Chapter 4
It was quarter past six and Remus was on his way to a late shift at the Howl & Thistle when thunder broke across the sky. His feet rooted into the pavement and he squeezed his fingers together, drawing in a breath of the freezing air. It tasted like metal. Or blood.
Above him, clouds were already rolling in, and he startled as another burst of thunder boomed. A few drops of rain trickled down the back of his neck. The skies lit up a blinding silver. He dashed along the street to the pub and slammed the door behind him before he could be caught in the downpour.
Frank was already there, but he was pulling on his coat over his shoulders. Remus paused at the counter, his heartbeat drumming through his ears.
“Where are you going?” He asked, biting his thumbnail and glancing outside.
"Sorry, Remus," Frank shook his head, “Alice isn't feeling well. I just need to check in on her.”
"Oh no," Remus frowned, "Is everything okay?"
"Not sure. She just called me. I think she’s thrown up a few times. She sounds like she needs me there to help out–" He patted Remus on the shoulder, “Listen, I'll try and be back in a few hours.”
“Okay,” Despite himself, Remus added, “Don't rush. Just focus on looking after her.”
“Cheers, mate,” Frank smiled, although there was a tinge of worry to it, “Should be a quiet night for you anyway, yeah?”
Lightning flooded through the large glass windows. Remus flinched, his hip knocking into the edge of the counter. Frank hurried past him towards the door. He waved a hand in farewell and then disappeared into the rain.
It was going to be a long night. The storm outside had only worsened, ripping at the trees and howling against the windows. Not many people had so far ventured out to the pub. Although he was tempted to just go home, he also couldn't go without the money from this shift.
Once it had been an hour with no customers, Remus pulled his headphones down over his ears and turned up the sound of the Pixies until it drowned out the roar of the thunder and the pouring rain. For lack of something to do, he walked through the seating section, rearranging the chairs and straightening the tables.
A blaze of lightning illuminated the pub for a moment. Remus's head turned towards the white flash, and then all at once, everything was thrown into darkness. He reached to mute his music, and all he could feel was the delirious thrashing of his heart. It was too dim to see much further than a few feet. Remus swallowed, squinting in the direction of the bar.
Something bumped into him. A brush of skin against his elbow. Remus jolted, sending one of the chairs toppling over, and swung around, his hand flying blindly.
His fist connected with skin and bone and a nasty crack snapped through the silence. A low voice swore, and Remus thumbled to switch on his phone's torch. The garish light caught on the gleam of blood and a pair of grey eyes.
"What the fuck?" Sirius groaned, wincing at the blinding brightness as he pinched at the bridge of his nose.
"Black!" Remus took a step back, staring at him, his heart still thumping, "Why did you sneak up on me like that?"
Sirius rolled his eyes, tipping his head back. "I didn't." He retorted thickly, "Didn't you hear the bell?"
"No. I had my headphones on."
"You hit me."
"Well. I didn't mean to."
"Sure."
"I didn't! I’m sorry!”
"Whatever, Lupin." murmured Sirius. He shifted, a flicker of movement in the shadows, and cursed again. Remus fished in his pocket and pulled out a pack of tissues, before shoving them into Sirius's hand.
Sirius forced out a huff of air, "Shit, it's dark."
"It's a powercut." Remus said.
"I hadn't noticed."
Deafening, thunder growled from outside. Using the light from his phone torch, Remus walked past Sirius, weaving through the tables.
"There's candles--" He said, reaching over the counter and patting objects until he felt the shape of the box. "Somewhere under the bar."
As Remus ripped open the pack of tea lights, hands shaking, Sirius did not speak. His footsteps followed Remus to the bar, and then, his voice was right there.
"You're scared."
Remus nearly dropped one of the candles. He drew a deep breath and struck a match. "I'm fine.”
"You don't seem fine. A little storm won't hurt you, you know.”
"Be quiet or I'll hit you again."
Sirius smiled, a small and soft thing at his mouth, and the warm glow from the candles flickered across his face, "You're not very convincing."
Without the familiar hum of bad music and chatter, the silence between them stretched tight. The air smelled like smoke and rain. Sirius sniffed, and tipped his head back again.
"You shouldn’t do that," Remus said, quietly. "The blood might drain down your throat."
"Oh," Sirius looked at him instead, "You pack a fucking hard punch, you know. Do you think it's broken?"
Breaking their gaze to frown down at the wooden floor, he replied, "Doesn't look like it.”
They were alone in the golden circle of candle-light and their feet were inches apart as they stood like this. Rain hurled against the windows, soaking the dark street. Remus shivered, and glanced back up.
Like two weighted stones, Sirius's eyes are on him through the black, shining out at him.
"You should go home," Remus said.
"I don't want to."
"You don't want to?"
"No. I'm staying here."
"Why?"
"I, uh," Hesitating, Sirius lowered the tissue. The flow of the blood had stemmed, "I don’t like the dark. I don't want to be in that big house by myself."
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
Remus clamps down on his laugh of disbelief, "And you figure I'm good company?"
“I guess.”
“But you hate me.”
“Do I?” Sirius replied, tilting his head to one side, his eyes hard. Remus studied his face, searching his expression for something he didn't quite know himself, but as he opened his mouth to say something, Sirius turned away. He spoke again, "You’re better than nothing."
“Wish I could say the same," Remus muttered.
Sirius shrugged off his wet coat and let it drop onto the floor, “You'll survive.”
Leaning back against the bar, Remus sighed, “That's right. Just discard your soaking clothing. I'll just clean up the puddle later.”
Bending to pick it up and put it on the back of a bar stool, Sirius eyed him, “Are you always this difficult?”
“When it's you,” Remus smiled, pointedly, “Yes.”
“Ahh. Because I’m special,” Sirius remarked, raising an eyebrow.
“No.”
“Seems like it to me.”
“Well, your head is infamously very large.”
“Infamous to whom exactly?”
“Many people. Anyone who talks to you, really–”
“Your cuff is loose,” Sirius cut in. Blinking, Remus raised it into the light. He was right.
“And?” He said.
Sirius' fingers caught at the cuff of Remus's shirt, and he fidgeted with the unfastened button, pushing it through its loop. His head was fixed downwards, refusing to look up, but the corner of his mouth curled upwards.
"Why did you come in here in the first place?" Remus said, watching his face. He stayed very still. Sirius's long eyelashes flickered once, twice. “It’s the middle of a storm.”
"I was bored," murmured Sirius. His touch lingered a few seconds longer before pulling away.
Remus was suddenly hot, hot all over, from the tips of his toes to his ears, and his clothes felt too tight and close. He cleared his throat, and adjusted one of the beer mats.
“Can I ask you a question?” He said.
“I guess,” Sirius answered, slowly, and very suspiciously.
“Why did you come back to Godric’s Hollow alone? Like, without your family?”
Sirius pressed his lips together, “I just needed some time away. To myself. Not that it's any of your business.”
“Oh. Okay.”
After a few more seconds of silence, Sirius asked, “You ever played flick football?”
“What?”
“I used to play it all the time with my brother.”
“How old is he?” asked Remus, “Because if he’s like three years old, I don’t know if I trust his judgement.”
“He’s not three. He’s nineteen,” Sirius said, and for a moment his eyes flickered away, staring out into the shadows of the room, before he cleared his throat, and continued, “It’s a game. I’ll show you.”
“I don’t have a football in here.”
“We don’t need a football, genius. We just need a piece of paper.”
Remus poked his head under the cash register, and came back out with an old, wrinkled receipt, “Will this do?”
Sirius plucked it from him and began to fold it, his fingers smoothing down sharp lines until it resembled a wonky triangle. He held it aloft proudly, “This is our football.”
“It’s a receipt.”
“Jesus Christ, use your imagination, Lupin.” Sirius snapped, glancing over at him– only to see that Remus was grinning ear to ear, and then he rolled his eyes. “Very funny. Shut up and listen to the rules.”
Ten minutes later, they stood either side of the bar, their fingers perched like goal posts against the wooden counter-top. Frowning, Remus lowered his head to inspect the distance, the piece of paper balanced by his index finger.
“You’ll never make it,” Sirius said, shaking his head, “Better give up while you’re ahead.”
“No heckling,” Remus scowled at him, “You’ll throw off my concentration.”
“Oh, but when you called me a cheating bastard earlier, that wasn’t heckling?”
“That was just true,” replied Remus, and he crouched down to level his eye-line with Sirius’ goal-posts. He squinted in the dim light– Sirius’ nails were painted a bright, glittery purple. He drew back his other hand to position it in a flicking position behind the paper triangle.
“Lupin steps up to the ball,” began Sirius, leaning forward to watch, “It’s a crucial moment— the whole world is watching, and this goal could decide the whole match–”
“ Piss. Off,” Remus groaned, tensing his arms in anticipation.
“Now this is a shot that Lupin has royally buggered time and time again, and you can bet he’s feeling the pressure–”
“Black!” snapped Remus, and then drew in a deep breath and released his finger. The paper spun across the oiled surface of the counter-top, and soared straight through Sirius poised hands.
“There he goes– he shoots– he scores!”
Remus stood back and smiled down at his victory, “I can’t believe I beat you at your own game.”
Sirius’ mouth twitched up at the corners, “Please. I let you win.”
“ What?” said Remus, his head jerking up to stare at him, “You did not. I made that shot. There isn’t even a way for you to let me win.”
“My goal-posts were a few millimetres wider than yours.”
“You are such a sore loser,” Remus hissed, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
“You’re projecting.”
“Fine. We’re having a rematch, and this time we’re measuring the width of the goal-posts.”
Raising an eyebrow, Sirius’ grin grew wider, “Dirty.”
He flushed, opening his mouth to reply, but then there was a flicker, a stuttering click, and the overhead lights blinked on. Through the drizzle, Remus could faintly see the glow of windows again, the shine of the street lamps. He had almost forgotten that there was a storm at all.
“You can leave now.” The words come from Remus’ mouth before he could actually think about them.
Sirius paused, his hand tightening on the edge of the bar. As if he wants to swear at Remus, or maybe not– what was that look on his face?
"Fine." He muttered, pushing his dark curls back from his face, and then he turned away. The door swung open, and the rumble of the rain outside was deafening for a moment as he disappeared out into the night.
And then, Remus was looking at nothing except empty space. He sighed, glanced up at the clock on the wall. His gaze dropped down again. Something crumpled and black was draped across one of the bar stools. He stooped to pick up the sopping wet material, then strode for the door.
He caught up to Sirius halfway up the street. Sirius turned when he heard the footsteps, watching Remus swerve around the flooded drains. His brows pinched together.
“You forgot your coat.” Remus told him, and shoved it into his arms. Sirius wrinkled his nose.
“Right,” He said, hardly audible over the pour of the rain, his face stony, “I could have just picked up the next time I came in, you know.”
“I know,” replied Remus, “What can I say? I go above and beyond for my customers.”
"Does that also involve hitting your customers?"
"If they were all as irritating as you, then they'd deserve it." Remus said. His clothes were already sticking to chest, icy drops of water drenching his jeans. He knew he was not supposed to leave the pub unmanned for this long, but he was rooted here on this stupid pavement.
"You really dislike me, don't you?"
.
Remus frowned, "You don't like me either."
In the darkness of the evening, Remus did not see Sirius' hand move, but he felt it; Sirius' fingers squeezing at his wrist, thumb pinching into his skin. Remus forgot how to breathe. The world went very, very quiet. There was no wind, no rain, no thunder overhead.
Sirius's grey eyes searched his face, his irises and lashes an impossible, neverending black. He smiled, as if he found something funny, "You think I don't like you?"
Remus blinked, not daring to move, ”I know you don't."
The grip loosened, and then Sirius was leaning closer, a muscle in his jaw flickering, rivulets of water trickling down his face, down his neck.
"You have no idea," he whispered.
Remus had lost all sense of time. Those few seconds could have been moments. He could have almost sworn that Sirius--
Jolting, Remus pulled away from the heat of his touch, stepping backwards, off the side of the curb. His left trainer sank into a puddle and he swore, glaring down at his drenched foot. He didn’t give Sirius the time to say anything else, as he spun back into the rain and walked away.
Treading in water, Remus pushed open the door to the Howl & Thistle and stepped inside, leaning up against the bar. He closed his eyes for a moment, catching his breath, trying to block out the image thrumming through his brain, the rain-soaked, golden face. His neck. His mouth.
He picked up one of the candles, and blew it out.
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It was the dead of night. As usual, Remus was awake, because he was sure there must be some invisible force that was out to ruin his life and any sense of sanity he had left. His exhaustion ran all the way through his bones, through his blood. Everything was slow and heavy, and his muscles ached, and yet this had been the third night of lying down on his bed without sleeping.
And so at around three in the morning he had gone outside. The night air was dark and fresh and new in his lungs, and it almost made him feel better. It almost reminded him he was alive, so he kept walking, out from his street, out past the town square and the church, until he was passing through the back lanes and into the woods. He weaved between the trees, picking his way slowly in the dark, listening to the soft rustling of the bushes, the calls of the owls through the canopy up ahead.
He started the climb up through the forest, where it rose upwards into a slope, using tree trunks as his leverage against the tough ground. He would sit down on the old bench at the highest vantage point, and look at the sea, and then, maybe, he would be able to sleep.
By the time Remus reached the top he was out of breath– but his heart nearly leapt right out of his mouth when he saw that the bench was already occupied.
“What are you doing here?” Remus blurted out, before he could stop himself.
In the blackness, Sirius’ face was hardly visible, but Remus still knew it all too well; he knew the sharp, elegant line of his nose, the long sweep of his eyelashes. Sirius stared back at him, straightening on the bench, clearly equally shaken to see him.
“Going for a walk?” He said, his voice coming out slightly hoarse.
“Here?”
“... Yes.”
“Well. Good,” Remus muttered, and lowered his head to walk past him, but suddenly, Sirius stood up, and then there was a warm hand grazing his wrist. The touch only lingered for a few moments, but it was enough to make Remus stop. At first, Sirius did not speak. In the dim light from the moon gleaming through the trees, his eyes were like seaglass.
The back of Remus’ neck prickled.
“Let me guess,” Sirius said, “You have an issue with me being in the woods. Is there any part of the village I am allowed to be in?”
“I didn't say you weren't allowed,” Remus snapped, “I was just surprised to see you– or – anyone. That’s all. It's nearly four.”
Sirius tilted his head, “Trouble sleeping again?”
Remus pushed his tongue into his cheek, “Yes.”
“You tried taking anything for that?”
“Yes.”
“It didn’t work.”
“Does it seem like it worked?”
Sirius laughed, although the sound was a little painful. He sat back down on the bench, “You have a shocking temper, you know.”
“I know,” Remus said, and then added, “I’m tired.”
“And you thought walking into the middle of the woods would help?”
Scowling, Remus pointed out, “You’re here too, aren’t you?”
“I just wanted to look at the sea,” murmured Sirius softly, gazing at the dark blue smudge on the horizon, barely even distinguishable against the black sky.
“You can’t really see it at night.”
“It's just nice to know that it's there.”
“Like most things,” murmured Remus, and Sirius looked back at him again, a smile playing at his mouth. A bird called from the trees, singing something soft and rhythmic.
Sirius asked, “You got any siblings?”
Taken aback by the sudden change of conversation, Remus paused and then said, “I’m an only child.”
“Huh,” He shifted on the bench, his brow creasing, “I’m sorry.”
Bemused, Remus couldn’t help but grin, “Normally people tell me I’m lucky.”
Sirius closed his eyes, and tipped his head upwards, so that the moonlight spilled over his face. He murmured, “Then they’re all fucking idiots.”
Remus shrugged, “Probably.”
He received no response. Sirius’ eyes were still shut. Suddenly, Remus felt as if he shouldn’t be there. As if he was intruding on something. Even if this had always been his place– he kept on walking, back down into the forest, and left Sirius sitting there.
.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.
Three days before Halloween, Lily Evans arrived back in Halloween. Remus had been working late on the evening her train had gotten in, so he hadn’t managed to see her, but bright and early that next morning, they had arranged to meet at Madam Puddifoots. Remus could barely stand to be still, and he ended up getting to the tea shop half an hour before the time they had agreed.
He took a seat at a table near the fogged windows, his knee knocking. Getting there early at least meant he had time to order the cheapest breakfast on the menu, an omelette. He was customarily picking out the tomatoes with his fork, when he glanced once again at the door and caught a glimpse of someone else.
Sitting alone at the next table over was Sirius, with an odd expression, like a deer caught in headlights. Remus stared back at him, expectantly, waiting for the usual snarky comment, and for a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
“This does not strike me as your type of establishment,” Sirius said, eventually.
Remus glanced around at the abundance of lace and china cat figurines, “I would say it’s even less yours.”
Sirius rolled his eyes, “Believe me, it wasn’t my choice.”
As if on queue, two boys had broken away from the counter at the back of the cafe, and were making their way towards them. Remus did not recognise either of them– a tall, brown-skinned boy and a shorter, mousy blonde boy– and his head twisted towards Sirius in surprise as Sirius raised a hand in a reluctant wave.
“Who’s this then?” said the taller boy, with a grin so wide that Remus was sure it must hurt his face. He set down a tray piled with cups of coffee and shortbread biscuits on Sirius’ table.
“I’m Remus,” He introduced himself, glancing over at Sirius, who was shifted in his seat, his eyes darting away.
The smaller boy offered Remus a small smile, “I’m Peter. This is–”
“Ah! Are you a local, Remus?” interrupted the first boy, peering closer at Remus and adjusting his round glasses, “Gosh. You have very nice freckles.”
“Oh. Thank you,” stammered Remus, “I’m guessing you’re Sirius’ friends?”
“ Best friends,” He replied, proudly, “The superior friends, really.”
“Shut up, James.” Sirius muttered.
“Alright,” Remus said, feeling suddenly as if he shouldn’t be talking to Sirius’ friends, but the boy– James– continued to stand there and beam at him, so he added, “You’re visiting?”
Peter responded, “We’re here until after Sirius’ birthday.”
Birthday. Chancing another look over at Sirjius, Remus raised a brow, but Sirius was most definitely avoiding meeting his eye.
“I’ve always wanted to see the famous Black family holiday home!” James said, brightly, clapping a hand down on Sirius’ shoulder, “More gloomy than I imagined. Although who am I kidding? Gloomy is very on theme for your family.”
“James,” Sirius said, his voice clipped, “That's enough.”
“Wow. You're not in a good mood,” James observed.
“James–”
“I especially like the fact that even though it's not the London house, there are still somehow snakes everywhere. Snakes on the mantelpiece. Snakes on the table legs. Embroidered snakes on the carpet. Walburga really is a committed interior designer–” Mid way through the sentence, James had caught Sirius’ eye, and suddenly he was cutting himself short.
“Sorry,” he cleared his throat, “Forgot. No family talk.”
He turned back towards Remus, and thrust out his hand, which Remus shook, “I’m James Potter. Pleasure to meet you.”
“James likes the sound of his own voice.” Sirius added, begrudgingly.
“I’m just excited to meet your new friend,” James grinned at him, picking up a piece of shortbread and taking a bite.
Sirius replied, “I never said we were friends.”
It wasn't as if Remus had expected him to say anything else, but his throat still squeezed, tightening like a clenched fist. He pressed his lips together and averted his eyes to his shoes. James was looking between them, all of a sudden chewing as if he had tasted something sour. Peter’ mouth had formed a strange, circle shape.
“That's not very nice, Sirius,” James said, eventually, after swallowing the biscuit, and Remus didn't miss the glare he was shooting Sirius as he spoke.
“It's alright,” Remus interrupted, quickly, “I'm meeting someone anyway, so I better…”
Perfectly timed as always, the door to the café chimed, and Remus twisted his head to see a brilliant head of long red hair, almond eyes, and a familiar pea-green coat. He breathed a sigh of relief and stood up, opening his arms wide as Lily rushed towards him and practically threw herself at him.
“Oh my God,” she said, squeezing at him so tightly he gasped for air, “Remus Lupin!”
“Hello!” He replied, “I missed you!”
“I've only been gone a month,” She giggled, “How pathetic are we?”
“Extremely.”
They pulled apart, beaming at each other, and Lily’s green eyes drifted over his shoulder, brow crinkling at the sight of the three other boys still there watching.
“Hello,” James blurted out, thrusting out his hand towards her. He had gone oddly pink in the face. “I’m James. James Potter.”
“This is my best friend Lily,” Remus said, “She’s come home to visit.”
Lily stared down at his hand, but did eventually, tentatively, stick out her own and shake it, “Hi. Nice to meet you.”
Bouncing on the balls of his feet, James glanced at Remus, and then back at Lily. Grinning, he asked her, “You go to Somerville College. Don’t you?”
Lily eyed him, “Do I know you?”
“Um,” He hesitated, twisting his hands together, “No. Well– I mean. You rowed for Somerville during last year’s bumps, right?”
Turning towards Remus, Lily asked, “Is this a friend of yours?”
James jumped in, sparing Remus the awkwardness of replying, “Sorry! I just recognise you. I always like to watch the races. I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything. Not that you’re freaked out–”
“James, shut up,” Sirius cut in, and he offered Lily an apologetic smile, “James is studying Classics at Oxford.”
“Did I not say that?” James said, sounding somewhat out of breath.
“No, mate.” Peter muttered.
James grimaced, and added, “I’m at Lincoln College.”
“Oh. Right. Small world,” Lily said, and looked back at Remus again, “So how do you know each other?”
“I don't, really–” he began.
“They're my friends. James and Peter are just visiting.” Sirius told her, “I've moved into Grimmauld Manor.”
“Grimmauld Manor?” She repeated, red eyebrows shooting upwards, “You're kidding. That place is massive. You bought it?”
“It's been in my family for a while. I'm just making use of it.”
Meeting Lily’s eye, Remus said, “This is Sirius.”
Lily twisted to study Sirius again, her arms folding across her chest, “ This is Sirius?”
Grimacing, Remus barely resisted the strong urge to shove his elbow into her side. Her reaction had not gone unnoticed; Sirius had sat up straighter in his seat, his sharp gaze flickering between them. A muscle twitched in his cheek.
He asked, “What does that mean?”
Blinking, Lily cleared her throat, and smiled, too sweetly, “Nothing.”
“We’re having a Halloween party at Sirius’ place tomorrow,” James said, leaning forward, “You should come!”
Peter nodded, adding quietly, “There will be alcohol.”
Remus frowned, “Both of us?”
“Of course!”
Sirius’ jaw tightened, “I don’t think it’s Lupin’s sort of thing.”
“You don’t know that,” Remus fired at him.
James beamed and clapped a hand down on his shoulder, “Is it? Your sort of thing?”
He shrugged, “If Lily goes, I’ll go.”
“And you’re coming?” James asked Lily, his brown eyes wide from behind his glasses, “Right?”
Looping her arm through Remus’, Lily looked at James appraisingly, and then replied, “We’ll see.”
Across the table, Remus’ and Sirius’ eyes met, snapping together like a lock and a key. There was something stretching between them, something taut; a thrumming string, a live wire.
Sirius’ gaze was dark and brimming with a strange, electric heat. Tilting his head, Remus smiled, and took a long sip from his cup.