Flightless Bird

Remus did not go outside much for the next few days. Lily had left to go back to university, Marlene was, as usual, caught up in her own world, and Remus found himself alone again. He got up and went to work and came back again and read his books tucked up in bed, listening to the pound of rain against his window. 

On the first day after the storm had passed, Remus headed over the bar for an evening shift. It was just him and Frank; Marlene had gone to visit her dad’s family in Ireland, which made Remus secretly envious. He had been out of the county a few times, although increasingly less since he had started working fulltime– and he had never been anywhere apart from England or Wales, to see his grandparents. 

He had just finished serving a woman a gin and tonic when a familiar spectacled face appeared at the bar in front of him. 

“James?” Remus said with a surprised smile, “Hi. I thought you'd be off by now.”

“Nah,” James replied, “We wanted to stay with Sirius a bit longer. Check he was doing okay and everything.”

“Alright,” Remus resisted the urge to ask what exactly Sirius wouldn't be okay about, but at that moment, his gaze darted over James's head to see Sirius walking over to the bar with Peter in tow.

Of course, Sirius looked good– he always looked fucking good, but for some reason this evening in particular, Remus could feel it like a blow to the stomach. All he was wearing were light-washed jeans and a dark long-sleeved shirt, and Remus was already struggling to pay attention to anything else. 

“Hey Remus!” Peter called, “So this is where you work? It's pretty.”

“This is it. Getting the tour of the town, are you?”

“You could call it that,” James leaned his arm on Sirius’ shoulder as he came to stand next to him, “We have a very lackluster guide.” 

Sirius’ eyes flickered over to Remus, and Remus’ scalp prickled.

"It's a lackluster town," said Sirius. 

Remus retorted, "Then why are you here?" 

After a few seconds, Sirius looked away, as if there was something far more interesting on the other side of the room. Peter cleared his throat, and said, “Uhh, can I grab a cider please? Whatever is on tap?”

“Sure,” said Remus, glad of something to do other than rise to Sirius' bait, and he pulled Peter a pint of Thatchers, before sliding it over. Peter took a long swig of it, his whole face scrunching at the bubbles, and then began to cough loudly. 

There were a few other people waiting to be served, one of which pushed his way in front of Peter to the bar, waving an impatient hand at Remus. 

“Guinness,” the boy ordered across the counter. 

Remus nodded, “Sure.”

“Hey!” Suddenly, the new customer was squinting at him, “No way. Loony Lupin?”

Jolting, Remus’ hold on the pint glass slipped, and it smacked against the tap with a loud clang before he gained a grip on it again. He swallowed, glancing up at the boy and taking in his checkered overshirt, blonde hair, and bleached-white teeth.

“Gil Lockhart,” He said, carefully, “Right?”

“Yeah!” Gil smirked, casting a sceptical eye over him as he pulled the pint, “Do you really work here?”

From over his shoulder, Sirius made a small sound of disgust, and when Gil frowned over at him, he snapped, “Do your eyes not work?” 

Gil wrinkled his nose, drawling, “Excuse me?”

“Sirius,” whined Peter, his mouth pinching as he tugged at his friend’s sleeve to pull him backwards, but Sirius only swatted him away as if he were a particularly irritating fly. 

“Here,” Remus shoved his glass of beer into his hand before the conversation could progress any further. His stomach was flipping over and over, bile rising up his throat; he leaned back against the back of the bar to catch his breath.

“Cheers,” Gil said, and he pushed past Sirius a little too hard on his way towards his gaggle of friends at the back of the pub.

Out of the corner of Remus’ eye, he caught a glimpse of a face he knew– Benji Fenwick, for once dressed in a normal top and trousers, who greeted Gil with a clap on the back. Over Gil’s head, Benji seemed to meet Remus’ gaze, but he quickly looked back at the group again.

James, who seemed delighted by Gil’s attitude in the same way one is delighted by a monkey in a zoo, asked, “Is Gil a friend of yours?” 

Remus pushed his tongue into his cheek with a slight shake of his head, “We were in History class together in secondary.”

“Ah.”

“I’m going for a smoke,” Sirius muttered, a frown hollowing his dark eyebrows, before spinning to shove his way through the thin crowd. Shrugging, Peter smiled at them weakly, and then trailed after him. To Remus’ surprise, James did not follow, but instead pushed closer to the bar, something suspiciously mysterious twinkling in his eye. 

“Can I get you a drink?” He said to James, desperate to change the subject in any way possible.

“I’m alright,” James propped his bony elbows up on the counter, beaming, “I actually was going to ask you if you wanted to come over for bonfire night tomorrow.”

“Um. Bonfire night?”

“You know! Guy Fawkes. Bonfire. It’s a tradition with us. We found some cheap fireworks in the back of the garden shed.”

“I know what Bonfire night is,” Remus explained, gently, “But– you don’t mean at Grimmauld Manor?”

“Well, duh,” James’ grin stretched wider, “Where else would it be?”

“Trust me, James,” said Remus, looking down at the sticky beer mat beneath his feet. “Sirius doesn’t want me at his place.”

“What’s he got to do with it?” He said, and he tapped a knuckle on the wooden counter imploringly, “You should come. If you’ve got nothing better to do. It will be fun!”

For a few seconds, Remus studied him, and then he asked, “Why?” 

James adjusted his wonky glasses, “Huh?”

“Why do you want me there?”

“I just do,” he shrugged, as if it was just that simple, “You seem cool. Is that okay?”

Remus considered this, and then said, slowly, “Yeah. That's okay.”

“So you'll come?”

“Maybe.”

“Great!” James stepped back from the bar, rubbing his hands together with a vaguely maniacal air, “Ooh, this is going to be fun!”

“If you say so.”

“Come at five tomorrow. Yes? Yes!” He jabbed his finger behind him, “I better go, uh– check Sirius isn't chain-smoking.”

“Have fun,” Remus murmured as James twisted on his heel, bouncing his way through the sparse crowd and towards the door out the back. He drew in a deep breath, glancing at where Benji and Gil and the group of boys still stood in the corner, before turning towards his next customer with a stiff smile. 

The next day, Remus spent every hour up until five debating with himself whether or not to go. On one hand, Sirius Black hated him and would definitely not want him there. On the other hand, he was inclined to spite Sirius Black and do the opposite of whatever he wanted. And he was grateful for the invitation to do something other with his night than sit inside and listen to his tap dripping. 

At four, he called Lily, who picked up just when he was about to give in. 

“Missing me already?” She teased once she answered the phone. 

Scowling, he crossed over to his bed, and sat on the edge of it, “I wouldn't have to miss you if you weren't so far away, Lily Evans.” 

Lily laughed, “Are you just calling to scold me?”

“No,” Remus sighed, “James– Sirius’ friend–”

“I remember.”

“Alright, well. James has invited me to spend Bonfire night with them.”

“That's nice,” she said. 

“Sirius will be there.”

“And?”

“And– he doesn't like me,” Remus paused, searching for the right words, “He's going to have an issue with it.”

“Who cares? James wants you to come, right?”

“Yes…”

“You deserve to have a little fun,” Lily told him, firmly, “You should do it. It's better than sitting at home. That's what you were planning to do, right?”

“You don't know that. I could have big plans.”

“Uh-huh. Do you?”

“...No.”

So at half past four, Remus wrapped up warm, shoved a blanket and some clothes into a rucksack, and set off on the walk around the back of the village towards Grimmauld Manor. The house looked quiet and still as he approached, and the only sign of life was the soft yellow glow of the upstairs windows. 

This time, he went up the front path rather than round the side towards the garden. The front door was wide and painted with a smooth black, with the emblem of a snake eating its own tail carved into the surface. Remus stepped up to it, lifted the brass handle, and knocked three times.

There was a moment of quiet, and then footsteps. 

The door swung open to reveal Sirius, his lips split in a grin as his head turned back to look at the hallway behind him, but when he twisted back around, his mouth fell open. He ran his gaze over Remus, from his head to his toes, and said–

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Okay,” Remus muttered, and then spun on his heel to walk back up the path, but then there was a flurry of movement from behind Sirius, and James was pushing past onto the front step, waving his arms.

“Hey!” He called, beaming from ear to ear, “Remus! You’re here!”

“Hi James,” Remus said, and he held out the plastic bag he was carrying rather pathetically, “I bought marshmallows.”

“You star! Come on, come inside,” James gestured with exaggerated enthusiasm, “It’s cold out here.”

“It’s alright,” replied Remus, glancing over at where Sirius stood, arms folded and sullen, in the doorway, “Listen, maybe I should go.”

“Sirius,” barked James, swivelling to point a sharp finger at Sirius, “You better get your head out of your arse or so help me God, I will cut off all your hair while you sleep. All of it. You will be bald. You hear me? Bald. Then see how far your pretty face gets you.”

It would still get him quite far, Remus thought, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Fine,” Sirius said, and he retreated back into the hallway, leaving the door ajar for them both to trail in after him.

“Feel free to dump your stuff here and take off your shoes,” James told Remus as he yanked the massive front door closed behind them, shutting out the gusts of cold air. 

Inside, the lighting was dim, but it was warm, and the corridor that stretched beyond was wide and decorated with paintings and elaborately carved tables. He had never seen the house this way before in the daylight, without the loud music and the lights. He set down his rucksack and hastened to take off his shoes as James walked ahead and disappeared around a corner towards the kitchen. 

His boots had come off easily, but as he padded in his patterned socks down the hallway, he could hear voices - James and Sirius, talking in a quick and harsh whisper. 

He made out Sirius’ voice first– “I thought you were joking when you said you'd invite him.” 

“I was not,” said James, “You’re welcome.”

“I’m welcome? ” Sirius hissed, almost too quiet to hear, “Do you not remember our conversation?”

“I remember our conversation,” James retorted, still in a low, urgent voice, “I remember you being really, really stupid.”

Sirius sighed, although it was more of a groan, “I can’t be around him, James.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I'm serious. It’s a really bad idea.” 

Jesus Christ . A razor-sharp twist scraped through Remus’ stomach, and he stopped walking closer, his foot catching on the carpet runner beneath him. He lowered his head, his fingers curling in on themselves, listening as Sirius continued speaking. 

“I’m not– I’m not rational enough to–”

“What exactly is the plan, Sirius?” James snapped, a little louder now, “Just let fear control you for the rest of your–”

A deafening clatter drowned out the rest of James's sentence, accompanied by the sound of a stiff door being elbowed open, and the erratic puff of breath. Remus used this as an excuse to come around the corner into the kitchen, which was shockingly clean in contrast to the last time he had seen it. 

“I found the bikes!” It was Peter, the source of the mysterious puffing noise, struggling to push the wheel of an old bike covered in dirt up through the raised doorway to the garden. James and Sirius were standing close together by the sink, Sirius raking a hand through his dark curls. 

“Bikes?” Remus said, his voice spilling out a little strangled. 

He couldn't bring himself to look at Sirius. But then again, why was he so surprised? He knew Sirius disliked him. Maybe he hadn't realized how much. 

“Don’t bring them inside, you plonker!” James groaned, ushering him back out with a flap of his hands, “You’ll get mud everywhere.”

“Alright, alright,” panted Peter, leaning up against the doorframe where he was somewhat wedged in, but then his gaze drifted past James and Sirius and onto Remus, and his pale eyebrows shot up, “Oh. Hello Remus.”

Remus threw James a look of utter despair, “Did no one know I was coming?”

“The more the merrier!” Peter piped up, his eyes rounding as he saw what Remus was holding, “Ooh. Are those marshmallows?”

“What do you need bikes for?” asked Remus.

“We’re cycling down to the beach,” James said, “For the bonfire.”

Remus paused; he could feel eyes on him, and when he risked a glance, Sirius was watching him closely. Forcing a quick smile, Remus replied, “To Shell Beach?”

Poking his head further inside, Peter inquired, “It isn't far, is it?” 

“No, it's fine. About twenty five minutes cycling.” 

James perched his hands on his hips, looking very pleased with himself, “Great! You'll be our guide!” 

“Great,” Sirius echoed flatly, and he broke away from the sink, walking for the door on the other side of the room, “I’m packing.”

The bonfire that the four of them constructed upon Shell Beach was a monster of a thing. It was a mountain of branches and sticks and seaweed, which popped and crackled as it burned, and it churned out thick smoke into the biting evening air.

The beach itself was a quiet, short-stretch of sand, encircled by rising cliffs and a knot of green undergrowth, and they had found their shelter from the cold breeze behind a giant slab of jutting rock that practically sliced the beach itself in two.  

As Remus took his turn to keep the fire alive, slowly feeding the flames twig after twig, he watched James and Sirius chase each-other up and down the sand. Sirius was fast, surprisingly fast for his height, and he tackled James everytime without fail, sending them both flying down into the ground.

Peter, on the other hand, had long abandoned trying to keep up, and instead had tucked himself into a corner to construct what was turning out to be a tall and elaborate sand-castle. 

The sun outlining his silhouette in gold, Sirius stretched out his arms, leaned forward on one knee and then threw himself into the most perfect cartwheel Remus had ever seen. He straightened up again, grinning, and then did another couple down the beach, his legs straight up in the air.

As he spun upside down again, his shirt fell up towards his face, revealing the tight, tanned stretch of his stomach, the muscles of his chest. Remus’ heart did a funny little flip of its own. 

James called, panting as he ran behind him, “Nice one, Padfoot! I can’t even do a handstand.” 

“Padfoot,” Sirius turned to smirk at him, dusting off the sand from his palms, “Damn, I haven’t heard that in a while.”

Remus repeated from where he sat, “Padfoot?”

“It was Sirius’ nickname at school,” James replied, waving a dismissive hand, “He was Padfoot, I was Prongs. Peter was Wormtail.”

“Huh,” said Remus, raising an eyebrow, “Peter really drew the short straw there.”

“Thank you,” muttered Peter, smoothing out some turrets in his sand-castle, “At least someone sees it.”

“Oh, come on,” James dropped down on the piece of driftwood next to Remus, flinging an arm around his shoulders. Sirius had followed him over to the fire, but he sat far away, on the other side, “You must have had a nickname at school.”

“Um,” he cleared his throat, throwing another stick into the flames, “No. No I didn’t.”

“You know what? I don’t believe you,” Sirius said, and for once he was looking over at Remus, “I bet you did.”

Peter poked his head out from around his castle, “What was it?”

“Nothing,” retorted Remus through gritted teeth, and James clicked his tongue.

“Leave the poor boy alone,” He scolded, flashing Sirius a particular disapproving stare, which Sirius greeted with a very crude hand-gesture that had heat flaring up Remus’ spine.

The evening was falling fast, and the bonfire was burning higher, hungry for more fuel– of which they were steadily running out. Humming, James crouched down next to the bags and began rifling through them.

“No!” James cried out, a moment later, slapping a palm to his forehead, “I'm an idiot!”

“I'm sure you're right,” replied Sirius, sitting back on his heels, “Why exactly?” 

“We forgot the tent,” Pushing a hand through his hair, James scowled down at the sand as if it was somehow the beach's fault.

Sirius’ eyebrows quirked upwards, “That is pretty idiotic.” 

“I'll have to cycle back for it.”

“The tent?” Remus voiced, drawing his eyes from the flames to look at them, “Are we… camping?”

“That is what a tent is for, isn't it?” Sirius muttered under his breath, jabbing at the embers of the fire with a stick, and orange sparks rushed up into the air. Pushing his tongue into his cheek, Remus forced himself not to fire something rude back at him.

“I didn't know,” he said, quietly, “I… I'm not sure that's such a good idea.”

Peter gaped at him, “But the camping is the best part!”

“Alright, I just…”

“What's the issue?” Sirius asked, glancing over at him. 

“There's no issue,” Remus snapped back.

“Sounds like there is.”

“Fine,” he said, relenting, although his shoulders were still tense, “Great. Camping.” 

Scowling, James elected to shove his shoe into Sirius’ side. Yelping, Sirius toppled down onto one hand, but managed to keep his balance just enough.

As he brushed off the sand, scowling, James turned back to Remus, smiling sweetly, “Remus, why don't you come with me to get the tent?”

Peter’s head snapped up, a twig from his bundle of clutched stick tumbling to the ground, “But I need a piss!”

“Okay, Peter,” James replied, slowly, “That's nice.”

“I want to go with you,” Peter insisted,“I can use the toilet at the house.”

Snorting, Sirius asked, “Why don't you just go in the bushes?” 

“I'm not doing that.”

“Wimp.”

Peter cast him a nasty glare, “I'm not an animal, Sirius. What if I get stung? By a nettle? On my willy?” 

Sirius looked back over at James, “Dear God, please take him with you.”

“Err…” began James, failing to disguise the look on his face as he glanced between Remus and Sirius and shifted from foot to foot.

“We won't kill each other,” Sirius snapped. 

“Speak for yourself,” murmured Remus, and when Sirius looked up in his direction, he held his gaze until Sirius blinked, and edged away; he did not miss the slight reddening of Sirius’ cheeks.

“Alright, alright,” said James, and he walked over to the rock to drag out his bike from the rock, “Come on, Pete.”

Dropping the pile of twigs and loose branches unceremoniously next to the firepit, Peter hurried after him to pick up his own bike and his discarded rucksack. Both Remus and Sirius turned their heads to watch them wheel the bikes along the beach, and then their silhouettes shrink as they headed up the winding stone path into the undergrowth.

The sky was darkening quickly overhead, and Sirius did not speak to him as he continued to stoke fire, staring into the flames. The golden flicker was soft over his face. For as long as five minutes, they both sat there; the air was growing colder, and Remus pulled on his jacket, shivering. 

When he did finally let his attention wander over to Sirius, he was sure that Sirius was making a very concentrated effort to keep his eyes fixed away from him. 

“You know at the party?” Remus said, eventually, leaning back on his elbows, “On Halloween?”

“Yeah,” Sirius replied, and for the first time, all at once, he was looking over at him, his grey eyes bright in the firelight. The moon, rising up behind him, threaded through his black hair like ribbons of silver.

“When we were in the library,” he continued, his mouth dry now, “There was a… a..”

“A..?”

A moment. His gaze flickering over Sirius’ face, Remus pressed his lips together. There was a moment. We had a moment. Something dangerous. 

“There was a book,” he finished, quickly, shaking his head, “A first edition Agatha Christie novel. The Incredible Theft. Could I, um, borrow it?”

For a few long moments, Sirius continued to study him, and then he lifted his shoulders in a shrug, replying, “You can have it. I don't care.”

“Oh,” Remus paused, thankfully distracted for a second from his own spiralling thoughts as he thought over Sirius’ response, “Won't your parents mind?”

“Of course they will,” he said, “That's even more reason to do it.”

“I take it you don't get along?”

“That's one way of putting it,” Sirius murmured, giving the firepit another rough prod, “If not getting along means that they would rather I wasn't alive, and I would rather they burn in hell.”

Staring at him, Remus sat up, “Do you actually think that? That they would rather you weren't alive?”

“I don't think it, prick,” retorted Sirius, sharply, his mouth tight and vicious, “I know. I heard it straight from the horse’s mouth. My mother being the horse.”

“Okay,” Remus was unsure of what else to say, and he leaned more into the heat of the fire, repressing a shudder not just from the cold, “That’s… awful.”

“Don’t start, Lupin.”

“What? I didn’t even say anything.”

“Yes, you did,” He exhaled, and tucked his chin into his knees, “Do me a favour and don’t fucking pity me.”

Frowning, Remus returned his gaze to the flames, letting the warmth of its glow wash over him and letting them lapse back into silence. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sirius, huddled in on himself inside his jumper, the curtains of his curls drifting into his face.

“Why don't you want to camp?” asked Sirius, suddenly, and his gaze had slipped back over to Remus. 

Remus swallowed, his throat squeezing tight, “What?”

“Are you afraid of tents or something?”

“Shut up,” muttered Remus, and he clenched his hands together, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles, “No.”

“Then what is it?”

“Christ, Black. Mind your own fucking business.”

The waves rushed, and wind whistled along the beach, rustling through the fire, through Sirius’ hair. Sirius was staring at him, his expression unreadable, impassive as marble, although the faint, familiar flicker of frustration was there, alive and blazing in his irises. Eventually, Remus sighed, and said, quietly–

“You know before, when I said I didn’t have a nickname at school?”

“Yeah.”

 Remus drew in a breath, and it was shaky, “I lied. I did have one.”

Sirius lifted his chin, “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“What was it?”

Tracing lines through the soft sand with his index finger, Remus said, “Loony Lupin.”

“What?” He retorted, leaning forwards.

“Loony Lupin. They called me Loony Lupin.”

“Wait,” His eyes hardening, Sirius paused, and tilted his head, “That’s what that little blonde dickhead called you. In the pub. Greg.”

“Gil.”

“Whatever. He called you Loony Lupin when he saw you.”

“Yes, he did.”

“Okay. I don’t get it.”

“Yeah, well,” muttered Remus, sucking air in through his teeth, “Um. There was a reason.”

Quiet, Sirius continued to look at him, his knee knocking, and Remus was suddenly wishing he never spoke at all, had never tried to fill the tense silence between them.

Finally, he said, “I have trouble sleeping sometimes. Have for a while. Since my m– since I was thirteen.” 

Remus concentrated on the fire, rather than the burn of Sirius’ eyes on him, “When I was a teenager I would often be awake for the whole night. And if I did fall asleep, I’d have these– nightmares.” 

“About what?” Sirius asked, softly.

“Horrible shit. You know. Drowning. Burning. Errr, dismemberment. The gruesome, vivid deaths of the people I love.”

“Delightful.”

“Right?” Remus almost smiled, and Sirius was still watching him, intent, not speaking, so he continued, “One time when I was fifteen I hadn’t slept for a couple days and I was absolutely exhausted, and I– fell asleep. At school. In class.”

“Alright,” Sirius said,  “Sleeping in class. Who hasn’t? You’re telling me they called you Loony because of that?”

“No,” said Remus, “Uh... They called me that because I woke up screaming. Fell off my chair, actually. You should have seen their faces."

It didn't feel as awful, to talk about it. Not like it usually did, like a horrible, crushing weight on his chest. So he continued, "They all looked at me like I was diseased or something. So then I became Loony Lupin. Forever.”

Something in Sirius’ eyes– something dark and unspoken– clawed its way to the surface, but still he was silent, for almost a minute. When he did speak, his voice came out brittle and serrated– “You should have put arsenic in Greg’s drink.”

“Funnily enough we don’t have arsenic in our stash of ingredients,” Remus replied, biting down on his laugh, “And it’s Gil.”

A muscle feathered in Sirius’ jaw, and he shook his head, not returning the half-grin on Remus’ face. He dragged his fingers through his hair, scraping it back and drawing in a short breath, as if he couldn’t quite catch up with himself.

He said, tightly, “You didn’t have to tell me that.”

“You asked why I didn’t want to camp overnight. That’s why.”

“I wouldn’t have forced it out of you, you idiot.”

“I know,” Remus replied, shifting on the spot and pulling his jacket closer to his chest; the zip had broken long ago and he couldn’t bear the expense of buying a new one, “Um. I just– well, you told me something shit. I told you something shit. Now we’re equally, um... shit.”

“Wow,” replied Sirius, dryly, “You really are a master of eloquence.”

He scowled, “Shut up.”

Sirius raised a shoulder, “As you wish.”

It was nearly pitch-black now, lit only by the yellow circle of the fire, an untamed creature of flame rising up into the night, and the dim battery-power lights that James had conjured from his backpack. In the distance, the waves lapped against the shore, hissing and whispering into the night, back and forth, back and forth.

“Lupin…” began Sirius, and then he paused, eyebrows knitting together, “Are you sure you should stay overnight?”

Remus pressed his palm down on his knee to stop it from bouncing, “I'm sure it will be fine.”

“Do you mean that?” Sirius asked, narrowing his eyes; in the dark, they glittered like lovely jewels.

“I just won't sleep,” he conceded, “So, yes. It will be.”

“That doesn't seem fine.”

“It’s nothing I’m not used to,” said Remus, “I'm a light sleeper. Easily distracted.”

Resting his elbows on his thighs, Sirius leaned forwards, “By what?”

“Um… you know. Like the traffic outside or dog barking. Or the streetlights.”

“The streetlights?”

“I have really thin curtains.”

“Oh.”

For a moment, Remus looked over at Sirius, letting his eyes map the plains and angles of his face, before he pulled himself out of it to shake his head.

“It's okay, Black. We don't need to talk about it like we're friends,” Remus breathed a shallow laugh, “It’s painful for us both.”

Sirius repeated, “Painful?”

“I know you can’t stand me,” he said, sparing him a short smile with no real feeling behind it, “So let’s not pretend.”

His lower lip caught between his teeth, Sirius stared at him, and then opened his mouth, but before he could speak, there was the screech of tires, the unmistakable sound of Peter’s rusty brakes. From the distance came the muffled call of James’ voice. Remus pushed up onto his feet, squinting into the dark as James and Peter came out of the shadows, wheeling their bikes. Beaming, James had a long canvas bag tucked under his arm, but he used the other one to wave.

“We have returned!” He said as they grew closer, “Have you survived?”

“Barely,” Remus replied, with a dry grin, “Do you want help setting up?”

“That depends,” James leaned his bike back up against the big rock, before setting the tent bag down in the sad, “Do we put up the tent before or after we set off the fireworks?”

“Let’s do the fireworks now,” Peter yawned, letting his own bike crash to the ground, “before I fall asleep.”

The fireworks themselves were really far and few between, but looked in good shape, despite how ragged their cardboard packaging was from years of sitting at the back of a garden shed; there were a couple roman candles, one called a ‘sizzling comet’, and another called ‘leaping lizards’. Remus thought both sounded highly suspicious. James proudly got to work on planting the fireworks in the sand 30 meters from where they had set up, and for a while, he crouched over them, sticking his tongue out in concentration.

They all stood up to watch as James lit the end of the taper with a box of matches, and then came scrambling back towards them, kicking up sand as he ran. Remus had ended up shoulder to shoulder with Sirius, and he could still feel the heat of his body through both of their jumpers. He tried not to breathe in so he could avoid getting distracted by Sirius’ all too familiar scent. 

The roman candles exploded upwards first, with clean pops that splintered across the sky and showers of red and green, one after the other. 

It wasn’t until the leaping lizards that everything went wrong– they had perhaps underestimated the distance between them and the fireworks, and as the leaping lizards started up, little bullets of sparks jumped outwards with a deafening roar and crackle. Remus squinted as the fizzing grew louder and the flashes stronger.

“Christ!” yelled James above the noise, “I think the leaping lizards and the sizzling comet have cross-pollinated!”

As if the pyrotechnics had heard him, there was an echoing boom that thundered across the beach. A white light floods the air, blooming outwards. 

Peter screamed, “Take cover!”

There was a hand at his elbow, gripping too tight as it hauled him back from the blare of the fireworks, and he stumbled as he was yanked behind the big rock for cover. All four of them crouched there, staring at their exploding creation with horror.

“Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair,” sighed James.

Sirius said, “This was a stupid idea,”

James muttered back, “You’re a stupid idea.”

Remus was looking at Sirius instead of at the fireworks. Namely, he was looking down at where Sirius was still holding his arm, his thumb pressing down on his wrist. It had been Sirius who had pulled him behind the rock. Following his gaze, Sirius glanced down as well, before hastily withdrawing his hand.

After a minute or so, the popping and cracking died out, and the beach was quiet and dark again. Only the rush of waves, the soft call of a bird. When Remus blinked, the light from the sparks was engraved into the back of his eyelids.

“Alright,” James said, jovially, edging back out from behind the rock, “Well. That’s that. Should we go to bed?”

The tent was the pop up kind, the type that springs right up as soon as you get it out of the bag, which also meant it was reasonably small for four grown men, but James insisted with his usual optimism that they would, in fact, all fit. 

After shoving their massive bundle of blankets, cushions, and sleeping bags in through the tent flap, Remus hammered in pegs into the loops, and Peter tried to hammer pegs into the loops, but ultimately ended up with bent pegs.

Outside, the temperature had dropped, and they relished the warmth when they all crawled inside the cramped tent and wriggled into their sleeping bags. 

It had been a long time since Remus had last camped; it had once been a family tradition in the Lupin household. His mum would pack a thermos of hot chocolate and cans of beans, and his dad would drive them all out to an empty field, and they would spend the evening picking out constellations from the night sky. 

He still remembered the shape of Canis Major. And Sirius – the brightest star in the sky.

Huddled under a knitted quilt, James was half way through a story about someone falling in the river at Oxford, but Remus turned his head to look over at Sirius, who had been very quiet. Unsurprisingly, Sirius had chosen the furthest spot from him to sleep, on the other side of the tent next to Peter, and in the low light from the lamp, Remus could barely make out his expression.

Peter had already fallen asleep, his head completely submerged in his sleeping bag, and he was snoring quietly. They all settled down onto the pile of blankets, and James turned over to grin at Remus through the dark.

“Sorry about the fireworks,” he whispered.

“It’s okay,” Remus said, softly, “This is still the most fun I’ve had all year.”

“Wow,” James raised an eyebrow, “You must not get out much.”

“You have no idea.”

After a while, James fell asleep too, which left Remus lying on his back and staring up at the low ceiling of the tent, where the gleam of the moon filtered through the canvas. It would be a long night. He was suddenly glad he had brought his book, although he would have to go outside at some point to read it. 

An hour passed, and someone else in the tent was shuffling around– the zip of a sleeping bag hissed, and Remus watched as Sirius struggled out from the blankets, and then ducked out through the tent flap. Remus rested his head back and down and closed his eyes. Peter puffed out a particular loud snore, turning over.

Five minutes later, the entrance rustled again, and Sirius came back in, his teeth audibly chattering from the cold.

“Peter,” he hissed, shoving at Peter’s legs with his foot, which were now sprawled across the floor; he had rolled right into Sirius’ space in the tent. Sirius kicked at him again, saying his name louder, but Peter only flailed his limbs further outwards.

“Shut uuuup,” groaned James, burrowing further into his pillow, “Noooo.”

Gritting his teeth, Sirius glanced in the direction of the only room left in the compartment, which was up against the canvas wall, and, right beside Remus. Quickly, Remus squeezed his eyes shut, and turned onto his side. There were a few seconds of silence, and then a quiet sigh, before Sirius snatched up his blanket and began picking his way over James’ feet. 

Remus’ heart jumped as a warm body settled next to his own, and he stopped breathing altogether as the ghost of Sirius’ breath brushed his nape. A shiver rippled down Remus’ spine. 

Okay, he thought, this is fine. It’s only my worst nightmare.

He could feel Sirius against him. The tent was too fucking small and Sirius’ legs were touching his legs and the hills of Sirius’ hip bones were pressing into him, and he smelled like bonfire smoke, and Remus was thanking a God he didn’t even believe in that they were not facing the other way around.

This was all Peter’s fault. Remus scowled into the blackness. 

A few moments passed in silence, and Remus found that he was counting every rise and fall of Sirius’ chest. Up, down. Up, down. He could tell when Sirius was sleeping. The breaths grew deeper, slower. 

At first, it was not terrible, because Remus could try and pretend he was somewhere else. Then, Sirius shifted closer, and his cheek was resting against the small of his back. Remus twisted his head back to look at him, taking in the flutter of his long, dark eyelashes, his face wiped blank. 

It was time to face the miserable and pathetic truth. Sirius Black was the most distractingly gorgeous person Remus had ever had the misfortune of meeting. Being near him, feeling the warmth of his body, his hips, his breath, his hair, made Remus feel as if his blood was on fire, as if his head was shrinking. This did not, he told himself sternly, excuse the fact that the man was a viciously irritating and ridiculously entitled mess who he wanted nothing to do with. Absolutely. Nothing. 

Remus did not remember falling asleep. He didn’t know whether it was the lap of the waves against the sand, or whether it was the rhythm of Sirius’ breathing, how he could feel every dip, every climb between his shoulder-blades. But the sleep was deep, and hot, and dreamless.

When he woke up, the sun was just starting to creep through the tent’s canvas, and the cold had found its way inside, biting at his exposed skin. Remus did not open his eyes just yet, still half-under, fogged, slow. He could smell something sweet. Coconut. 

As he finally came to, the first realisation, that Sirius was pressed right up against him, his chest against his back, did not hit him as hard as the second realisation; that Sirius’ hand had slipped under his jumper. Remus froze, his stomach tensing. Sirius’ palm was warm but firm over his waist, fingers splayed across his navel. Behind him, Sirius exhaled a soft, sleep-ridden noise. 

All the blood in Remus’ body rushed downwards.

Remus was definitely awake now. Very awake. Too awake. 

He did not care how cold it was. He wriggled out from under the blankets, putting as much distance between him and Sirius as possible, and then fought his way through the tent flap, stumbling onto the sand. Overhead, the morning sky is bleached pale, marked only by the occasional grey cloud, and the air is tingling with frost. The tide had crept up closer to their tent, but the sea was still, and for another hour, he sat down on one of the rocks and watched the horizon grow brighter. 

As the sun rose higher, the tent rustled, and the zip was yanked down– and Remus averted his gaze when Sirius climbed out, threading his fingers through the tangle of his curls. He rolled his shoulders back, stretching out his arms, and then his eyes, still heavy from sleep, darted over to where Remus sat, staring out at the sea.

“You been up long?” Sirius asked. 

“Not really,” Remus said, still not looking at him, “I just, uh– the sun woke me up.”

“Guys, there’s sand everywhere!” came Peter’s voice, and suddenly he was crawling out of the tent too, on his hands and knees, “Look! It’s in my hair.” 

Sirius frowned at him, “Is James awake yet?”

“Yes. He's just being slow.”

James stuck his head out the tent flap, for once not wearing his glasses which made his face look strangely naked. He narrowed his eyes at them blearily, “It's so early. Why are we up?”

“Because it’s fucking freezing and I'm hungry,” Sirius told him, “Come on, let's go home.”

“I wanted to say..,” Remus stood up from the rock, turning to face James as he struggled to his feet, “Thanks for letting me tag along. Um. It was nice.”

“Anytime,” James beamed, although the smile was somewhat distorted as he threw back his head in a wide yawn. 

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Peter added, shaking sand from his head like a wet dog, “So I guess we'll see you at New Year's or something.”

“I haven't invited you for New Years,” Sirius pointed out.

“Yet,” James replied, winking at him, which had Sirius rolling his eyes and shoving at his arm.

They begin to pack up, dragging out the blankets and the pillows, and folding down the tent, which is somehow still covered in sand despite the fact that they shook it out. Peter gave up on pretending to help very quickly into the process and instead ran down to the shore to wade through the shallows. 

Once they had cleared their space, Remus walked off into the bushes around the back of the beach to relieve himself. It was on his way back, as he crossed behind the big rock, that he could hear James and Sirius talking. And he knew he shouldn’t, knew that it wasn’t any of his business, but he slowed down, just for a moment, to listen to what they were saying.

“You alright, mate?” James was saying, his voice soft, curious. 

“Fine,” came Sirius’ reply, curt and quiet, and there was the sharp whir of something being zipped closed.

“Cause you look like you're about to kill someone.” 

“Do I?”

“Come on, you've been having a good time,” James said, now in a blunt whisper, “I told you it would be fine to have Remus here.”

“Oh yeah,” Sirius replied, flatly, although his tone was still edged, “I’m about ready to blow my brains out.”

It was as if his chest was collapsing inwards– the next time Remus went to take a breath, he was drawing from nothing at all, from empty, dark space. He rubbed a palm over his face, and everything was burning, his cheeks, his throat, his eyes, and he was furious with himself for even caring what Sirius Black thought about him, or how he felt. It was the anger which made him take his first step forward, clearing his throat as he walked around the side of the rock. 

“Remus!” James said, his eyes darting behind Sirius’ shoulder as he approached, “There you are.”

“Here I am,” muttered Remus, and he did his very best to keep his expression wiped clean, “Are we all ready to go?” 

Peter, who had come running up from the water, narrowly avoided tripping over a dip in the bank, and declared, “I am!” 

Remus bit down on the inside of his cheek, and picked up his bag. “You know what? I think I’m just going to– set off back to my place.”

“Oh, um,” pressed James, his words tumbling out,  “Are you sure? We were going to make pancakes...”

“Yeah. I’ll bring back the bike tomorrow.”

Without waiting for any of them to reply, Remus yanked out the bike he had been using from the cluttered mess of wheels and bars, and began to wheel it away from their camp, towards the stone path that curved away from the beach.

“Wait,” called a voice, and when Remus turned around, Sirius was catching up with him, kicking up sand behind him. His shoulder tensing, Remus stopped walking to watch as he approached. Sirius glanced back at the figures of James and Peter, and then turned towards Remus again. 

“Um,” he said, “Did you sleep?”

“What?”

“Did you sleep in the end?”

“I slept,” said Remus, shortly, his voice coming out hoarse. He found that he was turning at his moon ring again, over and over, but it was all he could do to calm the anxious pattering of his heart. 

“You did?” Sirius tilted his head, and he looked a little paler in this morning light, “No nightmares?”

“No.”

“Okay,” he murmured, his silvery eyes flickering up to meet Remus' again, “Okay. Um. Fine.”

He could still hear Sirius’ voice: I’m about ready to blow my brains out. Gritting his teeth, Remus echoed back, “Fine.”

For a moment, Sirius opened his mouth again, struggling on a word, and then he sighed; he spun on his heel, and walked back towards his friends. Rubbing at the back of his neck, Remus watched him retreat for a few seconds, before turning away himself. 

He thought Sirius’ eyes– the shape of them, the colour, the way they caught the light– might just be burned into his brain forever.