaning forward to stroke the neck of Nimbus, who he'd run over to collect. No one was allowed to borrow Kreacher. “What you said to Reg-”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“I know. It’s just…well James is gone so he can’t give the encouraging speech but…it was never your fault. You did everything you could. You did protect him.” Remus said, hating himself for the joy that pulsed through him at Sirius’ total attention. “You can’t blame yourself.”

Sirius didn’t break their gaze as he said. “Neither can you.”

Remus laughed uncomfortably, knowing what Sirius would say next and knowing it would be a lie but knowing he wanted to hear anything in Sirius’ stupid voice. “You can’t blame yourself for your mother. It’s not your fault she’s sick.”

But it was and it didn’t matter how fast the horse Remus sat atop was, the guilt would chase him to the ends of the earth.

Chapter 24: XXIV - The Raven

Chapter Text

Whitehead Ladies College, 1891
James peered into the window which reflected his visage clearly against the black of the night, desperately running his fingers through his hair. “Oh, it’s that bit at the back!”

“Here, lean down.” Sirius huffed, using his fingers to try and massage the root of the strands so that they lay flat. James had grown over the summer and now stood two inches taller than Sirius, who had previously been the tallest of the group. He’d hold those two inches over Sirius teasingly for decades to come. “It’s no use. Just hold yourself with such confidence that no one notices!”

James rolled his eyes, disheartened by the attempt to soothe him. “I could meet the love of my life in there, Sirius! She won’t want me if I don’t know what a comb is.”

“I thought I was the love of your life!” Sirius joked, pulling James into a headlock and ruffling his hair. “There, now it all sticks up. It’s even!”

“Oh, shut up Sirius! You’ve always had the best hair and you know it.” Peter said, before ushering them to stand straighter. “Mr. McBaldy’s coming! Behave or he won’t let us in!”

James and Sirius jolted their postures straight as Mr. McCauley, or Mr “McBaldy” as he was "affectionately" known, trooped past the two lines of gangly Eton boys. He stood with his hands behind his back and his feet planted firmly, and all James had to do was think about his proximity to Sirius before he was stifling giggles, knowing that both of them were thinking about how shiny his head was. “Young men of Eton. Tonight, you are representatives of our fine institution. You will behave in a most chivalrous manner. Remember the classes you have taken in preparation for this event. Go forth.”

“Go forth.” Sirius mimicked teasingly in James’ ear as McBaldy opened the doors into the hall. The Eton boys filed in, each straightening their uniforms now that they were being gawked at by two rows of Whitehead girls all shuffling nervously in their ankle-length skirts. “So which is your little friend?”

James scanned the lines as he found his place. Brown, brown, black, light brown…ah ha! James’ eyes landed on the blonde head of hair belonging to Marlene McKinnon. “The blonde in the first row.”

“Who’s her friend? With the curls?” Sirius whispered back.

James tried to hide that he was studying the beautiful young lady beside Marlene, who had seemingly just told a joke for the girls around her were laughing, their eyes gleaming with awe. James hadn’t expected Marlene to have made friends with such a presumably popular girl. “I’m not sure, but it looks like from our lines Pete will be dancing with Marlene, you’ll be dancing with curls and I’ll be with…”

James trailed off as he looked to the left of the popular girl. If the popular girl was beautiful, the redhead beside her was gorgeously astoundingly bewitchingly beguilingly magnificently divine. James couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. James didn’t even feel his legs move as he stepped forward along with the rest of the boys in his line. The girl’s fine, straight ginger eyebrows rose at his approach, and James’ breath hitched in his throat now that he was close enough to see how vibrantly green her eyes were. Perhaps he hadn’t been joking but praying when he said he’d meet the love of his life tonight. Just as the boys had been taught in their “Gentlemen” classes, James introduced himself using the formula. “Good evening. My name is Lord James Fleamont Potter. I am pleased to make your acquaintance tonight, and may I say how lovely you look. Might I ask for your name?” he said, monotone and rehearsed.

James almost fell to the floor when a pink hue spread across the girl’s perfect, pale cheeks. “My name is Miss Lillian Josephine Evans. I reciprocate your pleasure at our…”

James bit his lip “...yes?”

Lillian huffed, embarrassed, and put a hand over her face. “Oh, dear me! I’ve forgotten what I was supposed to say!” she whispered.

James sighed in relief. “Good, because between you and me, scripting conversations is just poppyco*ck! Almost as poppyco*ck as our having to wear our uniforms while you girls get to look just ravishing.” James rambled, delighted at how the uneasiness melted right from Lillian’s face. “I believe I was supposed to ask you to dance a minute ago, Miss Lillian, for the music has started. So will you dance with me?”

James pushed his glasses up his nose, knowing he was supposed to word his request quite differently, but also not quite caring either. Lillian put her fine hand in his, which to James’ joy, was ungloved and just as freckled as her face. “You must call me Lily, Lord James.”

“Then you must call me James. And only James, for I couldn’t bear it if you started up with any of my other silly nicknames.” James smiled, trying not to let his nerves creep into his chest again for he would surely sweat through his palms and that would be awful for they were currently pressed flushed against Lily’s.

Lily giggled as they started to step in time to the music they’d been taught. The first dance was simple, and provided for the students to pick up a sense of rhythm before more complicated formations requiring the switching of partners would ensue. “What might they be?”

James looked to the ground bashfully. “Jimmy, Jims, Jamesy, Jamey Wamey, Ja-”

“Jamey Wamey?” Lily was laughing properly now, her fiery rag-curled ringlets bouncing around her shoulders. James was only just noticing what a fine dancer she was. They were keeping time nicely, which was a compliment to Lily since she must be leading so well that James’ two left feet were finding their place easily.

James rolled his eyes. “Yes, you can thank Sirius for that one.”

Lily’s face fell, causing James to look at her questioningly. “Sirius…Black?”

“Is there anyone else in all of England called Sirius?” James joked, but Lily pursed her pretty lips which were bitten an alluring shade of cherry red. “What’s the matter?”

Lily shrugged, jolting hers and James’ hands, causing them to lose their place. From their side, Sirius and the popular girl bumped into them. “Lils! You’re the best dancer in the grade!” the girl laughed, Sirius’ cheeky hand on her waist. McBaldy came by and swatted it away, causing Sirius to curse under his breath in French. The popular girl responded in the language, but by that time, Lily had found their way again and they were some feet from Sirius and the popular girl now.

“So you’re the best dancer then?” James teased, twirling Lily, before kneeling so that she may glide in a circle around him.

“Don’t listen to Mary. I’m sure there are other girls who are just as good, probably better than me.” Lily retorted before she smiled at Marlene, who was tripping over Peter’s calves. James gave a quick wave to them, feeling strange seeing his two childhood best friends interacting for the first time.

James stood as the music stopped and the students made their way back to their lines to start the barn dances. Lily fluffed her puffy blue sleeves anxiously. James leaned into her ear as soon as McBaldy passed them for the second time, careful not to be pushed away by the teacher’s huge wooden cross which had the ominous words “Jesus Is Watching” carved down its spine. “Do you not like Sirius? Is that it?” James murmured.

Lily shook her head. “Well…no. We’ve never spoken. But he hasn’t been very nice to a friend of mine who attends Eton with you boys. In fact, you haven’t either. I'm only now realising that you're the James he's been talking about.”

James reeled back at that, quite shocked. “What? I mean…pardon? Which friend?”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Of course, you wouldn’t even know. Severus? Severus Snape?”

“Snivellus? You’re friends with him?” James said, shocked.

Lily’s emerald eyes flashed angrily. “Yes! He’s had a very hard time at school, no thanks to you! You actually call him that?”

“Yes! He’s a slimy git. He’s nasty to everyone except some menace called Mulciber. He makes snide comments to kids about things they can hardly help. He’s prejudiced despite not having much of a social standing himself.” James ranted.

“So that gives you the right to bully him?” Lily matched.

James scoffed. “That’s what he’s telling you? He can dish it out but he can’t take it. We stand up for those he’s mean to and teach him lessons. He gets us back too sometimes. Besides, you wouldn’t understand, it’s boys’ business.”

Lily fumed. “Well, I never! You’re right, I don’t understand this so-called “boys’ business”, because it’s so utterly stupid! He has no one on his side, while you are one of the most favoured boys in the cohort! It’s not an even conflict, therefore it’s bullying!”

“Why do you think he has no one on his side? He’s pushed them all away with his insults!” James sighed, looking around to see a handful of eyes were on them, drawn by the noise. “We’re switching partners now.”

“Good riddance,” Lily grumbled as the lines moved and Mary came to stand in front of James.

“Hello. I’m Mary, and might we skip that nonsense about introducing yourself properly?” she said, smiling sunnily.

“I’m James Potter,” James responded, though as the music started again and Lily took the hand of another boy, James really wished he wasn’t James Potter anymore because James Potter had just ruined his chances with the love of his life forever.

---

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
-Sonnet 43, Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Mr Regulus Arcturus Black,
You are cordially invited to a jovial cricket match at the Potter residence on the 3rd of August, in the year of our lord eighteen hundred and ninety-five. The game will begin at exactly midday, but guests will arrive to be seated from 11 o’clock.

We look forward to your attendance,

The Potter Family

Dear Regulus,
Attached is an official invitation to our annual season cricket game. However, I’m sure you’re aware that you were invited prior to the invitation’s arrival. I wonder if you might even join us on the pitch? I recall you being an excellent bowler back when you’d played for Eton. It’ll be a friendly game, of course, and the opposition this year is a team devised by a peer of yours at Eton. Frank Longbottom, who you may remember was at the Yule Ball and is the owner of The Three Broomsticks, has organised it all. I really don’t mind who’s on the opposing team, I’m sure it’ll be just smashing no matter what.

I haven’t much more to say. I think Lily has reverted to her decision against me. She’s been avoiding me for the past two days despite having met with everyone else it seems. Perhaps I did something? I’ve been wracking my brains but I really cannot recall what could have offended her so. Can you think of anything?

All that aside, because there has been so much conflict and confusion between my friends as of late, and even though they don’t say it I’ve still noticed, I have found a poem for you. Poetry has been a bit of an escape at the moment, just as I hope I can be for you. In keeping with the bird theme, I give you “Ode To A Nightingale” by John Keats:

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath
Charm’d magic casem*nts, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn

I know it has some darker, subtle meanings about death and mortality, but really I just think it sounds nice.

I hope to hear from you soon, or even see you. You’ve never been home when I’ve come by, though that’s only been once so far.

Lovingly,
Jame

Dear Regulus,
I sent a letter a few days ago, and I had it sent straight to your house. Perhaps it got lost on the way? If you didn’t receive it, I’ll write you another one with the poem and invitation to the match that I enclosed. I wish to speak as we did at the fundraiser. You’re a good listener. I could be too if you ever did the talking.

Lovingly,
Jame

Dear Regulus,
I know you’re ignoring me now. I really don’t know why, just as I don’t know why the week has come to a close and I still haven’t even seen Lily. I don’t understand, but I’m more than willing to apologise for any wrongdoings.

Please respond,

Jame

Regulus,
You’re being unfair. Are you upset because Sirius has only returned home for his sessions with Remus? I don’t know what happened when you two quarreled, but you hurt him. Or did he hurt you? See, that’s just the thing, isn’t it? I don’t know! Enlighten me, please?

Sincerely,
Jame

Regulus A. Black,
Come to the game. That is my only request. Make amends with Sirius. I can tell he wants to.

James F. Potter

---

James lay flat on his back, arms bent behind his head, and stupidly, stupidly, stupidly, wondered if Regulus ever did the same thing when he was trying to forget something that plagued him.

Unlikely.

James sat up when he heard knuckles rapping against the doorframe. With a groan, he parted his bed curtains with his foot, squinting at the blade of light that diced his vision. Maa pulled the curtains against the posts, tying them in place. “Beta, you cannot go drinking if this will be the result. Sirius is waiting to go for a run before he and Remus go back to the Blacks for a session.”

James tossed a hand over his eyes. “I haven’t been drinking, Maa.”

Maa came to sit beside him, placing a warm hand on his forehead. “Are you unwell?”

James nodded. “Yes. I best not go down and bother anyone then.”

Maa pursed her lips. James should have known better than to try to lie to her. “Alright. Stay and rest for your game then.”

Maa kissed James' cheek, picking up some dirty clothes strewn on the floor on her way out, tutting as she did. James was about to lean over and close his bedcurtains when his door opened a second time. He squeezed his eyes shut, flopping back down on the bed. “I told you, Maa, I’ll come down when I’m feelin-”

“We know you’re not sick, Prongs.” Sirius interrupted, shoving James over so he could get under the covers, still in his nightclothes. “Gosh, it’s toasty in here! You’ve never slept in this much in your life!”

Remus sat on James’ other side, though he was dressed and wearing shoes, so he didn’t invade James’ sanctuary as Sirius had. “Says the boy still in his night clothes.”

Sirius stuck his tongue out at Remus before turning back to James. “We called in reinforcements to help. We’ve some news to deliver.”

James was about to question what they meant when Peter came bounding in, jumping on the bed to kneel at James’ feet. “You’re going to really like what we’re about to say, Prongs. You’ve been waiting for this for years!”

James was already quite excited, though he wasn’t sure what any of them meant. “You’ve piqued my interest. Go on.”

Peter nudged Remus’ thigh. “Moony, you say it. She’s your best friend.”

Remus sighed, but a smile quirked the corner of his lips, and his nose crinkled with affection, making his scar dance and stretch amongst the smattering of freckles. “You may be shocked to hear this, and I’ve been given permission to mention this explicitly from the woman herself, but a one Miss Lillian Josephine Evans wishes you to ask her if you may court her.”

James sat bolt upright, eyes blown wide. His instinct was to grab Sirius, who was grinning from ear to ear, and so he did. He was speaking to all of them but looking at Peter as he asked. “How do you know?”

Sirius kissed James’ hand quickly, keeping his grip firm and his beam even firmer. “Erm…trust us mate?”

James’ went to protest, because how could it be true? After years and years, why was now the time Lily decided she wanted him?

James slowly lifted his eyes to meet Remus’ and in them, he found sincerity and surety. That was all he needed.

“Well…I best get out of bed then.”

Sirius leaped from James’ side and dashed over to the wardrobe. “I’ll choose your attire! Wormy, which jacket?”

“Uh…yellow?”

Sirius frowned at the black and coffee-coloured jackets in his hands. “Neither of them are yellow?”

Peter shrugged. “The left one, then.” Sirius nodded, pulling a cloak out to match given how windy the days had been as they slowly edged toward the tail-end of summer and into the breast of autumn. “I’ll have the carriage prepared for you, Prongs?”

“No, I’ll walk. I have to think about what I’ll say.” James stood to stretch his limbs. “I’ll run a comb through my hair? Try to tame it?”

Remus grabbed James’ wrist as he started toward his dresser mirror. “No,” he said, eyes soft. “Leave it.”

James didn’t beam or grin down at Remus, an absent and borderline permanent expression of his, but smiled contently.

---

James strolled down the pathway that led back into London, hands in his pockets and cheeks flushed against the cool breeze. He’d never realised that he lived on such a hill. The times he’d walked into London had been very few, and he’d hardly been paying attention. When he’d gone to The Three Broomsticks, it had been dark and he’d been drunk. He cringed remembering his torn waistcoat, but the mental discomfort subsided when he recalled Regulus’ face, his cheek pressed against his knees pulled to his chest. He’d only been wearing socks, and he’d lost his jacket somewhere, leaving his sleeves to billow around his drawn legs as he curled up on James' settee, vulnerable. James pushed Regulus out of his mind. Apparently, the younger Black wanted nothing to do with James as of late. Both brothers were so dramatic. It must be inherited.

James gazed out at the city, trying to make out where the smog ended and the sky started, but both were as grey as each other he couldn’t tell, and now he was thinking of something else just as grey and shaking his head to clear the image of those romantic eyes. He reached the foot of the hill and turned into the wooded lane which both the Pettigrews and the Evans’ streets branched off from. James exhaled irritatedly when a fat raindrop landed on one of his lenses, followed by another on his forehead. I’m glad I never bothered with that comb. My hair, along with the rest of my appearance, is to be ruined by the English weather.

James picked up his pace, trudging through the dirt that was starting to transform into mud. As he neared the Evans’ street, a particularly large droplet fell straight into his eye. He removed his glasses to swipe at it, keeping his pace steady. Temporarily blinded, he ran straight into someone else.

“Pardon me, I-” James blinked, putting his spectacles back on. “Lily?”

Lily panted, brushing the strands of wet hair that escaped from her bun away from her face, though they stayed plastered to her cheeks in thin swirls of deep maroon. “Hello, Potter. I was…actually just coming to find you.”

“Hello.”

“Hello. I said that already didn’t I?”

“You did.” James looked at the ground, feeling his shoulders become more and more soaked. “You…haven’t said much to me this past week.”

“No.” Lily breathed, clasping her hands in front of her. “I haven’t. I’m sorry.”

“How did I offend you this time?”

Lily’s gaze flew up, her eyes wide. “Oh, James, is that what you thought? That I was upset?”

James felt embarrassed. He often felt that way around Lily. And sometimes around Regulus too. “What was I suppose to think?”

James’ breath hitched when two sets of warm, soft fingers slid up his dripping cheeks to cup them, and suddenly James was fourteen again before he’d ever quarreled with Lily over Snape or torn her skirt with the antlers of a bloody stag or made a fool of himself hanging from a chandelier. Lily stood on the tips of her toes to kiss James’ cheek. When Lily pulled away, staring up at him and biting her lip into that cherry red as she often did when her mind was racing, James exhaled shakily, laughing through it. “I’ve never…thought ill of you. I’ve thought you obnoxious and ostentatious and loud and boyish and brash and brazen and at times really rather brave. And…and you’ve vexed me and teased me and annoyed me to no end but you’ve also stood by my side as a friend and…and I lo-” Lily put a hand to her chest, seemingly to steady herself. James reflexively reached for her arm and reveled in the fact she didn’t shake it off, barely able to believe they were really standing there saying what they were. The only thing promising him it was all real was the chill of his sopping garments and the patter of rain that enveloped them and misted their surroundings so that they might have been anywhere in the world. They could have been and it wouldn’t have mattered so long as Miss Lillian Josephine Evans was conversing with him as she was. “I’ve loved you for it.”

“Come to the opera with me.”

Lily laced her fingers with the ones James had curled around her arm. “Pardon?”

James looked up to the sky, sighing. “Oh, lord, that’s not how I wanted to say it.” James returned his gaze to Lily. “I’ve thought about this for years, and yet I'm still here improvising like some daft...daft-head. That's not even a word. Will you court me? And might we start such a journey with a night at the opera? Sirius has always enjoyed it, and you’re both so intelligent, so surely you’d also find the intricacies of such entertainment…intricate?”

Lily laughed, heartfelt and relieved, and rested her head on his chest. James hoped she couldn’t hear his hammering pulse. She pulled back, taking the hand on her arm with both of hers and kissing James’ fingers. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“I did ask. When you entered society.” James whispered.

James shivered in the biting cold of the night. He hadn’t really thought this through, though, when did he ever think anything through? He glanced at Sirius and Peter, huddled in one of the bushes that bordered the dormitory courtyard. James bent down and picked up another pebble, lobbing it at the window.

A girl with two long chestnut braids pushed the glass up and popped her round face out. She squinted at him. “Who are you?”

James gulped. “Errr, sorry. Wrong room. Do you know where Lillian Evans’ room is?”

“She shares with Mary Macdonald, doesn’t she?” James nodded. “One second.”

James waited, watching as the lamplight faded from the window before appearing again at the one above it. The girl returned to her window to shut it, leaving only the one above glowing gold before it squealed open at the push of two pale hands. Lily rubbed the sleep from her eyes as Marlene and Mary squeezed beside her to look down into the garden. “James! Is Sirius with you?” Mary called.

Lily slapped her. “No, I’m here alone…because that’s romantic,” James replied as Marlene cackled at him.

Lily groaned, shoving Marlene and Mary away. “Why have you come here? It’s exactly midnight, what reason have you for waking junior girls to get my attention?”

James wobbled as he got down on one knee. He’d stayed up the night before to read every romance book the library at Eton had to offer, and he’d noticed kneeling was a common theme. “Lillian Josephine Evans. You have officially turned sixteen, and I know this because you were born at ten past midnight because your mother told me that two years ago and I've never forgotten, and I know for a fact that you have now entered high society since your sister entered at your age as well, and your parents are keeping that rule steady between you two. So I, James Fleamont Potter, wish to be the first boy to court you. Will you let me be your beeyew?”

Lily frowned. “My what?”

"Your...beeyew?"

From the bushes, James could hear Sirius falling over himself laughing as Peter gripped a hand over his mouth. When Peter finally let go, Sirius wheezed. “It’s pronounced beau you half-wit! Next time ask me for help with your French.”

James turned back to Lily. “I…don’t know who that was…some mad Frenchman is in the bushes...ah ha ha…anyway so,” James scrubbed a hand up the back of his neck. “I meant beau. I want to be your beau.”

Behind Lily, James could hear Mary cheering while Marlene lost herself to hysterics at James’ attempt to use language he wasn’t familiar with. “I want to go back to sleep. Go away before you get caught. And how did you even get here? Eton’s ages away.”

“Love carried me!” James yelled as Lily rolled her eyes and slammed the window shut.

Lily gasped. “James! That hardly counts!” she playfully slapped his arm.

James grinned down at her. “But you can’t say I didn’t try. And as much as I wanted you, I’d never be so disrespectful to badger you. I know what no means.”

Lily sighed. “Yes. You’ve always been so…golden.”

“You think that?”

Lily smirked. “Yes. But Remus said it first. He…loves you.”

James smiled down at Lily. He really hadn’t stopped since he saw her. “And do you?”

From over Lily's shoulder, James saw her indigo-painted wooden door swing open. Petunia stood at the threshold wearing her usual scowl. "Lily! Come inside, you'll catch your death out in this weather." James wasn't surprised Petunia didn't bother acknowledging him before she slammed the door shut again.

Lily kissed James’ cheek once more before backing away. “When will we go to the opera?” she called, not breaking eye contact.

James shouted back, grateful to be the one to watch her go. His voice was half lost to the downpour. “I can get tickets for tomorrow night. Tomorrow night?”

“That’s after your game! I’ll have to leave early to get ready!” Lily shrieked happily.

James splayed his arms out, screaming to reach Lily who was now at the end of her street, her whitewashed cottage-style home matching her skin in the hazy drizzle. “You could wear a flour sack and I’d still be honored to take you, my dear!”

“Stop reading romance, you’ve become unbearable!” Lily shouted as she turned to open her gate.

“I always was!”

Lily faced him again, her hand pausing on the latch. “No,” she called. “I always bore you just fine.”

“You complained a lot.”

“You gave me reasons to.”

“I might still do that, you know,” James called, voice void of mirth.

Lily nodded. “I know, James. My answer is still yes.” she snorted. “You can be my beeyew.”

James watched her disappear behind her door, then he turned and sprinted home. He slipped a few times, but he didn’t care.

James was really grateful that he was James Potter, because James Potter had just successfully become the beeyew of the love of his life.

---

If James had a penny for every time he found himself throwing gravel or rocks or pebbles or stones at someone’s window, he’d have three pennies. Which isn’t a lot of pennies, but it’s a fair amount of times to find oneself throwing small masses at panes of glass.

James jumped at the sound of twigs breaking behind him. He whirled around and was startled to find himself pierced by grey eyes. “Reg! I thought you’d be practicing the violin.”

“Why would you think that if you couldn’t hear the violin?” Regulus said flatly, giving no indication of why he’d been ignoring James’ letters.

“Yes, well. I don’t tend to think very often so I’m not too good at it.” James replied.

Regulus raked his gaze from James’ toes to the top of his head. James shivered. The rain had turned cold suddenly. He’d been warm with exertion from running all the way home, and then through the woods to the Black Manor. He wanted to tell Regulus first. After all, Regulus was the only person he’d spoken freely with about his feelings. “You’re quite wet, Potter.”

Potter. “Not Jame?”

“The rain will start again, and I will be called for supper. Say what you want to say then leave.”

“I wrote to you.”

“I’m aware.”

“So you ignored me?”

“My, you’re cluey.”

“You’re being unfair, Regulus.”

“I never claimed to be fair in the first place.”

James shook his head, dropping his eyes to the mulch at his feet. The last time he’d been here, it was to drag Sirius to a brothel. He’d been lost then, though when comparing that night and this moment, he didn’t think his navigation skills were all that improved despite having the heart of the girl he’d been set on for years. “No. You never claimed to be anything for me.” James inhaled through his nose. “I’ll leave.”

He twisted back on his heel, taking a stride toward the treeline. “What did you come here to say?”

James didn’t look at Regulus. “Lily and I are courting. I don’t need you as a confidant anymore, so you’re free of me. Congratulations.”

James waited for a moment. He waited to hear the ever-cold voice of Regulus Black cut through the air, and he waited to be the one to pick apart Regulus' tone, to find the nuances that indicated what he was really feeling. He waited to be called back. Come back. I wrote to you, but you never received the letters. There’s been a misunderstanding. I don’t want to be free of you. Come closer. From the branches of a tree that was starting to redden at the very top, a red so similar to a familiar shade that was often present in his dreams, a raven soared down to land gracefully at James’ feet.

Regulus leaned against the sandstone wall, the moonlight drawing silver pools across the left side of his face. They were wedged into a particularly deep doorway on the outside of the hall. Wisps of haughty conversations filtered through the window above them, though they were lost to the steady choir of the crickets.

They hadn’t said anything since Regulus came out to meet him. The shrill screech of Evangeline’s opera performance assaulted James’ ears. He locked eyes with Regulus, and he laughed while Regulus accompanied his own smile with an amused huff. “We have Poe in our library. I read “The Raven” in its entirety.”

James leaned forward, as he often did when he was unsure, but he quickly righted himself when he realised they were too close for him to do that without his nose grazing Regulus’ chest. James often felt that Regulus was a deer; if he moved too suddenly, Regulus would dart away as though he were being hunted. “Ravens symbolize death don’t they?”

“They do.”

“How is that?”

Regulus turned to face the sky. James did the same, their shoulders touching. Regulus didn’t move away. “When soldiers would march toward the battlefield, ravens would follow knowing they’d have fresh corpses to eat soon.”

James grimaced. “Charming.” he pressed his back against the wall again to face Regulus, though he was only granted his profile for Regulus didn’t do the same. “Are there ravens in the countries by the Yellow Sea?”

Regulus tilted his chin up to gaze at the stars. “That war ended months ago. If there are, they’d be hungry by now.”

The raven’s feathers were the same colour as Regulus and Sirius’ hair. James swayed on his feet, and though the movement was minute and not threatening in the slightest, the raven launched into flight, fleeing.

James Potter walked away, and he wondered if there was anyone in the entire universe, James Potter or not, that Regulus Black would have called after.

Chapter 25: XXV - Padfoot

Chapter Text

Remus lifted his drink off the bar so Frank could wipe the surface. “So you’ll be at the game tomorrow then?”

Frank nodded, laying the cloth over his shoulder. “I think James would kill me if I didn't go. Are you playing?”

Remus scoffed. “Very funny. Where is Alice?”

Frank leaned over the bar. “Funnily enough, she was invited to tea with Pandora Rosier and Cas. Odd pairing but they all get along well.” Frank turned to the young man who had taken the stool next to Remus. “How old are you, kid?”

“Nineteen?”

Remus sighed. “Sixteen.” Remus shook his head at Frank when Frank raised an eyebrow at him. Remus turned to Fleet, who was grinning at him. “What are you doing here, Fleet?”

“Ordering a drink of course,” Fleet replied. Frank looked at Remus for permission, but Remus shrugged. “I see you come in ‘ere often. Wan’ned to see what all the fuss wussa bout.”

Frank served Fleet the same ale Remus was having before moving up the bar, leaving Remus and Fleet to each other. Remus could feel Fleet staring at him. “I’m not your da,” he said into his drink.

Fleet huffed. “No, he’s up in some big ‘ouse swimming in bees n’ honey. Or something o’ the like.” Remus frowned. “He’s not brown bread. Ma is, but.”

“So where is he then?” Remus asked, disappointed to be staring at the warped wood grain of the bench through the bottom of the glass. He didn't want to call Frank back for another, though. He didn't want to be overheard.

Fleet sucked on his teeth. “Ye…pay for ya women?”

Remus’ eyes widened, and he swiveled to face Fleet properly. “No. Certainly no- nay. Never.”

Fleet rubbed his hands up and down his thighs, spindly fingers creasing his trousers. “She…was a woman of the night, so ya posh folk’d say. S’ow she met me da.”

Remus bit his lip, guilt soaking his chest as he realised how long it had been since he’d thought about Mum properly. Yes, little things here and there reminded him of her; yellow fabric, women with gummy smiles, the way Lady Potter laughed sometimes, the smell of the air deep in the forest away from chimney smoke. But months ago, when he’d thought of how he missed Mum, it had been a sense of belonging and home that accompanied his aching. He could think of the music room, or the Potters’ parlor, or Mary’s and James’ bedrooms, or even the pages of every book he and Lily had shared, and feel belonging there. It was scary. The thought that when he returned to Yorkshire, he might not be able to bring all of himself back to Mum. It was even scarier to wonder which parts would be left behind. Remus could help bring Fleet’s mother back, even if just for a moment, and even if just in memories. “What was she like?”

Fleet smiled and one of Remus’ brittle edges chipped off. Did Remus look so unfortunate when he wore the same smile? Had Sirius thought that about him? “Her name was Maria Sheffield but she was called Ria. She was pretty, or so says everyone what knew ‘er. I didn’t.”

“And your fath- your da? He knows you…exist?” Remus tried. Fleet shook his head. Remus dropped his voice and leaned in to murmur. “Alright, Thaddeus Sheffield.”

Fleet smiled bashfully. “No, my last name is me da’s. Van Brouwer. Dunno why.”

Remus swallowed. “Mine’s not…”

“Howell?”

“No. That was my mother’s maiden name. Mine’s Lupin.” Remus chuckled absently. “It means wolf.”

“And yer ma’s is Howell? Howl? Piss luck, there.” Fleet laughed, before rapping his knuckle on the bar and sliding off his stool. He grinned at Remus. “I’m off to meet a girl.”

Remus was once again reminded that Fleet was just a boy, who was standing before Remus with a giddy smile, excited to go meet with a girl. Put him in a fancy uniform and give him a proper haircut and he might have been one of the marauders' peers at Eton. “Have fun.” Fleet winked, weaving through the benches to get to the door. As he put his hand on the knob, Remus called. “Fleet?”

Fleet turned. “Aye, John?”

“It was good to see you.”

---

Remus jogged across the green that stretched between the porch and the stables, dodging Lord Potter and James, who were setting the wicket up for the game. Lady Potter and Mrs. Sprout were lining up the last two chairs in a row that curved around a plethora of colourful picnic rugs, one of which Mary and Lily were sitting on wearing nice dresses of turquoise and blush. Lily shielded her eyes against the warm haze of the morning, presumably the last of the summer weather. As Remus made his way over to the girls, reveling in the heat of the day, he realised autumn’s onset would mean Mary’s return to the countryside was imminent. A pang of sadness clutched Remus but he dissolved it as he came to sit in front of the girls. “Where’s the rest of James’ team?”

“Inside changing into their sports attire,” Mary replied. “Speaking of James, Lily has some lovely news!”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Remus already knows. He was the one who told James. And why does it have to…change things? Is our courtship all anyone will talk about now?” Lily huffed, standing abruptly. “I’m going to fetch some water, the heat is bothering me.”

As Lily marched off inside, Mary crossed her arms. “Not to be crude, but something crawled up her arse and died, and it wasn’t me.” Remus huffed a laugh at Mary’s language before she pointed to the pitch, where a familiar dark-haired flirt was embracing Lord Potter. “He must have come around the side of the house. Oh, Remus, speaking of arses, doesn’t Sirius’ look delectable in his cricket whites?”

Remus coughed, his eyes widening as Sirius bent to compare batting stances with James. His hair was tied back, leaving wisps trailing down his forehead and neck which was gleaming under the harsh sun, drawing shadows under those absurd cheekbones. Remus fought so hard to leave it at that, to look at his face and nothing else, but he was a weak, weak man; if he could even call himself that anymore. Sirius’ sleeves were rolled halfway up his bicep, showing off toned muscles, and even under his blouse Remus could still make out the sturdy contour of his chest. Lowering his eyes, Remus traced the line in which Sirius’ waist tapered until he finally met the “delectable” asset Mary had eyed and…

“Excuse me, I’ll go see if Lily’s alright.” Remus choked, shooting up before Sirius could notice him and come any closer. Remus had never been more grateful to have carried his bulky coat over, which he hastily pulled around his front.

Mary frowned up at Remus from under her parasol. “Are you feeling unwell? Should I come?”

“No!” Remus said quickly. “I mean, no. It’s better if it’s just one person. You stay here and wait for Marlene.”

Remus hurried into the house before breaking into a sprint as he ascended the stairs and burst into James’ room where he threw himself on the bed and groaned. Bloody cricket whites.

Focussing on steadying his breathing and flexing literally every muscle in his body in an attempt to control his blood flow, Remus wondered how on earth he’d missed that he fancied Sirius. How had he sat in that room for hours and hours and thought about what a good friend Sirius was? Remus rolled off the bed, slumped over to the wall, and cracked the window open to smoke, sighing out clouds. This was going to be a horrific game, and it wasn’t as though Remus knew the rules so he could focus on the match and not the players. He’d distract himself by gossiping with Mary, or feign a headache and run away from it all.

No, he couldn’t. This game was all James had talked about for weeks, and Remus wasn’t being a supportive friend by hiding up in James’ room hyperventilating about the stiffness between his legs. Remus finally found the strength to return outside, where most of the guests were seated. He recognised a few families; the McKinnons, The Pettigrews, The Evans’. Petunia sat daintily on one of the rugs with a portly man who Remus assumed was her fiance, Vernon. Some young men were dressed in cricket whites and it seemed they would be filling the spare positions of each team, though he didn’t really know how many players were on a team anyway. Peter’s sisters had taken Remus' spot next to Mary, so he sat by Lily instead, who had distanced herself from the lively conversation Lady Potter was leading, electing to sit with Alice, Dorcas, and Pandora. Remus kept surveying the spectators as he joined them. “Hello, Dorcas. Alice, Lady Pandora.”

Pandora shook her head. “I am only Pandora to you, friend. Today our circles come together.”

Remus was about to question what she meant when the other team strode onto the pitch. James stepped forward to shake their hands. First was a boy Remus didn’t recognise but he supposed was close with Frank for whatever reason. James hesitated as he shook Evan’s hand too. Remus didn’t know Evan played. Then, Barty stepped forward, and finally, Regulus Black offered a cold tug of James’ hand while Sirius’s jaw went slack with shock. “That’s who they’re playing?” Remus asked, and Lily nodded solemnly. “I thought James liked Regulus. Why does he look so…distraught?”

The guests hushed as Lord Potter stepped forward to thank everyone for their attendance and explained the rules briefly, which flew over Remus’ head. Lord Potter then ushered James and Regulus forward as team captains. “Lord Regulus, please choose heads or tails?”

Regulus’ jaw tightened. “Heads.”

Lord Potter flipped the coin, slapping it on the back of his hand before holding it up. “Good guess. Will you bat or field first?”

“Field,” Regulus said, gesturing for Barty to join him.

Remus leaned in to whisper in Lily's ear as Lord Potter came to join the guests. “What is Barty doing now?”

“He’s being wicketkeeper. Regulus is bowling, and Frank will bat first.” Lily replied as the players assumed their positions. Marlene, Peter, Frank, Daniel, and Sirius all exchanged concerned glances. Remus didn’t know what a wicketkeeper did, but he knew what a bowler was.

Frank braced in front of the stumps, barely having enough time to register what was happening before Regulus pegged the ball at him from behind a marked line. The ball somehow curved as it soared, causing Frank to miss it and the crowd to gasp at the dexterity of Regulus’ pelt.

This happened a few more times with Regulus as the bowler. Only thrice did the bat collide with the ball; first Marlene, then James, then Sirius. The crowd winced at every swipe of empty air, shocked by Regulus’ almost inhuman ability to manipulate his aim. Remus could see Marlene becoming more and more agitated and James ran his fingers through his hair frustratedly all while Regulus stayed calm. Remus was a bit unnerved by his numbness. Did the invitation not say “jovial” game? When the teams switched, meaning James was fielding, Lord Potter called out the score, but Remus didn’t really understand what it meant. All he knew was that Regulus had absolutely demolished James. Lily wrung her hands as Dorcas and Pandora muttered hushed comments and Alice offered water to Frank before he joined the fielders.

Barty batted first while Daniel bowled. It seemed he didn’t even attempt to send the ball anywhere near the stumps. In fact, it made a beeline for Sirius’ shin, eliciting concerned remarks from the parents sitting behind Remus. Sirius stumbled from the impact, too busy blowing kisses to Mary, and twisted his ankle. Remus was holding in laughs until Sirius went to stand up straight but winced from the pressure. After a few moments of struggle, Daniel ran over to Sirius, talking with him before tucking his arm around Sirius’ middle and leading him off the green. Marlene went feral, yelling profanities at Barty who poked his tongue out at her but looked significantly less confident than he had when he was fielding.

Daniel supported Sirius as he hopped off the pitch, with James trailing concernedly behind. Lady Potter rushed to Sirius' side, with Remus following her as they all met at the porch stairs. “Sirius, beta, are you alright? Here, we’ll take you inside.”

Sirius shook his head, pushing off Daniel. “No, James and Daniel should still play, and you enjoy the game, don’t you Maa? Moony hates cricket, he’ll take me in. I don’t need all this fuss.”

Lady Potter’s brow stayed furrowed as she nodded, kissing Sirius’ cheek. “Pitaa will play for you. He’s still as agile as he was when he was teaching James, Peter, and Marlene. Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

Sirius rolled his eyes fondly. “I’m a brave boy, Maa. Go enjoy the game and don’t let people worry. I’m sure it was a mistake on Barty’s part.”

James snorted at that, but Daniel had already started to return to the pitch, so James followed suit while Lady Potter watched Remus slide an arm under Sirius’ shoulders to help him inside. Remus suppressed the heat rising in his chest as he murmured “Where to, Padfoot?”

“The ground floor spare bedroom? I don’t need Minnie finding me in the parlor and getting all worried, which she would definitely do because I’m her favourite.” Sirius chuckled, bearing more of his weight than Remus had expected him to be able to.

Remus guided them through the back door, the main hall, the foyer, and then to the passage that branched from the dining room which held the single door of the guest room. With his empty hand, he pushed the door open and helped a hopping Sirius onto the bed. Sirius hoisted himself back so that he was reclined with his leg elevated while Remus closed the door behind them. “Do you think it’s sprained? You tripped a bit when Barty hit you. You were very gracious about the situation.”

Sirius scoffed. “It really isn’t that painful, the bone is just bruised. I thought I’d put on a bit of a show to make Crouch look bad. Makes him look worse if I'm nice about it all. And, you know, my ankle isn’t too swollen.” Sirius gestured to his very swollen ankle.

“I should get you some ice for that,” Remus replied, but Sirius grabbed his wrist before he could leave the bedside.

Sirius bit his lip, hesitating, and Remus really, really wished he wouldn’t do that because they were alone and unseen. “Can I show you something before you go? I’ve been meaning to.”

Remus gulped, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Yes. What is it?”

Sirius licked his chewed lips, leaving the plush skin gleaming. He reached down to his trousers and started to unbutton them. “Pads, Christ.” Remus breathed, turning away as Sirius chuckled.

“Calm down, Moony, I’m not unclothing myself entirely for you. But ask nicely and we’ll see, hm?” Sirius joked while Remus died a bit. “Look.” Remus clenched his fists as he faced Sirius again, edging closer to his side. Pulling up his shirt, Sirius held down the waist of his trousers so that one of his pelvic bones jutted out next to a line of fine hair trailing below the fabric. Remus frowned, trying to figure out what Sirius was trying to show him. “Come closer, silly. Here.”

Remus’ eyes widened as he sat beside Sirius. “Is that…?”

Sirius grinned. “Andy’s husband, Ted, did it for me. It’s a paw print for Padfoot. What do you think?”

Remus blinked, his eyes not wavering from the tiny, black paw print tattoo surrounded by a blur of red, bruised skin marked at the bottom of Sirius’ angular hip. Wordlessly, Remus unbuttoned his waistcoat, then pulled the collar of his shirt down to show his own picture. “I think you’re a copycat.”

Sirius gasped, smiling and sitting up to run a finger over Remus’ chest. Remus sucked in a breath, stilling Sirius’ wrist and tossing it back down on the bed. “Who did yours? And when?”

And there it was. Remus knew he couldn’t even attempt to lie to Sirius. It was a direct question. “I…it’s my job. I help some men out with their business. A friend, the…leader…in a way. He did it for me. A few months ago.”

Sirius stared at Remus for a long time, a mix of shock and awe on his delicate features that made the hairs on Remus’ arms stand up. Finally, he said. “So you tattoo people? That’s it?”

“That’s all I do, yes,” Remus replied.

Sirius lay back again, pointing to his hip. “So how does mine look in comparison? Clean?”

Remus glanced at the print quickly. “Yes. It’s nice.”

Sirius scoffed lightly, his expression falling flat momentarily before he plastered a big, uneasy smile across his face. “Well you can’t tell if you don’t look properly, can you?” he huffed.

Gripping his own thighs, in part to remind himself this was real and partially to steady his subtle shakiness, Remus leaned over. He peered at the mark, nose millimeters from the skin. He could feel his warm exhales bounce back into his lip. Remus looked to Sirius, about to respond, when he registered that Sirius’ eyes had fluttered shut. What Remus didn’t register is that his own mouth was inching closer and closer until his bottom lip hit Sirius’ bone. Sirius’ eyes shot open, blown dark under lowered lids. He didn’t move, he didn’t say anything. Remus silently pressed his lips down firmer, tasting the skin; salty, lingering soap. Sirius slid those cool, perfect fingers along Remus’ scalp, tugging loosely at the curls. “Remus…”

“Padfoot! The game’s over, I came to see how you were.” James announced as he burst into the room, flushed cheeks slick with sweat and spectacles askew. Remus jolted upright as he wiped the back of his wrist across his chin. Sirius shuffled to lower his shirt so that it covered his skin.

“I’m fine, Prongs. Is everyone sour with Crouch, though? That’s what I was hoping for.” Sirius smirked as if nothing had happened. Perhaps, in his eyes, nothing had. “Here, I’ll make an appearance so no one’s really worried.” Sirius pushed himself up, waiting until James was distracted dusting grass off himself to adjust his trousers closed again. Sirius hopped to the door, setting his injured foot down with every motion. “Are you coming, Moons?”

Remus wanted to cry.

“Of course.”

Chapter 26: XXVI - Dancing With The Devil

Chapter Text

Mary slotted her gold comb into Lily’s hair before stepping back to admire her work. “James’ knees are going to buckleee!” she squealed. “Oh, I have to get Marlene and Alice and Dorcas and Pandora to come see!” Mary rushed over to the door. In the reflection of the vanity mirror, Mary smiled as she said “Stay here, don’t let James sneak a peak.”

Lily rolled her eyes but nodded as Mary closed the door behind her. Now alone, Lily frowned at her appearance, the dim candle flickering butterscotch-coloured light across her face. Lily jumped as the door burst open, and she steeled herself to prepare for the onslaught of excited exclamations and compliments from Mary’s hoard of giddy girls Lily was blessed to call her friends.

Lily twisted in her chair to face the girls but was met with a very different image. “Regulus. Are you alright?”

His eyes had always been cold and intense. “I was looking for…the water closet.”

Lily swallowed the lump in her throat and turned back to face the vanity’s mirror, but she kept her eyes on the pot of powder on its surface. She wanted Regulus to be able to see her face. “James’ bedchamber is on the other side of the stairs, directly opposite this one.”

“I wasn’t looking for J- Lord James.”

“Yes, you were.” Lily fiddled with Mary’s jewellery box, pretending to rearrange it. She’d look unbothered. She was unbothered. “I have eyes. So do you. They give you away.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We both know more than we’d like to.” Lily looked up into the glass, staring at Regulus in the reflection. His adam’s apple bobbed, but he wore the same blank expression Lily had watched him perfect over the years. “The girls will be back and they’ll be squealing. I’m meeting James in the foyer in an hour. Will you stay tonight with Sirius?”

Regulus shook his head. “Good evening, Miss Evans.”

Regulus stepped back out into the hall, but before the door shut, Lily chased the diminishing crack with her voice. “Regulus?”

He didn’t push the door open. She couldn’t see him. “Yes?”

“You’ll only hurt yourself. I don’t wish to see you bear more than you do. Proximity is a blade.”

The door clicked back into place. Lily exhaled shakily.

Only a moment later did it swing open again and a confused Remus entered, hands shoved in pockets and posture as bent as ever. Lily didn’t feel like scolding him for it tonight. “What was Reg doing in here?”

Lily rose from the vanity to stand in front of Remus on the end of the bed. “He was looking for the water closet. Are the girls coming up behind you?”

Remus shrugged as Lily pulled on her gloves. “I thought…you mightn’t want so much attention. I told them to wait downstairs for a “big reveal.” Remus offered a small smile, eyes warm. “You do look lovely. They won’t be disappointed.”

Lily pursed her lips. “I was a bit harsh for snapping at Mary, wasn’t I?”

Remus winced, before slowly admitting. “Yes… ladies' business, then?”

“Yes.” Lily sighed, sitting beside Remus. They’d been in this room the day Lily realised Remus might be her best friend. The thought that he was so upset to be leaving the Potters and didn’t feel he had anyone who quite understood except Lily hurt her heart in a way it only ached for those she loved. She was certain he was definitely her best friend now.

Remus frowned. “So…you don’t want people to be happy for you?”

“No. No…I just,” Lily didn’t know what her answer was. She didn’t know how to explain it. But she tried. “I was born a mother. I had breasts and a fertile womb that were never really mine. From the time I took my first breath with lungs smaller than a fist, I was expected to give and give until there was nothing left of me for myself.” Lily blinked, tracing the doorknob with her eyes and forgetting Remus’ were on her. The words just kept coming, spilling from her mouth like a tidal wave. “Know thyself. I’ve always stood by this phrase. But I fought so hard to be a person before a woman, to be known for talents and skills, and yet I’ll never catch up to Mary and I can't even hate her for it because each other’s song is the only solace in the screams of everything we aren’t meant to be. I ran from what the universe told me I’d be so that I could tell myself I tried to stay true to what I truly wanted and not what everyone else expected.

Yet here I am, giving my time getting all dressed up, giving my heart to a man I think I love, and when I court him I’ll give him my image and when we are engaged I’ll give him my management and when we are married I’ll give him my name and when I am the mother I was born as I’ll give him the world. And I’m so so happy to do so. I relish in envisioning our future. I’ve always thought “know thyself” meant going against what society yells for me to be, but I want this…but this is what I have been told is all I’ll ever be. So was I…wrong? Do the beady eyes of a ball that’s never been as evanescent as it seemed know me better than I know myself?”

Lily didn’t look at Remus. She wished they were talking through the bedroom door as she and Regulus had minutes ago. “I like to think I know you. You dont have to give to me. Come as you are, Lily. I’ve never loved you for what you’ve provided I’ve loved you for what you are, and apparently what you are is a poet. James loves you for who you are as well. Do with that what you will but if you’re happy, forgive me for not understanding why anything else should matter?”

Lily nodded, for she could do nothing else. She had no more words to give. Remus was still a man.

“Of course I forgive you.”

---

Remus, Sirius, and Peter lay on the floor of James’ bedroom, heads together, arms folded over chests, and eyes to the ceiling. Remus and Peter had lain just like this centuries ago when James had been distraught over giving up on Lily. Now they were waiting for him to come home from their first outing. Remus enjoyed silence with Peter. Peter liked to ponder and lose himself in his own thoughts as he mindlessly played chess or measured the ingredients for baked goods. Suddenly, Peter sat up quickly.

Remus frowned up at him. “What is it, Wormtail?”

Peter had already dashed out the door, but he poked his head back in. “I forgot I left some dough in the cool room. It’s just for biscuits, so I’ll bake them quickly and then come back. A treat for James’ return.”

Remus nodded as Peter’s hurried footsteps disappeared and the roar of his own heartbeat filled the silence. “It’s a nice night,” Remus mumbled, his skin itching.

Sirius cackled. “Oh, Moony. You’ve never been boring, don’t start now.” So it really was nothing to you. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Trying something new then?” Sirius reached around to shove Remus, their heads bumping as he did. Sirius’ icy fingers left scorch marks. They’d been in Remus’ hair hours ago. “About what?”

Remus’ heart rate had settled, as had a thick silence, sitting like a wet blanket on the furniture. “I want to find Leopold.”

“Alphard’s Leopold?”

“I don’t know another.” Sirius chuckled.

Remus wanted to reach for his hand. No you don’t. Don’t think that. “How will you do that?”

“I’ve already checked the church for marriage records. I didn’t find any, but I don’t even know if he was Catholic.” Read my obituary and eulogy in that accent, you’ve killed me. Shut up.

“Do you think that’s why he left? Religious reasons?”

“No. Alphard wasn’t religious. The only other place I can think to look is Grimmauld Place.”

“The…street?”

“Yes. We have a house there. Number twelve. Alphard lived there before he died.” Take his hand. Comfort him. Predator.

“Why do you have two houses in London?” He didn’t want me to do that. He trusted me.

“Technically the manor is outside of London. Also, you forget how old my family is and how much we inherit.” I’ll never forget anything about you. I’ll never forget what your skin feels like on my tongue. This is why Oscar never wanted me.

“So…when will you go?”

“When can you come?” I’d burn every calendar if he needed me. My legs are long enough for me to walk myself to the nearest mental asylum.

“You want me to come with you?”

“Would…that be alright?” Am I alright here? Someone shoot me.

“Of course.”

Sirius rolled over onto his stomach to look down on Remus. His face was upside down. Remus wouldn’t even need to sit up properly to kiss him. “How about after our next session? Or will you have your…uh…job?”

“After our next session is alright for me, Padfoot.”

“Splendid.” Sirius smiled. It was a music room smile.

“Splendid.” Remus echoed, for he couldn’t think for himself.

Remus and Sirius both sat up when Mary entered the room wearing a huge grin. “How was chaperoning, darling?”

Mary let out the love child of a shriek and a squeal, dancing on the spot. “Oh, they’re sooooo in love. Finally! I had to listen to Lily complain about him for years knowing damn well she was enamored.”

Sirius came to put an arm around Mary. “We had to listen to Prongs cry about it for years. War is over.”

“For weak and for strong,” Mary said. “Well, when Pete comes back, give him this? I lost our bet, I thought Lily would bow out and continue to complain about the poor boy for many more years.” Mary handed Sirius some money. “Actually, Remus hold it. I don’t trust you, Black.”

Remus reached up from the floor as James and Peter entered the room. “Prongs!” Sirius whooped, throwing himself into James’ arms as James twirled them in a circle. One would think they’d just attended the opera together. “The man of the hour!”

Mary rolled her eyes and strode back across the hallway to her room, calling back “Join me to keep your sanity, Remus.”

“Bold of you to assume I have any to keep,” Remus muttered.

The boys returned to their pillow nest on the floor, which now had a plate of rich biscuits in the middle. As James and Sirius chattered, Remus reached for one, but Peter steadied his wrist, shaking his head slightly and putting a finger to his lips. Remus frowned but retracted his hand as James and Sirius each took a biscuit. “And then-” James said around a mouthful, “I said…”

Remus waited for him to continue, but James and Sirius were looking at each other wide-eyed and..teary? Sure, they sometimes spoke with faces rather than words, but this seemed different. Sirius leaped up from the floor, spitting his mouthful out the window as James did the same, their groans accompanied by Peter’s laughter. “Wormy! What did you put in these?” Sirius shrieked.

Peter caught his breath, clutching his middle. “Some of Effie’s chili powder.”

As though she’d been summoned, Lady Potter came bustling in. “What are we all whispering about, boys?”

“Nothing, Maa,” James replied, pushing his glasses up his nose. He was very adorable when he became all giggly. Golden.

Lady Potter plucked a biscuit from the plate. The marauders surged forward to stop her from suffering the infernal assault that was Peter’s prank but they were too late and Lady Potter had started to chew a generous mouthful. Her eyebrows flew up as the boys leaned back, wincing and waiting for her to start frothing. “Mhmmm, Peter, beta, these are nice. Very tangy!” she smiled, ruffling Peter’s hair as she finished the biscuit, entirely unaffected. “I’ll be with Mary in the parlor. Oh, I’ll miss that beautiful girl when she goes home.” Lady Potter said, buzzing out the door while waving happy hands in that way mothers did.

As soon as she was gone, they burst into laughter, wheezing at her nonchalance. “Alright, bitch the pot!” Sirius exclaimed, slapping James.

James flopped back in Peter’s lap, sighing joyfully. “It was just as I’d always imagined it. She’s so clever and for the first time, I really felt that she appreciated what I was saying too. And she did that thing where I’d make a joke or call her a variant of beautiful and she’d turn away and put her hands on her cheeks in a poor attempt to hide her blush and that little smile! And I walked her right to her door and Mary was at least six feet away at all times so we may as well have been alone.”

“We’re really happy for you, Prongs,” Peter replied. “It’s been so long since we’ve all had a night in together.”

“We should christen the night! A good activity to start us off!” Sirius announced, sparks in his eyes.

James shook his head. “It’s almost three in the morning.”

“Everyone’s sleep schedules move about during the season, we could be nocturnal and hardly miss a thing. What should we do?” Sirius waved James off.

“Summon a demon.”

“Pete…what.” Remus said tiredly, pinching his nose. “We don’t even have an offering.”

James co*cked an eyebrow. “How do you know we need an offering? You’ve summoned a demon?”

“Some of us survived reading Tess of the d'Urbervilles and had to cope with it somehow.” Remus crossed his arms. “What’s our offering going to be?”

“I can go get Reg? I don’t think he’d mind if we killed him.” Sirius said excitedly. “Although the offering has to be valuable doesn’t it?”

“I’d mind if you killed Regulus.” James protested.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Well, you’re a minority then. We are a democratic utopia.”

“I just blurted it out! I didn’t mean it! God’s one of my best friends!” Peter complained.

“I thought I was your best friend!” James yelled.

Peter shrugged, hugging a cushion to his chest. “You’re tied.”

Sirius shushed James and Peter before turning back to a less-than-impressed Remus. “Alright, I will sacrifice a lock of my hair. That’s worth its weight in gold. What else do we need?”

Remus sighed. It’s bedtime. It is time for bed. I should go to bed. “Do we have chalk?”

---

Remus, Peter, James, and Sirius stood on the Potters’ driveway, shivering in the infant autumnal breeze. “Now what?” Peter asked as three heads turned to Remus. Remus looked at the bag of salt in his hand and considered that he might have mixed up his ancient rituals book with Mum’s cookbook. It wouldn’t be so bad if they summoned jacket potatoes instead, would it?

“Well, we need to make an unbroken ring of salt as the barrier. We don’t want our demon to escape.” Remus said defeatedly as James, Peter, and Sirius took handfuls of salt and started piping a circle. “Prongs? Chalk?”

“Here!” James chirped, drawing a second circle inside the salt. He then marked a wonky inverted pentagram under Remus’ instruction. “Look how neat that is! This demon better appreciate my artistic prowess.”

Sirius held up the candles and Remus nodded for Sirius to place them at the points of the pentagram and one in the middle. He pulled out his fancy gold lighter and lit each one before standing back and waiting for Remus to carry on. Remus pursed his lips, staring at Sirius solemnly and Sirius knew. They all knew. It was time.

James stepped forward, putting a sturdy hand on Sirius’ shoulder and feigning tears. “You’re being so brave, brother.” Sirius turned around and allowed James to fish out a lock of hair barely the thickness of yarn from the back of his head. James swept the rest of Sirius’ hair over his neck, the waves bobbing at Sirius’ collarbone. Remus watched Sirius swallow, watched the veins and muscles contract as they did when Sirius was simply existing, but he made it look ethereal. Sirius choked quietly as the scissors clicked. James tossed the lock next to the middle candle sadly. “It’s for the greater good.”

“It is for a literal demon.”

“Shush, Moony. I’m mourning.” Sirius said. “Now what do we chant?”

“What are our intentions?”

“A really good bowler who will beat Regulus,” Peter replied as James enthusiastically agreed.

Remus felt like he’d been sighing all night. Because he had been sighing all night. “You want a demon to play for you?” Nods. “Fine. You say “saecula saeculorem, be my bowler be my bowler” six times.”

The boys joined hands, with Remus wedging himself between James and Peter so he wouldn’t be distracted. He had no idea how he’d sleep in the same room as Sirius tonight. They started to chant.

“Saecula saeculorem, be my bowler be my bowler.

Saecula saeculorem, be my bowler be my bowler.

Saecula saeculorem, be my bowler be my bowler.

Saecula saeculorem, be my bowler be my bowler.

Saecula saeculorem, be my bowler be my bowler.

Saecula saeculorem, be my bowler be my bowler.”

They opened their eyes, breathless and beaming. Well, Remus was just breathless. Bloody cigarettes. “It didn’t work,” James said.

“Gosh golly I wonder why,” Remus replied flatly as they all dropped their hands.

They stared at the circle for a long time, silently watching the wax melt off the candles, hands in pockets, and exhales white in the night. “Well, my loves, there’s always one demon we can count on being with us forever,” Sirius said as he pulled James into his side and led them all back into the house.

“Who’s that?” Peter asked.

Sirius grinned that Sirius Black grin. “My childhood trauma.”

Lady Potter crossed the foyer holding a tin with ribbons in it, dressed in her robe, but she stopped as she saw them all enter wearing their coats. “What have you been doing?”

“Summoning a demon.” They said in unison.

“Was it fun?” Lady Potter asked cheerfully.

James slumped. “It didn’t work.”

Lady Potter pouted. “Aww, sorry beta. Next time?” She turned to Sirius. “I’m braiding Mary’s hair now if you want yours styled too?”

“Oh, please, Maa! There’s a chunk missing from the back!” Sirius beamed.

“It was barely two strands-“ Remus muttered as he followed them into the parlor.

Sirius skipped backward as they moved through the house so that he could talk to Peter. “What were you going to do with those biscuits, Wormtail?”

Peter frowned. “Dispose of them? They were a joke that’s why I only made a few.”

James and Sirius exchanged a look and suddenly Remus was scared. James smirked. “How do you think Snivellus would like receiving a baked gift from Evans?”

It was well past Remus’ bedtime.

---

Lady Potter weaved Mary’s damp curls over each other with deft fingers, humming happily as she finished off the braid and tied it with a ribbon. Mary crawled over to the fireplace, taking the end of the blanket Remus was huddled under and wrapping it around her shoulders too. Sirius took her place and Lady Potter started sectioning his hair.

James was reading one of his periodicals again. It was a local one he used to buy from a group of boys at Eton. Apparently, Regulus had given it to him months ago and he’d reread it many times since. He read aloud in a low murmur accompanied by the scratching of Peter’s quill on the love letter he was writing to Evangeline. “It is of the uttermost importance that one notes that the aforementioned left-curve interchange tactic requires the largest player to swing…”

Remus was already lost, though he was almost certain James was reading about football. Or perhaps it was cricket? He dabbled in tennis occasionally, so perhaps it was about that? Remus dropped his weight back on the settee as Mary lay her head on his shoulder, having dozed off. How many more nights would they have like this together? The simplicity of silent solace? Mary would go home first, and of course, she would return for the new year’s eve, but Remus wouldn’t. Yorkshire was much too far. When would he see any of these people again? Would he even see them again at all? He couldn't fathom that.

Lady Potter slipped out of the room, mumbling something about tea and kissing Sirius’ forehead as she went. His gaze trailed after her, soft and tender, as warm as the glow from the smokey, crackling fire before it fell on Remus. Mary snored softy, Peter scribbled contentedly, James read hushedly, and Remus and Sirius watched each other…

How would one describe the look? Tendrils still fell from Sirius’ braids, obscuring his eyes and curling by the corners of his full lips. Remus couldn’t say when the weight of Sirius’ gaze started to lighten, when Remus’ face cooled down, and when he lay his head to the side, resting it on Mary’s. Sirius just kept slowly blinking, the sides of his eyes crinkled and the irises shadowed. Remus couldn’t use one singular adjective to describe Sirius’ expression, but he knew what it meant. Remus had been…alright. It had been a mistake, a poorly judged action, but it was forgiven. They’d be as they had been. They’d exchange their usual banter in the music room, and Sirius would be energetic and zealous and Remus would have his usual affectionate lethargy.

Yes, Remus thought as his eyelids became too heavy to keep open, We’ll be just as we were.

It turned out Remus needn’t have been so worried about having an inability to sleep in the same room as Sirius, for his thoughts stilled and he fell into one of the easiest slumbers of his life.

Chapter 27: XXVII - The Season's Curtain Call

Chapter Text

At the trial of God, we will ask: why did you allow all this?
And the answer will be an echo: Why did you allow all this?
- Ilya Kaminsky, A City Like A Guillotine Shivers On Its Way To The Neck

Fleet passed the cigarette back to Remus, hauling his knees to his chest so as to steady himself on the slope of the roof. Remus didn’t actually have to meet with Fleet very often, but he found himself wandering here anyway. They didn’t speak as they surveyed, watching thin hairs of smoke trickle into the cobble sky from the chimneys of overcrowded houses. Rows and rows of tiny courtyards with washing lines were intercepted by alleys and workhouses that were more rubble than establishment. A brown, domesticated pig snuffled in the filth of the street, and in the room under them, Remus and Fleet could hear a couple squabbling. There was the sound of skin impacting skin followed by a whimper and then nothing. “Who lives in that room?”

Fleet shook his head, chipping mud off his shoes with a twig and watching it fall off the edge of the roof. “Don’t know ‘em. I sees the woman go down ta’ the pump sometimes. Ne’er seen any bairns, but.” Fleet threw the twig away. “Tatt bricked up the wall ‘tween us and the upstairs renters. S’why our chimney don’t puff.”

“The bricks in the corner of the room? They look ancient. You’ve been with Tatt a long time then?” the smoke from Remus’ mouth joined the grey of the sky.

Fleet smirked proudly “Once upon a time ya tol’ me off for asking ‘lotta questions. Turntables, eh?”

“Touche.” Remus coughed. “Aye, yer right.”

They sat, unspeaking, for a few minutes. Remus was thinking something and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say it aloud. He found as the days flew by and the days grew colder, he was less sure of himself. Nothing was so simple as it had been when he’d come to London. It was as though he’d grown thirty years in thirty days. The more he contemplated, surveying the slum as he did, the more Remus realised that his problems weren’t so large. “There’s a game I play with a friend of mine. It’s very simple.” Liar.

“What’s that?”

Remus leaned back on his elbows, having given up smoking for the day. “He asks a question and I answer. Then I ask him. No lies. That’s all. And no pity is allowed.”

Fleet grinned. When Remus first met him, his cheeks hadn’t been so full. The Potters, as sustainable as they tried to be, often ended up with an excess of food. Remus brought the boys what he could. “You’ll ask first?”

“Aye.” Remus thought for a moment. They weren’t in the music room, so this really didn’t mean so much. And besides, it was Sirius and Regulus’ game first. Remus was finding that many of the things he considered things he shared with Sirius weren’t really theirs at all. It was all borrowed. “Do you have siblings?”

Fleet shrugged. “Jus’ the boys. Me ma ne’er had any others, and I dinna ken me da.” Fleet glanced at Remus hesitantly. “I ken ye got ya Jimmy ‘n Marie. But yer da? Where’s he?”

“Six feet under.”

“Under where?”

“Oh. No, he’s dead. Killed himself.” Remus said, quickly and plainly. It felt oddly nice to state it in such a manner. If he were to mention it so straightforwardly with anyone else he knew in London, they’d be taken aback and feel terrible for him. Fleet knew more than those people, much more than a kid should. Remus often forgot he wasn’t even two years older than Fleet. “Where were you before Tatt found you? Just…on the street?”

“Wiv’ me ma’s…the place what she worked in ‘ad a man what told ev’ryone what to do. Knew the women.” Fleet shifted.

“He…paired the…prostitutes? With…men?” Remus tried cautiously, unsure if this topic was one he could speak about as they did others. Fleet had been defensive when it was first brought up.

“Aye. Me and Tatt was both bastards of his women, but he kept us. Tatt got out first, set ‘imself up, found Davies n’ all. I got out too, but was prolly only a week ‘for Tatt found me eatin’ rats. Lived wiv’ ‘im ev’r since.” Fleet recited, but Remus could hear the hitch in his throat. “Yer da, do you know why?”

“No. No note. Just gone. Mum used to say he was…a dreamer. He was gruff and stoic and everything you’d expect a farmer to be but…he had these internal worlds. Mum thinks I’m the same because I…paint sometimes. I’m no good. I think it’s why she was happy for me to travel. Didn’t want me following in his footsteps and feeling trapped.” Remus said, surprised at how cathartic is was to speak the words aloud. They were like secrets, but they weren’t so heavy to be considered valuable, so they just sat in Remus’ chest like dots of grey. “Why did you and Tatt leave the man? If he was taking care of you two?”

Fleet shivered. Remus would offer his coat if it weren't a soppy thing to do and if Fleet weren’t more rugged up than he was. “Tatt…left to make sumthink of ‘imself so he could come back for ‘is son.”

“Son? You said his son…”

“His other one.” Fleet looked at Remus pointedly, and Remus started connecting it all together. The same hair colour, the same looks, consulting the ragged school, only ever expecting the other boys to work…

“Pebble is Tatt’s son? But…Tatt would have been…Tatt’s twenty?”

“One and twenty.”

“And Pebble’s seven…but Tatt would have been…”

“Remus.”

Remus’ stomach lurched as the realisation rammed into his middle. “Some men are sick, aren’t they? Bloody barbaric.” Remus muttered, deciding he wasn’t done smoking and pulling out his lighter again. “That’s why you left too?”

Fleet shrugged uneasily. “I…there came a part where I was big enough to…say no. Fight ‘em off. And I dinna. Can’t go cryin’ bout it now, can I?”

Remus' eyes widened and his heart sunk and he wished so so so badly that he could embrace Fleet. What hurt the most was that Remus knew how it felt, in part. He’d been younger than Fleet when he started meeting with Oscar, and it felt awful and Remus knew all he’d be was a dirty, little secret. But he kept meeting Oscar because he had nothing else. It’s a harrowing pain to rely on something so destructive, and Remus had never known the difference between oblation and self-slaughter.

Fleet’s experience was different, though, and something Remus could never understand. Remus had wanted to feel something; Fleet had needed to survive. The emotions were the same but the residue was so distant to Remus that tears pricked his eyes. It almost felt nostalgic to have them fight the perimeter of his waterline like this. Other than his panic fits, which didn’t count because he wasn’t really mentally present for them and his thoughts were sucked from his brain, Remus hadn’t had to fight physical tears in a very long time. “You ever left England? Ya got a funny accent.”

“No, I lived in Yorkshire before here and my Mum’s Welsh so that’s why,” Remus replied. “Do you know that it wasn’t your fault? Any of it?”

“I was well big enough-”

“You were a child.”

“But I could ‘ave gon’ somewhere else. Coulda left ‘fore I did.”

“You were a child.”

“But…I…I didn’t…”

“Fleet,” Remus, voice firm and strong and not indicative of how he felt in the slightest, said “you were a child. It wasn’t your fault, just as it wasn’t Tatt’s or your mother’s. You did nothing wrong.”

Fleet sniffed, turning away and angrily swiping the back of his arm across his eyes. He exhaled, shoulders quivering, before he composed himself and turned back to look out at London with Remus. “Oi Remus?”

“Aye?”

“If Tatt’s like me da,” Fleet hesitated, shaking his head to convey an indifference he clearly didn’t feel. “I wouldn’t be cursing god if ya was me brother. Wouldn’t be ‘alf bad.”

Remus nodded, huffing a hollow laugh as he flicked his cigarette off the roof. “No, it wouldn’t be.”

---

My dearest darling Remus,
How are you, my son? I received your last letter about your adventures in Brighton and about the fundraiser. It sounds like you’ve captured the hearts of the Potters! I’m glad to hear that you’re finally getting along with Sirius easier. You two had a rough start, didn’t you? If I could, I’d send him a jar of my cherry cordial. And thank him for keeping your tummy full with chocolate!

You’ll be pleased to know that my knees have healed nicely and the bones are all in place again. I start strengthening techniques on Monday to build the muscles back, but I’ll have to go very slowly since my lungs aren’t recovering as quickly as the rest of me. Muscular atrophy is no walk in the park! I'm sorry, I know I've never been very "punny". I can see your face as you read my jokes, Remus, give your ol' mum a break!

Enough about sad, little me. Mrs. Hinge came by to make me some soup, but I had a bit of a coughing fit so she sent for the doctor and completely forgot about the hob until it had died. Seville decided he wanted to bathe in the soup, which happened to be beetroot, so he’s been pink for the past week. Mrs Hinge’s daughter has been reading to me…

…and I hadn’t the slightest clue what to say to that. I think I might have mumbled my condolences. That poor woman. She said I oughtn’t to feel bad for her when my condition is much worse, but I have the privilege of knowing my son will be home soon to soothe me.

I must stop writing now for the doctor is here, but I’m always thinking of you and I look forward to hearing about more of your adventures.

Love,

Mum

---

“And step together...step and step and around we go…and, oh Remus, no here, I-” Lily dropped their arms, putting a hand on her forehead and sighing. “Remus, are you even trying?”

Remus huffed, crossing his arms. “Yes, I’m trying! My apologies for not having a ladies’ education. I’ll write to Whitehead now and see if they’ll take me as a senior.”

Lily shook her head, taking Remus’ hand again and putting her other on his chest. “Let’s just try again. I’m sure that you’ll be able to follow your partner’s lead if you really do forget. Or never retain the steps in the first place, which seems more plausible.”

Remus took Lily back in his arms and she started to count out their steps again, though he was still as hopeless as he had been two hours ago when they’d entered the ballroom. Around them, the staff were carrying tables in and dashing around the house grappling with all kinds of decorations for the Potters’ ball. Apparently, the Potters usually “closed” the season with a notoriously inclusive and lax ball at their home, as opposed to the Blacks who opened with a stiff assembly at an ostentatious venue. “You know, if anyone bothered to notify me of an event’s occurrence more than two days beforehand, we’d have more time. Why do you insist I learn, anyway? This is literally the last event before everyone returns to normal.”

“Remus, the season is normal.”

“It’s not. You don’t realise how…frilly you all look.”

Lily stepped back from Remus, striking eyes lowered to the ground as she bit her lip and wrung her hands. “This is only the second time in my life I’ve had a dress of my own.”

“Lily, I’m sorry-”

She took their position again, supporting the weight of Remus’ limp arm before he finally held it out himself and they started dancing, though Lily didn’t continue to count. “I just think it might be nice for you to join in, that’s all.” Lily plastered on a false smile as she looked up at him, morning sunrays brightening the light skin on her outstretched forearm into a bleached white. Around her, dust motes swirled, rippling around her neat, coppery updo. Remus recalled James once telling him about how he loves the way Lily’s hair is flaming orange in summer and spring, and rich burgundy in autumn and winter. “How is your mother?”

“Do you know much about muscular atrophy?” Remus asked.

Lily’s face softened into pity and Remus felt guilty for wishing she was Sirius at that moment. “It…it can be treated. She’ll be alright if she has doctors.”

Remus, unexpectedly overwhelmed, lowered their arms and pulled Lily into his chest. Her hair smelled like lavender oil.

“Thank you, Lily.”

---

Remus lurked by the stairs, clutching his champagne flute as if it were his only friend. The dances were about to start and Sirius still hadn’t made an appearance. Remus wasn’t sure if this was the case because Sirius wanted to be fashionably late or because he wanted to avoid being announced into the room as everyone else had been when the night started over an hour ago. At least Remus was at ease in his suit. It was the olive green one McGonagall used to have to take the hems up and down on before James decided to lie about hating olive green so Remus could keep it. Remus had insisted that James needn’t do that since Lily often wore blush or green so olive would match, but James had retorted that Lily only wore true greens not muted greens to make her hair appear more vibrant so then Remus contradicted that that’s the opposite of how colour theory works and then…

Remus couldn’t remember what was said next, but trying to recall the conversation was keeping his mind busy. Lord and Lady Potter really had invited absolutely everyone to close the season. Mary was swanning around, kissing the cheeks of Alice and Frank, Dorcas and Pandora, who hadn’t left Marlene’s side, Evangeline and Peter, and Mary even offered a friendly greeting to both Bartemius Crouches and the rest of the Rosiers. Regulus was not in attendance.

And of course, Lily and James looked like a unicorn had just vomited rainbows on them. It was disgusting. Remus couldn’t think of anything better. He loved them both so much, and now that everything had finally fallen into place and constructive conversations had occurred, it was clear they were very well-suited to each other. James was introducing Lily to an older couple Remus didn’t recognise, but they seemed close with Daniel McKinnon, who stood beside them proudly, so perhaps they were an aunt and uncle of the McKinnons. James seemed to glisten as he gestured to Lily, never truly taking his eyes off her despite speaking to the others in the group.

The only other people who weren’t happily chatting in the swollen ballroom were Petunia and Vernon, who kept to themselves. Apparently, they had married the previous week. It had been a small affair. Lily was itching to have Petunia reside with Vernon.

The Potters’ staff had done a marvellous job of decorating the ballroom, with an earthy colour scheme of rusty browns, plum purples and marigold yellows. Garlands of seasonal growths were strung along the walls, and every ledge, mantel and window sill had a display of pinecones and acorns assembled to bid the courting season farewell. If Remus didn’t know better, he’d say some woodland fairies had helped adorn the scene.

As Remus slipped further out of sight, the sound of two familiar voices drifted over. The first was undoubtedly Mary, and Remus was sure the second was Evangeline. Mary giggled as Evangeline gasped. “I love Petey, I do, but I’ll be the first to admit Sirius is just gorgeous.”Not if I beat you to it.

“He does make for a fine suitor.” Mary agreed.

There was a pause, followed by a girly snigg*r. “I assume you two, when you courted, weren’t as chaste as your parents would like?”

“Oh, gosh no!” Mary cackled before she hushed herself.

Evangeline made a noise of shock. “So…was he…passionate?”

Oh. Remus shouldn’t be hearing this. But it wasn’t his fault they’d come over to the stairs to talk. He was here first. He couldn’t help that they didn’t know that. Well, he could reveal himself, but that would be interrupting, wouldn’t it? How rude! No, Remus was better off staying where he was, and if he most accidentally overheard something not meant for him in particular, but he was sure Mary would tell him if he asked anyway, that was hardly anything to be concerned over was it?

“Hmmm, I’ve had others who were more…emotional. But his body made up for it a million times over!”

“That nice?”

“Oh, Evangeline, he’s perfect. His arse looks just like a peach, and he’s defined in all the right places and soft in all the others. His arms look like they were chiselled from marble.”

What. What. What.

“It sounds like you still fancy him?”

“No, we really are just the best of friends. He can be fun when he’s not so energetic jumping about with James.” Mary replied, her voice fading as she and Evangeline walked away.

“Energetic? He’s the picture of calm and charismatic.” Mary laughed at Evangeline’s remark and by then Remus had lost them.

The music for the first dance started and Remus forgot he was supposed to ask a lady to dance with him after being introduced rather than hide from everyone. It was a lively waltz, which would be followed by a simpler barn dance for older guests to join in after watching the younger couples grace the floor. Remus watched colourful silk skirts sweep the polished floorboards as male counterparts led, and he smiled at Mary, who was laughing in the arms of- Sirius! He must have only just made it in time. Had he reserved Mary’s first dance? Then, they did that every ball to make others jealous, didn’t they? Whose eye was Sirius trying to catch? Not mine.

Sirius had decided on a rather extravagant suit for the evening, similar to the coat he'd worn to the Yule Ball. The fabric was dark and seemingly black, but as Sirius glided around the room, allowing candles and lamps alike to light the shadows on his figure, the fabric was revealed to be deep azure with cobalt embroidery of leafy motifs crawling up from every hem. He had a brooch of a black deerhound on his lapel, and his coat tails were fairly long, leaving them to drape elegantly over his legs. It seemed he'd combed his hair with one of his fancy products, too, for the waves were set perfectly in clean, majestic swoops. He looked undeniably handsome and very well-bred, but Remus much preferred the detangled, unbound teasing mess that lounged in the music room with him.

Sirius noticed Remus staring, tilting his head to see him properly as Remus edged back around the side of the stairs. As Sirius and Mary twirled, Mary too busy grinning at Lady Potter, Sirius kept whipping his head around to find Remus, those sultry eyes latching onto Remus every time. Sirius raised an eyebrow as if daring Remus to try and join in. Remus glowered back, slightly annoyed that Sirius hadn’t come earlier to greet him. Maybe they weren’t alright? Maybe Sirius was still uncomfortable about what happened at the game. But Remus swore Sirius had moaned his name. No, Remus was remembering it wrong. Sirius must have said it more certainly. Yes, now that Remus really thought about it, Sirius had been pulling Remus’ head back. But in James’ room, they’d seemed all patched up hadn’t they? Sirius wouldn’t have invited Remus to Grimmauld Place if they weren’t. Then again, this was Sirius Black, after all. This must be some petty ploy, a way of toying with Remus, teasing him about whether Sirius…whether he…he…

Remus huffed quietly to himself, as the dance ended and Sirius bowed hurriedly to Mary before striding over to the orchestra and whispering something to the conductor. Lord Potter marched over, seemingly mediating, before he turned back to the room and announced, casually in a way Orion Black never would have done but with an air of authority, “We will have another waltz, the fourth dance on the dance card, played now. The barn dance will follow.”

The guests all exchanged confused glances, but the swollen room hurried to find their partners that they’d marked for this dance, or rushed to ask those they’d been meaning to before the accompaniments were shuffled. Frank and Alice were on the floor with Lily and James, then Peter and Evangeline, before other stranger couples followed. Evan Rosier was paired with Dorcas, leaving Marlene in the corner. It was jarring to see the beaky features and spikey hair of Barty next to the soft, bunny-like Pandora, who elected to put her hand on Barty’s ear instead of his chest but looked happy to do so. Finally, Sirius pulled Mary back onto the floor, his eyes never leaving Remus as he did. Remus surged across the room, downed the rest of his flute, which had still been quite full, and guided Marlene out to stand next to Sirius and Mary.

“Remus! What are you doing?” Marlene hissed as Remus grasped her waist and pulled her into his torso.

Remus bent down to lie “I’m removing suspicion from you and Dorcas.” before turning to Sirius. “Evening, Pads.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, flickering them between Remus and Marlene judgmentally. Remus pulled Marlene in even closer as she laughed awkwardly. The music started, and Remus keep staring at Sirius, tripping his way through the steps while Sirius floated through them elegantly, entirely poised, and yet his gaze never wavered.

Marlene squeezed Remus’ hand, and he finally snapped his head down. “What’s wrong? What are you doing?”

Remus kneeled to let Marlene circle him, gritting his teeth as he muttered “Just smile. Your mother will love it.”

After what seemed like an eternity of being so close to Sirius but dodging him, the dance ended and Dorcas came to collect Marlene, eyeing Remus confusedly. Remus didn’t give her time to question him as he practically fled the room, pushing through the double doors, up the stairs, and bursting out onto the balcony where frigid air rushed at him. He panted against it, leaning on the railing and gazing up at the moon as his heart hammered. Would it always be like this? Had he really gone and ruined everything?

“You lied.”

Remus hung his head before slowly turning around. “About what, Padfoot?”

Sirius put his hands in his pockets, a forced smirk glued on his lips. “You do want Mary.”

“I don’t.” Remus groaned, turning back to look over the pitch black of the garden. He lit a cigarette, not bothering to offer it to Sirius. He was being difficult.

“You do. You were staring at us that whole time.” Sirius pestered, coming to lean sideways on the balcony railing, facing Remus.

Remus flexed his jaw. “Why did you make them play another waltz?”

“I wanted to see if I was right. I was, you stared at Mary both times and even tried to use Marlene to make her jealous!” Sirius said, trying to sound excited at his discovery, but it was empty. He sounded how Regulus looked.

Remus, now vastly agitated, threw his cigarette on the floor, grinding it out frustratedly and ignoring the fact it was the height of rudeness to scuff it into the Potters’ floor. “No, Sirius, I didn’t. Just leave it.”

Remus went to trudge back inside, but Sirius called “So you really like Marlene, then? You know she’s a-“

“Well so am I! Have you ever thought of that? Polari? Really? I told you, I actually told you to your face that I’ve…and you’re still confused!” Remus ranted, hoping no one could hear him. “And I know I made the wrong choice the other day. I know that you don’t…that we’re friends, but don’t tease me! I-“

Sirius lurched forward, cupping a hand over Remus' mouth and using his other to pull him in by his neck so that their noses almost bumped. "I've never teased you. That would insinuate I had hinted at wanting something I didn’t. I've never done that. Not once."

Remus didn't want to try to speak. He couldn't risk tasting Sirius' skin again, even if it was only his fingers. He could imagine how sinful the coolness would feel in the heat of his mouth. It made him shudder. After a moment of staring him down, pupils blown wide, Sirius finally stepped back wearing a hardened brow. "Sirius...leaving London is going to be so hard. You'll make it harder."

"I'll come with you. When you leave." Sirius replied.

Remus scoffed. "You wouldn't survive a day in the country and you could never leave the Potters. Don't say preposterous things for the sake of it, it doesn't suit you."

"Did I not just tell you that I'd never tease you? I should hope that includes never lying either. I've never equivocated." Sirius protested and Remus started to trudge back inside.

Sirius advanced behind Remus as Remus put his hand on the railing to swing himself up the stairs in order to make it to the bed chambers as fast as possible. "Stop saying things you don't mean."

"Remus-"

Remus, now at the top of the stairs, whirled on Sirius and looked down at him. "I won't go home. If we...then I won't go home. And I have to go home."You're my home.

Sirius stayed where he was. He swallowed. He wavered. It was excruciating. As he was stationary, Sirius became unclothed. He became bare and uncovered, and though Remus had never seen him this way in actuality, Remus could see his skin and it was covered in claw marks from nails Remus didn't know he had. Nothing Remus had ever let slip by him had gone unmarked; had slid away virtuous and pure and clean. "Goodnight, Moons."

Remus watched Sirius turn back down the stairs, no doubt to magnify the ballroom with his existence again, but when he reached the balcony, he faced Remus once more and uttered. "Would you... speak plainly? Could you tell me the plain truth of your mind as I have told you the truth of mine? I'll never mention it again."

No, Remus could not. "And sometimes I have kept my feelings to myself because I could find no language to describe them in."

Sirius huffed a weak laugh. "That is the second time you have quoted Austen to me."

"That is the second time you've understood the reference." Remus countered, shaking, burning, ripping, tearing.

"Then allow me to return a reference you'll know," Sirius hesitated. "The gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again."

Remus frowned. "You said you didn't enjoy the Iliad. You have lied to me before."

"No," Sirius corrected, forlorn. "I did not enjoy it. But I felt it. Perhaps that was the problem. Good night, Moony."

"Sirius!"

"Yes?"

Remus didn't know what would convey what he wanted to keep hidden yet expose yet keep hidden. He didn't even know what that was. "You're my best friend."

Sirius smiled. Remus did not know what kind of smile it was. "And you are mine."

Remus burst into Mary's room, throwing himself on the bed and burying his sobs in her pillows.

The things one does for their mother.

Chapter 28: XXVIII - Grimmauld Place

Chapter Text

This is the house that built me
and I’m gonna burn it down.
This is the river I crawled from
and I refuse to drown here.
What is a home
if not the first place you learn to run from?
You’ve got to bite the hand
that starves you, and in doing so
Praise the place that birthed you.
- Courtney Love Prays To Oregon, Clementine von Radics

Remus pulled his coat around his shoulders, holding Sirius’ out for him to slip into as well. “It’s getting chillier,” Remus murmured. “Sorry. I won’t talk about the weather. That’s “boring” apparently.” Remus added, recalling their floor conversation in James’ room as he followed Sirius down the stairs.

Sirius huffed a laugh. He’d been quieter this session. Remus supposed this wasn’t easy for him, and he knew that if it wasn’t, Sirius would be trying his hardest not to show it. “I’ll forgive you this one time, my Moony.”

Remus shoved Sirius’ shoulder, unsettled by how wrong it felt after all these months together. At least now Remus knew why. “Thank you for that, I‘d die if you didn’t.”

As Sirius reached for the front door handle, they both jumped at the sound of a cold voice coming from the parlor. Remus’ pulse slowed back to normal as he realised it was just Regulus. Regulus might remind James of Theodore Laurence, but he reminded Remus of Filch’s cat, Mrs. Norris. Lurking. “Where are you going?”

Sirius turned on his heel, smearing a great grin on his face. “To sacrifice a virgin, of course. Actually, you’ll do quite nicely, though there is not much meat on your bones.” Sirius held up Regulus’ slim wrist, waving it around. “What do you think, Moony? Will we fatten him up first?" Sirius’ eyes widened suddenly and he grabbed Regulus by both cheeks, panicked. “Oh, no, you must tell us now, for you cannot be our virgin if your answer is yes, but has Bartemius Crouch deflowered you, brother?”

Remus snigg*red at Regulus’ frown that hardened over his squished cheeks. “Which Barty Crouch, Pads? I’ve never picked Regulus as the type to go for older men…”

Regulus shoved Sirius off, blinking rapidly to regain his notorious icy glare. “Be serious.”

Sirius bowed dramatically. “That's my name.”

“Where are you going?” Regulus said again, coming to stand in front of the door so as to block them. He barely covered the expanse of the frame.

Sirius wrapped an arm around Remus’ waist, laying his head on Remus’ shoulder as best he could despite their five-inch height difference, and though Remus knew Sirius was only doing it to exaggerate his antics, he couldn’t help but hide the grin that came with the flutter in his chest. “Oh, my Moony, aren’t you lucky you don’t have a baby brother trying to follow you wherever you go?” Remus laughed awkwardly but looked down at Sirius sternly. Sirius sighed, before finally admitting. “We’re going to Grimmauld Place to see if we can find some information regarding Leopold’s whereabouts.”

“I’ll come.”

“You-” Sirius stepped away from Remus to face Regulus directly. Remus ached to have Sirius’ warmth pressed into his side again. Aching was all Remus seemed to do these days. “You’ll…alright. Come then, but make haste. We’re taking the omnibus.”

“Why don’t you have a carriage brought up?” Regulus asked as he followed them out onto the driveway, three pairs of feet crunching in the marble-white gravel that blackened the Black Manor’s exterior with its juxtaposition.

“Because I don’t want mummy dearest to know. Now, no more questions.” Sirius said sharply, taking Remus’ arm in his and pulling them ahead of Regulus. He only did it to further his point, but there was that smile and that flutter in Remus again.

---

Remus’ back ached. He’d forgotten how bony he was, and now the bottom of his spine was hot with fatigue against the wooden floor. Regulus was poised perfectly in the desk chair, two neat piles of documents on either side of him; one read one not. Sirius was lying on the floor, his head by Remus’ thigh as he sifted through papers held in front of his eyes. It didn’t look comfortable.

The study was as grim as the rest of the house, the only light being from the purpling sky outside a narrow but tall window, panes glittery with raindrops. The walls were a rich, dark oak, all lined with hefty bookshelves of ancient tomes. A sunken settee of gold-threaded jet fabric gathered dust in the one spare corner that wasn’t occupied by a gothic standing lamp, the desk, or a bookshelf. It had taken them ages to even make a dent in the files they were looking for, and so far all they’d found were receipts of rent being paid in faraway counties.

Sirius sighed, letting the document he was holding fall over his face. From under the paper, he grumbled “I promise Alphard was very interesting, though you wouldn’t know it from all this.” From the chair, Regulus snorted at a notebook he’d found, causing Sirius to scurry over. “What? What is so humourous?”

Regulus handed Sirius the notebook. “It’s Bellatrix’s diary. 1884.”

“She was sixteen? Ooooh, this should be good.” Sirius cleared his throat. “Today, the annual Black Christmas Banquet was held here at Grimmauld Place.” Sirius turned back to Regulus. “She must have kept this here so Aunt Druwie wouldn’t find it.”

“Aunt Druella-”

“It was a prestigious affair, as always, and I wore my favourite black gown.” Sirius cackled. “As opposed to her other thousand black gowns.” he kept reading. “I am very proud to be a Black, but I am also quite thrilled to marry into the Lestranges. We are both traditional and pure families, so I believe the match is suitable. I would hate for there to be any sort of mingling of any kind.” Sirius pretended to gag. “Eh, the next bit is in French. Sorry, Moons, no gossip for you.”

“Read it anyway,” Remus said quickly, heat rising in his cheeks as Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

Remus shrugged, snapping his head down, “immersed” in the very interesting loan records he was reading. “I might understand. Just read it.”

Sirius chuckled lightly, shaking his head as a fond smile dipped in and out of his lips. “Narcissa a volé mes rubans de cheveux. Je l'ai dit à maman, mais elle refuse de faire quoi que ce soit ! J'ai les cheveux fades à cause du voleur. Andromède est aussi éloignée que d'habitude. Je pense qu'elle a un petit ami secret ou une sorte de réunion à laquelle elle assiste. Comme c'est impropre!” Sirius glanced back up at Remus, having ceased his pacing, and co*cked that questioning eyebrow again.

Remus’ throat was dry. If he thought Sirius’ voice was perfect in English, then he must be of the opinion that it was ludicrously heavenly in French. “Anything else?”

Sirius flipped through the pages, skimming. “It’s in English again.” as Sirius started to ramble more, detailing what could only be described as propaganda, Remus waited for his chest to slow its rising. He peeked over at Regulus, but Regulus was already looking at him. One of his finer, softer eyebrows was less firmly set than the other, and his lips were more relaxed. It was a diluted variant of Sirius’ jesting expression Remus had seen moments ago. Remus subtly gestured with his hand, asking what amused Regulus so, but Regulus just shook his head. Sirius had stopped reciting now. “This is her secret diary? Therefore, these are her true, innermost thoughts and feelings? Oh dear lord.” Sirius tossed the dairy at the fireplace, which was somehow useless in warming the room.

Sirius missed the flames, the diary instead smacking into the bookshelf beside the hearth. Upon the impact, a thick tome that had been teetering on the edge of the shelf fell off with a thud. From within its pages, yellowed documents flew, scattering the floor. Remus picked one that had landed by his foot up. “I think we’ve found Alphard’s hiding place.”

Regulus and Sirius beckoned for Remus to put the page on the desk. They peered at the sheet, Sirius’ eyes glued still as he bent to shuffle the others off the ground and into his hands.

Dearest Alphie,
I understand you are hurt. I know that I have rejected you. Though I wish to discontinue our relationship as it was, I still wish to be friends. Good friends, just as we were. Please call in to me. Really, not much has to change, does it? I am of the conviction this is best for both of us. You must think of your family, and what you’re set to lose if we continue down the path we have.

I comprehend that my actions seem out of character. But we both must move past what we were in our own ways. This is mine. Please, if you cannot forgive me, just try to understand my thoughts. My feelings.

I do love you, my Alphie, but as brothers should love each other.

Yours most truly,
Leo

“If this is how “brothers” love each other, Alphard was more Black than we thought.” Sirius joked. “Is there a later correspondence? Is this the end? There’s no envelope, no address.”

Remus put his hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “Padfoot, if Alphard didn’t respond, and the length of this letter suggests others were sent that were also ignored, do you think he’d want you to find Leopold?”

Sirius’ jaw tensed. “Well, he can’t protest, can he?”

Regulus, who had been sifting through the rest of the hidden papers, cleared his throat as he held one aloft. “We have an address.”

Sirius scrambled to rip the page out of Regulus’ hands. An address was scrawled across the card with the initials “T.L.V.B” scratched carelessly next to it. “This doesn't match the handwriting on that letter. Alphard must have written it. Who’s T.L.V.B? And this is in…”

“Islington? Where did Leopold live? That’s a sold carriage ride to travel, isn’t it?” Remus asked, looking around for a map. No such thing was found. The walls that were not covered by bookshelves were bare. Alphard mustn’t have lived at Grimmauld Place for very long. “The L must be for Leopold. He might have used his middle name with Alphard if he didn’t want them to be found out. You don’t know what the other initials are?”

Regulus and Sirius both answered with shaking heads. Sirius took the letter and the address card, setting them aside on the desk and sifting the other papers back into a neat pile. “We’ve been here for hours, and in case you two haven’t noticed, the room is almost pitch black. I’d say it’s time to give it up, and we can come back tomorrow.” Sirius exited the study, Remus and Regulus in tow, as he glided down the hallway, down a narrow flight of stairs, and into the dusty kitchen that was a fair few degrees colder than the rest of the house. “Reg, tell Mother I am staying here tonight. If she asks.” Sirius turned to Remus as he opened a cupboard. “Moons? Will you stay? Reggie can have a note sent to the Potters when he gets home.”

Remus nodded. “I’ll stay. A note isn’t necessary, I told La- Effie that I’d be here.”

Sirius nodded before he started rifling through the cupboard. “Does Mother not keep any coffee in this house? She holds meetings here sometimes, why has she no coffee?”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Mother hates coffee.”

Sirius climbed onto the counter so he could stick his arm all the way back into the shelf and shuffle the tins. “Well, Mother also hates children, yet here we are.” Sirius huffed, coming off the counter empty-handed. “Go home, Reg.”

Regulus hovered, hands by his sides and spine stiff, before nodding and returning back up the stairs. The front door opened and shut. Sirius leaned against the bench, hands set behind him, while Remus loomed awkwardly by the table in the center of the kitchen. “So…do you think Leopold told Alphard he didn’t want to…be with him anymore? That was the rejection?”

Sirius nodded slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Remus wished he wouldn’t do that, not when they were alone like this. “That’s how it seems. It makes sense, too, with the date. It was around the time we stopped seeing Leopold, Alphard became very sad then very happy then…”

“Aye,” Remus said, walking over to the wall that faced the gutters of the street and cracking the window that was high up on the wall. He dragged a chair over for Sirius to stand on, an action that earned him a dirty look, before offering a cigarette. They smoked out the window, content with shivering in the frosty air that dove through the window and cascaded across the stony floor.

“Why did that happen? Why did he become happy?” Sirius asked quietly after his cigarette had died.

Remus shut the window, setting their cigarettes on the tiny sill and making a mental note to remind him he must come back for them. “He was in pain. Once he’d decided he was going to…he must have felt relief about it. Relief he wouldn’t have to feel anymore.” Sirius nodded solemnly. In a fleeting second when Remus was able to see Sirius as a friend and nothing else, a feeling that was deliciously numbing compared to his usual feelings, he quickly embraced Sirius. Remus’ head was pressed against Sirius' stomach, and Sirius’ hands found their way into his light brown curls. That was Remus’ cue to pull away, for he would do something he regretted if he didn’t. He offered a hand out to help Sirius off the chair. “Come on, Pads. Let’s warm up and eat something.”

It turned out that the house really didn’t have any food in it other than preserves, but the bakery across the road was open late, so Remus ran over to buy whatever savouries they had for dinner. Well, that was his intention, but he decided to buy scones instead since the house did have jam and it would be silly not to use it. Remus returned to find Sirius stretched out by the parlor fireplace, which he’d managed to stoke into ragingly hot flames. Remus jogged down to the kitchen to retrieve the jam, knives, and plates before coming back to Sirius with “dinner”. “I didn’t know we were having a girly little tea party?” Sirius said, grinning as Remus set his plate in front of him. “I know for a fact that bakery has pies too.”

“They were all sold out.” Remus lied, slathering the jam on one of the scones. As he swallowed the generous bite he’d taken, he found Sirius looking at him again. “What?”

Sirius reached forward, swiping jam from the corner of Remus’ lip and licking it off his finger. “I don’t know how old that jam is.”

“Eh, it’s sugar. It’ll last forever.” Remus replied, cheeks flushed. “You’re not hungry?”

Sirius pursed his lips, pushing his plate which was only missing half a plain scone away from him. “No. I had a large lunch.”

“Padfoot, I was at your house at lunchtime. You did not have a big lunch.” Remus stood, reaching for his coat which he’d strewn over the back of the settee. “If you don’t like scones, you’re crazy, but you should have said something. I’ll find you something else.”

Sirius lurched forward, grappling onto Remus’ arm with a crazed look in his eye Remus had never seen before. “No! It’s alright. I’m just not hungry.” as he finished his sentence, Sirius’ stomach gave a low growl. Sirius slowly raised his eyes again, looking sheepish. “He’s very political.”

Remus huffed a laugh at Sirius’ personification of his stomach as he continued to slip his coat on. “What do you like? That road the bakery is on opens late. I could just get some bread and butter. You can’t hate bread and butter.”

“Remus, please! I don’t want anything. Let’s go look at those documents again, we might find something! Come on!” Sirius enthused, prancing down the hallway manically as Remus reached the front door.

“Sirius.”

Sirius’ back was turned to Remus. He stilled, standing directly in front of the study door but not opening it. “Yes?”

“Come here.”

Sirius swayed on his feet, physically debating whether or not he’d obey Remus. Just as Remus thought he’d come to him, Sirius pressed his forehead against the study door, slowly dripping to the floor in a puddle. Remus was by his side at once, pulling Sirius into his chest so Sirius needn’t be embarrassed about being seen crying. Remus wanted to skin himself alive when he battled with himself internally, trying to squash the unruly thoughts that came into his mind as Sirius breathed down his neck. Remus pictured Sirius as James or Peter. That made it easier, and Remus started to run a hand up and down Sirius’ back as Sirius sobbed quietly. They sat like that in the dingy hallway for what seemed like hours, Sirius trying to calm himself and Remus dreading having to pull away. Remus didn’t know how he was going to be able to look at Sirius’ face and not break apart too and then they’d be wearing matching expressions. As Sirius’ breathing slowed, and his sniffles came more sporadically, Remus realised that he often suffered thrice more than he should; once in anticipation, once during occurrence, and once reflecting obsessively.

Sirius pulled away first. He turned his head immediately, sitting back on his heels while Remus remained cross-legged. “I’m sorry. Don’t tell James.”

“I won’t.”

“He hasn’t seen me…he knows the things I tell him but he hasn’t seen them,” Sirius said quietly, sitting back down on the ground and leaning against the doorframe. The shift of weight told Remus he ought to lean back on the other side of the frame, one shoulder pressed against the door and the other exposed to the hallway that had bore the reasons for Sirius’ tears. They might be sat there for a while yet.

“James doesn’t know you…struggle? Like this?”

Sirius shook his head before he closed his eyes and sighed. “No one does. It doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s not supposed to make sense. You don’t exist to be understood.” Remus fiddled with his hands, an unknown wash seeping into his skin. It was numbing and it felt like he could say nothing wrong, despite the fact that if anyone else was sat before him in such a state as Sirius was, Remus would spiral into a stream of second-guessing every word that crawled from his lips.

Sirius’ chest rose and fell. His head lolled, as though he didn’t have the strength to hold it up anymore; as though it was too big for the rest of him. “I know why.”

“Why?”

“My mother used to punish me by withholding food. I used to be so proud when I could go the entire punishment period without complaining or showing signs I was hungry. As I got older I felt…powerful if I could go even longer. Eventually, I lost track of when food was banned and when it was not, and even away from home, it felt good to know I was stronger than what my mother could think up. I was bigger than her.” Sirius twirled his rings, huffing sarcastically. “Do you know what the worst part is?”

Remus waited. Sirius wanted a response to a rhetorical question. Remus had turned cold. “I do not.”

“I was wrong. About all of it. I’m not brave or strong for being able to starve. I’m letting her win.” Sirius made a noise, a choked breath. Remus had no idea if it was a laugh or a cry but both made his heart drop just as much as the other. “I can eat Maa’s food, though. So long as it isn’t spicy. I can do that.”

“Was it the fact that we’re here, too? Did the house make it that much worse?”

Sirius shrugged. “It’s haunted.”

“You bit off more than you could chew coming here.”

Sirius kicked Remus’ shin lightly, a smile stretching his glistening cheeks. “That was a bad joke.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Remus replied, kicking him back. “It made you smile so it can’t be bad.”

Sirius sat up, eyes bright, and leaned over to shake Remus' shoulders. “Has the day come? Has it finally truly most certainly come?”

Remus jolted around under Sirius’ grasp. “Padfoot! Get off, what are you even talking about?”

“Has the broody Moony finally admitted he cares about my happiness? Has he confessed his love?” Sirius bellowed between cackles as Remus tried to scramble away. Sirius pulled Remus’ back against his chest, locking Remus into a headlock and peppering chaste kisses all over his face as Remus continued to struggle, though he wasn’t trying very hard. How could Sirius do this so easily? Interact in such a way? Because he isn’t a predator like you. He doesn’t want you. “Is it true? Is it true?”

Remus finally relented, panting as he slumped and dropped his hands from Sirius’ forearms which were still pressed against his neck. “Shut up.”

“You are a soft, sweet little sop,” Sirius said pridefully, releasing Remus.

Remus pulled away to stand, about to offer his hand down to Sirius but he paused, mouth dry as he noticed the millimeters of white under Sirius’ grey irises that were exposed now that Sirius was gazing up at him. Am I alright here? “What if we shared a plate? If we ate off the same one?”

Sirius’ eyes became glossy and he blinked quickly to clear them. “That would be grand.”

---

Remus and Sirius lay side by side on the bed in the master bed chamber. The bed in question was actually closer to a platform made of sheets and pillows due to the sheer height and size of it. The empty plate was set on the bedside table next to Remus. It had taken a while, and Remus had noticed that when he pretended to be interested in the priceless but tasteless artworks on the walls or the ornate carpets, Sirius had eaten faster.

“Ad astra per aspera.” Sirius murmured into the darkness. He’d shed most of his autumnal layers, now only wearing his trousers and an undershirt after putting up dividers around the fireplace to waft the heat over to the bed.

“Hmmm…to the stars and through…?”

“Difficulties.” Sirius finished. “Your turn.”

“Hmmm…” Remus had been losing the game so far. Sirius was to quiz Remus on Latin phrases and Remus was to question Sirius about obscure words. Truthfully, Remus just wanted to hear as many languages spoken in Sirius’ tongue as possible. “Phantasmagoria.”

“Phan as in phantom? It references sequential images, usually in one’s dreams, does it not?” Sirius answered, and judging by Remus’ groan in response, Sirius grinned, face contorting in the blackness of the room. “So far you have three points and I have twelve.”

“It’s not an even match! You speak Latin fluently.” Remus complained.

“And you speak English fluently.” Remus rolled his eyes very dramatically so that Sirius would be able to feel it if he could not see. “Ars longa, vita brevis.”

“I do know that one! Art is long, life is short!” Remus said much too enthusiastically. “Ellipsism?”

“Being frustrated that one will not know how the world will change once they have died,” Sirius replied ever so articulately. It infuriated Remus. He could kiss him. “Mirabile dictu.”

“I have no idea.”

“It means wonderful to say,” Sirius replied, turning to lie on his side and curl into the middle of the bed.

Remus copied him. “That’s almost as boring as my talking about the weather or Prongs’ kitten question at Brighton.”

“You cannot bully me, I have the morbs!” Sirius cried.

Remus tutted, tucking his hands under his arms to keep the chill that battled with the fire’s glow at bay. “Fine, it was lovely.”

Sirius had been looking down at the fireplace before Remus said that, but after the sentence left Remus, Sirius flicked them up to look at Remus properly. The shadows cast by the mostly deceased embers clung to every bone in Sirius' face and embroidered light into the wisps of his thick eyelashes. Remus’ first thought when he’d seen Sirius playing at the Black Family Ball was pretty, pretty, pretty. Now he wondered how the words ethereal or gorgeous or angelic or unreal or bewitching or enticing or statuesque had failed to flood his mind. They were gushing into his brain now. “Give me a memory of yours.”

“A good one or a bad one?” Remus whispered. He didn’t know why. They were alone in the house, but something about the words made Remus scared to be heard.

“Anything,” Sirius replied.

Remus thought. He wanted to share a good memory. Although it was so ridiculous, for they’d never meet, Remus wanted Sirius to like Mum. He saw a lean figure with thick, black hair towering by a fragile woman of caramel curls. They stood by the farmhouse’s kitchen bench. There was jam on the table and on the corners of the man's girlish lips that had been kissed raw. There were sunflowers and green grasses and the white of his blouse was stark against the raven waves. Phantasmagoria. “There’s a Welsh Christmas tradition called Mari Lwyd. Someone in the village takes a horse skull and sets it on a long stick and they visit homes singing rhymes outside the doors. Like gothic carollers.”

“The Welsh are great inventors.” Sirius laughed. “Your mother included, for you’re here.”

Remus rolled onto his back again, feeling Sirius’ heat radiate against his arm. “Mum recreated it for me one year when I was young. She used a sheep’s skull though, since a horse would have scared me to death. The person inside the house is supposed to sing back with reasons why Lwyd can’t come inside the house. Then Lwyd responds. This continues until someone gives up, usually, the person inside the house, and Lwyd comes in to raid their pantry. Mum didn’t know how stubborn I would be, though, and how many rhymes I knew, so I ended up winning. That was a good Christmas.” Remus smiled, picturing Mum against the sunset, having stood on the front doorstep for the better part of an hour engaging in a duel of the wits with her nine-year-old son. “Now you give me a memory.”

“A nice one?”

“Anything.”

Sirius paused. “Once, when we had started a new school year, the headmaster was giving one of his long boring speeches to inspire us as he did every year. They were always much the same and no one was ever listening, but it went something along the lines of,” Sirius gave his best impression of an old man with a deep, droning voice, “You boys shall find the means to become honorable and educated men here who will contribute to the genius of our great empire” blah blah blah. They were always strangely patriotic, too. Well, one year, the headmaster said “Reach for the sky and aim for the stars” and so Pete and James took that as an instruction to lob mashed potatoes at me. Apparently, I was not the star the headmaster meant, but it started a food fight all the same.”

Remus chuckled. It was a so very Sirius Black answer. “Will Regulus come by tomorrow? And we’ll go to Islington?”

“Yes.” Sirius yawned. “I believe so. Moony?”

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. “Yes?”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Padfoot.”

Remus realised that night, that this would be the third time he had fallen asleep next to Sirius.

---

Regulus, Remus, and Sirius stared at the very plain pub before them. It was as traditional and ordinary as The Three Broomsticks, but much shabbier and less homely. “Are we quite sure this is the right address?” Regulus asked.

“There is but one way to find out,” Sirius muttered, pushing the door open with the slip of paper bearing the address tucked into his hand. Sirius wandered over to the bar, waving over the bartender before showing the slip. “Excuse me, is this the address of this establishment?”

The bartender peered at the paper. “Aye. Why’d ask?”

Sirius frowned. “Pardon?”

Remus coughed, leaning forward to whisper “He wants to know why you’re asking.”

“Oh. Right. Well, we are looking for a man named Leopold? We really haven’t many more details, I’m afraid. Just this address.” Sirius explained as the bartender frowned.

The bartender wiped his shiny, bald head, thinking for a moment, before he shook it. “Naye, I can’t say I know ‘im. Sorry.”

Sirius slumped but thanked the bartender. They’d spent the morning going through the papers in the study, as well as searching the rest of the house. Other than more correspondences between Alphard and Leopold, this address was the only lead they’d found. As they stepped out onto the street, the angry wind whipping the disappointment of their journey into their eyes, a woman followed them out from the pub.

“Excuse me!” she called, causing the three men to turn their heads.

“Yes? Are you alright, ma’am?” Sirius asked, removing his hat.

The woman came to meet them. She was small, but plump and looked to be in her mid-forties. “I ‘eared you talkin’ ‘bout a Leopold?”

Sirius glanced at Remus to respond. “Yes, we were. Do you know him?”

The woman shook her head but put out her hand as if to stop them walking away for she had more to say. “I ‘ad a friend what worked at the pub. It were a long while back, almost twenty years, but she were close wiv’ a Leopold. Came in one night for a drink and stayed ‘til the wee hours chattin’ away wiv’ ‘er.”

Remus could feel Sirius brighten next to him. “May I ask where she went? Her name? Do you know if she still knows Leopold?”

The woman pursed her lips. “She were a private woman. We knew ‘er as Mar. She worked ‘ere when the old owner was about, but ‘e split, so she were let go of. That’s when I met ‘er. She were leaving as I were comin’. We was too small, me ‘usband an’ me, to keep ‘er on. Last I ‘eard, she worked at the…club. One up the road. As I said, that were almost twenty years ago, but.”

“Thank you! Thank you for your help!” Remus exclaimed, enthusiastically shaking the woman’s hand, for he knew not what else he could do.

He strode off down the road she’d pointed to as Sirius and Regulus skipped to keep up, both lost. “What did she say?” Regulus asked, looking fairly disgruntled at having to walk at a pace faster than gentlemanly.

“She says she knew a woman who worked with her who knew Leopold, but she works up the road now.” Remus stopped to catch his breath. Carriages flew by in clopping ribbons of traffic while hawkers' calls echoed between the blocks of buildings and pedestrians lumbered about their days. “At the brothel. The new pub owner was that woman’s husband, but they keep the pub small, so they had to let go of Mar, who was the woman Leopold knew. So basically, someone Leopold was close to might be working just down there.”

Sirius’ gasped, whooping and dragging Remus and Regulus into a quick embrace before righting himself, though his grin didn’t fade. “What are we waiting for?”

Chapter 29: XXIX - T.L.V.B

Chapter Text

The world is a stage and the play is badly cast.
- Oscar Wilde

Remus never thought he’d find himself in a brothel again. Remus, Sirius, and Regulus had barely had time to look about the establishment before they were accosted by eager women. Remus was highly uncomfortable by their advances, trying his best to reject them in a way that wasn’t hurtful. It was disturbing; their enthusiasm despite most definitely not actually wanting him. Remus was potential survival. He shuddered thinking about how they might have had similar feelings to Lily, similar laughs to Mary, shared similar jokes to Marlene, or exchanged witty banter similar to Dorcas. The only difference between them all was the hand god had dealt them. It was sights such as this that reinforced Remus' atheism, and reminded him how little people lived in their bodies and how much of them lived in their minds which were never so unique compared to each other.

Regulus stood stiff in front of one woman, while Sirius allowed another to put her arm around his waist, though he spoke to her decisively. Reus watched her hand slowly stroke just above Sirius' hip bone. My mouth's been there. I win.“We would like to know if a woman named Mar works here?”

The woman by his side thought for a moment, that unwavering, doll-like smile that may as well have been painted on never leaving her face. However, she shook her head. “No, there’s no Mar here. Is that a nickname?”

Sirius turned to Remus. “Is it?”

Remus cursed himself for not asking. “I…don’t know.”

Sirius gently tugged himself away from the woman, the other two who had initially approached Regulus and Remus having left the scene to tend to other patrons who were much more explicit in their affairs than the brothel James had taken them to had allowed for. It seemed that "brothel" had been just a step down from a gentlemen’s club, meanwhile, this establishment was not so elevated. Remus kept his eyes glued on the woman, Sirius, and Regulus so as to avoid seeing something he didn’t wish to. “She worked here some time ago, so she’s probably moved on. We’ll take our leave then. Thank you, ma’am.”

The woman stopped Sirius, though it was with a friendly hand on his elbow rather than charged clinging. It spooked Remus the way she was able to reveal such sincerity. The gesture stripped all the men who frequently paid for sex work of their humanity, for how could one see the state this woman was in and still wish to take even more from her? How can one demand a service while simultaneously degrading those who provided it? “There’s someone I can ask. She’s been here forever. Stay here.” The woman slunk off into the dingy room and through a doorway, though Remus quickly looked away from the dimness, edging closer to the main door which opened onto a flight of external stairs tucked away from the road. It had taken ages for them to actually find the entrance and Remus, Sirius, and Regulus had to ask multiple businesses for directions, much to their humiliation. Rain had started to fall, the drops pattering on the door and dulling the less-than-pleasant sounds the space offered. It felt like they were waiting hours before the woman returned with an older companion. “This is Mrs. Stokes. She may be able to help you.”

Sirius thanked the woman before turning to Mrs. Stokes, who upon closer inspection, could not have been more than twenty years Remus’ senior under all her face powder and rouge. She smiled a blackened grin. “Is everything alright?”

“We were wondering if you knew of a woman who went by Mar? We don’t know what her full name is, I’m afraid. We’re hoping to find a Leopold through her?” Sirius responded politely. Remus could feel Regulus shifting his weight from foot to foot, no doubt crowding himself as close to the exit as possible. At least Remus was subtle about his embarrassment.

Mrs. Stokes’ face fell. “You must mean Rhya. She went by many nicknames. I were very close with her. Would you follow me?”

Remus and Sirius exchanged confused glances, wondering how the name Rhya was relevant, but they had nothing else to use as navigation in their pursuit, so they followed Mrs. Stokes with their heads down. Mrs. Stokes lead them up three flights of narrow, steep steps, and by the time she unlocked a tiny, rotting door of chipped maroon paint, Remus and Sirius were out of breath while a red-faced Regulus huffed in and out of his nose.

The room must have been Mrs. Stokes' private quarters to some degree, for it housed only a small, metal-framed bed and a desk with a drawer that Mrs. Stokes had started searching in. It reminded Remus of the Potters’ mezzanine, but much less inviting. Sirius cleared his throat. “We hope we haven’t confused you. We haven’t heard of a Rhya.”

“Mar, Rhya, Ria, it depends who you ask. Her Christian name was Maria, but.” Mrs. Stokes said, before beaming as she whipped a crumpled envelope from the drawer, holding it out. “Here. She had a son what took all her worldly things but I kept this one. It’s got your Leopold on it.”

Sirius took the envelope. “Worldy possessions?”

Mrs. Stokes sat on the bed, tucking a strand of copper frizz that had fallen from her pinned bun, adorned with bright yellow ribbons, behind her ear. “Well, she doesn’t need them anymore, and her son were her next of kin. He were here for a while too before he left.” Mrs. Stokes’ babbled as she opened the letter for them before her face fell as she took in all their reactions. “You didn’t know she’d passed? Oh, lovies, I’m sorry.”

“We didn’t know her. We are sad to hear of your loss, though. My condolences.” Sirius said as he took the envelope from Mrs. Stokes’ wiry fingers. “This is from Leopold? He was my uncle's...dear friend.”

Mrs. Stokes nodded. “No return address, I’m afraid, but they were quite close. Now that you have his full name, it might be easier to find him.”

Sirius started to read aloud. "My dear Ria, I hope you are well, my love. I am continuing my pursuit of galleries, though this time I do not visit the Victoria and Albert. I took a trip to Dulwich Picture Gallery last week, and you must remind me to bring you with me when I next visit. One of Joseph Ducreaux's self-portraits was on display as part of a temporary exhibit, and I believe you will die of laughter when you see it."

Remus chuckled at that and was surprised to find Regulus allowing the hint of a smirk to grace his lips. Remus raised an eyebrow, to which Regulus responded "Ducreux depicts my internal moods honestly."

Sirius scanned the letter. "He continues mentioning his adventures and things he wishes to show her. I won't carry on, but it's awfully sweet."

Mrs. Stokes sniffed lightly. "Yes. He wasn't too well off, but he visited under the pretense that he were...after her services, but really he paid her for conversation. The rest of us were a bit jealous, actually."

"I was always under the impression he was in Alphard's economic circle," Sirius said under his breath to Regulus and Remus. Sirius flipped the envelope over to the side with the wax seal so as to read the name. Sirius huffed a small chuckle, eyes crinkling at the sides. “Well, we know who T.L.V.B is.”

“Who?” asked Regulus.

Sirius cleared his throat, handing Regulus the paper. “Thaddeus Leopold Van Brouwer.”

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Shakily, “May I see that?”

Regulus handed Remus the envelope. Remus almost dropped it, fingers trembling as he read the front. He flicked his eyes up to meet Mrs. Stokes, ignoring the concern on Sirius’ face. “Ria was Maria Sheffield?” Mrs. Stokes smiled sadly. Remus wanted to swallow but found he couldn’t. “Her son, what was his name?”

Mrs. Stokes tilted her head to the side, glancing at the ceiling as though her thoughts would be found scribbled up there before she replied. “Thaddeus. As I said, her and Leopold were proper friends.”

Remus swayed on his feet. “Hold on…this Maria’s son is…Leopold’s child?” Sirius questioned.

Remus interrupted before Mrs. Stokes could speak. “The…manager. Was he in charge when Maria’s son was here?”

Mrs. Stokes looked at Remus bewilderedly, eyes wide. “Yes? Why-”

Remus stepped forward, about to shake the poor woman before he stopped himself inches from her face. “Take me to him.”

Remus felt a hand on his shoulder. “Moons, you’re scarin-”

“Now,” Remus said, and he must have said it in some certain way, for Sirius released him and Mrs. Stokes stood from the bed gravely, gesturing for Remus to follow her.

In the thirty-two minutes that would follow, Remus would fail to recall the transition from Mrs. Stokes’ room to the basem*nt. They must have come down the stairs, and down another flight again, and through some doors, and they must have woven between patrons, but Remus wouldn’t remember any of it.

He was standing in front of a man. The man. Remus wouldn’t recall what his face looked like before. He was as faceless as he’d been before Remus met him. In the distance, Sirius was shouting and questioning Remus’ insistence on meeting the man. The man. At one point, Regulus said something, possibly requesting that Remus act properly and to stop being so rash, but Remus didn’t hear him.

When Remus had first seen the man, Mrs. Stokes had started an introduction but Remus had cut her off.

“Was Thaddeus Sheffield ever in your care?” Care. What a word to use.

“Who?”

“Thaddeus Sheffield, son of Maria Sheffield. He would have left after another boy named Tatt.”

The man verbally denied knowing either of the boys. His face betrayed him. If Remus had been more in his own mind, he would have asked the Black brothers and Mrs. Stokes to leave, but he didn’t. He lunged forward and swung his fist into the man’s cheek. He wouldn’t recall his expression, or if more had been said by the man. Once on the ground, Remus kept driving his fist into whatever it landed on; ribs, ears, skull. There was the crack of bones. Screams; the man’s agony, Mrs. Stokes’ fear, Sirius’ attempts to diffuse. When he’d done all he could with his fists, Remus stamped his boot on the body again and again and again.

“I was well big enough-”

“You were a child.”

“But I could ‘ave gon’ somewhere else. Coulda left ‘fore I did.”

“You were a child.”

“But…I…I didn’t…”

“Fleet, you were a child. It wasn’t your fault, just as it wasn’t Tatt’s or your mother’s. You did nothing wrong.”

Remus wanted the man to feel it. The man wasn't just himself, he was every other man who had seen a child of twiggy legs and cropped hair and decided that they wanted him. Remus wanted to take those monsters’ cries and his tears and bottle them up and give them to Fleet and put a label that said "healing" on it knowing that it would change nothing and knowing the glass would break before Remus even reached Fleet. The man was begging but the words had so little meaning Remus didn't bother registering them. He just kept pounding and pounding and at one point he yanked the man up by his neck only to smash his head back down into the ground the way Davies had done when Remus was being cornered in the alley. The flesh had no name. Not a proper noun...

It mustn’t have happened fast, for the man was unrecognisable. Sirius and Regulus had to drag Remus, each gripping an arm, away from the pile of swollen skin and sticky ruby blood.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Remus was out on the street. Two pairs of grey eyes, one romantic and the other sultry, but both full of shock, stared at him. Remus came back to himself in a flood, as though he was gushing into his own stomach. Sirius’ mouth was agape, and if Remus had returned to reality a moment later, he might have fervently kissed Sirius right there. He could have done that and blamed it on the shock. That wouldn’t have been a lie.

It was Regulus who muttered. “We should return to Grimmauld Place. You’ve much to tell us.” he tossed a glance at Sirius, who was frowning worriedly at Remus’ bruised knuckles. Remus knew they were throbbing, but he still couldn’t feel it. “Sirius will clean your hands.”

As Remus went to follow Regulus, the contrast of Sirius’ cool fingers against Remus' burning skin was daringly soothing. "You were going to kill him," Sirius whispered. Was he horrified because he didn't know Remus was capable of such brutality or because he knew Remus was all along?

"He would have deserved it."

Chapter 30: XXX - Everything Is More Beautiful Because We Are Doomed

Chapter Text

Maid c'est cela l'amour, tout donner, tout sacrifier sans espoir de retour.
- Albert Camus, Les Justes

Sirius had never been so gentle with anything Remus had watched him handle before. He was always fast and slick with his motions, accurate and precise yet entirely unpracticed. It’s what set him apart from James, who’d never been afraid to take up space even if he was fumbling his way through it, his co*ckiness making up for any mishaps.

One would think Remus’ hands were made of glass. “You don’t have to be so cautious. They look worse than they are.”

Sirius tucked his bottom lip under his top teeth. He slowly twisted Remus’ wrist so that Remus could see his own knuckles. “There isn’t a chance they don’t hurt.” Remus was lying. They did hurt a bit, but not as much as the plum swelling and split skin conveyed. Sirius brought Remus’ hand closer to him again, dipping the gauze in a shallow bowl of whiskey they’d found in the kitchen before swiping it over Remus’ fist. Remus winced, sucking in a breath as Sirius chuckled absently. “They do hurt. Lately, the two of us have been getting a bit banged up, haven’t we?”

“I don’t think exaggerating a ball to the shin that you recovered from the day after is quite the same as being beaten or beating someone else.” Remus huffed, hoping Regulus was upstairs prowling in empty rooms rather than listening by the parlor doorway. A creak in the floorboards above the ceiling made Remus relax a bit knowing they weren’t being heard.

“Your face did look a bit horrid after that mugging.” Sirius laughed before he looked up at Remus. “That…wasn’t a mugging, was it? It was to do with all this. Your…double life. Was it?”

Remus could only nod. Sirius was kneeling between Remus’ knees rather than sitting beside him on the settee so as to reach the bowl and cloth easier. It wasn’t easier on Remus’ wandering mind, though. “I scared you today.”

“You didn’t,” Sirius said quickly, returning to wrapping Remus’ right hand. “I was more concerned about you being convicted of murder if I let you keep going.”

“Rather than the murder itself?”

Sirius took his time unraveling the second bandage. “We’ve both been exposed to violence. It’s a stranger to neither of us.”

“We’re not the same,” Remus murmured. “Yours were supposed to love you. Mine never owed me as much.”

Sirius was still being overly gentle and slow, the coolness of his touch numbing against the bruises. Once he’d wrapped the hand, he made sure to tenderly pry the fingers apart to ensure Remus still had mobility. “But we’ve both seen people beaten. You didn’t scare me.”

“But I shocked you,” Remus whispered as Sirius finally set Remus’ hands on each of his thighs, before slapping his own and standing up.

Sirius stoked the fire that had died. They seemed to wither at precarious speeds in the gloomy house. “Perhaps. But you have your reasons, and when Reg comes down here, we will discuss them before we find Leopold.” Sirius then laughed to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned back to Remus. “It was rather attractive, you know. It aided your rugged appeal.”

“Oh, shut up!” Remus groaned, throwing a settee cushion at Sirius, but to his horror, it landed in the middle of the raging flames.

“Merde!” yelled Sirius as he reached for the stoker to drag the blazing cushion out.

“What are you doing? It’s on the carpet now!” Remus shouted as he and Sirius stamped on it as best they could while trying not to catch fire themselves.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!”

“The carpet’s catching!”

“I can see that, Moony!”

Remus grabbed the stoker out of Sirius’ hand, speared the cushion to the best of his ability, and promptly tossed it out the window. They both watched it go, panting and grinning with the relief and exhilaration of failing to die in a house fire. The place was made primarily of stone, anyway, so it wouldn’t have spread far. “Well, at least we saved the carpet.”

“I saved the carpet. You threw a priceless heirloom out of the window!” Sirius shrieked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow at Remus.

Remus panicked. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know that was an heirloom-”

“When King Louis XVI came to stay here, he sat on that pillow!” Sirius tutted, pouting as he plopped down on the settee, right where the now charred cushion had been.

“Pads, I wouldn’t have thrown it if I knew! I’m so so sorry-”

“Moons?”

Remus bit his lip nervously. “Yes?”

Sirius grinned that stupid Sirius Black grin. “It was the ugliest bloody pillow I’ve ever seen. You actually believe the ex-king of France came here?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, you’re probably related to him, you know.” Remus sighed, sitting down next to Sirius. “And trick me again and I’ll throw another into the fireplace.”

“Be my guest, they’re all as bad as each other,” Sirius replied, holding up another cushion that had a Renaissance-style cat embroidered on it, except it had a human-like body and was wearing late Elizabethan clothing. It looked like it was choking to death on the frilled collar at its neck. “It kind of looks like Reggie, doesn’t it?”

Remus cackled as Regulus appeared at the doorway. If his muscles weren’t permanently frozen, as was Remus’ current theory, he might have frowned. “Why does it smell like smoke?”

“They’re burning witches up the street again. You’d better hide your devil’s mark, Reggie.” Sirius said as Regulus rolled his eyes, too tired to further question the burning scent.

Regulus lowered himself into the armchair closest to Sirius’ side of the settee and folded his hands as if he were about to conduct one of Freud’s “talk therapy” sessions. “Remus, you’ve much to tell us.”

Remus shrugged. “Naye. I don’t feel like it.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. So he could move his face. As Sirius turned to face Remus as well, Remus found himself stifling a giggle as he realised how similar the brothers’ facial expressions were. “Go on, Moons.” Sirius crooned softly.Am I alright here?

“Well, I’ll start by saying I know Leopold’s son,” Remus said, slumping against the back of the settee as he prepared himself for a long night of talking.

---

Regulus’ face hadn’t moved. That was to be expected. Sirius’ jaw was slack. That was also to be expected. “We have to tell him!”

“Who?” Remus asked.

“Your criminal boy-”

“Fleet is not just a criminal…”

“You met because he tried to rob you,” Regulus interjected. Remus glared at him.

Sirius stood from his place on the settee beside Remus and began pacing in front of the fireplace. “We have to tell one of them. They’re father and son, I’d be cruel to keep them apart.”

Remus scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling uncomfortably transparent having divulged the second life he’d been living to the two people who would understand the least. Despite the Black brothers’ social standing, neither had offered the slightest hint that they judged Remus’ actions. Sirius’ only issue had been that Remus didn’t come to him when he realised that payment in full wasn’t suited to his situation. That comment only reminded Remus that he was talking to an heir and that how much Sirius cared wasn’t indicative of how much he understood. It wasn’t just money; it was pride and class and it was the ability to say “I did it all myself”. Remus had forgone the ability to say that when he agreed to continue his residence at the Potters’ without paying board. He couldn’t take Sirius’ wealth, too.

“We haven’t met Leopold. We don’t know what sort of person he is. Perhaps he won’t be a suitable father, perhaps he doesn’t want to be. He might already know that Thaddeus exists and want nothing to do with him.” Regulus said matter-of-factly.

Sirius strode over to Regulus, folding his arms and looking down at the boy in the oversized armchair with a back so tall it rivaled Sirius in height. In all fairness, that wasn’t hard to do. “Have you forgotten what a good person he is? We spent our childhood with him, how can you act like he’s a stranger?”

“We don’t know if he has changed or what his life looks like. We didn’t even know Leopold isn’t his first name.” Regulus responded, looking up at Sirius, whose shoulders heaved. “We must speak with him first, then Remus will decide if Thaddeus is to know.”

“He will.” Remus interrupted, causing Sirius to turn back to him, chin jutting out minutely in a poor attempt to control his passion. “I will tell him. I’ve no right to keep something like this from him.”

Sirius crossed his arms again, leaning on the side of the armchair. Posed as they were, the Black brothers looked unreal. Remus was almost tempted to force them to freeze so he may capture them. It was absurd that the only woman Regulus had interacted with was Pandora, and Remus was quite sure there was no attraction there. Something told Remus neither Regulus nor Sirius were keen to follow in their parents’ marital footsteps. “Say Reg is right, won’t it hurt the child? To know his father is alive and doesn’t want him?”

“Perhaps, but he’s old enough to make decisions surrounding their relationship,” Remus replied, that sensation of being heard but not listened to creeping into his chest.

“You don’t understand what it is to be unwanted by your father. You don’t understand just how agonising it is. I was Fleet’s age when I refused to return home.” Sirius responded cooly, causing hot frustration to break out in Remus like hives.

“No, but I understand what it is to not know your father.” Remus thought back to how Lord Potter had shown him the photograph with Remus’ father in the background. If Lord Potter had actively kept such an image from Remus, Remus wouldn’t know how to feel. No, Lord Potter doesn’t owe Remus a viewing of the image, but it would feel as though he wasn’t trusting Remus with his own parentage; as if Lord Potter was withholding a decision Remus didn’t even know was available. “We don’t know if we’ll find Leopold. I’m sure we will, but let’s not argue now. Besides, it really isn’t up to either of you. You don’t know Fleet.”

Sirius swallowed, the tension resolved, and sat back down beside Remus. “Tomorrow we’ll search. We’ll check the churches and the business books for Van Brouwers.” Sirius leaned over to the small table in front of the settee, pulling out one side of its surface until Remus realised it was actually a liquor cabinet. “But first…”

Sirius retrieved three glasses, passing two to Remus and Regulus. Remus held his out, waiting for Sirius to fill it with whiskey. “Go on then?”

Sirius smirked. “Only if you’ll play a game. Reg?”

Remus rolled his eyes, waiting for Regulus to say what idiots they were and to slink off to some dingy, gothic room, but instead, Regulus said “What game?”

“We’ll take turns stating something we have never done, and if the others have, they must drink.” Sirius grinned, taking the other two glasses back and filling them enough that one would be able to take the liquid in one gulp. “I’ve never…exposed myself in public.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Is this the best idea? We’re hopefully meeting Leopold tomorrow…”

“Have you, Moony?” Remus clutched his glass a little tighter before chucking it back and eliciting a gasp from Sirius. “Moony! When? What?”

“Don’t pretend you haven’t had your own share of rendezvous,” Remus said. “I’ve never bedded anyone at school.”

Remus thought Sirius might drink, and he did, but Remus didn’t expect Regulus to throw his head back, let alone join in at all. Sirius gasped for a second time, eyes wide. He leaned over to slap Regulus’ knee, mouth stretched into a shocked gawk. “Reggie! I was joking about Barty. Who was it?”

Regulus flexed his jaw, glancing down into his glass. “We should question you first. Is James Potter really as much of a sex god as everyone says?”

Sirius reeled back, and if he hadn’t breathed all the air from his lungs out through his nose, he might have gasped again. “No!” Sirius shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, no, no, no. Prongs is my brother! Eughhhh Reg, that’s foul.”

Remus frowned. “Who’s going around saying Prongs is a sex god? I’m quite sure he’s always waited for Lily.”

“Has he?” Regulus said, before clearing his throat. “Well, I heard the sex god rumour at school.”

“From who?” Sirius asked, now recovered.

“I don’t know, and it’s my turn to ask a question now,” Regulus muttered.

Sirius put up his hands. “Absolutely not. Who did you bed? Did you sneak Pandora in?”

“Putain d'enfer, Sirius, no. We’re related-”

“We’re Blacks-”

“It’s none of your business. My question is…I’ve never been scolded by the police.” both Sirius and Remus drank. “I don’t even want to know,” Regulus murmured.

Sirius pondered for a moment, brows knitted as he calculated. Finally, Sirius grinned devilishly. “I’ve never bedded Barty Crouch Junior.”

Remus cringed, as Regulus started to swirl the whiskey in his glass. He didn’t raise it to his lips. The silence threatened to give Remus tinnitus. “Well, this was a jolly ol’ time, but we should sleep.” Remus pushed off the settee, hauling Sirius up with him before he could protest. “Goodnight, Reg.”

“Regulus Arcturus B-”

“Oh, shut up.” Remus groaned as Regulus' lip curled. “Let’s go, Padfoot.”

Remus dragged Sirius up the stairs and down the hallway, shoving him into the master bedroom. Sirius turned on him, a flat expression on his face. “You can let go of my wrist, I won’t run back down there.”

“Oh,” Remus said, quickly dropping Sirius’ arm. “Why were you so desperate to know, anyway? He’s your brother, isn’t that odd?”

Sirius flopped on the bed, kicking off his shoes as Remus closed the door, then wondered if it was actually best to leave it open. No, it wasn’t. “Hmmm…yes. But…I think it might have something to do with why he wasn’t allowed to finish at Eton.”

Remus tossed his blouse on the floor, replacing it with the crumpled nightshirt he’d left on the floor before abandoning his trousers as well. “...what?”

Sirius snapped his mouth shut. “Nothing. Just…you shouldn’t leave your nightclothes on the floor. It’s…dusty.” Sirius coughed, running a hand through the front of his hair. Remus loved the way it fell back in his face. “Tell me about your public nudity.”

“No.”

“I’ll tell you who I bedded.”

“I don’t want to hear about you sneaking Mary into school, I live with her,” Remus said, shivering as he wrapped himself in the quilt. Grimmauld Place was nothing if not terribly draughty.

“It wasn’t Mary,” Sirius said, kicking Remus so he could weasel under the covers too. If Remus wasn’t so damn cold he’d have acted rabid over it.

I’m going to regret this. “Who, then?”

“You’ll tell me yours?”

No. Do not. Absolutely not. Never- “Yes.”

Throw yourself off a cliff. “Alright. Swear you’ll never tell anyone. Not Prongs, not Wormtail. Certainly not Marlene. Promise?”

“Why would Marlene-”

“Promise?”

Remus sighed. He couldn’t deal with yet another mystery. They were starting to make Sherlock Holmes look pathetic with all the conundrums they’d fallen into. “I promise. I’m surprised you’ve kept it from James.”

“You’ll understand.” Sirius took a deep breath. Remus had never seen him squirm before, but he could barely keep still. Remus had never seen a lot of Sirius before, but he’d imagined it all. His waist if it were entirely bare and how it would look put together with the visage of his chest and how his stomach hair would run and taper and…this is why you must throw yourself off a cliff. Remus subtly strained his arms, shifting his hips so that he was lying on his stomach, the discomfort a punishment. “It was Daniel McKinnon.”

“What? What! What? Padfoot! You…oh my…aye, I won’t be telling Marlene. Christ.” Remus huffed, startled by his reaction as much as the news. “When did…how…he’s older than us…is he?”

“No. I think he was experimenting. It was only once. It was just fun for both of us, and it wasn’t all that…sensual.” Sirius shrugged. “Other boys did things such as that, too. The whole school can’t be sexual deviants, can they?”

Remus exhaled, finally able to return to his side again. “I don’t know.”

“Now you. Who was your rendevous?” Sirius grinned, candlelight flashing gold shadows across his face.

“You don’t even know him, so why does it matter?” Remus complained.

“Him!” Sirius exclaimed in triumph, having caught Remus. But, once he realised, his face fell. “Oh. So…was that after the rock?”

Remus grimaced, sliding a hand over his nose. “Yes.”

“You were young, then?”

“Yes.”

“Did he force you?”

“No.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.”

“But you were never unclothed? You said that, didn’t you?”

“We were never unclothed entirely…it wasn’t…”

“Okay,” Sirius whispered. Remus closed his eyes, not wanting to look at Sirius anymore. He felt pathetic. The way Sirius spoke about it all made him seem so confident. Why wouldn’t he be? He was undeniably ethereal and experienced. He could make his trysts into whatever he wanted. He had control. Remus had to clean up the shards of glass from a vase he let someone who didn’t even want him break, meanwhile, everyone else’s vases were intact and full of blooming, bright flowers.

Remus had to force his eyes to stay closed when he felt cool fingers wrap around his, coaxing his hand away from his nose. Sirius started to trace the jagged, taut skin, running a feather-light pad from the inner corner of Remus’ eye down to the edge of his nostril on the opposite side of his nose. Remus swore his heart actually physically stopped beating when Sirius’ warm, damp breath slid across his face before the cautious caress of his bottom lip pressed into Remus’ nose.

Sirius and Remus jolted apart as the bedroom door swung open, Regulus standing at the frame with a lamp in his hand. “Why is there a pile of scorched…something on the driveway? It looks like a murdered animal.”

“You’ve found a mirror, Reg. Riveting, I’m aware, but you must suppress your horror for the night so that we may all sleep.” Sirius said quickly, sitting up. “Moony was right, we need sleep.”

Regulus glanced between them. “Yes, that seems to be your plan.”

“It is,” Sirius growled, leaning over the side of the bed to pick up his shoe and lob it at Regulus, who shut the door in time to avoid being hit.

“Your brother is creepy.”

“So now you understand why I’m confused about how anyone could wish to bed him.” Sirius sighed, snuffing the candle. “Nighty night, Moons.”

Remus feigned a yawn. The rocky bottom of that cliff you were meant to jump off is looking mighty comfortable right now. “Night.”

---

It had taken them another two days to find Leopold. They’d checked the local banks and churches and any other places that might have records of people, but they’d come up empty-handed. They weren’t even sure where Leopold lived, or if he still lived at all. None of them had wanted to address that possibility.

It was by chance that they’d found him. Sirius, bored and frustrated, had decided to give Remus a tour of London. There were Sunday markets set up along a large street in Mayfair on this particular day. Shades made from colourful striped sheets were strung across the temporary wooden frames, shielding the busy vendors from the sun that had decided to grace London with its presence against a clear, bright sky. Perched around a fountain were a group of children playing various string and wind instruments. A little girl held the front paws of a cat, dancing to the jig as the animal struggled against her grip.

“Ooh, Moons, look! These are nice.” Sirius said happily, dragging Remus over to a stall with various silver jewellery. Sirius started chatting away with the vendor, trying on some chunky rings that looked like more masculine renditions of the ones Dorcas wore. Sirius didn’t seem to mind when the vendor told him they weren’t real silver and that she’d made them herself. Remus’ eye caught on a brooch that had crystal beads threaded over a silver frame to form the shape of a raspberry surrounded by leafy vines. Remus thumbed it, thinking it was pretty and that Mum would like it. She’d probably wear it to church and brag about how Remus had brought it home for her. Or she’d wear it while making jam and point to it when Remus came into the kitchen, tracking mud everywhere, and she’d make a silly tradition of it. In a fleeting vision, a child’s fingers grasped the brooch, calling it “Granny’s jam brooch”, but something about the image made Remus feel like an intruder in his own mind; like he wasn’t allowed to see such a thing.

Remus put his hands back in his pockets, turning back to the market folk and wondering how much longer they’d look for Leopold, how much time they’d waste putting their lives on hold for such a pursuit. Or rather, they were fabricating more time together by slowing the painting’s progress. Sirius came to stand next to Remus, and just as Remus was about to ask him where they would go next, Sirius slipped something into Remus’ palm. Remus looked down to find the raspberry brooch. “Padfoot, no I-”

“Shhh,” Sirius said, weaving through the crowds towards the fountain where the road diverged. “Tell your mother "thank you" for lending me her son.”

“Sop,” Remus mumbled, pocketing the brooch and smiling like a lunatic.

An hour later, Remus and Sirius were walking along the side of a tall, brick wall and sharing a bag of cherries. The streets in Mayfair were much straighter and wider, appearing planned and precise. The buildings were square, and white and tall, and those who roamed the street did so at a leisurely pace, wearing fine walking habits and content smiles that indicated they could spend all day outside without neglecting any responsibilities. Appearing to the public was their responsibility, Remus supposed.

Remus and Sirius stopped before a gate of intricate, metal lace. An arch above the gap in the wall had the words “WHITEHEAD” and “COLLEGE” formed on each gate. Remus looked around, recognition seizing him. “I see where we are. It was night last I was here.”

When Sirius didn’t respond, Remus looked at him, but Sirius was frowning at a notice board mounted on the wall. Remus came to see what he was peering at as Sirius pointed to a flyer tacked in the center of the board. In printed letters:

ACADEMICS TUTOR
Mr. Thaddeus L. Van Bouwer - Graduate of Cambridge
Tutor for female and male students that are wishing to excel in their secondary studies so as to pursue higher education.

13 Chadburyfield Street, Knightsbridge
Rates to be discussed personally

---

“You’re quite the detectives, then. I’m sorry I was so hard to find.” Leopold smiled, gesturing to the teapot he’d set on the table and the teacups in front of Sirius, Remus, and Regulus. Leopold looked older than Remus had pictured, perhaps in his late thirties, though he had a distinguished air that seemed to age him. “I apologise for the lack of comfort. You’ve come to my tutoring office, you see.”

“It’s alright.” Sirius smiled, shifting in his wooden desk chair. It was obvious they were in a classroom as bookshelves lined the walls similar to the study at Grimmauld Place, though these were a bright, warm wood and the inhabitants were vibrant textbooks. The long desk in the middle that they were all sat at, Leopold on one side and the boys on the other, must be for his students, while a smaller desk in the corner that was flooded with paper and various inkwells must be Leopold’s. “You live in Knightsbridge?”

Leopold’s face fell. He was quite handsome, in a dignified, classic way. He would have been charming in his youth. Alphard had taste, then. “No, I live in Soho. Most of my students are from Whitehead or the neighbouring boys’ schools, so my office is here. I do alright for myself, but Alphard was…”

“We understand,” Sirius said quickly. “We thought that might have been the case.”

Leopold smiled weakly, his poise cracking momentarily as he started to drum his fingers on the desk, though he stopped quickly. “Not that it isn’t lovely to see you boys, well, men. And nice to meet you too, Mr. Lupin, but how may I help you?”

Sirius looked at Remus, raising an eyebrow. Remus cleared his throat, glancing at a blank Regulus before answering. “We thought we might help you, actually, Mr Van Brouwer.”

Leopold raised an eyebrow. “Please, Leopold is fine. Everyone calls me by my middle name, Thaddeus never quite fit me. Do continue.”

So he wasn’t so ashamed of Alphard, so much so that he used a different name. That was good. Was that good? Remus wasn’t sure what to say now. After Remus had spent a minute debating how to begin, Regulus spoke. “Were you aware of your son?”

Blunt. Leopold seemed like a sensible man, so being straightforward seemed right. Leopold smiled, properly this time, and nodded. “I was.” Remus wanted to jump across the table and strangle the stupid, haughty bastard and scream Then why the bloody hell haven’t you ever spoken to him!?! but from somewhere deep within, he found restraint. “Why do you ask?”

“Because we know him. We can…well…he…” Remus had started his sentence much too quickly and hadn't thought about what he was trying to say.

Sirius rested his hand on Remus' thigh. Remus stared at the table, not wanting to appear flushed. “Tell us.”

Leopold removed his lenses, tiny gold, scientific-looking things that were a bit like Lord Potter’s. “I knew his mother, Ria. Loved her, even. But not…I loved Alphard very much.” at that, Leopold looked at Sirius and Regulus, an expression in his gaze, and they both nodded. Leopold sat back, shaking his head slightly. “You knew. Of course, you’re both quite bright, and you were even as children. As I mentioned, I loved your Alphard, but Ria was my closest friend. However, there was a time when I was…confused. About Alphard. I’m not proud of my actions, but I met Ria at her work, and I did pay her, but we only spoke. This kept up, and from what you’ve told me of how you came to find my establishment, you’re aware of the receipts. There was one time when I visited, and Alphard and I had quarreled, separated momentarily beforehand, so she…well that is how our son came to be. I wasn’t in the same financial position then, so I sent Ria sums until I was sure I could get them both out. How I would explain it to Alphard, I hadn’t figured out. But I needn’t have fretted, for you know the rest.”

Sirius nodded solemnly. “Ria died before you could.”

Leopold swallowed, though his voice remained steady. “And little Thaddeus. Sixteen years ago.”

Remus and Sirius’ eyes flew to each other, wide and questioning. “He didn’t die. Is that what you were told?” Regulus said, plainly. Sirius smacked Regulus upside the head, before composing himself.

Leopold’s eyes widened, and he removed his lenses to rub at them before blinking and regaining himself. “Pardon me, but how do you know? The man who ran the...establishment..he told me-”

“I know him. Your son. He goes by Fleet. He’ll be seventeen this December. He has your eyes and your nose and your shoulders.” Remus blurted out, overwhelming himself as well as everyone else in the room. “What we need to know before we introduce you is if you’re going to take care of him. He can’t handle another heartbreak, so you better stay away if that’s the case. I'm going to tell him about you either way, but if you...” Remus hadn’t meant to sound gruff, be he needed to be firm. Fleet meant more to him than Sirius and Regulus’ seven-year-old memories of Leopold. "He's a good kid."

Leopold remained still. Not an inch of him moved, but his mind was speeding. Finally, with a thick breath, he clasped his hands over his knee and said “I have been alone for seven years. I made the mistake of passing up Alphard. I’ll be damned if I do the same with Tha-...Fleet.” Leopold stood, extending his hand not to Sirius or Regulus, but to Remus. “You’ve my word, Mr Lupin.”

Remus looked to Sirius, who nodded for Remus to shake Leopold’s hand, and so he did. “Call me Remus.”

Leopold sat back down again, adjusting his tweed jacket and sipping his tea that had been cold for the better part of an hour. Sirius licked his lip, hesitating. “You…regret leaving Alphard? We found your letter. The one in which you mention that you wished to remain friends.”

“We don’t judge you,” Regulus said, as emotionlessly as he had every other sentence he’d ever uttered. The sentiment was the sole warmth of Regulus’ words.

“I do regret it. I thought I was doing him good, making sure he wasn’t giving up his title and familial status.” Leopold replied, gazing wistfully out of the window that overlooked a street as white as the one the markets were situated on. Below them, the steady clop of horses and calls of friends greeting each other echoed into the afternoon sky having bounced between sandstone walls. It was strange to hear the constant soundscape of a bustling city given how quaint and quiet the Potters’ residence was.

“You were worth more to him than any of that,” Sirius said surely, though he implied no malice or disdain. He didn’t even look at Leopold when he spoke; he looked at Remus. When he did finally turn back to face across the table, he said “I think any sane Black would give up the family name for anything really.”

“That was always something I never understood about him. How it meant so little to him when I’d grown up knowing what “so little” really meant.” Leopold observed the Black brothers’ faces. “I never disliked him for it, nor thought him ignorant. I simply didn’t comprehend it. I do now.”

Sirius licked his lip again, bobbing his head contemplatively. Regulus cleared his throat. “We should take our leave. We do not wish to return home in the dark. Thank you for your hospitality, Mr Van Brouwer.” Regulus pulled a card from his pocket with Grimmauld Place’s address scrawled on it.

Leopold stood quickly from the desk. “Before you depart, I must show you something.” he scurried, though somehow still elegantly, over to his smaller desk in the corner and retrieved something from the drawer. He came back around the table to stand by Regulus. “Here.”

Regulus’ gaze softened, but when Sirius peered around to look at the inside of the tiny frame, he cracked a wide grin. “When was this?”

“1888. May, I believe.”

Sirius took the frame from Regulus, turning it around for Remus to see. Remus couldn’t help but smile too. Alphard was smaller than he’d been picturing, and perched on Leopold’s knee. He had the hint of a cheeky smirk while Leopold was traditionally regal looking, as most were for their photographs. Looking at them felt peculiarly like looking into the future. “You Blacks all have the same face, don’t you?” Remus huffed quietly, holding up the image next to Sirius and Regulus.

Leopold chuckled, taking the frame and setting it back in the drawer. “It felt like I was seeing a ghost and seeing double when you two walked in.”

“We’ve given you much to think about,” Sirius said ruefully as Leopold opened the door for them. Remus helped Sirius into his coat. “I hope it hasn’t been too much.”

“Perhaps. But worth it.” Leopold replied wisely as they stepped out into the cooler air of the hallway. The apartment complex was filled with businesses, they’d found, and it had required some navigation to find Leopold’s office. As they nodded goodbye, unsure what was an appropriate farewell and knowing nothing would feel comfortable anyway, Leopold looked at Sirius earnestly. “I hope I’m not too disappointing. It has been a long while since we last saw each other.”

“No,” Regulus said, though he was already a few paces toward the stairwell. “Alphard would have thought your classroom to be enriching. We will contact you again. Farewell.”

Under the bulk of his coat, and maybe it had been hidden in the folds of the fabric, Remus found the courage to take Sirius’ hand.

---
I never understood
what made your lips on my neck,
such an intimate affair,

until your teeth grazed my pulse and I realised,

you could tear out my throat,
and make me bleed out in your arms,

but instead
you chose to kiss.

Regulus had gone to bed early, taking supper alone in his bedchamber. Remus supposed he was processing the tidal wave of information they’d absorbed that day. Remus almost felt sorry for him, and wondered if they should call Pandora or Barty or Evan to come be with him, but then again, Regulus would not enjoy that. Oddly, Remus even thought about calling James. For Sirius’ sake. But Sirius had Remus, didn’t he?

Remus wondered how James might comfort Sirius. Did Sirius even want comfort? He’d let Remus take his hand in the apartment hallway. Should Remus say nothing and…? And what? What would James do? Remus wasn’t James; Remus was far too attracted to Sirius to be James. “How do you…feel?” Remus asked finally, cringing as soon as the sound left his mouth. He was appearing emotionally inept. That wasn’t inaccurate.

“I’m sick of it all. We should run away and join the circus or become pirates.” Sirius said, setting his silver flask on the nightstand after he’d taken a generous swig. “What do you think, my Moony? Piracy?”

Remus scoffed, kicking off his shoes and trying to count how many nights this would be sleeping next to Sirius Black. Six? Five? Seven? He'd lost track. “I think you need to look the part.”

“Fine,” Sirius replied, tearing off his waistcoat. “There. Pirates still wear blouses, don’t they?”

“Not ones of fine fabric like that,” Remus said, sitting cross-legged and leaning against the headboard of the bed. He leaned over to take a sip from the leftover whiskey, enjoying the sting of it in his throat and the warmth as it pooled in his belly.

Sirius kneeled by the fireplace, dipping his finger in the soot. “Pirates use soot around their eyes to keep the sun out of them. The Egyptians did the same thing with kohl.” Sirius smeared his pinky under one of his eyes. “Do I make a pretty pirate?”

“No, you’ve messed it up.” Remus huffed, gesturing on his own eye where Sirius had allowed the soot to smudge too far. “You’ll get an infection if you’re not careful.”

“You come and do it then,” Sirius said, moving from perching on the backs of his calves to sitting properly on the floor. When Sirius didn’t move again, Remus hesitantly made his way over to sit in front of the fireplace across from Sirius.

“You’re an imbecile,” Remus said quietly, shaking his head as he took some soot on his own pinky finger. “Hold still.”

Remus used his clean hand to steady Sirius’ chin. “Do you want my eyes open or closed?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what will make it look best?” Sirius grumbled lightly.

“Nothing, you’re putting ashes on your eyes.” another grumble. “Fine…uh…open. Look up.” Remus shakily dragged the tip of his finger under Sirius’ eye, awestruck by the feeling of those thick, dark lashes brushing against Remus’ nail. As gently as Sirius had tended to his knuckles, Remus pushed Sirius’ eye closed to do his top lid before repeating the process on the other eye. Remus could feel Sirius’ exhales from his nose ghost down the inside of Remus’ wrist. “There.”

“Pretty?” Sirius asked. “Pretty enough that some pirates would let me join them despite the fact I have no skills for life at sea?”

Remus leaned away, bracing himself back on his arms which were stretched behind him. “Eh. Maybe.”

Sirius took some more soot on his finger and held it out. “Do you want to match with me? We could go together that way.”

“Oooh yes please, matching infections! How romantic.” Remus said as Sirius crawled closer, taking Remus’ answer as affirmation. Remus wouldn’t be able to deny Sirius anything anyway, including smothering his eyes with fireplace excrement.

Sirius held Remus by the back of the neck instead of his chin. Sirius’ nails were slightly longer than Remus’ but they weren’t sharp or uncomfortable, and even if they were, Remus couldn’t care less so long as they were Sirius’. Remus was beginning to realise just how much he would endure for Sirius’ sake. A scratch was nothing, a pleasure, even. It dawned on Remus, then. With Sirius’ hands on him, Remus became aware of the fact he was willing to rip his own heart out if Sirius wanted it. He was willing to leave it in London even if the rest of Remus’ body went home. If Remus returned to Yorkshire never knowing what could have been, never knowing the feeling of Sirius, of every corner and crevice and inch of his body and his mind, Remus’ heart would be too heavy to carry anyway. The regret would kill him more than the loss. At once, while the feeling gripped him so intensely, Remus stilled Sirius’ hand.

There it was. Sirius looked at him, eyes wide and searching for meaning as Remus held Sirius’ finger inches from his mouth. How would he say it? What would enunciate the sorrow of all the time they’d already wasted? It turned out that words of antiquity were the only justice. “The gods envy us. They envy us because we’re mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.”

Sirius’ thumb glided over Remus’ lower lip, trailing back and forth until both their skin was shiny and lubricious from the contact. His eyes had never been greyer against the black of his eyeliner. “I’m scared.”

Remus waited to speak, terrified to disrupt Sirius’ thumb and have it leave his mouth, but the silence was too deafening. Remus grabbed Sirius’ wrist so he could still hold the coolness near him and never have to crave it unnecessarily. “Of me?”

“Of what you could do to me. Of what I’d let you do.” Sirius replied, barely audible. He place his other hand over Remus’, their fingers so entwined Remus wouldn’t have known which were his if he weren’t wearing bandages.

“And what is that?”

“If I weren't already broken, you’d break me. You could tear me apart.” Sirius said, breathing heavily between the words that were almost gasps.

“No, I couldn’t. No I couldn't. I’d die before that.”

“Merde,” Sirius mumbled, surging forward as their lips finally met. Sirius was much softer than Remus could have ever imagined, his jaw smoother than Remus’ as Remus cupped his cheeks. Sirius’ knees found their way to either side of Remus’ hips, and Remus shoved his spare hand into the back of Sirius’ hair in response. Sirius moaned at the sensation, the mere sound causing Remus’ head to spin. This. This was where he was meant to be. Under Sirius, against Sirius, flush against Sirius, Sirius, Sirius, Sirius. He'd die satisfied and happy if he died then. He could be dragged to heaven or hell having not even lived two decades, and he'd gush to whoever he met about how he couldn't have asked for more.

When they finally parted, Remus could barely speak, but he did. “Sirius? You aren’t broken.” Remus pulled Sirius’ face down and kissed his nose. “You’re pretty. So bloody pretty.”

“Je suis à vous,” Sirius gasped before he was kissing Remus again. This time, his hands grabbed at Remus’ waist, his touch snaking up Remus’ back as Remus dragged him closer with a hand under each thigh. Remus trailed his lips up and down Sirius’ neck, dipping his kisses into the hollows of Sirius’ collarbone and the sweet little spots of thin skin over the bone behind his ears. Sirius grappled at Remus' back, squeezing with every flick of Remus' tongue. “Combien de temps? How long have you wanted me?”

“Since before I even saw you.” Remus gasped, face still buried in Sirius’ chest. “I heard you playing before I knew it was you. I heard it when I was by your window.” Sirius steadied Remus by his jaw, forcing Remus to look up at him. “Then I saw you at the ball and I…oh, Sirius….”

Sirius traced a finger over Remus’ chest, panting and soot-shrouded eyelids heavy. “Show it to me again.” Remus tugged his shirt off, letting it drop behind him as Sirius’ lips instantly flew to Remus’ tattoo. “Will you give me a few more one day? More hidden ones just for you?”

Remus dragged his finger along the nape of Sirius' neck, watching that perfect mouth sweep across his chest. “Will you let me see the one you’ve already got?”

Sirius nodded as Remus wound his arms under Sirius' legs and hoisted them both up, causing Sirius to cackle, the sound tinged with euphoria, as he was thrown on the bed. “Moony! How did you even do that?” Sirius half moaned half laughed.

“You don’t weigh as much as the haybales I’ve spent my life lifting,” Remus murmured, loosening the waist of Sirius' trousers before tugging them down. He lowered his head, teeth grazing at the pawprint, but Sirius pulled him up again by his hair.

“Pull them all the way down.”

Chapter 31: XXXI - That Was Sirius

Chapter Text

“God may judge you, but his sins outnumber your own."
- a Tumblr post by afabbaeddel about taking more than one candy from a candy bowl that says "take one"

---

Remus woke before Sirius did. It was midday, and for once, the room’s light was soft and grey, void of all harshness. The way the day penetrated the crack in the heavy curtains and the room’s coldness touched only Remus’ cheeks, for he was warm and tender under the quilt, reminded him much of that morning in the Potters’ mezzanine. He’d woken to find Sirius strewn across the desk chair, a position Remus would observe in the music room for many hours to come, and the only thing Remus had felt was hatred. Remus looked down at Sirius, whose hair was draped across the pillow and Remus’ chest, and whose hand lay limp against the bend where Remus’ neck met his shoulders. If Remus had had two wits about him back then, he would have made friends with Sirius the moment he apologised, and they would have been close friends much faster and then they would have been here much sooner and much less time would have been wasted. Remus could almost cry thinking of it all, but the tears wouldn’t come while he was in Sirius’ arms. Like any creature who hadn’t been wanted, he didn’t know what to feel when he wasn’t being held. With everyone else, the contact had given him permission to feel dirty and discarded and repulsed. Remus couldn’t fathom any of those emotions settling in his chest next to Sirius’ head.

“What time is it?” murmured Sirius, roused. Remus moved to cup Sirius’ jaw. He held Sirius there, just staring and losing himself in those glacial eyes he’d known for so long yet never been able to truly admire so closely. Now he took all the liberties he was allowed. “Moony? What’s wrong?”

Remus shook his head. “Nothing is wrong. You’re just…” Remus took his time with Sirius, for he’d been too overcome to be anything but frantic the night before. He started by kissing Sirius’ eyelids, then those two freckles on his cheekbone, and his lips again for good measure, and then up the impossibly soft skin of his inner arms all the way down to his wrists. In some secret and freakish way, it thrilled Remus to feel the flutter of a pulse under his lips. Reality. “Let me look at you properly.”

Sirius nodded, allowing Remus to pull back the quilt and drink the pale sight of him. It slipped down Remus’ throat like honey; thick and sweet. Remus ran his hands up the sides of Sirius’ waist and over the valley between Sirius’ hips, marveling at the sensation of dips and divets and fine hairs, before pushing them down his thighs. “Now you.”

Remus swallowed but acquiesced. He’d normally feel uncomfortable with such an examination, but as Sirius looked him up and down, his eyes softened and his lip curled and Remus had never known what it was to feel beautiful until now. Sirius copied Remus, though instead of needy grasps, his touch came in light, dancing trails drawn by the tips of his fingers. They landed on Remus’ inner thigh. “What’s this one from?”

Remus looked down at the jagged, purple skin and huffed fondly. “During the hottest summer the farm had ever seen, I swam in the stream. I sat on a rock and cut myself.”

Sirius smiled, the same way he had a million times before as he posed in the music room, though none of them compared to this one. Sirius started to shiver, so Remus pulled the quilt around Sirius’ shoulders as Sirius sat in his lap. “Your face is lovely, too. You’re quite adorable, my Moony.”

Sirius leaned down, one cool hand on Remus’ chest and the other in his hair as their shared warmth permeated the quilt once more. Remus, finding godly strength from within, pulled away. Sirius whined, leaning in again, but Remus put a finger to those plush lips, fascinated by the way his hands looked against something so delicate that he almost forgot what he was going to say. “Why do you call me Moony?”

“For a foolish reason,” Sirius murmured, struggling against Remus’ finger.

“Tell me or I won’t kiss you.” Sirius let the impulsive thoughts win and bit Remus’ finger. “I told you that you’d tell me one day. In the music room, in one of our sessions. Don’t make a liar out of me.”

“Fine, but only if you don’t laugh.” Sirius sighed, sitting back against Remus’ hips again and fiddling with the fuzz on Remus’ chest. Remus didn’t know how much longer he could hold his ground with such weight right there.

“I won’t. Tell me.”

Sirius scrubbed his hands over his face. “Do you remember the night we all snuck out to The Three Broomsticks?”

“Yes…?” Remus replied, unsure what exactly Sirius was referring to.

“Well, when you told me you’re from Yorkshire, and you said “Yorkshire, Padfoot”, the moonlight was behind your face and I could only see your profile but it outlined everything and I just…you said Padfoot so I thought…Moony?” Sirius said quickly. “Then I couldn’t change it. You were Moony in my head and I said it aloud to Wormtail once then he said it in front of Prongs and I was too embarrassed to admit where it came from because it’s so silly but…that’s it. You see why I haven’t told you?”

Remus stifled the laughter he'd made a promise against. It really was so silly. That was it? All along? Just…the moonlight? “You wanted me then?”

“Before then. I thought you were rather sweet-looking at my family’s ball, but I realised when I saw you on the mezzanine.” Sirius said, grinning at the memory as he played with Remus’ long fingers, rubbing the knuckles. Remus loved it; loved how casual it was. That this was them now. Them.

“When you saw me on the mezzanine…?” Remus said before his eyes widened. “When you broke in, stole one of my drawings, and then invited yourself out with Marlene and I?”

Sirius cackled, nodding. “Yes! And you hadn’t a shirt and you wrapped yourself in your sheet. You were so startled.” Then, seriously, or siriusly, “I thought you looked like a Greek god, with your makeshift toga. Like a Michaelangelo creation.”

Remus sat up to kiss Sirius again, smiling into his lips at the feeling of their bare chests against each other, the ripple of Sirius’ muscles as he wound his arms around Remus’ waist. “So much time wasted. I never knew you wanted me.” Remus’ voice was gravelly.

Sirius scoffed. “Then you’re a damned fool.”

“You never told me.”

“I showed you.”

“I have cataracts.” Sirius slapped Remus’ shoulder lightly at the lame jest.

Sirius cleared his throat dramatically as Remus’ hands settled back on his hips, thumbing his pelvis. “I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter, and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir their dust into consciousness, to wake their ashes into pain.” Sirius leaned forward to kiss Remus’ forehead. “There. I said it. Did you hear me?”

“The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history.” Remus sighed, laying his head back on the pillow to stare at the bed’s canopy, though he tightened his grip on Sirius to remind himself this was all true. “There’ll never be another like Wilde.”

Sirius shifted off Remus’ lap, the weight of him replaced with his warmth as he nestled into Remus’ side, letting his free arm roam and wander absently. “The book is terribly sinful, you know. Dorian and Basil kiss in the original copy, though we’ll never get to read it. Even so, the entire text is riddled with insinuations.”

“The books the world calls immoral are the books that show the world its own shame. That is all.” Remus replied, smug with his recollection.

“He has a quote for everything.” Sirius agreed, the wandering arm stretching across Remus reached for the cigarettes and lighter on the accent table. Sirius stuck one in Remus’ mouth to still it as the lighter’s flame leaped free. “I don’t want to leave here.”

“This bed or this house? I love this bed, but we can be in any bed together. This house is spooky.” Remus said, his exhale the same grey as the room.

When Sirius didn’t immediately take his turn, Remus turned to face him fully, brow now creased. “No. I meant here as in…now. We don’t have forever.” Sirius’ throat, white and exposed as Sirius lay on his back again, bobbed. “This was all so…much.”

“I was too much?” Remus said worriedly.

“No,” Sirius said firmly. “You were beautiful.”

“Leopold? That was too much?”

Sirius bit his lip, pink and white under the oscillating pressure of his teeth against the skin. Remus had felt those. Though Sirius was literally naked in front of him, Remus felt his heart drop at the thrill of remembering the night before. Sirius' cheekbones fed into the angle of his eyebrows flawlessly. How was he human? “Perhaps he…was not enough. No. He was. Our meeting wasn’t. I wanted to ask him so many things. I wanted to know….I want to know how he lives with it. How he doesn’t blame himself. Even I blamed myself for it. I thought I could have said something.”

“You don’t know that he doesn’t,” Remus responded, dropping his voice into a soothing tone as he coaxed Sirius into lying across his lap since Sirius wasn’t so keen on smoking with him anymore. Remus used his fingers to gently pry the knots in Sirius’ hair apart. After all, it had been Remus who’d put them there.

“I blame him. Just a bit.”

“I know,” Remus whispered.

Sirius shuffled to lie flat on his back. He looked up at Remus, the nape of his neck curved around the shape of Remus’ thigh like a puzzle piece finding its adjacent despite the sheets between them. “Do you wish to distract me?”

“Do you really think you must ask?” quipped Remus, already leaning down.

Sirius kissed like he’d been starved his whole life. In some ways, and with the concept of sincerity in mind, maybe he had. Maybe they both had. “No, but it was fun to watch your face fall for a second.”

“Shut up.”

“Shut me up.”

Sirius was still a co*cky minx; naught had changed about that. But in an untold way that made Remus feel liquidus and sugary, it didn’t bother him anymore.

---

“Will I come in with you?”

Fleet shook his head, hooded eyes not straying from the door. “T.L.V.B?” The gold plaque on the door was shiny and fresh compared to the well-loved space. It was like a bright fish, scales flashing in a swamp that knew creatures humans were unaware of. Someone on the storey above them coughed. The sound of wooden beams clapping and grinding echoed in the distance; an old fashion printing press.

“You’ve been practicing your letters then?” Remus asked, leaning on the wall in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “Yes, that’s right.”

Fleet crossed his arms and swung on his feet. The business complex, upon further inspection, was an old, Tudor-style house that had been converted into apartments. This was glaringly apparent as the walls offered no shield against the embryonic autumn gale that sliced through the hallway’s air in sheets of intangible sleet. “So…I just knock? And we talk?”

“Yes,” Remus said, and though he wasn’t keen on having Fleet hooked on substance abuse, he reached for the bedside flask he’d had the bright idea to slip into his coat. It was too late to think such things, anyway, for Fleet now had four tattoos, and he’d endured them all with a bottle in his hand. “Here. Just a bit to loosen you up. You don’t want to be drunk meeting your…”

“Naye,” Fleet mumbled before he took a few steady swigs and returned the flask. “So I’ll…aye.” Fleet raised a knobbly knuckle to the door and rapped on it twice in heavy thuds.

“Christ, are you trying to scare him out of his skin? He’ll think the bobbies have come for him.” Remus joked.

“Why would the bobb-” Fleet’s saucer-eyed delivery was truncated as the door swung open to reveal Leopold.

Leopold’s gaze didn’t leave Fleet as he said “Hello Remus and…Fleet. Would you like to come in?”

Remus coughed, gesturing lamely with his hand. “No, I best…I promised Sirius that I’d be home so. Goodbye.”

Remus glanced at Fleet, and to his relief, he was met with a nod, the surest movement of Fleet's since they'd arrived in the posh neighbourhood. As Remus turned back towards the narrow staircase, he heard the door close again, and the russet wood hallway was plunged into a vacuum, save for the light padding of Remus’ shoes on the red Persian-esque carpet.

Selfishly, Remus wished it had taken longer to find Leopold, that Sirius had forgotten about the portrait for a while more, and that they had many more weeks with Grimmauld Place to themselves. He wished he could pause life. Out on the street, Remus wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck as he watched leaves of bronze, copper, and rust fly about the grey of the road. Grey, grey, grey, and yet it was such a lively colour in Sirius' irises. Remus went to tell himself off for thinking such a thing, that Sirius didn’t want him. But oozing from his chest were the words yes, he does. It would be safer to ignore them, but not easier. It would be safe in the way that two guns pointing at each other was safe.

Remus didn’t quite know the extent of Sirius’ feelings. It was certain Sirius didn’t feel so attached to Remus specifically as Remus felt to him. No, Sirius was co*cky, and some might say relatively vain so it would only make sense that Sirius enjoyed the attention Remus gave him. Really, what else about Remus was there to enjoy? And while Remus wasn’t the most charming and alluring man on earth, he wasn’t bad looking, so it would make sense that Sirius would notice the physical qualities Remus did possess. And they were convenient, too. While Remus was in London, there would be a million reasons for them to see each other, so why wouldn’t they fill that time with…fulfilling actions? No relationships such as theirs ever actually meant anything. They’d find wives someday.

The horrific truth was that it didn’t matter what Remus told himself logically, he couldn’t rewire his mind to match it. He’d read Hamlet a month ago, and he’d underlined “stars” in “Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.” and he’d scrawled Sirius’ name for that was Sirius, and when Poe said “Tell me every terrible thing you ever did and let me love you anyway” that was Sirius, and when Twain said ”There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable.” that was Sirius. It was all Sirius and suddenly the many hissed syllables in his name had made a home for themselves on Remus’ tongue; the tranquility of a kettle hissing knowing tea was to be ready soon.

But still, Sirius didn’t have to know that Remus loved him. It would probably make him uncomfortable if he ever found out. Sirius was dramatic and outward. He'd probably professed his love for James or Peter in a similar way before. However Remus was allowed Sirius would be how he’d have him. He'd take scraps of Sirius and treat them like the most extravagant meal he'd ever had in his life.

He was already indulging.

Chapter 32: XXXII - Come At The Witching Hour Of Eight

Chapter Text

Lily heard the hooves before she saw them. She quickly scrambled for a sheet of paper and scribbled down the page number and title of Hamlet before slotting it back on the shelf and dashing to the front door. McGonagall was taking brisk strides toward the front of the house, but Lily waved her off. “I’ll answer it. It’ll be Remus.”

The carriage stopped in the bend of the U-shaped driveway, stationed right by the door so that when Remus exited, it was only a few paces for Lily to run into his arms. Sure enough, as one of the sleek, severe-looking footmen opened the door that clearly belonged to a carriage of the Blacks’, Lily broke into a sprint, bunching her skirts in her fists before flinging herself into Remus’ arms. “Christ, Lils, I was just in town for a bit, not conscripted to fight the Cons.”

“I know, but I missed you!” Lily said, her voice muffled in the wool of Remus’ shoulder. He always wore the softest jerseys.

“What are you doing here?” asked Remus as Lily waved off the carriage that had started rattling down the gravel track and out of the elaborate Potter Mansion gates, disappearing behind lemony trees into the syrupy haze of England’s late autumn. The trees would be bare in a week, some even beginning to bald at the tops.

Lily started to lead Remus around the side of the house, their feet swishing through crunchy leaves. “I took breakfast with the Potters this morning.”

“I'd best say hello,” Remus replied, glancing back at the door as Lily pulled him.

“No! No, they’re all busy. Mary’s out with some boy saying “goodbye” before she goes, Effie is taking care of the Weasley twins, and Monty’s with Pete and James throwing the ball. Let’s not bother them.” Lily smiled bashfully. “Perhaps I want you to myself for just a bit. You’ve much to tell me.”

Remus smirked down at Lily, a softness in his eyes. Sometimes when he smiled, he crinkled his nose and the middle of his scar disappeared for a moment. “Alright, but you must tell me all about what being Mrs Prongs is like.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Fine. Should we go out on the lake?”

“It’ll be too cold,” Remus said, steering Lily back towards the front of the house. “I’ll greet Lady Potter very quickly and then we’ll go up to Mary’s room and sit by her fire.”

“Quick. I love Effie, but she chats.”

“Quick.”

–

Lily let her mouth hang open in a way that was far from proper, but she was quite far from caring. “The little tattoo boy is Leopold’s son?”

Remus nodded, sitting cross-legged by the fire with a mug of chocolate at his lips. “Aye. Anyway, that’s boring. How has everything here been?”

Lily put her hands to her temples and massaged them, closing her eyes and breathing out of her nose. Remus was her best friend, and she prided herself on her observant nature. She’d caught onto Regulus’ more-than-puppy-love for James, and she hardly knew Regulus! How had she missed Remus’ financial troubles and his second life? How had she believed him when he said the bruises on his face were from a simple mugging? “No, don’t you dare sit there and act like this is all normal.”

“What do you propose I do?” Remus said, stretching out his long legs so as to lean his back against the bed that was clad in the pinkest, floweriest, plushiest duvet Lily had encountered.

“Rush off to your aunt’s secluded home to wander through the woods leisurely and bake pies as any other hysterical or distressed person does?”

Remus looked over himself exaggeratedly. “Do I look like the heroine of a romance novel?”

Lily laughed, stealing a sip of the chocolate. “A Bronte might have written you. Really, though, most truly, are you alright?”

“Of course.” Remus shrugged. He smiled, but Lily could still see the middle of his scar.

Lily crawled closer to sit by Remus’ side, putting her hand on his. They were almost the same height now; Lily with her long torso and Remus with his long legs. “I don’t believe you, my dear.”

“I’m-” Remus’ fingers, ever warm, twitched under Lily’s. “I feel more for Fleet and Sirius. It wasn’t bad, and Leopold seems like a well-natured person, but…it was a lot for everyone. Sirius said that himself. But I’m alright. Nothing has changed for me.”

Lily’s heartbeat drummed in her ears. “But if Sirius is unhappy, then you are too, yes?” vicious silence. “You care about him. As I do you, and as he does James. That’s all?” She’d meant for the last sentence to be a statement. It came out as a question.

“What were you reading before I arrived?” Remus asked, completely monotone.

Lily stood, gliding over to the vanity and fiddling with her hair. For someone who was so confident in her observations, she failed to address them appropriately when the time came. “Hamlet. I enjoyed your annotations…”

“Where did you get up to?”

In the reflection of the mirror, Remus’ head of cinnamon-coloured hair was still. “Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.” That is what I last read.” Lily huffed quietly. “Shakespeare’s always been painfully relatable through the centuries, hasn’t he?”

The clock on the wall seemed to tick faster and louder. Lily had never noticed that it had tiny, wooden cats running along the top of it. Lily could remember Effie picking out certain pieces for the room so it would feel more “homely” for Mary’s first London season. She hadn’t wanted Mary to feel as though she was staying in a guest bedroom. The wind thumped against the window in strong, blunt force, sending dead leaves swirling through the air.

“You cannot even look at me.”

Lily gasped, tears pricking her eyes as she rushed back to Remus. “No, no, no Remus, no. I…I knew how much Sirius means to you, and how delicate a thing it was to bring up, so my evacuation to the vanity was to make my own cowardly self feel better.” Lily felt the hot stream drip from her eyes down her face, the discomfort being her punishment. She’d made Remus feel as though she couldn’t even be near him! She was so selfish for practically running away from the poor boy, so selfish for only thinking of her own feelings and not considering how her actions would impact Remus.

Remus sniffed, face warm and glowing as he stared straight at the flames licking up the chimney. “You don’t have to pretend you don’t mind. You can mind. I never wanted to put such a thing on you.”

“Put such a thing on me?” Lily reeled back, but as Remus finally turned to her, she forced herself closer to him. “I love you. You are putting nothing on me. Do you think I care about the silly laws and prejudices? The world will hate anyone that doesn’t contribute to their rigid class system, including nobles who do not marry. How absurd! I’ve read millions of books on millions of subjects, and consistently, across many species, are there animals who find companions of the same sex to raise orphans with. Humans are animals, god made them as such.”

Remus choked out a sad laugh, swiping at his eyes furiously. “You’re the only one I ever cry with. You’re like an onion. It’s humiliating.”

Lily lay her head on Remus’ shoulder. They were comfortable like this, they didn’t need facial expressions, for they knew what the other looked like anyway. “Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive.”

“Charlotte Bronte. Maybe I am one of her heroines.”

“I wouldn’t trust anyone else to have known the quote.” Lily copied Remus, stretching her feet out so that she could feel the warmth through her stockings. The wonky, embroidered lilies sewn onto the ankles always made Lily smile. Marlene never made good grades in textiles, but she’d butchered this assignment entirely. She’d jokingly gifted the stockings to Lily for Christmas, but they’d ended up being the best present that year. “So how long have you two been…you two?”

Lily felt Remus roll his eyes. “Did everyone but me know that I fancied Sirius? Even Marlene knew before I did.”

“Well of course she knew.”

“You knew about her and Dorcas?” Remus exclaimed, jolting so that Lily would be forced to lift her head and look at him. “And everyone thinks I’m the smart one.”

“They do not! I’m the smart one, thank you very much.” Lily said, slapping Remus’ thigh. “And yes, I am not visually or auditorily or socially or emotionally impaired, so I knew. I haven’t said anything to anyone, though. Have you?”

“It’s not my place,” Remus said, pulling his cigarettes from his pockets. Lily threw them across the room, eliciting a groan from Remus as he slumped against the bed again. “Sirius and I…since the night before last.”

“Night, hm?” Lily raised an eyebrow, before widening her eyes. “The night before last! I thought it had been months!”

Remus half cackled, half yelled “No! I only thought I had a chance very recently!”

“You daft idiot! You wasted so much time!”

“I know!”

“I could have told you! Then you could have been with the love of your life so much faster!”

“The love of my life used to make me very nervous and he still does sometimes!”

Lily pointed a finger in triumph. “Ah ha! He’s the love of your life, then?”

Remus thwacked Lily over the face with one of Mary’s pillows. “You’re done.”

Lily, still laughing and not caring that her hair was in disarray and her blouse was all twisted from her belt, said “James and I as well.”

“No! Well, yes, but, the same night? Get your own night for your milestone!” Remus said feigning annoyance. “I don’t want details. You’re both my best friends. I know about the “sex god” rumour of Eton and Whitehead.”

Lily frowned. “What rumour?”

“Regulus mentioned it. That there was a rumour between the schools that James was…talented at more than just sports.” Remus replied. “You never heard it?”

Lily’s heart seemed to drop into her stomach. That was how long this…feeling of Regulus’ had occurred? “No, I did, actually. Yes, no I do remember now. Yes, uh, Mary said it once, probably.”

“That sounds like Mary,” Remus said, finishing his chocolate.

“Certainly.”

---

Lily knocked gently on the door. “Who is it?”

“Me.”

“Come in.” Lily pushed the door open, just wide enough to slip in, then promptly shut it behind her and locked it. “I thought you were Maa.”

Lily smiled, dragging James’ desk chair over to sit behind the bronze bathtub. “You’re glad I’m not, though?”

“Very glad.” James grinned, lying his head back on Lily’s knees.

“Your hair’s wetting my skirt, my love,” Lily said softly, leaning down to kiss his wet forehead. “Here.” Lily reached for a towel off the rack and folded it over her lap before guiding James’ head back down.

“My parents are in bed?” James asked, sitting up and turning around to face Lily, chin resting on the towel. Lily’s face reddened as she slid her gaze down James’ chest and stomach and- “I asked a question, jaanu.” James said, smirking as he reached up to rub Lily’s rosy cheek. She didn’t complain this time when water dripped from his arm onto her clothes.

“They retired an hour ago. I said I was finishing Hamlet and that I’d sleep in Mary’s room with her tonight.” Lily replied, leaning into James’ caress.

James raised a flirty eyebrow. He did have terribly handsome eyebrows. “And was that the truth?”

“I don’t know, is it?” Lily asked, smiling into the kiss James leaned forward to offer. “I thought I could stay here and get up early to sneak into Mary’s room.”

“I think that’s a grand plan, Evans,” James murmured against her lips. “Go to Mary’s room, and I’ll have the staff take all this away, and then you can come back in, hm?”

Lily reached behind James’ thigh to find purchase on the washcloth that was sitting at the bottom of the slightly murky water. “Turn around and let me get the back of you, first. I don’t know how you get so dirty.” Lily tutted as James swiveled around, causing water to slosh onto his bedroom floor.

Lily grabbed the bar of soap from the soap holder on the towel rack, scrubbing the washcloth before she began to rub soft circles over the back of James’ neck where he’d missed. “That feels nice.” James sighed. “Are you enjoying Hamlet? Remus said he liked it, but that he thought Macbeth was more exciting.”

“It’s fine. It’s Shakespeare. I’m not particularly inclined to read Shakespeare, but his work is still pleasant. I much prefer Donne, his ideas are more condensed and thorough.” Lily said, lathering the backs of James’ ears.

“Isn’t Donne a poet though? Can you compare poets and authors?” James said.

Lily paused, holding the cloth aloft a few inches from James’ spine. “How do you know who Donne is?”

James shrugged. “I think Regulus told me about him once. When we were friends.”

Lily scrubbed James’ skin faster, willing her hands to stop shaking. “I was sorry to hear you two had a falling out,” James grunted, pulling away a bit. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Lily mumbled, returning to slower, softer movements. “There. All clean.”

James stepped out of the tub, drying off as Lily went to retrieve his nightclothes from his bed for him. Of course, he hadn’t bothered to fold them nicely under his pillow. “Thank you,” James said as he, much to Lily’s dismay, pulled his shirt over his head.

“I have an idea. For a project. Some philanthropy work.” Lily said, handing James his glasses.

James slotted them onto his nose as he sat on the end of the bed. “What is your idea?”

“Well, Remus was telling me about one of his…” Lily chose her words carefully, knowing Remus had spoken to her about Fleet in confidence. “Friends. Well, not a friend, but some boys he knows. They live in a slum in the city, and the youngest boy attends a ragged school. I thought it might be nice to fix the school up a bit, and to raise money for some resources and even volunteer there.”

James beamed, pulling Lily onto his lap. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. How do you propose we do it?”

Lily frowned. “We?”

“Well, yes. You, me, and I suppose Remus would help too. And Mary and Sirius would help if we asked, and so would Pete, and then Marlene and Dorcas too.” James’ face softened. “Lily, it’s a big job. We all want to help you with such a noble pursuit.”

Lily rested her chin on the top of James’ head, not caring that her chin was now nestled in wet curls. “I thought we might renovate the schoolhouse, and while we do that, we could have the children practice for an early Christmas performance or play. Then we could still teach them to read the lyrics to carols and to dance, and we could sell tickets to raise more money for books and pencils, or slates and chalk. Some of them don’t even have proper clothes. What do you think?”

“I think it’s perfect, and so you are you,” James said, smiling up at Lily. It was such a sappy and cliche line, and yet Lily had never heard something so lovely. She felt like a hypocrite having chastised Remus for wasting time with Sirius when she wasted years pretending to despise James. She wished she’d bothered to pay attention to him sooner so she could have seen past the co*cky and excitable persona and focussed on his sincerity and loyalty and every other beautiful thing that James Potter was. “Now, go to Mary’s room, come back when everything’s all quiet, and I’ll warm the bed for you while I wait.”

“Alright,” Lily whispered, sliding off James’ lap and out of his door as silently as possible. As the cold air of the hallway rushed at Lily, she turned to look down the stairs just in time to see two heads disappear around the side of the staircase. Lily rolled her eyes. “I know you two were eavesdropping.”

Lily started across the hallway to Mary’s room as Remus and Mary came up the stairs behind her. “You two are disgusting, just so you know,” Remus said as Mary stifled a giggle.

“I think it’s perfect and so are you!” Mary squealed, grabbing Remus’ face and kissing his cheeks dramatically. Mary skipped past Lily, throwing her door open as she started rummaging through her desk storage. “The scrapbook I ordered arrived yesterday, Lily. It had samples from Paris in it!”

As Remus and Lily entered the room after Mary, Lily muttered to Remus low enough so Mary wouldn’t hear “She stole Sirius’ job back there.”

Remus scoffed. “Shush, you.” a smile crept onto his face. They turned to see three maidservants carrying the tub and the towel rack down the stairs. “The coast is clear. Off you go, I’ll sit with Mary and pretend to be interested in her scrapbook for you.”

Lily nodded, hugging Remus goodnight and secretly wishing that she and James had never announced their courtship so that they could exist in bedrooms together without stigma the way Lily and Remus or Remus and Mary or James and Mary could. In all fairness, people probably assumed something was going on between any two people of opposite sexes who existed in rooms alone together. Once again, Lily was grateful for Effie and Monty’s open-mindedness and acceptance compared to other parents. In a strange way, Lily was almost jealous of Remus and Sirius and Marlene and Dorcas. But then she remembered the hangings and labour sentences and guilt gripped her.

As Lily crossed the hallway again, Mary called out. “Have fun! Name the baby after me!”

---

“So there hasn’t been a party or a gathering in a while.” Sirius said in their first session since their stay at Grimmauld Place.

“Mhm.” Remus said, squinting as he tortured himself over painstakingly painting individual hairs with midnight blue. He felt like he was going crazy trying to paint Sirius now. It was as if the more he knew of Sirius the harder it was. That wouldn’t normally make any sense, for if one knew someone, then it would only be natural that one would be able to capture them so effortlessly. But Sirius was so…Sirius. Nothing Remus could ever create would do him justice, but Remus was being paid to try.

Sirius huffed. “You’ve been squinting like that for hours. You’ll get wrinkles.”

“Aye.” Remus mumbled, sticking his tongue out in concentration.

“I’m eight months pregnant.” Sirius said.

“Aye.”

“I think Marlene is the father. The thing kicks like there’s no tomorrow.”

“Mhm.”

“Remus, I want to suck yo-”

“Pardon?” Remus said, dropping his paintbrush on the floor in surprise. He picked it up, before kneeling to wipe the floor while Sirius laughed his head off. “Sorry. I was “in a trance” again.”

“I know. It’s sweet.” Sirius said, and Remus finally allowed himself a moment to sip his chocolate and blush at Sirius’ compliment. “I was only going to say I think I should host a Halloween party at Grimmauld Place. It’s spooky and scary, and really, it’s what Alphard would have wanted.” Sirius said, nodding his head slowly and solemnly as if he were paying his respects in some honourable way and not planning a night of teenage mischief.

Remus shrugged. “I’ve never celebrated Halloween before.”

“Well, you’re in for a night of fun.” Sirius grinned as Remus nodded for Sirius to stretch and have a break. He’d been surprisingly patient, but he’d also studied Remus and truly observed him more than he ever had before. Remus had kept swiping at his lips or face thinking he had food somewhere, but he didn’t. He supposed there was little else in the room for Sirius to look at.

Sirius wasn’t all dressed up today, so when he stood to reach his arms up, sighing in relief at the break from sitting, his blouse rode up to reveal his pale waist. Remus took care to clean his hands properly in the bowl of fresh water at the end of the table. “Could I be in for an afternoon of fun as well?”

Sirius frowned confusedly. “What? Halloween parties usually start around eight o’clock, but I suppose we could make it late afternoon.”

“No,” Remus muttered, face heating as he realised how terrible he was at being…at whatever this was. “I mean this afternoon. As in now.”

“I don’t understand-” Sirius started. After a moment, his eyes widened, and he eagerly rushed to shove a spare chair under the music room door handle. “I understand.”

“Good.” Remus said, grabbing Sirius by both of his fine cheeks and kissing him determinedly. He hadn’t even realised that having to stare at Sirius for hours on end had starved him. Sirius allowed himself to be taken, Remus shivering as he ran his tongue along Sirius’ perfect teeth, feeling the delicious sharpness of his canines.

Sirius walked Remus backward, pushing him onto the settee. A mercilessly logical part of Remus wanted to stop them, for he’d have to paint the settee for weeks longer, but a much stronger part of him reveled in the fact that he’d have to paint this settee for weeks longer. If he had to spend ages depicting something memory-evoking, this was a divine memory to have resurface. Remus laved his lips over Sirius’ collarbones, tugging his blouse off. “Moony?” Sirius breathed, grinding his hips down.

“Yes?” Remus said, lying back on his elbows and catching his breath.

“Stay for Christmas? Don’t go home in winter.” Sirius was taking his time popping the buttons on Remus’ waistcoat.

Remus sighed. He was hoping to surprise Mum by coming home. It would be their first Christmas apart otherwise. But then, was Christmas really all that special? He was half Jewish, after all, and Mum wasn't actually religious, she just liked the festivities. They could have a late Christmas celebration, couldn't they? Once she recovered, Remus would have forever with Mum, but he wouldn’t have so much time with Sirius. Time, time, time; so unforgiving it made Remus dizzy. Sirius did a better job of making Remus dizzy, and Remus decided he’d let Sirius get back to making him feel as such. “Okay.”

“Good, because this is all I want for Christmas.” Sirius said, leaning down to kiss Remus again, but it was far more tender and sweet than the ravenous nature of their previous frenzy.

Remus allowed Sirius to keep working at his clothes as he mumbled. “You’re a sop, you know. You sound like James talking to Lily.”

Sirius scoffed, running his hands over Remus’ bare chest. “Pardon me for not despising you, my Moony. And I’m not that bad.”

“No, actually, you’ve been quite good for me today. Not so mouthy, hm?” Remus said, digging a hand into Sirius’ hair as Sirius started to work his way down Remus’ stomach with soft nips and warm whines.

“But you love me mouthy.” Sirius said, tearing off Remus’ belt and pulling his trousers down at once.

Suddenly Remus was the mouthy one.

---

“I think I’ll call him…Black Eye Joe. That’s a scary name, isn’t it?” James said, showing off the pumpkin he’d just finished carving. Sirius had set James and Peter up on an old sheet in the parlor while Sirius worked on fashioning a costume and Remus wrote up invitations. Remus didn’t know why he’d been assigned this job when Sirius had beautiful calligraphy handwriting meanwhile Remus’ looked like he had been writing with his left hand.

Peter held up the other pumpkin. “How about this one? What’s his name?”

“Um…White Eye Joe.” James said gravely.

“But they don’t have black or white eyes?” Sirius said, before hissing as he stabbed himself with his needle.

“I don’t see why that should matter.” said James, taking the bowl of pumpkin insides and covering it with a plaid cloth. “Maa likes to dry the seeds and season them. We can serve them as food for the party. Speaking of, Wormy, any ideas?”

“Just the Wedding Fortune Cake, so you know about that already.” Peter replied as he used a toothpick to keep White Eye Joe's tooth attached to his jaw.

Remus frowned, tossing a thimble at Sirius who had pricked himself a third time in the last minute. “The what cake?”

“The cake that will determine your wedding future?” Peter replied as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He took the thimble off Sirius’ index. “I’ll need to put this in the batter.”

Remus didn’t bother questioning it this time. He finally finished off the last invitation.

"Come at the witching hour of eight And let the fairies read your fate; Reveal to none this secret plot or woe—not luck—will be your lot!"

“Alright, so there’s Marlene, Dorcas, the Rosiers, Barty, Lily, the Longbottoms and Mary and Reg don’t need one because they live with Sirius and me and James. Did I forget anyone?”

James shook his head, having counted his “neeps” as he called them. “No. That’s right. Here, starting passing the invites.”

Remus really did get a fright when James revealed the face of one of his neeps, as it had two uneven slits for eyes, and its mouth had been haphazardly scraped out and filled with beetroot juice to resemble blood. It really did look like some sort of corpse-demon-baby-entity-creature. Remus handed James an envelope and James slotted it into the neep’s mouth. “Oh, this one’s for Lily. I’d better make it less scary for her.” James said, looking around the cluttered craft space. His eyes landed on a ribbon next to Sirius, so he tied it in a bow and stuck it to the forehead of the neep with some glue. “There, now it’s pretty.”

It was not pretty. It was a tortured turnip with a bow on it. “Lovely, Prongs.” Remus sighed, handing over another envelope.

“My costume is finished,” Sirius said triumphantly, holding aloft a black and red ensemble. “Does that mean we all have our costumes ready then?”

“I’ve mine.” Peter and James said.

Remus bit his lip, suddenly very concentrated on sealing the envelope in his hand. When the room fell silent, Remus looked up, sighing under the expectant gazes of the other marauders. “I’ll figure something out.”

“You’d better. This is a Halloween party after all. There has to be costumes for everyone.” Sirius said. “Maybe get Mary to help you.”

“She can’t, she’s helping me,” James said. “I’m matching with Lily.”

“Awww, Prongs.” Remus cooed, putting a hand on his chest. “That’s foul!”

James lobbed the ugly Renaissance cat pillow at Remus’ head.

---

Remus stared at himself in the mirror. He looked…well he could have asked Mary for help with his costume. Or he could have asked Lady Potter or Mrs. Pompfrey, but he would have felt like a bother if he did that. Remus sighed, defeated and insecure, before making his way down the stairs. As he neared the front door, Mary and James turned around, both wearing amused but confused expressions.

“Lad, what on earth are you dressed as?” James said.

Remus scoffed, looking James up and down. “How about you, Princess Sisi?”

“I am not Princess Sisi, I am the Fairy Godmother. Lily is Cinderella.” James said, crossing his arms over his huge, pink dress, which was clearly one of Lady Potter’s from the 60s. James had fashioned a crown from paper and a wand from a stick and some lace. Mary snorted, twisting James around so that Remus could see the temporary lace-up back Mary had installed so that the dress would fit James’ manly chest.

“Why didn’t you just be Prince Charming?” Remus asked as they made their way out to the carriage.

James helped Mary in. “Because that’s boring. I’m Prince Charming every day.”

“Oh, shush, you!” Mary said, pulling both the boys in behind her. “Now Remus, what are you? You looked like some…mad squirrel or bunny with fangs.”

Remus rolled his eyes, feeling his cheeks heat up. Would Sirius think he looked silly too? He did look silly. “I’m…a werewolf. Because of my name.”

“Ohh…” Mary said, co*cking her head to the side and taking in Remus’ wonky, too-long ears he’d made from some scrap, grey fabric, and the white teeth he’d painted onto his mouth. “Your nose is falling off, but I see it I suppose.”

Remus pressed his black-button nose back on properly. “So who are you?”

“I’m Titania. A Midsummer Night’s Dream?” Mary said, and Remus nodded in appreciation. She’d really done Shakespeare’s character justice, with the delicate, flowy green dress, and the array of fresh and fabric flowers threaded all through her hair and wound down her arms. Now Remus was thinking of Shakespeare, and now Hamlet, and now Sirius. Remus bit his smile back, not wanting James or Mary to ask what was so amusing.

When they arrived at Grimmauld Place, Remus noticed that Sirius must have put in some more effort outside, as more carved pumpkins with candles inside were aligned on the front steps, and a banner of purple, green, orange, and black flags was hung above the door. James nodded down to the first two pumpkins as they exited that carriage. “That’s Black Eye Joe and White Eye Joe.”

“But they don’t have black or white eyes?” Mary asked.

“I fail to see why that is of any significance.” James said, shaking his head as they followed him up to the door.

After James had knocked, a minute passed before Sirius answered the door. He was wearing the long, black cloak he’d been working on. James gave Sirius a quick kiss hello before pushing through, presumably to find Lily. Mary stepped forward, expecting her usual “hello darling” and a shower of compliments, but instead, Sirius stuck out a pale hand from the folds of his cloak for her to shake. However, when Mary shook the hand, she tore it clean off, causing her to erupt in a fit of screams. “Sirius! Oh, mon dieu!”

Sirius barked a laugh, picking up the white glove stuffed with sawdust. “Don’t feel bad, McKinnon got a fright too.”

Mary folded her arms and marched into the hauntingly dim house in a stream of cerulean and sea-green chiffon. Sirius turned to Remus, pulling him into the house. “What are you dressed as, Moons? A…possessed possum?”

Remus groaned. “No, I’m a werewolf.”

“Were is right, for in my mind, I’m asking “Where is this wolf you speak of?” Sirius grinned. “It's alright, you’re a handsome deranged badger.”

“Now you’re getting silly with it,” Remus said, accepting a cup of something strong from Frank, who only hugged him a quick greeting so as to not interrupt Remus and Sirius. Both Frank and Alice were dressed as pilgrims. “Badgers are black and white, not grey.”

“Well, considering you’re a feral raccoon, I don’t think that’s within your realm of knowledge, is it?” Sirius nodded greeting to the Rosiers and Barty, who had just entered. Pandora waved but was quickly dragged upstairs, presumably to find Regulus. “Aren’t you going to ask what I am?”

“Fine, what are you, Padfoot? A pest? You’re acting like one.” Remus said as Sirius feigned hurt.

“Moony, sometimes I think you dislike me!” Sirius pouted.

Remus raked his eyes up Sirius’ gorgeous figure, observing the deep red waistcoat, the cape with a tall, starched collar, the slicked-back hair with tiny, black paint strokes to emphasise his widow’s peak. Finally, his faux teeth solidified Remus’ guess. Remus wanted nothing more than to drag Sirius upstairs and have him to himself. “Yes, I thoroughly dislike you, hence our activity in the music room this week.”

Sirius’ face fell. “Don’t make me remember that now. Don’t tempt me. Now, what am I?”

Remus raised an eyebrow, lowering his voice. “Mine?” Sirius’ expression remained flat. “Fine, you’re a vampire.”

“Yes!” Sirius said excitedly. “Now let’s find Pete for the Wedding Fortune Cake.”

Remus still didn’t know what the Wedding Fortune Cake was, but he guessed it would be as silly as the rest of the Halloween traditions he’d encountered so far. Peter was found sitting in the parlour between Lily and Mary, both in blue, but Lily a much paler blue, puffy dress as her Cinderella costume. Marlene was on the armchair to the left of the settee, with Dorcas on her lap, Marlene with a stripey dress and wobbling antenna, and Dorcas with a colourful ensemble and patchwork wings. Remus wandered over to them, sitting cross-legged on the floor while Sirius joined James. “A bumblebee and a butterfly?”

“Yes.” Marlene said. “What are you?”

“Not drunk enough, apparently.” Remus mumbled as Dorcas handed him her flask.

Above the fireplace, snakes made of tin danced under the swoosh of the heat, making them appear alive. Pandora and Regulus entered the room, both wearing sheets over their heads with eyes cut out, and the only reason Remus knew the ghosts were them was because Barty and Evan followed them in. “Oi, Crouch, and Rosier, what are you two dressed as? You’re wearing typical clothes.” Sirius hollered as Lily started passing around slices of cake with neat, white piping on the edges. Remus hadn't even had a chance to see it before it was cut, but he knew it would have been grand if Peter had made it.

“We’re dressed as your mother’s lovers.” Evan retorted.

Regulus lifted his sheet to take a long swig from Dorcas’ flask as Sirius responded. “Well, Wally does like to keep it in the family. And here I thought you were each others’ lovers.”

Marlene snorted, high-fiving Sirius behind Dorcas’ back. “Pete, are you a wizard?” Alice asked.

Peter nodded, standing up to show off his robes which had embroidered stars on them, and his false, knee-length beard. “Wingardium leviosa!” he said.

Lily frowned at him, wiping icing off James’ cheek and bopping his nose to tell him off for sneaking a taste too soon. She licked her finger. “What’s wingardium leviosa?”

Peter shrugged, sitting back down. “I don’t know. It probably means something in another universe.” Peter cleared his throat, causing the room to hush. “Now, everyone, when I say one, you must finish your slices. Hold up your fortunes if you’ve any! Three, two....one!”

The party started to eat their cake. Remus glanced at Sirius, who was pushing icing across his plate and rubbing his neck. Remus subtly snuck behind the settee, coming to sit before Sirius and rest his chin on Sirius’ knee. Sirius smiled down at him, allowing Remus to spoon some cake into his mouth for him. From back across the room, Marlene coughed as Dorcas pet her on the back until she spat up the gold thimble Sirius had been using when he was sewing his costume. “Well, I suppose I’m to be a spinster for life then,” Marlene said with a laugh.

“What?” Remus whispered to Sirius.

“If you get the thimble in your slice, you will never wed, and if you get the ring, you’ll wed soon. Sometimes people use a needle instead of a thimble.” Sirius explained, finishing his slice to reveal he’d received neither. Had no one realised how dangerous that was? Marlene almost choked! It was a festive way to go, to be sure.Suddenly, Lily gasped, holding a ring aloft on her fork. “Ah! Lucky me.”

“No, lucky me.” James exclaimed, pulling Lily in for a cake-flavoured kiss.

Remus sat on the settee's arm to murmur into Sirius’ ear. “I’m glad they’re happy, but when does it end?”

Sirius looked up at Remus, eyes shrouded in soot eyeliner. “We wouldn’t be like that if we could?”

“You’d want to be? I di-” Remus was cut off as Regulus, or at least he thought it was Regulus, but it could have been Pandora, who stood from the other side of the circle, staring at Lily and James. “These games are childish.” right, so it was Regulus then. Regulus swept out of the room, creaking his way up the stairs.

“Now, the teacup.” James said quickly, setting an already prepared cup of tea on the tea table in the center of the circle. He balanced one teaspoon on the edge so that it hovered above the brown liquid, while he spooned some tea onto the other.

“What’s this one?” Remus asked.

Sirius stretched his neck to speak to Remus over the party’s excitement. “The amount of drops it takes for the teaspoon hovering to fall into the tea is how many years it’ll be before the person dropping the tea will marry.”

“Why are all of these games about marriage? I thought Halloween was supposed to be scary.” Remus said, watching as James purposefully allowed a swollen drop onto the spoon, just so he could rejoice when it fell into the teacup immediately and he got to marry Lily within a year.

“You don’t think marriage is scary?” Sirius had a point.

Next, Mary tried her hand at dropping tea onto the suspended spoon. Everyone waited in anticipation, counting the drops. Remus noticed Mary’s face fall as more and more drops splattered onto the silverware, yet the spoon stayed steady. Finally, it fell after twelve drops had landed on the utensil. Mary huffed an awkward laugh. “Well, it’s just a silly game.”

“Don’t worry, ma cherie, you can marry Reg. He’ll never find anyone willing.” Sirius joked as Mary smiled weakly. Mary stayed quiet while others took their turns. No one was convinced when Barty would apparently marry within two years, but when Pandora was to be married in four, and Dorcas six, the guests’ faith in the silly ritual was restored, for those numbers were rather realistic.

Lily, lips loosened by alcohol, slurred. “Alright, alright, scary story time! Sirius, you’ve a theatrical voice, you read the periodicals.”

Sirius retrieved a periodical from the pile on the fireplace’s mantel, clearing his throat. “This one is called “Love’s Seed Time And Harvest.” Sirius cleared his throat, preparing to read, but after he’d skimmed the edition, he said “This isn’t scary. It’s about love.”

“Wooooooooo.” Barty said, stealing Pandora’s sheet to jump around the room. “Most things are scary to someone because they’re unknown. Is that why you fear love, Black? No one loves you?” Barty’s ghost voice was terrible.

“Oi! Don’t call me no one!” James said, rushing over to Sirius in a flurry of pink skirts to kiss his cheeks while Sirius fanned himself. “Fine, you read the next one, Crouch.”

“I’ll do it, I haven’t had as much to drink.” Evan said.

“Crouch’s intoxication has nothing to do with his illiteracy.” Sirius spat, though both he and Barty were grinning through their scowls, and they probably wouldn’t remember this night.

Evan flipped through the next periodical, finding the Halloween page. “This one’s called “If I Were A Man I’d Shoot Myself.” Evan glanced at Marlene. “I didn’t know you were an author, McKinnon.” Marlene smiled smugly. As it turned out, “If I Were A Man I’d Shoot Myself” was actually a Pride and Prejudice-style story, except, instead of dynamic and intriguing characters with valid flaws, the female lead lets the male love interest treat her terribly, but forgives him because he’s attractive. Remus decided that that was pretty scary. “Alright, how about we try this the old-fashioned way.” Evan removed twigs from his pocket, passing them around to everyone in the room. “Pandora?"
Pandora lit her twig from the fireplace, speaking rapidly to convey her story before her twig burned to her fingertips. “Once there was a young girl who lived in the woods and she had lots of animal friends, one of them being a beautiful deer.”

“Ooo, this is about you, Prongs!” Pete said as James beamed, having been mentioned.

“One day, the girl went on a walk with her deer, but they forgot it was hunting season and the deer suffered the consequences, leaving the girl alone to die from a broken heart.” Pandora smiled sweetly. “The end!” she exclaimed happily, tossing her twig in the fire just in time.

“How…” Dorcas stuttered, lighting her twig. “Morbid. Lovely. Anyway, once there lived a…”

Mary excused herself, and when she didn’t return for a while, Remus silently crept into the rest of the house. He snuck around, bumping into the furniture occasionally due to the low light. When Remus climbed the stairs, he heard the murmur of two familiar voices. He considered going back downstairs, for he was always finding himself hearing things he shouldn’t. But then, he should check on Mary, shouldn’t he? Remus nudged the door to Regulus’ room open, peering in to see Mary and Regulus sitting at Regulus’ window. “Twelve years.”

“I would have gotten longer if I’d played.” Regulus mumbled.

“You’re an heir, or you will be when Siruis eventually leaves. You’ll find someone easily. The game doesn’t determine when you’ll be happily married, does it?” Mary said, resting her head on the window sill.

Regulus played with his rings. “Well, you’re pretty and talented. You’ll find someone easily too.”

Mary smiled, and it was unusually bashful for her. Void of her normal flirty tone, Mary said “Talented?”

“You command every room you walk into. It’s not just your looks it’s…inexplicable. And it’s a talent.” Regulus was more breathing his words than speaking them. “You ought to be proud of that.”

“Thank you, Reggie.” Mary smiled. Remus waited for Regulus to say his “Regulus Arcturus Black” but he never did. “It doesn’t matter how great or rich we are if we don’t want anyone, does it?”

“No.”

Remus waited before pushing the door open further to reveal himself. “We’re…uh…playing something so…you’d better come back.”

Mary nodded, following Remus back downstairs while Regulus stayed locked up in his room. Remus didn’t blame him. Remus loved his friends, but sometimes he could be exhausted by people too. When Mary and Remus reached downstairs, Lily was drawing the alphabet on the floor with chalk. She took the ring she’d found in her cake slice, tying it to a length of string. “Now, we need someone with a steady hand.”

“What now?” Remus asked Mary as they took their place on the settee next to Peter.

“We talk to spirits,” Mary said, laying her head in Remus’ lap.

Sirius took the string from Lily. “I’ve the steadiest hand. Mother made sure of that in my piano lessons. I’ll be the anchor.”

Sirius stood in front of the alphabet as the room hushed. He extended his arm, allowing the ring on the end of the string to sway a bit before it stilled completely. “Does anyone have a question?” when no one spoke, Sirius continued. “Fine, I’ll ask. Dear spirits, please tell us your truest thoughts!” after a moment the ring started to sway. Frank squinted and dictated the letters the ring halted above.

“M” Frank tilted his head. “O O N Y L O O K S L I K E A D E M E N T E D C H I P M U N K.”

Lily scribbled the letters onto a sheet of paper before she tossed it on the floor angrily. “Sirius, you’re moving it! That’s not what they said!”

Sirius cackled, running away from the pillows being thrown at him from around the room. “Don’t blame me, blame the spirits! They speak the truth!”

If the spirits really spoke the truth, they’d have said that Remus was quite fond of Halloween.

Chapter 33: XXXIII - Good Lad

Chapter Text

Lily stood on the steps of the schoolhouse, James by her side, as she scanned a sheet of paper in her hands. She was dressed modestly, donning a scarf around her head to keep her hair out of her face, which was fastened in a casual braid, and she wore a simple, olive blouse with a plain black skirt partly covered by a sepia-striped apron. She reminded Remus of Mum, and the dull ache was sharp and searing for a moment.

Remus looked around at the group they’d managed to gather. Frank and Alice had been able to take today and tomorrow off from the pub, and Dorcas was there with Marlene. Peter and Mary were giggling with each other. Lily cleared her throat, about to start speaking, when a familiar voice called out from behind the group. “I come bearing gifts.”

Remus was smiling before he even turned around, and when he did, he was met with the striking visage of Sirius marching over to them. He was leading a group of his own, and when the party was close enough, Remus realised that Barty, Evan, Pandora and Regulus had arrived. Pandora offered Lily a friendly wave while Sirius came to stand next to Remus, subtly squeezing his hand as a greeting. “I was told I get to bang things.” Barty said, holding up a hammer.

Lily coughed. “Well, yes. You can help with nailing, I’m sure we’ll need you. Thank you all for coming.” Lily scanned the list in her hand again before addressing the small crowd. “So, since it is a Saturday, we have two days to work on the schoolhouse before we have to concern ourselves with finding a place for the children.” Remus grimaced as he looked at the schoolhouse properly, if one could even call it that. The windows were all smashed, and were now covered with boards that left the inside looking dark and gloomy. The building, like most in the slums, was sandwiched, which meant it didn’t have a courtyard. The brick was tired looking, and covered in moss and grime and the roof had a huge chunk missing from it. The chimney had completely crumbled and the sign out the front was peeling. “I have a list of the jobs that need doing in the next two days, then after that, we’ll split so that half of us are helping with the Christmas play and the other half are finishing off the school. The play will be a fundraiser for the school and occupy the children.”

Dorcas raised her hand. Lily nodded to her. “Why are we putting on a Christmas play in November?”

“Well, by the time we actually put it on, it’ll be early December. Also, I didn’t want Mary to miss it.” Lily replied. “Alright, Barty and Evan, you two are in charge of the roof.” Barty went to open his mouth. “Yes, Barty, that means you can hammer things. The roof is made of tiles, but you'll need to work on the rafters too. Marlene and Dorcas, I have you two on cleaning the inside, it’s pretty moldy I’m afraid. Alice and Frank, you’ll be working on fixing the outside, including the windows. I think getting shutters for them instead of glass is better, glass windows never last in this part, as you can see. Pandora, I have you on fixing the sign up, James, Sirius and I will be on furniture, seeing what needs replacing, moving it out et cetera. Remus and Regulus, you get the fun job of sourcing supplies, anything you see fit.”

Remus interrupted. “I mean no offence, but I’m more suited to heavy lifting. I’ll switch with James.”

James flexed his muscles, frowning at Remus' comment, which albeit, was definitely inaccurate. Sirius raised an eyebrow at Remus. Yes, I wanted to spend time with you, pretty bastard.“No, I need bookworms to choose the books and decide on a rough syllabus. The quality of education here is dire, but I trust you two.” Lily said.

“Everyone here can read, and besides, they’re children. Lupin is right.” Regulus said.

James gritted his teeth. “It’s Lily’s project, and it’s a very important one at that. We’re thankful you’re willing to help, but it’s not up to you. Leave if you want to argue.”

The group fell into awkward silence, Regulus the most stoic of them all. Grand, two days with Regulus and no Sirius.

Lily cleared her throat. “As I was saying, Mary and Peter, you two are on organising where we will have our play, and making a loose plan for it, but I thought it would be nice if the children could do some directing of their own, so make sure to leave room for their creativity. Everything we need is inside. Alright, any more questions?” the group looking around at each other. “No? Okay.” then Lily whispered to James. “You can say it now, my love.”

James beamed, before shouting “Go team!”

---

Remus and Regulus sat on the steps to the schoolhouse, watching Pandora, who was now covered in all kinds of paint, use a potato to print flowers onto the sign. To their left, Alice and Frank were giggling at something as they scrubbed the moss off the bricks, and to their right, James and Sirius were trying, and failing, to put new legs on a table. “Yes, we did it! Flip it over!” James exclaimed as Sirius turned the table upright, only to realise two of the legs were sticking out to the side, and the table fell over. “Well…we did something. Quick, let’s fix it before Evans sees.”

“Alright, so how is this as the final list? We’ll have thirty desks, so sixteen textbooks, that’s one between two and a copy for the teacher, then we need thirty new slates and then ninety sticks of chalk. We also have to account for the different age groups, of which there are three for a school this size. The blackboard is furniture, so Lily will be on that, but how about a world globe and a map for the wall?” Remus said, writing the quantities next to each item on the list he’d written up.

“The walls are already covered.” Regulus muttered.

Remus pinched his nose in frustration. “Signs that say “Children Should Be Seen Not Heard” are not the kind of message Lily wants to instill in the children. Can you try to cooperate? Why are you even here? Just because your childhood was miserab-”

Remus trailed off. He’d never quite understood why he disliked Regulus so much when he barely said or did anything with enough consequence so as to allow for the formation of an opinion. Perhaps it was because Remus hadn’t been truly alone with Sirius at Grimmauld Place due to Regulus’ presence, leaving him on edge. Or perhaps because Regulus looked just like Sirius and was treated the same as him, and yet he was cold and hardened where Sirius had softened and warmed. Perhaps Regulus lurked too much. “Say it.”

“No. It was too far.”

“Do you believe that because you wish to avoid offending me or because you’re talking about Sirius too?”

“Both.”

Regulus said nothing for a minute. “I think the globe is a good idea. If we get all our families, except for mine because they would never, to buy tickets to the play then we can afford a map and a few other nice things for the walls. Andromeda and Ted will come to the play.”

“Speak of the devil.” Remus said, gesturing up the road to where Andromeda and Ted were coming down the street on the front of a cart. From their clothes alone, they were begging to be mugged, but at least Ted was a relatively burly man, so perhaps that was giving them the tiniest bit of safety in such a seedy area.

“Andy!” Sirius shouted, rushing over to help Andromeda down and hug her before shaking Ted’s hand.

Andromeda waved hello to Remus, nodding in recognition as she came over. “We heard about this marvelous plan and thought we could offer some of Dora’s old toys and clothes.”

Ted and James startled hauling things out of the cart; some costumes for the play, pencils, coats and hats that would fit smaller children like Pebble, nursery rhyme books. With a grunt from both James and Ted, and with help from Andromeda as well, a large item covered by a cream sheet was placed on the ground. Ted panted “No one in our house plays, and we don’t really have room for it, so we thought you’d get more use from it here.”

James pulled off the sheet, and everyone watching gasped as an old but perfectly good piano sat before them. “Oh, no, you can’t give that up!” Lily said, looking at Ted and Andromeda with wide eyes.

Sirius put his hand on Lily’s shoulder. “They can. We can afford it, can’t we Andy?”

“Of course. I might be disowned, but I still have plenty of inheritance, and Ted works. Please, we never use it. Take it.” Lily stepped forward to embrace Andromeda as Sirius, James and Ted started to carry the piano inside. Remus and Regulus moved out the way, electing to sit around the slide of the building instead.

“That was generous. How does Andromeda still have her inheritance?” Remus said once they were seated and focused on the list again.

“She claimed she wanted a portion as her dowry when she was betrothed to Lucius, but once she accessed it she eloped with Ted and only returned after Nymphadora was born. Sirius almost fainted when he first saw her.” Regulus replied, and though his face didn’t change, his voice became softer as he recalled Sirius’ reaction. “Narcissa was given Lucius as compensation.”

“Some compensation.” Remus muttered, though he smiled at the thought of Sirius fawning over Dora. “Alright, syllabus wise, we need textbooks that cover science, English and literacy, arithmetic and mathematics. Religion can be taught with the bible, but only the teacher needs a copy. That’s the basics. Maybe some sheet music or blanks to create songs?”

“Fine. Off to the bookshop then.” Regulus said.

---

Remus and Regulus made their way back to the schoolhouse on foot for the final time at four o’clock in the afternoon having spent the majority of the day trekking back and forth with odd things from odd shops, both from the list and purchases that caught their eye. Or rather, Remus fiddled with something, like a compass or stencil, and Regulus silently paid for it, mumbling that “It may be of some use for geography lessons” or the like. He was so similar to Sirius, though Remus didn’t say that aloud for fear of putting more distance between them.

London’s early winter was damper than Yorkshire’s, or perhaps it was the dreariness of the slums that made it seem like pathetic fallacy, for the day was bright when they’d left the Potter Mansion that morning. As Remus and Regulus neared the schoolhouse, it became clear that most had gone home for the day, leaving only James and Lily, who were sitting on the steps murmuring sweetly to each other. As the sound of stone skidding under Remus’s stride, Regulus somehow stalking silently next to him, Lily turned to face them. “All done, then?”

Remus nodded, holding up the hessian sack of textbooks that apparently referenced a dated syllabus from the upper class boarding schools, and therefore were available in bulk and for a smaller sum, though that was of little value in persuading their purchase. Remus stepped between Lily and James to toss the books into the box of supplies by the door before stepping back. “What now?”

“Whatever you please.” yawned Lily, resting her head on James’ shoulder. “We’re going to visit with Petunia and Vernon in their new house with my parents tonight.”

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” Muttered James, gesturing with a nod up the road to where a carriage too nice for the area but not nice enough to be robbed was clopping closer. “That’s our ride. Will you both come in? And we can take you home?”

“No.” replied Regulus quickly and sharply. “I shall walk. Good evening.”

He marched off, winter coat flapping around his calves having been disturbed by the vigor of his stride. “What a strange boy.” Remus said.

“He isn’t strange.” corrected James, helping Lily into the carriage as she greeted the driver. Two warm chestnut horses huffed clouds into the air from their soft peachy noses, their coats coppery in the dull alley. James pursed his lips as he stepped one foot up onto the carriage floor.

“What is it?” asked Remus.

James removed his glasses, wiping them on his waistcoat as he spoke. “Would you…go see if Regulus is…see to it that he makes it home?” he returned the spectacles to his nose, wrinkling it so that they sat right. “He’s not a large boy, you know.”

Remus huffed a laugh. “Strip him and he might have been born here.”

“Oh no, don’t you think he’s too lofty for that?” Lily chimed, having stuck her head through the door to see what the hold up was.

“Paupers don’t talk much.” Remus countered.

“They aren’t so elegant.” James said. “Would you, though?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Yes, alright, I’ll go.”

James grinned, kissing Remus’ forehead goodbye and jumping into the carriage with thighs so strong he didn’t use the step. As the carriage jolted away, Remus heard wisps of Lily “Would he what?” but the horses had started to trot before Remus could hear the rest. Remus sighed, wondering how he’d catch up with Regulus, when the slim figure appeared by the schoolhouse again. “Lose your way, did you?”

“I never said where I was going. I wished to take a scenic route.” Regulus replied as Remus shuffled over, lighting a cigarette and holding it between his teeth as he returned the lighter to his pocket. “That’s Sirius’.”

“Gosh golly, you oughta be called Sherlock.” Remus replied. “I’ve been tasked with getting you home. S’go.” Remus secretly enjoyed watching Regulus’ brow twitch at hearing the dropped syllables. Knowing that Sirius was fraternising with the help.

“I don’t need you, Lupin.” Regulus said, walking off the wrong way. Remus watched him tread through the lanes and alleys, eyeing passing people with suspicion and glaring at gutters of chunky street excrement. This was a ridiculous place for education, sanitation’s worst nightmare really, but it was better than nothing. Children wouldn’t go to school if it was too far from other obligations, even if it was a ragged school. After marching in a few different directions and coming to jarringly confident stops, Regulus returned to Remus. “Lead me.”

“Never mind, you must be Watson.” Remus smirked, walking off before he could catch Regulus’ inevitable eyebrow twitch. Blacks and their eyebrows.

“I’m more cluey than that, thank you.” Regulus muttered, glancing behind him as he followed Remus.

Remus nodded good evening to one of the lamplighters, another sign they were heading back toward Claremont Square where Regulus would stop acting like they were being followed. He clearly wasn’t used to being so invisible despite never encouraging attention from anyone. “Watson isn’t dumb, he’s just not as bright as Sherlock.”

Regulus tried to hide that he was skipping to keep up with Remus. “I don’t know how my brother stands you.”

“I know why your brother refuses to stand you.” Remus quipped before immediately regretting it. “Sorry.”

“You aren’t wrong.” Regulus really did stick his nose up sometimes. It was small and thin and girlish, not as long and sharp as Sirius’ but it held the same elegance.

“It is strange we don’t get on. I hope you don’t mind me saying that but we were both thinking it.” Remus hesitated, the sounds of the slums moving into its night shift filling the void in conversation. “You are much more like Sirius than one would first assume.”

“You both fought when you first met didn’t you?”

“Touche.” Remus replied.

“Your accent is bad.”

“Okay frog.” Regulus’ eyebrow twitched again, but Remus was getting good at reading him and it was an amused twitch not a disgruntled one.

“Watson or Sherlock, I’m not daft enough to miss…to struggle finding my way home.” Regulus, for the first time, stumbled over his words.

Frowning, Remus came to a stop, whipping around to stare down at Regulus. He was smaller than Sirius, thin rather than lean. Did he think about food the same way? Remus felt a pang of pity for the boy, and he allowed it entry into his psyche for he hadn’t promised Regulus that he wouldn’t feel such as thing as he had Sirius. “What were you going to say?”

“Nothing.”

“You said miss. What haven’t you missed?”

“Really, Lupin, don’t embarrass yourself pretending you hide it well. You shared a bed at Grimmauld Place for goodness sake.” Regulus replied, deadpan.

Remus searched his expression for any disgust or malice, but there was no expression to search. It was infuriating. “And?” Remus swallowed, clenching his fists in his pockets. “Going to tell Mummy dearest?”

“At this point, Sirius is being disowned anyway. The only reason he hasn’t truly left is so he can keep f*cking you in that music room.” Remus was taken aback by Regulus’ crass language.

“He can do that anyway. Anywhere.” Remus coughed, forgetting who he was talking to. Remus guessed that Regulus hadn’t figured Sirius out from their stay at Grimmauld Place considering Sirius admitted to a certain culture existing at Eton. Suddenly, Remus’ eyes widened as he remembered the revelations that had occurred during the drinking game. “You’re the same. And your parents found out and that’s why you left Eton.”

Regulus’ crystal eyes flashed, bow-shaped lips falling open. “Who told you that?”

“No one. Well, you, in a way. I won’t tell anyone.” Remus said.

“I’d ruin you if you did. Father didn’t even care about that, I was brought home to quell the rumours. It’d be a waste for you to start them up again.” Regulus said, and though he was technically threatening Remus, he sounded terrified.

Remus’ face softened. “Your mother? She doesn’t care?”

“Of course she does. I told her they weren’t true. She lies to herself and others. Tis all.” Regulus replied plainly.

“Is it Barty? It’s unrequited?” Remus murmured, stepping into an alcove formed between two shops and standing so that his arm brushed Regulus’ but they weren’t “touching”. He didn’t want Regulus to dart away.

Regulus rolled his eyes, shifting his weight subtly. “Why should I tell you?”

There he is. “Shall I be frank.”

Curiosity flickered across Regulus’ gaze. “So long as Frank doesn’t mind.”

Remus huffed a laugh. “Because you’ll end up like Alphard if you don’t tell someone. I can’t fix it, you know that, and you know nothing can. But…you also know I have a history with such…” endeavours wasn’t the right word. Sirius was Remus’ first true and passionate endeavour. “Experiences. And we aren’t friends. I can’t hold anything you say against you because you don’t care what I think. Relish in being heard and then forgotten.”

Regulus simply looked at Remus. There was no other word for the interaction, none with appropriate connotations. It wasn’t as intense as a stare, nor so overtly thoughtful as a gaze or short lived as a glance. It was just a look. “You are wrong.”

“I am?”

Regulus crinkled his nose, as if his words were raw garlic being minced right under his nostrils. “I care about what you think.”

“Terrible decision, really.” Remus smiled, offering a new cigarette to Regulus.

Surprisingly, Regulus accepted it, so Remus passed him the lighter. Regulus studied it, tracing his fingers over the engraved patterns and swirls. “My brother loves you.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“It isn’t.” Well, he’s not so observant then.

“So that’s why you care what I think? Because he loves me and you wish for his affections in the same way, and thus, are searching for what I possess that you don’t?” Remus hadn’t meant to say all that, but he thought he may as well while they were hidden and vulnerable. He’d probably never speak so plainly with Regulus again, and if he said the wrong thing, he might never speak to Regulus again at all.

Regulus coughed around the cigarette, both from the smoke and from Remus’ response. “Alright then, Freud, aim for the throat.”

“Sorry.” Remus mumbled.

Regulus passed the cigarette back. “You were correct. It is dark and you made a promise to J- Potter. Keep leading us home.”

Remus nodded, pushing off the wall and into the street, discarding ash from his cigarette and weight from their conversation.

The stars had startled twinkling. The air was not so cool.

---

Remus was still up when James and Mary returned home, both slumping through the front door but wearing matching smiles. Remus bookmarked Wuthering Heights, setting the novel aside as Mary sat in front of the fire with her knees pulled into her chest and James came to lie his head in Remus’ lap. “How is the playing looking?”

“It’s very…well the children have taken the lead.” Mary said, rolling her eyes and huffing though threads of fondness poked out of her expression. “One in particular. His name is silly, too, it’s stone or rock or-”

“Pebble?” Remus asked as Mary nodded.

James chuckled, his head shaking Remus’ thigh. “He’s a funny thing. He insisted on playing Jesus in the nativity scene.”

Remus frowned. “But isn’t Jesus born in the nativity scene?”

“That’s what we said. But Pebble was a bit offended we gave away his dream role to a doll, so we gave it back to him. It’ll be humorous, at the least.” Mary yawned. “I’m off to bed. Long day.”

Remus closed his eyes as Mary kissed his forehead goodnight. He hadn’t even been in London for a year, yet he didn’t think he’d ever recover from his eventual removal. He’d never have this again; friends to be comfortable with, adult figures, other than Mum, who genuinely cared for him, every kind of shop or facility just a short carriage ride away, Sirius. There had been a time before all this, where he’d woken up everyday and completed his chores, and had meals and gone to bed and woken up and done it all again with all of yesterday in him and it didn’t mean anything. He hadn’t even known Sirius existed. How could he do any of that again now?

Blanketed by the suddenly settled silence, Remus looked down to see James staring up at the ceiling with an expression of concentration perched on his handsome features. “What is it?”

“Your friend. The one Lily mentioned. He won’t attend school everyday, will he?”

“Pebble?”

“No, Fleet.”

Remus nodded slowly. “Did Sirius or Lily tell you about him?”

“Why would Sirius have told me?” James asked, lifting his head so as to sit up and face Remus properly.

Remus shrugged, fiddling with a loose thread at his sleeve cuff. “He just knows of him, that’s all. There’s little to tell.”

James stared at Remus before resigning to an accepting sigh, relatively satisfied with Remus’ answer. “Does he know much about horses? We still need a stable hand.”

Remus grinned, feeling for the first time the sensation of his life becoming a puzzle with bigger pieces and a simpler image until it seemed so silly that he’d struggle to fit it together in the first place. He’d been happy before, that was terribly difficult to deny, but there was always something amiss. Granted, that something was usually a lack of Sirius’ affection, or a shallow dispute between his friends, but now the only thing missing was Mum, and there was naught to be done about that other than return home, which could wait until after Christmas. Remus had an unopened letter on his bedside table that he was keen to get to that night. He loved Mum's ramblings about their old neighbours. “That’s brilliant, Prongs. I’ll teach him myself, and co*cky as he is, he’s a fast learner. He’s practically teaching himself to read.”

“He can’t read?” James asked, before pinching his nose and shaking his head, causing his glasses to slide down his nose. “That was a silly question. Well, anyway, he sounds grand. So we’ll have him over tomorrow afternoon? For a trial if you will And talk about if he will live here?”

“I’ll let him know.” Remus replied with a satisfying sigh. “And he’s learning to read properly. He's trying.”

“Good lad.” James grinned.

“Aye.” said Remus, voice laced with fondness. “Good lad.”

Chapter 34: XXXIV - The Christmas Fairy

Chapter Text

“That’s good, just make sure you really check his hips and thighs since the skin creases there and oil will pull any grime into those crevices.” Remus said as Fleet buffed mud off Nimbus’ coat. He’d learned the basic chores such as sweeping and refilling the water troughs, which he had no problem with, but he was timid around the horses. “He can’t kick you if you’re next to him.”

“Aye, but ‘e doesn’t know me.” Fleet mumbled cautiously, gently rubbing circles into Nimbus’ skin.

“He’s completely tame. Look, he’s practically asleep.” Remus replied, taking the brush and applying a firmer hand. Nimbus hardly moved. “We wash the horses once a week with a bucket, just a rinse, but they get a good scrubbing with soap every fortnight or three weeks depending on the weather. Between washes, dirt gets trapped and if you put a saddle on them it’ll chafe and irritate their skin.” Remus took a soft bristled brush and dusted off the now powdered dirt before laying a blanket on Nimbus’ back and a saddle on top. “Horses are sensitive around their stomachs, so be careful with the buckle under here.”

As Remus straightened again and pressed the bit to Nimbus’ mouth, Fleet frowned. “Why’se doin that? Eatin’ metal.”

“He isn’t eating it, they just chew on it like a toy. He’s just bored.” Remus replied, petting the stripe down Nimbus’ nose. “Now, copy what I did for Nimbus on Lady Potter’s horse so I can see what you’ve learned.”

Fleet glanced nervously at the stall across the way. “An’ then?”

“We’ll go for a trot so they build up some dirt under their hooves and I can teach you how to clean them.” Remus sighed when Fleet’s expression didn’t loosen. “I’ve been around horses my whole life and I’ve never been attacked.”

“They’ve ne’er thrown ya off?” Fleet asked.

Remus winced, rubbing his nose. He probably shouldn’t have done that and given Fleet the wrong idea about his scar. He wished it had been a horse. “Yes. But it was my fault, I was young and bothering them, but I’m completely fine. No head injuries.”

Fleet kicked the floor. “Could’a fooled me.”

Remus picked up a handful of hay and tossed it at Fleet. “Aye, aye keep yapping.”

Fleet dusted the hay off his shoulder and out of his hair, laughing, before edging over to Nimbus and running his finger lightly over the space between Nimbus’ eyes.

Progress.

---

Stars, hide your fires;let not light see myblack and deep desires.- Macbeth, William Shakespeare

Remus tugged his scarf tighter around his neck as he braced against the cruel wind which shoved him back away from the gates of Whitehead. Once he unlocked the latch and made it inside the walls, however, the thick sandstone barriers offered tranquility and the gusts dissipated into pathetic breaths that swirled mahogany leaves around Remus’ feet. Two pairs of girls walking together and giggling approached, and Remus awkwardly tipped his cap to them. They gasped and blushed, jostling down the hill toward the boarding house which was left of the gate. Remus glanced back to find a stern looking mistress glaring at him. Remus supposed if he was wearing a nicer hat or perhaps had less scruffy hair she wouldn’t have thought he was trying to flirt.

Remus pushed the doors to the hall open, expecting to see Mary bustling around with bolts of fabric and half finished costumes in her arms, and Peter and Pandora, fingers sticky with glue setting up handmade props and furnishings for the stage. Instead, the hall was quiet and dim, but a devilishly handsome man sat at the piano on the stage with two and a half dozen children at his feet or standing behind him. Remus trod stealthily so he wouldn’t be noticed and crept up to the stage with his back pressed against the wall so he was hidden by the curtains.

“Alright,” Sirius said with a tenderness in his voice Remus had only heard him use with Lady Potter when she was fretting over him. “Should we begin again? Then I’ll play the accompaniment for the angel dance.” Sirius began with dainty notes as the chorus of youthful voices joined him.

“Silent night, holy night
All is calm, and all is bright
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace
Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace.”

“That was wonderful, but “all” is usually higher, like” Sirius played a key to match his pitch. “All, all. Up there so that you can go down again in “is calm”, and descend again in “all is quiet”. Think of the cadence like…a mountain. Just that part again?” Sirius had such a rich singing voice Remus was taken aback. He didn’t know Sirius could sing, but with such a gorgeous speaking voice, why wouldn’t he?

One child raised his hand. Sirius nodded. “What’s a cabense?”

Sirius chuckled, eyes normally so sultry and piercing now mellow and sincere. “Cadence? It just means the way music sounds, usually holistically. It doesn’t really matter, music isn’t all about big words. So long as you enjoy it, you can understand a piece better than the composer themselves if you truly feel it.”

Sirius went to start the beginning of Silent Night again when another child, an older girl, spoke. “Won’t you play that other song for us? Just once? The one you were playing when we came in and you had to stop because Lily needed to teach us the dance.”

Sirius paused, hand aloft. “Now, it’s getting late-”

“Go on, Pads. I want to hear it too.” Remus said, stepping out from behind the curtain and feeling his heart swell as Sirius’ face lit up.

Just as Sirius was about to speak, Lily and James appeared at the hall’s main door. “Hello all. The buses are waiting outside. How was rehearsal? Did all your dances and scenes fit the stage well?” Lily asked as the children all responded, either with indistinct goodbyes and thank yous for Sirius or with excitement about the day’s excursion out of Greenwich and into the snobby streets near Whitehead. As Pebble passed him, Remus nodded and Pebble flashed him a toothy smile, much toothier than it had been when he bit that gangster’s ankle. As the flurry of students exited the hall and the chatter died as more distance gathered between them, Remus stepped closer to the stage, folding his arms over it and looking up at Sirius.

“Are you here to fetch me, then?” Sirius said, grinning from between curtains of luscious waves. Stupidly pretty boy.

"Wouldn’t you like that.” Remus replied, before feeling a bit more generous. “I am here to see you. But I also came to finish painting some sets I started.”

Sirius nodded, shrugging. “Ah. So I’ll just sit here and fiddle with the keys and you’ll be over there and we won’t talk much?”

“We haven’t been talking much lately anyway.” Remus smirked. Remus bit his lip, thinking. “Play that song. The one the children liked.”

Sirius stared at his hands, scoffing quietly. “I thought I was alone. I was…warming up. It’s nothing, actually.”

"So play it. If it’s nothing.” Remus countered, pushing himself up onto the stage and walking over to share the piano seat with Sirius.

Sirius rolled his eyes, squeezing Remus’ bicep. “Show off, much? The stairs were right there.”

Remus kissed Sirius’ cheek. “Play.”

“You’re distractin-”

Remus lowered his lips to the underside of Sirius’ jaw, allowing more of his tongue to brush Sirius’ impossibly smooth skin. Momentarily, Remus was consumed with wondering what razor Sirius used, and if the company would like to request endorsem*nt, but he was quickly brought back to the task at hand when Sirius’ mouth fell open. “Play.”

“I-”

Remus nipped at Sirius’ collarbone, pulling at his tie with one hand and drawing Sirius’ back against his chest with the other. “I said,” Remus breathed into Sirius’ ear, his lust thickening as Sirius shivered. “Play.”

Sirius shakily lifted his hands, and his fingers began to dart across the keys. Remus slipped a hand under Sirius’ shirt, tracing his fingers across his abdomen and chest which heaved rapidly. The piece didn’t indulge in musical jargon nor was it overly polyphonic, however it explored tonal ambiguity; insecurity in which key it was being played in and a lack of dominant chords. Dissonance in composition battled with beautifully rolled high notes that were reminiscent of a harp and unsettlingly romantic. The melody shifted suddenly and became technically demanding, causing Sirius to huff against the effects of Remus’ wandering hands on his running arpeggios. The piece concluded with a fluid and changing harmony, mimicking the opening but played in what Remus assumed was a minor key so the familiarity was tinged with mystery and melancholy. Remus came to rest his arms around Sirius’ shoulders as Sirius placed his wrists in his lap.

“I know I was meant to be distracting you but…” Remus started. “That was really…magnificent. Who is it?”

Sirius turned away from Remus, looking out at the now dark hall as night had fallen. “I wrote it.”

Remus’ eyes widened. “You…wrote that?”

Sirius shrugged, bashful. “It’s just something I’ve been tampering with.”

“Does it have a name?” Remus asked, offering Sirius a kiss on the nose void of all previous deviousness.

“Erm…well…just a silly one. You don’t tend to name a piece like this, they're just…” Sirius massaged his palm. “It’s called Moony’s Sonata. I wrote it for you.”

Remus cupped Sirius’ cheek, turning his face so as to look at him properly. “You wrote me a song?”

Sirius looked down, and Remus didn’t even mind for Sirius’ eyelashes were perfect. “I did.”

Remus’ lip quivered. He couldn’t do anything but stroke Sirius’ chin with his thumb and just think and think and think. He wanted to hear it again. Over and over, he wanted the notes burned into his skin, he wanted everyone who could read music to see what Sirius thought of him scrawled across Remus’ whole body. He wanted it all written down for him, and played note by note, and he wanted to annotate the sheet music and decode which parts were about which memories. The low, resonant part, what was that? Looking for Leopold? Or was that happy? Which part was Brighton? Their music room sessions? Was there any repetition that could be representative of those hours and hours and hours and…

Remus kissed Sirius once. Delicately but passionately. He held Sirius there and let the weight of it linger and dissolve like crystals of salt as ephemeral evidence of a journey at sea. He took his time running his fingers through Sirius’ hair and along Sirius’ long, swan-like neck before he was too overcome to hold back. They were entirely in sync, for Sirius slid onto Remus’ lap and desperately grappled with the buttons on his waistcoat. “Moony, Moony my Moon-oh..” Sirius muttered feverishly as Remus pushed him back onto the piano resulting in a jarring ring of low keys. Remus gripped Sirius' thin waist Sirius fumbled to close the lid. Remus, now on his knees, glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow. “What? It’s a very nice piano. I don't want to damage it.”

Remus chuckled quietly undid the button at Sirius’ trousers. He tucked his fingers under the waist of them, but hesitated. Sirius was looking down at him, panting and licking his lips that were wet and plump from being bitten. “You know me.” Remus breathed. He hadn't meant to voice such a sudden thought.

Sirius’ expression dipped into confusion. “Yes.”

“You…”

Sirius slowly lowered himself so that he was kneeling in front of Remus. “I know you, my Moony. My Remus.”

“Oh god...” Remus groaned, surging forward to finish what he'd started.

---

Two weeks flew by and December rolled into London like a ball of cookie dough in powdered sugar, blanketing everything in a dusting of frost. Remus had helped with the grunt work of the schoolhouse, as well as “tended” to Sirius in the music room in more ways than one. Finally, two days before Mary’s departure home, the marauders and all they held dear filed into the hall at Whitehead, chatting animatedly about the schoolhouse or how sorry they felt for the students or how the other young debutantes would partake in philanthropy of equal regard so as to not be overlooked next season. The Weasleys and their brood had taken the front row along with the families of those who had helped. Remus couldn’t help but feel a hint of jealousy as he glared at the back of Daniel McKinnon’s blond head. So he and Sirius had shared teenage rendezvous, that meant nothing! It was years ago, and who was Sirius involving himself with now? He was currently and actively choosing Remus, so what was there to worry about? Not a thing at all, Remus thought frustratedly as a sense of possessiveness overtook him despite his logic.

Remus took a seat with the Potters, minus James who was backstage with Lily, Mary, Peter and Sirius. Once everyone was seated, Pandora and Evan slipped from their chairs to turn down the lamps in the audience as the curtains pulled back to reveal the nativity sets Remus had painted and furniture made by Peter with the help of James and Barty. Lily came out from backstage, sweeping gracefully to the front in an evening gown suggesting that the queen was in the audience. Lily was such a kind-hearted person with a sense of justice and equality so distinct that she saw it fit to don one of her finest dresses despite the difference in social sphere between her and the children. Remus clasped his hands in his lap, chest inflating with fondness for his dearest friend. He hoped that some day, when Mum was well enough to visit London or Lily and James wished to holiday in Yorkshire, Lily and Mum could meet. They were so similar and would get along terribly swimmingly. Lily cleared her throat.

“Good evening all. Thank you very kindly for attending tonight’s play. As you’re all aware, the cast of this production attend the Hopeful Hearts Ragged School in Greenwich, which I have renovated with the much appreciated assistance of Mary MacDonald, James Potter, Sirius and Regulus Black, Barty Crouch Junior, Evan and Pandora Rosier, Alice and Frank Longbottom, Peter Pettigrew, Marlene McKinnon, Dorcas Meadowes, and Remus Lupin. We also received very generous donations from Theodore, Andromeda and Nymphadora Tonks.” Remus turned around in his seat at the faint creak of the main doors to see Leopold, Tatt, Fleet and the other boys creeping in to stand at the back. Andromeda looked up at them from her seat on one of the pews that had been carried over from the campus church to allow for more audience members. Andromeda pulled Dora onto her lap and shuffled her family over so that they could share the pew with the boys.

“All proceeds will be donated back to the school. As it is a Christmas tradition, the first part of the play will depict the nativity scene. However, the second part is a plot devised by the students themselves that employs their creative thinking and musical talents. The students have studied the bible and theatrical texts to gain inspiration for a narrative that portrays their perception of the true meaning of Christmas: generosity and value of time with loved ones. At the conclusion of the show, the students will showcase their dancing and singing abilities, accompanied by Sirius Black on the piano. Please enjoy the performances.” Lily curtseyed humbly, taking her leave off the stage as the audience clapped with anticipation.

–

The actors playing Mary and Joseph pulled a cloth off the manger to reveal Pebble, limbs splayed on all sides of the creche. “Our son, Jesus, whose true father is the Lord above.” announced Mary.

“Goo goo ga ga.” Pebble said with intense conviction before the manger, which was meant for a small baby doll, broke beneath him. The hall gasped, and the children on stage eyed each other, unsure of what to do. “Wahhhhhhhhh!” wailed Pebble, sustaining his incredibly dynamic presentation of Jesus as he now lay flat on his back on the floor with loose sticks rolling around him.

–

“I don’t believe in Santa Claus. And I want aaaallll these presents to myself!” declared Clara, who was playing a selfish, spoiled rich girl. Sirius was still visible but to the extreme left of the stage, playing low, dramatic notes to accompany Clara’s greedy character. Clara furiously stacked the presents from under the Christmas tree Mary and Peter had made from old brooms with green-dyed bristles on top of her bed. Once she was finished, she sat by them, pouting with her arms crossed. When a prolonged silence ensued, Clara cleared her throat, staring off stage and repeating “I said, I want aaaallll these presents to myself!”

Sirius mouthed to Lily, who was on the other side of the wings. After whispers that the viewers weren't privy to were exchanged, a cloud clang from backstage rang out before James emerged wearing fairy wings meant for a child and holding an earthen, handmade wand. The audience erupted in laughter as James declared in a comically high-pitched voice “Tis I! The Fairy of Christmas!” James twirled across the stage, executing a series of jetes in the direction of Clara’s. “You, my dear friend, are not in keeping with the Christmas spirit!”

“Oh. My bad. Do you know any orphans or poor people?” asked Clara.

“Yes, lots.” replied James, looking to the ceiling in an effort to remember the lines of the character he was clearly an impromptu understudy for. “Let me go and fetch them for you.” James fluttered back to the side of the stage, beckoning and singing screechy opera notes. At the sound, or rather torture, of their cue, the other students came rushing onto the stage.

“One, two, three.” Pebble said quietly. After they had been counted in, the other students joined him, chorusing loudly “We are poor and we want more. Give us presents because we are peasants. We have no food so we are in a bad mood. We have no hats, just rats. It is bad and we are sad. The meaning of Christmas is just this: sharing is caring.”

Clara huffed, as Marlene murmured in Remus’ ear “Pebble as oversized Jesus or Clara as rich brat. Who’s the better actor?”

Remus frowned. “Marls, they’re children!”

Marlene chuckled. “I’m inclined to choose Pebs.”

“But Clara’s eyerolls are so nuanced and complex.” Remus joked.

Clara folded her arms, possibly for the one thousandth time, and grumbled. “But why would I share when I don’t care?”

James performed a wobbly arabesque, causing Remus and Marlene to snort at his not-so-subtle flexing of his muscles. Show off. “But you should.”

“Oh, okay, I will.” Clara said before hugging all of the orphans and handing them presents. Remus thought it strange that impoverished children had chosen to include characters terribly similar to themselves in their play, but "write what you know" was common advice wasn't it? Perhaps they were projecting their wishes for themselves, though Remus assumed James dressed as the Christmas Fairy was not precisely part of this initial vision for their ideal future.

Once all of the children had their presents, Sirius began the accompaniment to Silent Night, though he looked at Remus the entire time, grinning that glorious Sirius Black grin.

Chapter 35: XXXV - In The Eye Of The Hurricane

Chapter Text

The repeated sounds of Remus’ charcoal swiping across the paper seemed to have lulled Nimbus to sleep, so much so that he’d lain down with his head resting on Remus’ shin, warm breaths from his snout blowing up Remus’ trouser leg. Remus loved when horses laid down to sleep rather than standing. The tender knowledge that a herd animal usually so easily spooked and wary of predators felt safe with him and the environment he’d created made Remus feel so understood. He didn’t often feel that his actions held any value to anyone, so seeing the direct response to his care filled that void in a way humans often didn’t. However, a certain group of posh teenagers had made him feel wanted one April and now he didn’t know how to cope with the fact he’d likely have to remember them all longer than he knew them.

Remus finished his sketch. The stall was lit only by a measly candle that Remus had put in a holder on a hay bale. Night had fallen hours ago but he couldn’t sleep, so he did what he always did when he couldn’t bear to be so within himself and he drew until his hand went numb. Tonight he was drawing Sirius, and one would think he’d grown bored of the face, but he really truly hadn’t. Five sketches lay next to the candle or on Nimbus’ back, all of Sirius either smiling, or smirking, or at the piano with those perfect, full lips pouted in focus. He only ever looked like that when he was reading something new, but he’d play it once, twice maybe if it was long, and then it would flow from him like a Lethean flood and Remus would forget everything that wasn’t the music. Remus had drawn everyone at least once so far; Dorcas with Marlene, both fiddling with each other's rings, Lily reading or being hoisted over James’ shoulder, Lady and Lord Potter posed in the parlor partaking in domestic leisure such as reading or embroidering. There were a few of Peter playing chess, and one of Regulus sitting in the bay window of his room looking pretty and romantic as usual despite his character, and there was another of Mary eating cake with Pandora. That sketch was done with pastels; one of the few in colour.

Remus sighed, finishing his final sketch of the night and chastising himself for staying up so late knowing he had a session with Sirius tomorrow and he’d definitely need energy for it. He snuffed the candle, gathering the papers and coaxing Nimbus off his leg without waking him before slipping out of the stall.

---

“So you’re going to be a lawyer?”

Sirius scoffed. “Pshh no. But everyone does law at Oxford.”

“Oh, of course. See, that’s just what I did when I went there actually.” Remus replied sarcastically. “But really, what will you do with law?”

“Anything. Does it matter? I’m a Black, people want my name in their business.” Sirius said haughtily, and Remus was once again reminded that Sirius was a rich dandy and not Remus’ to understand. But to be known is to be loved, is it not?

No. Can you love someone without possessing the ability to even define the word? No, so Remus didn’t love Sirius and he didn’t know him.

Remus played with his brush, twisting it between his fingers as he tried to figure out what was off about the proportions of Sirius’ left hand. It was always the bloody hands. He leaned forward to elongate Sirius’ knuckles, painting longer stripes of light. “But if they disown you, which you’re convinced they will, all you have is the money Alphard secured for you. How will you pay for your law degree and afford to live?”

“Alphard was very rich, Remus. Besides, I had the top grades in every subject graduating from Eton. I’ll use some other last name on my application or something and get a scholarship. I’ll sort it out.” Sirius quirked his brow. “Do you think they’d bother verifying it if I put my name as Sirius Potter?”

Some people might actually need a scholarship and not just want one because their family doesn't want them.“I think you’re the only Sirius in the whole of England. They’ll know.” Remus rolled his shoulders, back aching from sitting on a stool for so long. “You…Regulus will be heir so you could ask him to give you some money.”

“Moons, you’re acting as if I’ll be impoverished.” Sirius said, sipping his tea. He put milk in it. That was new. He’d looked nervous drinking it at first, but Remus had told him he wasn’t posing properly with such an expression crippling his fine features, so Sirius laughed. No pity. “I’m not asking my little brother for money. As I said, you clearly cannot fathom the fact that riches leak from the gloomy walls of this estate. And Grimmauld Place is in my name since Alphard was the legal owner when he passed and the agreement with my mother was that I’d be put as next of kin considering by the time Alphard passed it’s likely I’d be the lord of the Black lands and properties. That aged as well as Alphard did.”

Remus co*cked his head, turning to face the door. “Recess?”

Sirius smirked. “One moment.” He removed his shoe, lobbing it at the door. A quiet yelp sounded from the other side. “Stop creeping about, Reggie! And stop listening to the deliciously sinful sex we are having.”

“Sirius!”

“What? I say the same thing about me and Prongs and he knows it’s all in jest. He’ll assume the same thing here.” Sirius sauntered over to Remus, snaking his cool fingers up either side of Remus’ jaw and using his thumbs to massage the shorter hairs at the top of Remus’ neck.

“He knows. You know he knows.” Remus replied, sighing into Sirius’ touch.

Sirius stared at the ground. “I’m aware. And…we’re both privy to the reason why he left Eton. We’ve both pieced it together?”

“Do you think it’s true? That he really is a…” Remus tried to swallow but found a lump in his throat. “There were rumours he was a sodomite or that he enjoyed…the rumours were why he was pulled but are they true?”

“Even if he wanted to…it wouldn’t have been so…vulgar. And it would have scared him and it would have only happened once or twice at the most and now he’s no doubt regretting it all. Or maybe it isn’t true. Either way he doesn’t and won’t live like that.” Sirius struggled to enunciate.

Sirius’ fingers had stopped moving against Remus’ scalp. Sometimes Remus swore the scar on his nose throbbed or burned. But it didn’t, of course. It just felt that way. “Like…us…you mean.”

“No. We’re different.”

“How?”

Sirius huffed an uncomfortable laugh, stepping away. “Come on, the light is fading. You and your lighting. Now, if you had to give up one, which would be easier? Giving up chocolate or perfect lighting.” Sirius joked, flopping back on the settee. Remus soothed his dry throat with the chocolate on the table. He almost drank the paint water he’d been washing his brushes in by accident.

“That’s your question?” Sirius nodded. “Well, I am very fond of chocolate, but I need perfect lighting at least once to do my job so perfect lighting. Why did you take a year away from studying?”

“The season. Eighteen is a very good age to be. Of course the girls didn’t need an excuse, but James worked really hard for his grades so he was tired and needed the time away. I do miss all our jokes though. We did try at the start of the season, but the pranks will be so much better at a big university instead. Or maybe we’ve outgrown them.” Sirius finished his tea. “I doubt that, though.”

Remus kept himself from groaning in frustration. These fingers were so finicky! “And you didn’t have to work hard to be first in everything?”

“Would I sound like a pretentious arse if I said that I didn’t?”

Remus smiled. “Yes. You would. You always do.”

“Awww Moony! Gosh, you know sometimes I feel like such a fool but you’re really grand at making one feel so sure about themself!” Sirius crooned, throwing his hands up dramatically.

Remus dipped his fingers in the paint water and flicked it at Sirius. “Liar. You’ve never felt a fool in your life.”

“You could have stained my blouse!” Sirius gasped, shielding himself from the droplets.

“My apologies your royal highness.” Remus stood to bow.

Sirius cackled, rushing over to Remus and attempting to flick him back. “Keep looking at me with those eyes and you’ll make me your royal hardness.”

“These eyes?” Remus laughed, running away from Sirius while also staring at him with that sensual intensity that turned him feral. “They’re the only pair I’ve got!

“Then tear them out!” Sirius challenged, lunging for Remus who leapt up onto the settee, wobbling as his feet struggled to find purchase and balance on the plushness of the upholstery.

Remus allowed Sirius to capture him. “Don’t ask.” he breathed. “You know I very well would tear my eyes out if you just asked.”

“But then how would you see how pretty I am?” Sirius teased, arms wrapped tight around Remus’ waist.

As Sirius leaned up to kiss Remus, the door to the music room burst open and the boys quickly jumped apart. Walburga’s bird-like visage appeared. “Sirius, depart.”

“Mummy! How’s the portrait looking?” Sirius cooed, jumping down from the settee in a most ungentlemanly manner. Walburga’s eyes glanced at the portrait, but her expression remained stern. “Remmy hasn’t let me see it yet.”

“Sirius, leave.”

Sirius hugged Remus theatrically. “I best be off then, my pumpkin pie sweetie scrummy scrumkins!” Remus would absolutely be holding the fact that Sirius ever uttered scrummy scrumkins over his head for a very long time.

Sirius skipped out of the room and Remus stifled a snort. Sirius ought to have played the Christmas Fairy instead of James in the play with those aerodynamics. Remus bowed. It was lumbersome and likely unnecessary. “How may I assist you, Lady Black?”

“This portrait is taking far too long. It is to be finished in a fortnight, do I make myself clear?” Walburga said sourly.

Remus was staying until Christmas anyway. The portrait could have been finished a month ago if Sirius had the personality of a raw string bean but that was far from the case. If he was strict enough with himself, the portrait could be done in a fortnight. Really, he didn’t need Sirius to pose anymore, he just pretended he did. It was all about obsessing over the details now. Truthfully, he could paint the entire thing from memory all over again if he wanted.

“Yes, Lady Black.”

“I will not be writing you a reference. I should have hired a professional, it would have taken a fraction of the time. You are dismissed.” Walburga swept out of the room. I don’t need your reference anyway. What was Remus to do with a reference? Show Mum? She’d gush, but she was already proud of him.

---

Remus had been quiet this session compared to yesterday when they’d been jumping around the space and making all that noise. He was always focussed, but Sirius noted that he gave dry answers and didn’t smile at Sirius’ antics. Remus set his brush down, carefully lowering the sheet so that the paint could dry by having it rest on the ledge at the bottom of the easel which jutted further than the thickness of the canvas. “You haven’t spoken much today.”

“No.” Remus said, beginning to pack up the table.

“Exhibit A.” Sirius said. Remus’ lip curled, and he nodded, but he didn’t respond. “Moony, what is it? Was it what my mother said to you?”

“She wants this finished in a fortnight. I’m just trying to do my job.” Remus said, hanging his apron and reaching for his coat.

Sirius drummed his fingers on the arm of the settee. The atmosphere of uncertainty and disguise felt disgusting on his skin. This was Remus. His Remus. Who was this elusive man in front of him? “You could ask her for a reference. For art school since you…you know…aren’t from here.”

Remus shrugged on his coat, facing away from Sirius. Sirius loved that coat on him. It was a big wooly thing, no doubt made by his mother, and it had elbow patches and a few odd pins on the lapel. It made him look like a real farmer, gruff and rugged and austere. Yet, Sirius knew that wasn’t the case at all and it felt good to be one of the few people Remus allowed to truly see him. “I’m not going to art school. I don’t know what you people think, but I came here to work so as to support my mother. I can’t go gallivanting into any place I want.”

“Well, no one thinks you came here to support your mother because you haven’t told them that.” Sirius countered.

Remus whipped around. “Yes, and you know what else I haven’t told them or you or anyone? That it’s my fault! I’m not here to parade, I'm here to try my damnedest to make it better. Then I’m going home to see to it that she recovers. That’s it. You all dragged me into this.

“Your fault? and you all? Who is you all? The Potters who have sheltered you selflessly and our friends who have loved you unconditionally?” Sirius said, standing to follow Remus who was flying down the stairs.

Sirius cringed as their feet sounded on the gravel driveway, the cacophony reinforcing how close Remus was to the gate and to leaving without them having settled whatever this ridiculous argument was about. “I never asked for that. I never asked to be charity. And you don’t love me.”

“What? Moo-”

“I’m not bloody different from those poor, poor peasant school children to you. I’m philanthropy at its finest. Aww, let’s hire a poor beggar artist and save him! Aww let’s let our old stable hand stay here because he has nowhere to go and can't fend for himself! Well I did!” Remus yelled, scrubbing a hand through the front of his hair. His nose was already pink in the harsh frigid wind. Why was he being adorable?

Sirius crossed his arms, feeling petulant and not caring. “Yes, you did that by involving yourself with a criminal gang! We chose you because you’re good at what you do and the Potters kept you on because James cares about you. He loves you! And Lily and everyone involved in the project respects those children as people in the same way they respect you! But they’re children with absolutely nothing, you're not the same. What are we meant to do? Watch them starve? You’d blame us then too! No one can win!”

Remus threw his head back, puffing. Sirius could tell Remus knew he was right. Remus knew he was being insecure. That Sirius loved him. He knew that. “I just want to finish this thing, okay? I’m staying for Christmas but then I’m gone. And I’m sorry I was more of an experience than you bargained for, but you just have to accept I’m not coming back for school or for good. I was just something that happened to you once.”

Tears threatened to bud on Sirius’ waterline. Just something that happened to Sirius? That’s what he thinks? “I’m sorry you haven’t accepted it either. I’m sorry you can’t admit that this is all more difficult and complex than you want it to be. But it is. It was the moment we started…”

“Started what, Sirius? Started f*cking? Can you even say it or are you that ashamed?”

“Don’t be crass-”

“You live in a complete fantasy world. You don’t even know what you’re going to do after Oxford or how exactly you’ll even pay for it! You’ve been lounging around doing whatever you please for the past year without realising that in the real world there is no us.” Remus kicked the gravel, the hint of whine, a plea, in the back of his throat as he spoke. “We are no different than those dirty Eton rumours. We are who your parents pulled Regulus away from.”

“I’m not my uncle. I’m not going to shoot myself because my lover is poor and a man. He was mentally unwell, alright? But I’m fine!” Sirius screamed back. “You want to talk about people only seeing your class? Try the person you’re risking everything for only seeing your dead sodomite uncle’s life as your future! How do you think that feels?”

“I never said any of that!” Remus retorted. “And you admit it. I’m a “poor man” to you. I can’t decide if I like it more than “scum.”

Sirius shivered. “Am I meant to ignore it?”

Remus scoffed, and Sirius felt like he’d somehow lost an argument he’d been winning. An argument about nothing. Wasn’t it meant to be them against the problem? What even was the problem? “You can be as irresponsible and common as you want, your last name is still Black whether or not you’ve been disowned and it shows.”

Remus marched off. “I’m not my family! I’m not! How else do you expect me to show you? Huh?” Sirius called out, words being dragged up into the wintery night and getting caught in the frost gathered on the bare trees.

Sirius ran back into the house, throwing the door open and startling an innocent maid, yet he was too consumed to apologise. “Mere! Mere!” he raved, bursting into room after room. He knew Regulus was lurking at the top of the stairs and he didn’t care. Good, let him see what it means to refuse to be a supremacist. “Mere!”

“Sirius, you are making such a racket.” Pere said stonily from his armchair by the parlour fireplace. “What is it?”

Mere entered, a maid with a tea tray trailing gingerly behind her. “I could hear you from down in the kitchen.”

“What did you say to him? Yesterday? What did you say to Remus?” Sirius yelled, flushed and dizzy.

“Only that the portrait is to be finished in a fortnight.” Mere replied, taking a seat demurely on the settee opposite Pere. “Tis no fault of mine if you have quarreled. You mustn’t be so invested in the opinions of commonfolk.”

“Did you say that to him? Is that it? That he’s common?” Sirius paced, wanting to break something and knowing if he did they’d just whip Regulus until he was raw and Regulus would bloody let them because was that weak. What did he gain by being complacent? Happiness?

Mere placed her hands in her lap. “Orion, tell him.”

“At the conclusion of the portrait’s creation period, you will be disowned. We will pay Mr. Lupin as it is illegal not to. Then you will be left to your own devices and legislative repercussions will follow.” Pere said plainly. He seemed void of any sad*stic pleasure in the situation, unlike Mere. He'd always been that. Void. A vacuum. Nothing. “We are aware you have contacted a grotesquely close friend of your uncle’s despite strict instructions that he is to be shunned, even in death. Similarly, you have fraternised with your disowned cousin. Her arrival at dinner during that single occurrence was an embarrassing example and will not be repeated by you. You will not be present at our Christmas party.”

Sirius felt numb, yet he laughed at the mention of the Christmas party, as if the fact he was uninvited from their dreary excuse of a gathering would be enough to make him beg or even feel regret. It was over. But it wasn’t. It really truly wasn’t, and it never would be. Regulus would still be here. “And what of the portrait?”

“What of it? A waste of money and time.” Mere said, bringing an ugly, gothic teacup to her dry lips. “It’ll be thrown up in the attic and left to turn ugly.”

"You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit."

Sirius murmured nothing more as he walked lucidly to the bottom of the stairs, slowly looking up to meet the grey eyes so similar to his own.

Except it was this pair that belonged to the new Black heir.

Chapter 36: XXXVI - Spiralling

Chapter Text

THESEUS
Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend.

HERAKLES
I fear to stain your clothes with blood.

THESEUS
Stain them, I don't care.

—
Lady Black,
I have brought the portrait back to the Potter residence as I am not in need of Sirius’ your eldest son’s modeling. I shall finish the piece faster this way.

Thank you for your leniency,

R.J.Lupin

—

All the days passed the same. Remus awoke. He took breakfast alone for James left early to visit with Sirius. He spent the first part of the day on the portrait and the second half helping Fleet settle in. James would return for dinner, seeing as the Blacks never willingly hosted unless it was a specific occasion, and he would attempt small talk with Remus as a way to say that he wasn’t choosing sides.

Every second day, Lily would keep Remus company in the afternoons. She’d asked Marlene and Mary to come this time, and probably told them to act like they came unprompted, but Mary was nervously glancing at Lily for cues and Marlene was rather stoic.

Remus was madly sketching. He found he couldn’t stop. Conversation no longer satisfied his brain and he was compelled to draw whenever his hands weren’t busy with necessities.

Lily gazed out at the bleak, misty gardens, demurely sipping tea. Mary forced an overly ecstatic beam on her face as she said brightly “Effie has done a lovely job decorating the sun room for Christmas.”

It was true, wreaths of festive holly were hung on the walls with tinsel strung between them and snowman ornaments were set on the mantel. “Her Diwali decorations this year were wonderful too, weren’t they Remus?” Lily replied, matching Mary’s over enthusiasm in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Aye, grand.” Remus mumbled, drawing line after line until he realised they looked like fine hairs and he’d drawn Sirius’ eyebrow. He put his pencil down, feeling empty, but the sensation persisted so he picked it up again and twisted it around on his fingers.

“Alright, what has happened.” Marlene said finally. “We’re sitting in a frigid room for glass, funnily enough, doesn’t hold heat well and we are drinking cold tea and no one is speaking!”

“We were just saying Lady Potter’s dec-“

“Please, Lils. Enough. Remus what is it? Is it Sirius?” Marlene demanded, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed.

Remus swallowed, staring at the table. “We quarreled. That is all and you lot needn’t concern yourselves.” Remus raised his gaze and locked them on Lily’s fern coloured eyes which were creased with worry for him. “Please. I don’t need condolences. I’m fine.”

“This isn’t condolences.” Lily replied cautiously, mixing two more sugar cubes through Remus’ tea in a poor attempt to coax him into drinking some more. “We’re just spending time together as we always do. Mary’s off soon and we best make the most of our proximity.”

Mary bit her lip. When they’d all sat down, Remus wondered whether Mary or Lily would start chewing on their lips first, and he wondered who’d really stolen the habit off who. “Would you like chocolate instead, Remus? You’ve hardly touched your tea with sugar. Or sugar with tea, rather.”

“No.” Remus replied quickly before standing abruptly. “I have a headache. I think I’ll rest. Final examination of the portrait is the plan for tomorrow before I submit it so I’d like to sleep well.”

The girls nodded their heads, pretending they understood the artistic process Remus had undertaken. He didn’t know what was the correct way to “finish” a piece or when a piece should officially be considered finished, but Lady Black knew about his lack of formal education before he was employed, so he didn’t feel so guilty. As Remus stepped out of the room he heard Marlene whispering. “Black’s really managed to rile him.”

Lily sighed quietly. “James and Peter are with Sirius. That can’t be helping. It was a good thing you did coming here trying to distract Remus even if it didn’t help.”

“What could Sirius have said that could be so bad? They’re such good friends.” Mary asked, half complaining and half genuinely curious.

“Friends? Don’t be daft.” Marlene replied. “It’s just an affectionate argument, if you will, and it’ll pass.”

Through the crack in the door, Remus saw Mary’s face fall. She wasn’t confused or horrified or upset or disgusted. It seemed a realisation had reached her, but Remus walked away and didn’t care to wonder what it was she’d thought of.

Remus crept into the library, hoping Lord Potter wasn’t in there sorting through some encyclopedias or tomes or that Lady Potter wasn’t sifting through old periodicals in search of home craft instructions she wished to follow. Luckily, the library was empty, so Remus decided to recline on the settee and torture himself by finding all the books he’d annotated and reading all the words and sentences and paragraphs that had reminded him of Sirius.

The sky had greyed and darkened when Remus reached the halfway point in Hamlet and the library door clicked open. Remus shut the play, looking up to see Lily with a candle in hand. “I thought you were lying down.”

“I am.” Remus said, gesturing to his elevated feet clothed in sad socks Mum had darned over and over for him.

Lily didn’t say anything more. She set the candle on the accent table by the settee and sat at the opposite end to Remus, sliding her shoes off and putting her legs up so that her feet rested beside Remus’ hip.

They didn’t move after that.

—-

JUDAS spits in JESUS's face.
That's what I think about you.

JESUS doesn't wipe it off.
I love you, Judas.

“This is your third, is something the matter?” Asked Frank after sliding Remus’ drink across to him. Remus had been with Tatt and the boys, marking up more children and not feeling within himself enough to care or feel as bad as he usually did. He was so close now. A month and he’d be home. He’d told Tatt when he was leaving, and he’d expected disappointment or anger from him, but he understood. He’d been looking at Pebble when he said to Remus “I know how it is. We’ll miss ye, but with Fleet at the big ‘ouse and Pebs in school, things be changin’ round ‘ere soon.”

“No. I’m fine, just thirsty.” Remus replied, swirling his drink and now feeling a little uneasy about sipping it in front of Frank despite him being the one to serve it. He didn’t want to seem dependent. Not on alcohol or on anyone else.

Frank glanced at Remus pointedly. “You should bring the boys around some time to cheer you up. Sirius has been in a good mood as of late, it might rub off on you.”

“Why must everyone always talk of Sirius.” Remus muttered, that familiar uncontrollable heat rising in his chest and burning in his cheeks. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.” Remus sighed, thinking of how to recover the conversation and he decided there was nothing for it but to engage. “Why do you say Sirius has been in a good mood?”

Why is Sirius in a good mood after our fight when I’m so miserable about it? It was my fault anyway, of course I should be borderline melancholic. Frank shrugged, but paired with his mischievous smirk, it seemed he was more thrilled than he was trying to let on. “Oh you know. He has a lady friend it seems. I was getting a bit worried when the months had gone by with no women. He must have been bored and lonely.”

Bored and lonely. Bored and lonely. Bored and lonely. Bored and lo- “How do you know?”

“Well they were outside together. Didn’t see her face but she had dark hair and seemed pretty enough.” Frank pushed Remus’ drink, which had gone warm, closer. “Glad he’s back to himself.”

“Aye.” Remus replied. “Head hurts.” He mumbled, his fingers flicking across the bar table top in short, quick strokes as if he were drawing without a pencil. “Best go home.”

Frank’s brow creased. “Would you like a carriage? It’s a long walk back and up some hills too.”

“No. Thank you.” Remus pushed the pewter cup back toward Frank, gesturing for him to finish it instead before dropping payment and then some on the bench.

Remus walked home. He shivered the entire time and the wind was brutal and his boots shaved away at his heels leaving blisters and still he walked. Hands in his pockets, he traced shapes into the lining of them, picturing the figures being carved into wood. His fingers twitched, visions of skin being broken and the sensation of popping as a needle bore down on flesh, the more it popped the more Remus shuddered. He jerked his neck, ink dripped down his arm and ran along his trouser leg but when he looked down there was only murky sleet at his feet. Fever spread across his temples.

Within the domain of hatred, a heightened sense of vitality is experienced, surpassing the depths of emotion derived from love. Is this indicative of one's true nature, then? Is emotional obscurity the inherent state? Love displays volatility. It is draining, making demands and exhibiting capricious shifts. Conversely, hatred is a pliable force, amenable to shaping and control, adjusting to the preferred degree of rigidity.
Remus had always aspired to embody the figure he wished to have encountered when he was young and scared and a boy. The desire was to encapsulate an intrinsic goodness, akin to the indispensable and invigorating nature of the sun, the captivating allure of stars, and the admiration evoked by the red hues of a sunset. However, instead, there echoes a lamentation, declaring, "This deviates from the anticipated path," only to have the world mockingly assert, "Yet, this is the undeniable reality."

He didn’t go through the Potter’s front door. He slipped around the side, his ribs feeling far too narrow to cage his lungs. The average horse has a lung capacity of two thousand and twenty-nine ounces. When their sides expanded particularly quickly and they snorted from their noses, Remus knew they were having just as much fun rushing across the Yorkshire countryside as he was; that the thrill of the jump was shared and Remus’ adrenaline and nervousness did not isolate him.

Remus came to the boat shed. He’d taken Lily out on the lake at the beginning of the season and they’d read The Importance Of Being Earnest. The lake had a thin layer of ice atop it, but it was nowhere near ready for skating. Remus tested the frosty film, tapping it with his boot. It cracked under the ghostly pressure, the shards falling away and melting into the darkness below. Remus wasn’t thinking when he chipped more away, another hole with his other shoe, then he was standing in the lake, and the ice broke away so prettily that he waded and, with little effort, drew two tracks into the frosty film as though he were Moses parting the sea. He couldn’t feel the cold despite frigid water lapping at his knees and crawling up the fabric of his trousers.

“Moony?” Came James’ call, slithering through the waifish trees. For a fraction of a second, Remus was seized by the wrath that was finding other people in other people. The lilt in James’ voice as he said “Moony”. It was Sirius. To understand Sirius, Remus decided, one would need to know James. “What are you doing? You’ll catch a cold.”

Remus didn’t respond.

“Come inside, mate.” James said. Remus looked at him. His hair blew wild in the wind. It had been trimmed recently, left longer on the top. His shoulders hunched and he folded his arms over himself in a sad attempt to stay warm. “Is this about Sirius?”

“Stop it! He isn’t everything! He isn’t anything so just stop.” Remus yelled back at the frozen lake for he couldn’t bear to see the hurt on James’ face but he couldn’t contain the hurt in his heart.

“He doesn’t know what he did wrong. He won’t talk to me.” Remus heard James edge closer, pebbles clacking beneath him. When Remus had been laying by Sirius’ side once, the both of them lounging in the master bed at Grimmauld Place, he’d traced his own name in between Sirius’ ribs just to feel them between his fingers. He’d burned himself into Sirius’ skin all while being called “gentle” and “sweet” and, horrifyingly, “beautiful”. You were beautiful. “You won’t either. Not to me or Lily. Are you quite anxious? Is it that?”

Hot tears dripped down Remus’ face, burning like wax and hardening with shame. The scar on Remus’ nose would be dark plum in the cold. It always became uglier in winter as though it were telling Remus to hide. The Picture of Dorian Gray, Chapter ten, what was it? Ah, “I didn’t say I liked it, Harry, I said it fascinated me. There is a great difference.” Yes, that was the quote. “They threw a rock at me. That’s what happened. Because I kissed a boy I didn’t even fancy all that much and they cut my nose open over it. Did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t. Come inside, let’s talk.” James replied. He was right behind Remus now. Remus could feel his warmth.

“I think girls are beautiful too. But not like Sirius. No one’s like Sirius. Oh god, I’ve gone and ruined it all haven’t I?” Remus said numbly.Am I alright here? Am I alright here? Am I alright here?

James’ hand was steadying on Remus’ shoulder. Until separation, love knows not of the chokehold on its victim. “You haven’t. We love you, Remus.”

Remus pulled away from James, urging further into the lake. “Stop! You don’t love me! You don’t…I’m not like you.”

“We love you.”

“Stop! Stop! Just…leave…”

“We love you.”

“Leave.” Remus sobbed, wading in waist high water.

“We love you.” James said again. Remus whirled around and cried more at the sight of James having followed him in. Scattered across the world is the rubble of kingdoms that believed they were eternal. James reached for him, cautiously tugging Remus closer by his drenched coat. “We love you. All of us. Peter and Mary and Marlene and me and Lily. And Sirius. Gosh, Remus, he loves you more than you’ll ever know.”

“I’ll kill him.” Remus whimpered into James’ shoulder. “I’ll take everything from him if he chooses me. He’ll have no house and no friends and no connections. He doesn’t even want me, he has some other woman. I’ll kill him.”

“He’d die if it meant he could haunt you.” James sighed, embracing Remus closer. “You’re his choice to make. Let him make it.”

“James.” Remus cried and he cried and cried until he thought James would freeze in his arms. He cried because James didn’t understand and he cried because he didn’t know if he was alright with being one of Sirius’ affairs and he cried because he’d let Sirius have him in any way he wanted because Remus loved him more than he loved himself and he cried for his mum and he cried for it was all almost over and the wind was so cold.

They pulled apart. James led him inside.

Chapter 37: XXXVII - So I Try To Say Goodbye, My Friend

Chapter Text

Remus’ fingers ached. The mezzanine in the stables had the best light in the estate, thus Remus had been holed up there for the first hours of the day. The sun had risen slowly and solemnly, the rays cool and bright and indirect, tinged by the tugging sense of unyielding closure that winter brought. The day had drawn up the portrait, starting at Sirius’ knees and crawling up his torso before reaching his chest and then his face and Remus had to stop painting then. He couldn’t bear to focus on the fine features that were etched into his mind.

Remus heard Fleet enter the stables, accompanied by the clop of hooves. He’d saddled Lady Potter’s horse as well as Nimbus that morning so that James and Lady Potter may marvel at the powdery wonderland the surrounding woods had become. Snow had fallen particularly early the winter of 1895, and it numbed Remus to the knawing sensation that London often caused him to feel. When he walked through the streets or looked at the homes of his friends or at the Three Broomsticks, they seemed partially disguised by the blanket of white atop them. The gardens were a blinding sea and the outline of the rooftops became indistinguishable. Looking at them made Remus forget how they were in summer when he’d first arrived and hadn’t thought to concern himself with the impending nature of his departure. It was looking at a photograph or miniature of a relative and finding one’s own familiar features on the face of a stranger.

Remus trudged down the stairs, greeting Fleet and idly helping him hang up horses’ tack before wandering over to the Potter Mansion. Remus entered the library, the scent of leather and old paper making the corners of his lips quirk. He was hoping Lily might have stopped by and had occupied herself in the library waiting for James to return from his hack. Remus was not greeted by a head of flaming hair turned deep crimson in the sun’s absence, but instead he found Mary curled up on the settee.

“I didn’t know you fancied reading.” Remus said jokingly, though it emerged from him flat and unhumorous.

Mary fiddled with the envelope in her hand, flicking it open and closed. “I don’t. I came in here to find a new ink pot as mine is empty, but I can’t be bothered materialising a response now.”

“Who are you responding to?” Remus asked, coming to sit beside Mary. He kicked his shoes off and held his feet up to the warmth of the fireplace.

Mary frowned at Remus’ socks, half of which were missing. “You should let me darn the holes in those.” Remus rolled his eyes. “And no one important. Some dandy whose face I cannot even picture. I believe he attended one of the Potters events during the season then didn’t call in with appreciation afterwards so I’m not keen on him, but perhaps I’m confusing him with some other dandy whose face I also cannot picture.”

“Sounds like you’ve found some terribly memorable matches then.” Remus replied.

“Sirius has been my only memorable match.” Mary sighed. “And that turned out swell.”

“Well it did, didn’t it? You’re the best of friends now.” Said Remus. “Sorry. I’m rather keeping you from him. I never wanted our argument to impact others.”

Mary shook her head. “It’ll pass won’t it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh.” The fire crackled quietly, as though embarrassed to fill the silence. “Why did you quarrel?”

Heat grew in Remus’ cheeks. “We…just…just about our differences.”

“Are you wrong? Or is he?” Mary asked. Remus forgot how straight forward she could be, though it wasn’t perceived as a “fault” or something she needed to reduce in the way Marlene’s brashness was often received. Mary’s charm and looks meant she was confident enough to ask a question and expect an honest answer, and her good character made Remus and everyone else respond with sincerity. Mary got what she wanted whenever she asked, but all she wanted was the truth behind the woes of those she cares about. It was a sisterly “fix it” attitude, but Remus didn’t feel that she would be one to marinate in emotions with Remus the way Lily or…

Or Regulus might. Remus didn’t know why he thought of Regulus then. He was still a little creep.

Remus could not tell Mary about Sirius’ new female lover as that would pose the question of why it mattered to Remus. “There is no wrong.”

Mary breathed deeply. “Was Sirius ever attracted to me? Do you know?”

Remus stared at Mary. At once, his stomach dropped. He didn’t have to tell Mary why Sirius’ new lover bothered him. She knew. Remus swallowed. “Were you attracted to him?”

“Yes. He’s beautiful.”

“And you wanted to marry him? And have his children and be his wife?” Remus asked.

Mary pursed her lips. “No.” She tucked a stray curl behind her ear before settling both her delicate hands in her lap. “The gap. The big gap again. The hole. He’s beautiful and he’s my good friend but there’s no in between. There’s never been an in between with anyone.”

Remus rested his hand on hers. It looked so ugly covered in paint stains and scars while hers were smooth and even in their brown skin tone. “Sirius was not attracted to you. But he finds you beautiful.” Remus sniffed. “He isn’t attracted to any woman.”

“That’s why it hurts you so deeply that Sirius is bedding one now.” Remus couldn’t look at Mary. “You know he doesn’t even want her.”

“It is not so simple.”

“Nothing is.”

---

James downed the last mouthful of Lord Potter’s nice whiskey they’d stolen from the study. It was the eve of Mary’s return home, and despite the fact that Remus, James, Peter, Mary, Lily, Marlene and Dorcas had piled into Mary’s bedroom for one final slumber party, gloom hung thick in the air. And Sirius. Sirius was there too.

“Alright! Game time! Truth or Dare? Wormtail’s whisper game?” Asked James enthusiastically.

Remus rolled his eyes. “Not the whisper game.” He didn’t need even more tension or emotional revelations. Not tonight. Remus didn’t want anything tainting his last night with Mary.

“Last time we played a dare game with alcohol involved, you had your waistcoat torn by stag antlers.” Lily remarked as James came to lie in her lap. He could be such a big baby with her. Remus felt a green stain spread from his chest and seep into his jersey. He hoped it didn’t show on his face.

“How about something that doesn’t require standing? My legs turn into jelly when I’ve had too much to drink.” Marlene said, the ends of her words tapering off in that familiar drunken way.

Lily’s face lit up, and she fetched a piece of parchment from Mary’s desk, leaving a disgruntled James to grumble about losing his pillow. Lily returned to the floor with a quill, causing the group to lean in eagerly waiting instructions, while James pet Lily’s thigh as if he were plumping a cushion. “This game is called passing the parchment. You must write “I am passing the parchment to someone who…” then finish the sentence with something funny about the person to your left. Then fold the parchment so the next person cannot see what you have written about them, and they will do the same for the person to their left. Then we pass it back the other way and read what was said of us.” Lily scribbled on the page, giggling to herself, before folding and passing the paper to James.

“What did you write about me?” James tutted under his breath as he wrote his comment on Peter.

Some fifteen minutes later, the parchment was complete, and it was returned to Lily so she may read what Sirius wrote of her. “I am passing the parchment to a carrot top.” Lily huffed. “How witty and creative.” Sirius raised his teacup in salute. There was no milk in his tea. Perhaps it had been an odd phase where Sirius felt comfortable to have anything other than plain and boring. Perhaps that is not the only phase of avoiding the plain and the boring. Perhaps I was just a thrill.

Next, James unfolded the parchment to read his comment. “I am passing the parchment to someone who had a roman chariot themed bedframe until he was fifteen.” James scoffed. “It was part of my athletic and rugged appeal, thank you.”

“Ahem,” said Peter as he unfolded his segment. “I am passing the parchment to someone who tried out for the Eton football team multiple years in a row and never made it.” Remus cringed but Peter smiled heartily and clapped James on the back. “Eh, at least I wasn’t being caressed by the entire change room after practice.”

“Ooft, Wormy!” Sirius cackled. “Brutal!”

Marlene leaned across the circle to ruffle Peter’s hair as Remus took the parchment off Peter and unfolded the next part to reveal Peter’s comment. “I’m passing the parchment to someone who probably has mental issues from the amount of times he’s hit his head on door frames.” Remus snorted. “Nice one, Pete.”

Marlene plucked the parchment from Remus and cleared her throat to read Remus’ comment on her. “I’m passing the parchment to someone who harbours romantic notions for the mothers of her friends. Particularly Lady Potter.” Both Lily and Mary screamed out in laughter, doing that playful slap that girls often do on each of Remus’ shoulders. “You missed one.” Marlene smirked as Remus looked at her quizzically. “I also get hot and bothered thinking of James’ mistress servant.”

“Oi! You must leave Minnie alone for she only has eyes for me!” Sirius countered as James threw a pillow at him, musing his gorgeous black wave- shut up! His hair. Mused his hair.

“I’m the favourite! She was my governess!” Said James as he braced for Sirius to throw the pillow back at him.

As Sirius lobbed the cushion, Remus’ hand snapped into the middle of the circle, catching the weapon which was clad in Eton football team colours. “I believe McGonagall confirmed that I am in fact her favourite.”

Dorcas coughed. “Can I open my part yet?” The group nodded, returning their attention to the parchment. “I am passing the parchment to someone with really pretty rings.” Dorcas hugged Marlene into her side, causing Marlene’s cheeks to redden significantly. “Thank you.”

Mary shook her head as she received the parchment. “Aren’t these supposed to be jesting jabs? That was almost as boring as James’ kitten story at Brighton.”

“Are you ever going to forget about that?” James sighed as everyone affirmed, in unison, that they would not.

“I am passing the parchment to someone who would have a million unknown illegitimate children should she be a man.” Mary’s jaw dropped as Dorcas smirked.

Dorcas shrugged, sipping the homemade spiced rum she’d brought to the evening. “It’s highly impressive that you beguile so many.”

“Amen.” Mary replied as she threw the parchment at Sirius, who still caught it in one slick move despite the awful aim.

“I am passing the parchment to someone who is the less handsome Black brother.” Sirius crawled over to Mary, taking painfully slow motions toward her as the room played table tennis between them. Remus hated it. He couldn't look away. He hated the way Sirius' hips were swaying and the way his back was arched, the liquidness of his movements. Remus hated how he just could not tear his eyes from Sirius' body. He was completely and utterly chained to Sirius. It burned to love someone when one didn't like them. Sirius waited until his face was only inches from Mary’s before murmuring loud enough so that all would hear but low enough to be lethal. “But you still wanted me, ma cherie.”

The marauders and their friends erupted in remarks ranging from laugh to gasps to general drunken noises, but Remus trembled as he excused himself to the washroom before promptly vomiting into the potted plant at the bottom of the stairs.

---

Every hour of fear I spend
My body tries to cry
Living through each empty night
A deadly calm inside
So I try to say goodbye, my friend
I'd like to leave you with something warm
But never have I been a blue calm sea
I have always been a storm

Storms, Fleetwood Mac

Mauve mist melted atop the gables of the Potter mansion, diving down the sides of the home and pooling on the gravel driveway. It was the perfect way to say goodbye, and though Remus knew he’d see Mary again, and that he’d write to her and hear her voice in his head sometimes, something the weight of finality clung to his shoulders. Remus hated how beautiful it all looked; a vignette of all of them standing in a line, waiting to be embraced in farewell. The bright wool of their coats, shielding them from the bitterness of the morning, how stark Lily’s hair was against the white blur of their surroundings, and how bright the flecks of true emerald in her eyes appeared when she cried. Lily released Mary, stepping back to let James hold Mary to his chest. His glasses had fogged, thus he removed them, before restoring them to his face and kissing Mary’s forehead. “Good thing you didn’t choose some dandy, or I mightn’t see you again next season, sister.”

Mary slapped James’ chest before moving on to Marlene, who buried her face in Mary’s neck to avoid having her tears noticed, and though it were fairly obvious, the party remained polite and didn’t comment as Marlene and Mary stood there, perfectly still, Marlene breathing in the scent of Mary’s soap. Mary embraced Dorcas next, and they parted sooner than Mary and Marlene had. Dorcas pressed a tin into Mary’s gloved hand. “It’s balm for your hair. Mine goes awry in the colder months. If I decide to keep it natural, I apply this religiously.”

Mary chuckled. “Thank you, Cas. The day I master braids as fine as yours will surely be the day that future husband of mine finds me.” Mary then moved onto Peter, who she embraced for a long while, before he offered her some homemade pastries for her trip home.

Mary then embraced Sirius. She pulled back, placing a hand on his cheek as she whispered. “Trouvez l’épanouissem*nt. Pardonner mutuellement. Cela me tue de devoir partir lorsque deux âmes sœurs se séparent.”

Sirius shook his head, holding her hand against his skin in spite of the action. “Qu'est-ce qu'il vous a dit?”

“Assez.” Mary replied. Overcome, Sirius grasped her to his chest again, squeezing her tight enough so that her feet lifted off the ground and Mary let out a slight yelp of surprise. Snowflakes fell into the jet abyss of Sirius’ hair, but as he stepped back he ran a poisonously perfect hand through the tresses and the frost dissipated.

Mary barely had time to move along the line before both Lord and Lady Potter’s arms were around her, Lady Potter blubbering with the same vigor as when she’d started an hour ago. “Beti, oh beti how we shall miss you.” she cried, frantically clutching Mary. It had been a fair few minutes before Lord Potter had to gently pry his wife from Mary, and Lily and James came to tuck themselves under each of Lady Potter’s arms in an attempt to occupy her.

Remus hadn’t meant to position himself last. He’d just wanted to avoid standing next to Sirius, therefore he put Lord and Lady Potter between them. Mary held both his hands, and opened her mouth to say something before promptly bursting into tears. “Oh, Remus, oh Remus…I-”

Remus held Mary close enough so that they could murmur discreetly. “I’ll miss you. So much, Mary.”

“You’re the hardest one to leave. I didn’t even know you’d be here when I came. But there you were and here you are.” Mary cried, Remus rubbing her back rhythmically.

“The unexpected is often the most welcome in our hearts.” Remus said, and he hadn’t meant for anyone else to listen, but from the corner of his eye, for he refused to look directly, he saw Sirius raise his head at Remus’ words. Remus wiped Mary’s cheek, taking the hand he was still holding and using it to help her into the awaiting carriage. “Go in peace. We will meet again soon.”

Mary waved to everyone. She kept waving until the carriage was halfway down the road, shuffling across the seat multiple times so as to gesture out the correct window.

Then she was gone. And the scene wasn’t beautiful anymore. The chorus of footsteps on the gravel, shambling slowly back into the house, was deafening. Remus couldn’t hear himself think it was so ridiculously loud.

Then he realised he could no longer think. Sedated and numb was he, so much so that all Remus could deliberate was biting his lip like the ghost of a girl he used to know who knew another girl. They were all a mosaic of each other. They were glass fragments and odd pieces of terracotta and cement and yet when all the shards were joined they formed art.

Remus lived for art.

Chapter 38: XXXVIII - Alexander and Hephaestion(Achilles and Patroclus)

Chapter Text

"Dorian, from the moment I met you, your personality had the most extraordinary influence over me. I was dominated, soul, brain, and power by you. You became to me the visible incarnation of that unseen ideal whose memory haunts us artists like an exquisite dream. I worshipped you. I grew jealous of every one to whom you spoke. I wanted to have you all to myself."

- Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

---

Remus had accompanied the Potters to mass every weekend since his employment with them was terminated all that time ago, and after the announcement of her courtship with James, Lily also sat in the Potters’ pew. Though he wasn’t a religious man, Remus found peace at church. It was an hour out of his week for him to sit and be with himself, where his thoughts could run free until they became too much, and he was able to put them aside in favour of listening to the homily. The church was also the place where the marauders’ first prank of the season occurred. It was only months ago, but retrospectively, Remus felt that they’d all been so young then. They thought they’d perform stunts and escapades for the rest of time, and nothing would get in the way. It had all been so simple; James and Sirius were the overly confident best friends, Peter the nervous sidekick, and Remus the plain stable hand who had been momentarily roped into the plot. Maybe it was just summer, and maybe the air was just warm and muggy, and maybe everything was just new and bright, or maybe Remus wasn’t remembering such a time incorrectly and there really was a pink haze in the air everywhere he went.

Remus exited the carriage with the Potters and Lily, waving shyly at those he recognised, and quietly greeting Marlene and Peter as he passed their pews. It was automatic, so routine that he didn’t need to be present. Remus knelt before sliding into the pew next to Lily, who was explaining the reason for Mary’s absence to an old school friend of theirs in sitting in the row behind them. Bored, Remus glanced around, but found nothing of interest to engage with, so he faced forward, only to have his gaze land on the back of Regulus’ head. Sirius was not beside him, and instinctively, Remus leaned over to ask James where Sirius might be, though he returned to an upright posture as soon as he realised he wasn’t supposed to care.

The congregation stood for the entrance of the priest. The priest began the mass, standing behind the lectern that was positioned beneath a mounted statue of Jesus being crucified. Had Jesus thought of his disciples as he awaited death? Did he think of Judas, and love him for who he had been and hate him for who he had become? Had lent truly awoken resilience in him, or did he cry for his father? If so, was it Joseph or God that he begged for? Remus concluded that it was neither. Should Jesus have wept, his tears would have been for Mary. Mothers often birthed their pain, and blessed the pain as their child, and when they found they could not bear such a truth, they named the baby after the man who had sired him.

Remus was struck with the thought that this would be one of his last masses with the Potters. As the bittersweetness of the church’s scent, musty and ancient, caused Remus’ head to spin, he offered more queries to no one. Did the smell of the cross, the familiarity of timber, hurt or comfort Jesus? How did he reckon with his role as a carpenter as he succumbed to his role of being the Lord’s son? And what of Mary? Did she thank God for giving her Jesus and curse him for taking her son? Was he ever really her son? Was she selfish in her grief?

Remus returned to reality when a tragically intimate tune wound its way into the nave, echoing through the stony walls from the chancel. Though it was being played on the organ despite being written for piano, Remus would know it anywhere. Even if he didn’t immediately recognise Moony’s Sonata, the way Sirius’ fingers flew across the keys with such speed and precision without missing out on capturing the raw emotion of the piece was distinct.

It could be no other but Sirius. The priest stepped toward the chancel, however, he hovered; entranced. The entire church was still. The gothic music thundered into the space, diving up the walls and circling under the ceiling. Though it was dark and gloomy, slivers of tenderness prevailed. There was meaning; a memory being retold in a language only Sirius and Remus spoke.

The song concluded and Sirius emerged. The priest, recovering from having forgotten himself, rushed at Sirius and forcefully gripped his forearm just as Lord Black surged forward to grip Sirius’ other shoulder. Before they were able to escort Sirius out of the church via the back entrance, Sirius caught Remus’ eye.

Let them crucify me he said.

Sirius was Alexander and Remus was Hephaestion. They stood before the grave, and Alexander laid a wreath for Achilles and Hephaestion did the same for Patroclus. Alexander had wished for the whole army to bear witness and to know what the gesture meant. The Ancient Greek dialect held eight words for love. Remus would use all of them to describe how he felt about Sirius. Mania was the first to come to mind, though ludus and pragma followed, and phillia and eros were entirely accurate as well. Plato and Plutarch and Aeschines debated the meaning of the wreath laying, but none of them were there. None of them saw the way Alexander looked at Hephaestion. It was as secret as Sirius’ current expression.

So Remus said come back, I need to breathe again.

It seemed that the mass dragged on for an age after Sirius’ performance, though it was not even another hour. Finally, the priest exited the church with the pallbearers, and the congregation dispersed. Remus subtly slipped away from the Potters, sneakily ducking into the confession booth.

Some ten minutes passed before the other door opened, and someone entered.

“Father?” asked Remus.

“You can call me that if you wish.” chuckled Sirius. Remus’ shoulders slumped in relief.

Remus swallowed. “We haven’t spoken in a while.”

“Aren’t you meant to be confessing your sins now?” questioned Sirius.

“I don’t know. You’re too blasphemous to help me anyway. That stunt said as much.”

“I’m not Catholic.” Sirius paused. He breathed, so low and gravelly that Remus barely heard it through the slot between their boxes. “You are my religion.”

“I suppose she is Rachel and I am Bilhah in that case.” Remus replied, fighting the urge to rip the door off its hinges and kneel in front of Sirius just so Remus could look up at him.

“Who do you mean by she?”

“The woman you’ve been bedding. Frank told me.”

“Pardon?” Sirius said, the chair in his box creaking as he stood from it.

The door in front of Remus flung open, allowing light to pour in. “The dark haired woman? Frank told me he saw the two of you in a rather close embrace.” Remus tried to keep his brow hard and determined. He probably looked unwell instead.

“There is no woman. Where did Frank claim he saw me with her?” Sirius said, standing over Remus and boring into him with those icy irises.

“Uhhh…on the street. You weren’t hiding very well.”

Sirius looked to the roof of the booth for a moment, frowning as he tried to remember. His eyes widened, and he slowly brought them back down to Remus’ face. “It was Andromeda. She was comforting me after…”

Remus felt tears bud on his water line. “After I yelled at you in your driveway for no reason.”

“Yes. After that.” Sirius placed a hand on Remus’ jaw, though he didn’t force Remus to lift his gaze. “You thought I’d been lying with a woman?”

“You aren’t mine.”

“But you understand now that I am? You understand the piece I wrote?” Sirius closed the booth door behind him, lessening the space so much that he had to straddle Remus. “You understand that you are Hephaestion?”

Remus looked up, eyes wide and hungry for Sirius’ visage. “How did you know I’d think that?”

“You’ve said it before yourself.” Sirius smiled, small and sincere and so delicate. “I know you, Remus.”

“I’m sorry.” Remus cried, clutching Sirius’ chest to his face and inhaling his cologne. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I have to leave you and I cannot and I’m sorry. Sirius, I'm sorry.”

Sirius stroked the back of Remus’ head, his fingers grazing the backs of Remus’ ears and trailing down his neck. “I love you.”

Remus pulled away from Sirius’ chest, just enough to allow for speaking but not enough that his forehead should be void of any contact with Sirius. “You know how I feel about you.”

“I want to hear you say it. I want to hear it in your voice.”

“I love you.”

Remus kissed Sirius. Ravenously, as though Sirius was the only sustenance the world had to offer. Then softly, gently and ever so cautiously. Remus shivered at the sensation of their tongues sliding together, the taste of fragility sweet and hot in Remus’ mouth. Remus could feel his lips swelling, yet it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough until they’d fallen off.

“We’ll get found out if you moan any louder.” Sirius teased, tracing a finger along Remus’ bottom teeth. He raised an eyebrow, and after being stopped from speaking by Remus impulsively leaning up to kiss it, for it had burned a hole in his mind, Sirius said “Grimmauld Place isn’t too far. But it is far too empty.”

Remus grinned. “We should fix that.”

---

James waited by the family carriage, leaning against the wheel and using his foot to play with the pebbles buried under the snow. Peter had already left as he was taking Evangeline out for her birthday, and Lily was advocating for the ragged school to a group of older gentlemen who had money to throw away. James grinned as he watched Maa and Pita fawn over the Weasley children who had grown so fast since James last saw them. Sirius and Remus exited the church, rather abruptly, and James perked up at the sight of them holding hands. They’d made up! Remus had noticed Sirius’ absence in the pew in front of them, and despite the fact Remus had acted subdued and nonchalant, James would have just told Remus where Sirius was if he’d known. What James also didn’t know was why Sirius had pulled such a lame stunt. It was such a stain on the Marauders reputation, though it seemed they’d all silently and subtly outgrown their childish antics. Whatever the meaning behind Sirius’ playing, James wagered it was far too complex for him to understand. Leave them to their obnoxious intelligence.

Sirius and Remus trudged off down the street toward the city, chatting as if they’d never fought at all. Remus was rolling his eyes and Sirius was raising a jesting brow, just as they always did. Satisfied, so much so he didn’t even wonder where they were off to, James leaned back against the carriage again and closed his eyes. The sound of snow crunching quietly under deft, delicate feet made the corners of James’ lips quirk. “How is the philanthropy coming along, jaanu?”

“I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re on about. My name isn’t Jaanu, either.” Regulus said as James fumbled against the carriage in an attempt to stand straighter.

“I thought you were Lily.” James replied sheepishly, shoving a hand through his hair and fixing his glasses.

Regulus pursed his lips. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you.”

“You didn’t.” James said, though he felt the urge to guard himself. He’d thought of Regulus as a friend once. Though the thought made him insecure that he might be too full of himself or narcissistic, James couldn’t help but be particularly annoyed by Regulus’ rejection because no one had ever rejected James’ offer of friendship before. “We haven’t spoken in a while.”

“No. We haven’t.”

James went back to kicking pebbles as he waited for Regulus to elaborate on the purpose for his approach, but Regulus’ rosebud lips stayed shut. “Forgive my being forward, but why have you come to speak with me?”

Regulus’ eyes widened. He was shocked that James hadn’t expressed himself in a way that protected Regulus’ feelings; in a way that was slow and predictable and gentle, as if Regulus were a deer. Well, James was a stag and stags don’t care about rich boys who believe everyone is disposable. What do stags care about? What do stags eat? Come to think of it, James didn’t know much about stags. Maybe they’d have a book on forest wildlife in their library at home, or James could ask Lily because she knew everything. James blinked, forcing his focus back on Regulus who still hadn’t spoken. “I don’t know. I just did.”

“You don’t know?” James repeated. “That’s new for you. How does it feel?” even if he tried, which he secretly wasn’t really doing, James couldn’t sound cruel. His question sounded like genuine interest, and James cursed himself for that being true and for his sincere desire to know how Regulus felt.

Regulus stared at James. He blinked slowly. He turned on his heel and walked away.

“Um. How strange.” James muttered to himself as his parents and Lily approached, conversing vibrantly.

---

Regulus wasn’t sure if he’d found the right place. In all fairness, it was never going to be the “right” place. It was a horrendous place. But, to think practically, it was in fact the place Regulus had been seeking. It was made obvious by the red velvet settees and half dressed women draped across gentlemen Regulus was disgustingly grouped with in matters of class. Regulus wasn’t allowed to judge them anymore. He was here too.

A woman approached him, scantily clad as every other worker was. When James had been here, had he seen her? Had he wanted her? Did he have her? She didn’t look like Lily. She looked plain, like every other dark haired woman. “May I assist you, sir?”

Regulus hadn’t anticipated who or what he might want. He didn’t feel entirely in his own body. The harder he tried to formulate a response to this woman’s question, formulating responses being an endeavour that had suddenly started stuffing cotton in Regulus’ mouth, the more Regulus felt himself slip away and start crawling up the walls to perch on the dark wooden banisters. Whatever his response had been, for Regulus had apparently said something, it caused the woman to take Regulus by the hand and start leading him to the rooms upstairs.

Once the feeling of a crystal whiskey decanter hit his lips, Regulus drank as if he were a disciple being told the wine was the blood of Christ. The room started to spin and suddenly it wasn’t so hard anymore. He was lying on a bed, or a piece of furniture similar, and hands were being drawn up and down his chest and torso.

“Aww, come now. Don’t be so scared. I’ll lead?” the woman asked, and Regulus, from high up in the corner of the room where the walls met each other and kissed the ceiling, watched himself lie there. He did not agree. He did not stop her.

She was moving. Regulus felt her weight. The bed was shifting, the frame creaking. Regulus watched the hand he had thrown behind his head hit the wall rhythmically. The woman was making noises and Regulus didn’t care. Warmth pooled, not in his stomach but on his waterline. The saltiness dripped down his cheeks.

Possessed, Regulus gripped the woman by the throat, halting her. She went to cry for assistance, but Regulus spoke before she did. “Let me call you whatever I want.”

The woman nodded.

Nothing would bring Sirius back. He was gone. He didn't care about Regulus and he didn't love him. Regulus had been grieving for so long, yet no closure had come of it for Sirius was not dead. How was Regulus so different from Remus? There was the obvious, that Regulus was Sirius' brother and Remus was his lover. But Sirius loved Remus for more than just their physicality. There was intense admiration for Remus' character, but Remus was so similar to Regulus. So why not Regulus? Why was Sirius able to walk away so easily? It tore Regulus apart, and where the seams were ripping, there emerged a scene. It was the day that James had thrown pebbles at Regulus' window, and Regulus had walked away from him.

James felt as Regulus had. It was all Regulus' fault.

“James.” he croaked it first. Then, steadier “James. James. My James. Oh god, James.”

His hand hit the wall faster now, and Regulus watched himself arch his back.

“Jame-”

It was hours later when the woman dug around in Regulus’ coat pocket, fishing out her payment and leaving him sprawled on the bed in a drunken stupor.

Regulus walked all the way home.

---

Their affection for each other was no secret, as is borne out by their own words. Hephaestion, when replying to a letter to Alexander's mother, Olympias, said "you know that Alexander means more to us than anything".[42] Arrian says that Alexander, after Hephaestion's death, described him as "the friend I valued as my own life."

“He whom I valued more than all others, and loved as dearly as my own life? I have lost him.” Achilles in the Iliad.