Thieves
September 11th
As it turns out, Remus doesn't hate Sirius and James nearly as much as he thought he did. In fact, although he would never admit it to them out of fear of inflating their ever-growing egos, Remus would even go as far as to say he enjoys their company.
Two nights ago, James ended up joining Sirius and Remus on the roof, with pizza and a plastic bag of old CDs he’d found outside a music shop. It was the first time the three of them were together, yet it all felt strangely natural. The other two boys talked eagerly while Remus listened; it was a gentle rhythm they fell into, as if they had orchestrated it a hundred times before. Remus enjoyed it—he was still there, still seen, but there was no expectation for him to act like the others just to fit in. They were so unlike many of the boys Remus met at home, who mistook his quietness for shyness when in reality, Remus just didn't have anything worthwhile to say to them.
It was when Sirius expectantly flipped through the bag, commenting on a few artists and albums, that Remus came to discover this was a weekly ritual; music and food, an attempt to cheer Sirius up after each Friday's session. It must have been a carefully crafted routine because, as the evening went on, any lingering agitation Sirius had seemed to be washed away. They spent the time listening to the songs and talking, exchanging stories and history, and occasionally complaining about the horrid sounds that would come out of the speaker.
Remus learned a lot about Sirius Black and James Potter that night.
They lived in a large townhouse towards the outskirts of the city, a mere twenty-minute drive from the hospital. Their parents were in their early 60s but still seemed bright and full of life—time was yet to release its cruelness upon them. Effie had been a nurse for 40 years, while Fleamont was a surgeon.
Sirius ran away from home at 16, though he didn’t explain why, just that he left sometime last winter. Remus remembered him attempting to stifle the somberness with a bad joke.
He learned that James played football and that they were both homeschooled—James due to his parents' unstable work schedule and rigorous training program, Sirius because he was sick.
James’ favorite color was pink while Sirius’ was red.
He noticed things too—that Sirius preferred the plain pizza and that James had a habit of always bouncing his leg. That, amongst their conversations, Sirius called James ‘Prongs’ and James called Sirius ‘Padfoot.’ He thought it was a bit ridiculous but figured there was some elaborate meaning behind it. However, in the short time he contemplated asking about it, the discussion had shifted to a heated argument about what colour Sirius’ shirt was.
That was another thing—they were quick and witty and full of energy around each other. It was quite refreshing, considering that most people Remus sees in a day are in silent waiting rooms and treatment centers. Sirius and James didn’t cower in corners or amongst the large corridors; they didn’t wish to disappear entirely. Instead, they walked around the hospital like they owned the place, like they weren’t the inferior ones. Deep down, there was a small wish that Remus could feel that way too.
Remus wasn't sure they learned much about him. It was hard to relax and open up when you build so many walls around you. He talked to them about the farm and work, that it was just him and his mother. Remus even mentioned the lake and all the bonfires and parties. He should have told them about Lily and Peter, or the girls and the older boys. He could’ve said that he liked to read or loved the farm animals or that he was a sucker for flowers because they reminded him of when he was younger.
He was so much more than what they found him as.
Remus was supposed to be sleeping in, treasuring his last peaceful day before he was back at the chaotic hospital. But for some reason, he couldn’t. His mind was wide awake, pondering over past interactions and memories as the Sunday morning light began to creep into the room. Remus was alone; his mother’s bed on the other side of the room lay unoccupied and disheveled. Remus would like to think that she was up making breakfast or maybe out on an early walk, but he knew she’d be passed out on the couch after being too exhausted to make the journey to her bed.
At home, Sunday mornings were market mornings. Remus and Peter would be up well before dawn, loading the seasonal fruit and vegetable produce into a large trailer. Hordes of apples and cherries would be stacked almost as tall as Remus, while sacks of potatoes and crates of cucumbers and tomatoes lined the floor. The drive into town was always a pleasant one; the calmness of the night still lingered, and its air brought waves of fog that seemed to roll down the green hills. They would cross the murky green river that twinkled in the sunrise before taking the bumpy dirt road twenty-five kilometers south.
The market was held on the outskirts of the town and, despite the small number of people who lived there, for a brief moment once a week, the cobblestoned streets were lively and loud. People came together from all around, bringing culture, money, and noise. There were merchants selling old leather notebooks and glass pens, traders with unique bags, and tables upon tables of jewelry. Amongst the buildings that lined the street were pubs, restaurants, and tiny shops, all stone and dark wood with warm light peeking through the windows. The most magnificent of them all was a two-story bookshop that towered over the other structures. It was covered in vines on the outside and antique rugs and ornate objects on the inside. The shelves were maze-like, and the staircase was hidden in the very back corner. A massive stained-glass window sat on the second floor, giving a spectacular view of the busy street and colorful tapestries below.
After unpacking the delivery, Remus and Peter would meet Lily to help her set up her little gazebo. Lily spent her entire Saturday baking, garnering herself the title of ‘best blueberry muffin’ after years of trial and error. Remus always managed to sneak one, her watchful eyes seeming to conveniently look away whenever he did.
The best thing about Sundays, Remus found, was the food. There were rows and rows of stalls selling fresh bread, buttery pastries, warm chips with gravy, cakes and puddings, and every kind of sandwich imaginable. Remus thought that it easily compensated for the early wake-up and hard labor.
The reminder sent a pang of hunger to Remus’ stomach, so it wasn’t long before he ripped his blanket off and ventured out of the bedroom. The curtains were drawn, leaving the flat in a moody darkness. He went to open them but stalled as he spotted his mother on the couch, curled in on herself and fast asleep, her book lying open on the same page he saw two days ago. The thing seemed to come everywhere but stayed untouched and forgotten.
This time, he headed for the kitchen, determined to make anything that would bring him even the slightest comfort of home. He opened the cupboard door and was met with almost completely bare shelves. He rummaged around and managed to find half a bag of flour and a few spare eggs. Trying extra carefully to be quiet so he didn’t wake his mother, he began to add the ingredients to a bowl.
Flipping them was always Remus’ favorite part, and so far today, he’d even managed to get them all perfectly golden on each side. It fills the flat with the most wonderful smell, and if Remus closes his eyes, it’s almost as if he’s there on the busy street with Lily and Peter by his side.
“Morning, sweetheart,” his mother’s voice trails in with a yawn.
“Mornin’, Mum.”
She comes over, taking him in her hands and giving him a kiss on the forehead.
“You seem well today.”
Remus gives an approving nod.
“And look at this,” she gestures to the stove, smiling. “Reminds me of home. I can go get some berries and cream from the corner shop?”
“D’you want me to come with you?” he asks, placing another pancake onto the ever-growing stack.
“I’m sure I can handle myself, darling. You keep cooking—looks amazing.”
They end up tasting amazing, too. Sweet and warm like they always do. He eats them in stacks of two, with cream in between and flowers of strawberries on top, just like his father had taught him.
It’s the calmest morning they’ve had in the city, slow and uneventful. After breakfast, he reads and listens to some of the old songs he’d heard with Sirius and James. For a long time, he sits people-watching out the window, admiring the fast cars and buses and hundreds of people. Remus doesn't mind this kind of dullness—it’s nothing like the strangling boringness of the hospital. If anything, allowing himself to exist in this small corner of the city has added a little colour to its lifeless walls.
It’s mid-afternoon when Remus grows tired of his mother’s constant nagging and actually decides to take the overflowing rubbish bag out to the bins. It was an unnecessarily long journey, down all those steps and then out into the alleyway.
As soon as he walks outside the flat's door, the loud voice of Mr. Thomson fills the corridor. Remus has only seen the man twice, but he has sure heard him more than that. Anyone who happens to make a loud enough noise in that hallway is met with his screams about “decorum” and “courtesy.” But Remus is certain that a handful of times, he’d been yelling to no one at all. He turns the corner to find the old, stout man angrily shouting at two teenage boys, almost taking out one with his walking stick before he promptly slams the door shut in their faces.
“Old git,” Sirius mutters, giving the door a rude gesture. James whacks his head.
“Hey! Respect the elderly and wise.”
“I’m wiser than that daft thing, he was screaming before we even left the stairs…”
“What are you two doing here?” Remus interrupts. They turn around quickly, broad grins setting upon their faces that oppose Remus’ own confused expression.
“Ah! Remus,” Sirius exclaims, dragging out the sound of his name. He elbows James in the side. “See, told you I knew,” he says smugly.
“Why’re you terrorising my neighbours?” Remus smirks, crossing his arms for effect.
“Okay, firstly, if anything, the bastard was terrorising us—poor Prongs almost lost a limb to that stick.” At that, James looks solemnly up, wiping away fake tears and clutching his arm. “And secondly—it’s Sunday.”
Remus looks at him, unamused. “Seems to be.”
Sirius rolls his eyes, as if Remus missed the whole point.
“We need your help—desperately,” James adds.
“Mine?”
“Yes, you. C’mon, we’re already late,” Sirius retorts, a mischievous look sprawling across his face.
The two boys end up taking Remus to the park beside the hospital, where they sit nestled under a great oak tree. Small sparrows sing out from the branches, and some even dance around their feet in hopes of food.
“Ok, let me get this straight,” Remus feels he says for the hundredth time. “You want me to distract security so you two can sneak into delivery and steal a bunch of…”
“Hospital desserts, keep up, Lupin,” Sirius quickly finishes, waving his hands like this was the most logical thing to understand. Remus grimaces at the use of his surname; how Sirius managed to figure it out he would never know—probably the same way he found his address.
“And why do you need me again?” he inquires. “Couldn’t one of you just do it?”
“Well, turns out the security officers aren't as thick as James and I thought. They still haven't forgotten our faces from the first time.”
“You mean you’ve done this before?”
“Oh yeah, loads.”
“Almost a year straight,” James states proudly. “We rope some kid in each time to do the distracting for a cut.”
“And that kid this time is me?”
“Uh-huh, but hey, maybe you’ll be promoted to dessert snatcher if you do well.”
It’s a heist—complete with accomplices, bribing, and bidding—and they’ve roped him into their dirty work. It’s stupid and surely not worth the effort for cheap hospital food.
Remus loves it.
He leans back onto the trunk of the tree and crosses his arms, letting a small smile escape his lips. “You two are a bunch of thieves.”
“Well,” Sirius begins matter-of-factly, “we prefer marauders.”
“Marauders?” Remus almost laughs.
“Or pirates,” James adds.
“Argh!” Sirius yells, grabbing James around the neck with one arm and pulling him down. The noise makes the birds fly off into the sky, and as the two begin to wrestle on the floor, Remus does laugh—loud and happy.
They end up moving behind the hospital to where they can see the delivery truck pull in. There’s a large hill that makes the perfect vantage point; upon it sits a small brick maintenance building that they use as cover.
It’s funny watching the building from the outside. The darkening sky accentuates the yellow-lit windows and illuminates the figures of the people within. Most people stroll past, but some sit looking out or stand deathly still. From out here, no one can tell what goes on inside.
Remus’ phone goes off, but he doesn't check it, assuming it would be his mother wondering when he’d be home—like he hadn't called her three times already.
“Ooh, who's Lily?” Sirius teases after looking down at the text.
“You never said you had a girlfriend, Remus,” James remarks, him too looking at the contact that popped up on the screen.
He snatches the phone back.
“I don't,” Remus says gruffly.
“That’s a shame, she seems pretty interested,” Sirius nods at the notifications that quickly keep popping up.
“What—ew—no, that’d be like incest, she’s my best friend.”
“That’s what they all say,” James chuckles. “You sure you're not secretly madly in love with her?” he taunts. “She’s really pretty.”
Remus ignores the last part, rolling his eyes. “Yes, James, I'm sure.”
He really was certain—although he wasn't always. Remus had thought he loved Lily for a long time. He had never really liked anyone the way people went on about, never found a girl who made his heart race or his palms sweat. He figured that maybe what he felt for Lily was what everyone fawned over. He always enjoyed her company, and she made him feel safe and important.
So when they were both fifteen, and quite pissed, they agreed to kiss one time just to see what it was like. It was a quick peck that left them both in fits of laughter out of its awkwardness. Afterwards, nothing more followed, and no new feelings arose, leaving Remus both relieved yet confused.
If he’s being honest, Remus is convinced he will never come to understand that feeling, let alone experience it.
“I’m gonna take a wee,” James mutters, standing and heading towards the bushes.
At his movement, Remus does a big stretch. They’ve been waiting almost an hour, and the grass beneath him is becoming unbearably uncomfortable.
“It’s quarter past. Should be here soon,” Sirius says in response to Remus’ huff.
It was all a bit excessive, this elaborate plan, just for a few desserts they could ask the nurses for. Why go into all this trouble of sneaking around? If they’re anything short of the best puddings in the whole world, why bother?
“Hey, what's really the point of this?” he interrogates. “You tryna make a statement or something?”
Sirius stays in thoughtful silence for a moment.
“I didn't lose anything to cancer, Remus,” he confesses. “It was all stolen.”
Remus gives him an intrigued look, urging him to continue. He can tell when Sirius has more to say—he sees it in the way his brows furrow in thought and how he deliberately avoids eye contact.
“I’ve been completely robbed and left with nothing but a debt that can't be repaid. So I don't really care about stealing from the hospital—In fact, I want to take everything.”
“Even all the gory specimens and biohazards?”
Sirius turns to Remus with a grin. “Oh yeah, especially those.”
Remus wrinkles his nose at the thought. Sirius glances his head toward the sky, and Remus follows.
“And eventually, I'll steal the entire universe. But d’you know what?”
“What?”
“I don't even think all the stars in the whole bloody sky could compensate. So call me a thief, but there are much more greedy things in this world, Remus.”
Oh, if only he knew just how selfish Remus was.
“SIRIUS! IT’S HERE—REMUS, GO, GO, GO.”
A frantic James suddenly comes running up the hill, disturbing the peace with his booming voice and the snapping of sticks under his strong feet.
It doesn’t take long for Remus to take off sprinting towards the back hospital entrance.
Once inside, he rushes down the corridor towards the security office, stopping just before the last corner. He quietly waits for Sirius’ signal, catching his breath and taking the time to come to terms with what he’s about to do. It’s quiet and mostly empty; making a scene should be quite easy.
A muffled buzz comes from his pocket, and Remus takes a deep breath before reeling around the wall.
“Help! Hey! Hey!” he yells, running up to the desk in distress. “There’s a man with a knife near the entrance! He started attacking this nurse! My friend’s on the phone with the police! Hurry!”
The five security officers come darting out of the office, following Remus while muttering on radios. Within a minute, they reach the entry foyer, but unfortunately, Remus hadn't thought this far ahead. His eyes scan the hall, hoping to find a way out of this mess. Then, as if graced by God himself, Remus spots a man with his back toward them, dressed all in black with his hands in his pockets.
“There!” he shouts, pointing across the room.
The officers lunge forward, and the man pivots—leaving Remus to be confronted with none other than Regulus Black.
Oh fuck.
It takes approximately half a second before Regulus is being pressed up against the nearest wall with his hands behind his back.
“What the fuck!?” he stammers, struggling against the guard’s grasp.
Remus doesn’t stay to explain himself or apologise, bolting out of the closest door. He makes the mistake of turning around, where he’s met with two officers chasing after him. Remus almost trips over his own feet in surprise but manages to compose himself. As he keeps running along the curved path, his lungs and legs begin to burn, the medicines already causing his body to give out.
It’s dark now, so Remus takes his chances and slips away into a small alleyway, disappearing behind a rubbish bin. He holds his breath as the security guards pass him, only letting go when he can no longer hear their rushed steps.
As Remus makes his way back up the hill, the flashing lights of a police car invade his vision.
You’ve got to be kidding.
Remus groans as a horrible feeling settles in the pit of his stomach.
When he nears the top, the two boys come out from behind the building giddily with an almost overflowing bag.
“Mission was a success, lads!” James declares excitedly. “Wonder what that’s all about.” He nods down towards the chaos at the back entrance.
“It was probably Remus,” Sirius jokes, but his smile falls as Remus stays silent with a panicked expression plastered upon his face.
“Holy shit, Remus, what did you do?” James questions.
“Um—well.” He stammers. “I may have told security that—ah—Sirius’ brother had a knife and—um—attacked a nurse…”
Whatever reaction he expected them to have, it was definitely not breaking out in uncontrollable laughter.
“Jesus, Remus,” Sirius starts, wiping away tears and trying to calm himself, “I meant like fake fainting or something.”
“Well, you could have told me that!” he retorts, but his helplessness just sends them into another fit. “Am I going to go to jail?”
“No, mate,” James cries out with a smile. He puts a comforting arm around his shoulders.
“I’m a criminal!”
“No,” Sirius announces, “you're a marauder!”