Regulus
“Need help with those?” The boy he presumed to be Sirius gestured to Remus’ bags.
Remus looked down dumbly as if he had forgotten he was even carrying them. Too caught up on the nape of Sirius’ neck.
“That’d be great, thanks.”
Sirius picked up one of his heaviest bags with one hand like it weighed nothing, talking casually while he gave Remus a tour, swinging it around as he pointed out this and that.
“Here’s the sitting room, we’re barely ever in here,” Remus could understand why, all the flowery upholstered furniture looked like it lacked cushion and the floor-to-ceiling arched windows looked out to the street. “That’s the kitchen, we tried to stock up on some things you’d like, but feel free to-”
Remus followed silently, stuck on one word Sirius kept using.
We, we’re, we’ll. Our, ours.
Dumbledore hadn’t mentioned another person living here, just the one eccentric Sirius. Who now that Remus really thinks about it, looks way too young to be a past student of Dumbledore’s. Unless he taught high school English at some point in his career.
“Upstairs are our bedrooms, my studio. The third floor is all yours, of course,” Sirius paused halfway up the staircase, his smirk just a jerk of one eyebrow, his eyes traveling all over Remus. “You’ll have to share the library with Reg, though.”
Remus opened his mouth to very politely ask who exactly Reg was, but Sirius cut him off with a sniff.
“You smoke?” He tilted his head.
“I do, but…” Sirius perked, distracting him with a glimmer in his eye “But I won’t smoke in the house if you’d prefer.”
“Mind if I bum one off you?” Sirius stretched an arm out on the banister, biting his lip.
Remus’ mouth snapped shut before he went for his pack, “Of course,” handing one to Sirius.
The boy put it between his lips and leaned in with his head for Remus to light the end. His hands trembled slightly as he held the lighter up. Remus watched the whole ordeal from the roof it seemed. On the first exhale, Sirius sighed out a cloud, ready to go on with the tour.
“Dumbledore would say those will kill you one day.” Remus tried to joke, trying to play on something they had in common.
Sirius gave an abrupt sharp laugh, flashing his canines.
“Doubt it.” He tapped some ash into an old vase he passed.
When they got to the third floor Sirius led him to what would be his room. A semi-studio with a simple bed and an adjoining bathroom, a fine writer’s desk against a large wide window, and an armchair with a sheet draped over it in another corner. It all appeared rather dated, and Remus wondered how somebody like Sirius ended up with a house like this, frozen in time. Or perhaps, such antiquated design preferences.
“It’s not much, but it’s comfortable,” Sirius said, pulling the old sheet off the–what now revealed itself to be burgundy–armchair, he balled the fabric up in his arms and finally, finally, met Remus’ eyes. “I feel you’re not so impressed.”
Remus set his bags down where Sirius had tossed the other and walked further into the room. Through the window behind the desk stood the Eifel tower tucked in a corner, he looked at it indifferently before turning to look at Sirius again, who watched him across the room with a tight pout, clutching the dusty linen to his chest.
“It’s perfect.”
“Perfect” He repeated, his feline eyes crinkled in the corners with a bright smile. “I’ll show you the library then?” Sirius suggested with a tilt of his head towards the door.
“I’d love to take a look.” Remus crossed the room, “Oh, before I forget,” He rummaged through his jacket pocket, handing over the envelope Dumbledore gave him. Sirius looked at it with confusion clouding his eyes, eyebrows pinched. “First three months?”
Sirius gave out a long, drawn-out, “Oh, right.” before tossing it onto a dressing table and turning to make down the hall. Remus stood there, bewildered before quickly following behind Sirius to a door at the end of the hall.
He let Sirius hold the door open for him, sucking in a breath when he saw a great iron paned window looking North across the Seine, a great porthole into Paris, a thousand little dots of lights in the early night. Remus walked right up to it, through a small sitting area, ignoring the three other walls lined with books to the ceiling, a wood and brass ladder hanging off one of the shelves.
“This is just, beautiful.” Remus sighed.
“Really the selling point of the house,” Sirius boasted, “Oh, and that’s Reggie.”
Remus spun around, eyes jumping around the room until he saw a figure in a dark corner, legs tucked up onto an armchair. Eyes that seemed to glow were already looking back at him over the top of a book. Crystalline, with the whites shining under the irises, almost translucent lavender on the fringes.
A cold wave crested over Remus’ heart, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight, a tingling sensation.
God, there were two of them.
A little brother he assumes, surely teenaged, with the same shiny shade of black hair cropped behind his ears. The stone-faced creature tapped his finger on the top of his book before lowering it.
“Say hello, Regulus.” Sirius rolled his eyes.
Regulus took his time, unfolding his bare legs to just touch the ground, revealing the top of a bunched-up white chemise. The square neck was a window to the nobs that were the ends of his collarbones. Regulus set the book down in his lap, a cold look on his face as he leaned forward on his hands.
Remus silently grunted, screwing up his face. Images of his childhood flooded his mind, rolling hills, and wooden sheds. His grandfather's work weathered hands teaching him how to drive a nail. His days at school, running down marble hallways away from the lunch lady, feasting on stolen chocolate pudding with his dorm mates.
Then twisted metal, his mother’s face, and the smell of hospital.
He winced, coming back to himself, off balance. Regulus was still looking at him intently while he leaned back and picked up his book, burying himself in it once more. As he curled up, he mumbled.
“Hello, Remus.” Like a tea bell.
Remus was bewildered, digging his fingers into his temple as a headache came on behind his eyes. When he looked back at Sirius, Sirius was looking at Regulus, looking a bit peeved. Remus made his way back to him and out the door, suddenly needing to take a bath and go to bed. Sirius closed the door behind them with a sigh, taking a long drag of his stolen cigarette which Remus does not remember him asking to be re-lit.
“Sorry about him.” He mumbled.
“Quite alright, teenagers, huh?” Remus did his best to chuckle.
“You have no idea.” Sirius shook his head, making to follow Remus back to his room to help settle in. But he stalled, eyes downcast and roaming like he was listening to something.
Remus strained his ear too. Then Sirius gave that dramatic rolling of his eyes again and walked back to the door with renewed gusto. He opened it and blew a great cloud of smoke in the direction of where Remus knew Regulus was sitting, out of his line of vision. Sirius laughed cruelly, sticking his tongue out.
“Prick.” He heard Regulus grunt from within. Sirius slammed the door closed again.
“I’ll show you where the towels are.” Sirius smiled as he breezed past him.
Remus stood frozen in the hallway, looking back at the library door.
Who in the world reads in the dark?