Flightless Bird

“Remus?”

He hadn't seen Sirius for two weeks straight. 

It was not something he was happy to have noticed; in an ideal world, Sirius would be gone and Remus would be none the wiser. To find that instead, Remus not only felt his absence, but he was… bothered by it. 

He knew what it was. Confusion. In fact, he had never been so confused in his life. He wished he could at least bump into Sirius so that he could wring his stupid, beautiful neck. 

When he lay awake at night, he thought about what he would say to Sirius. Maybe what the fuck wereyou thinking? Or why did you do it in the first place? 

“Remus…?” 

Remus frowned down at the glass that he had been polishing. Hadn't he already done this one? Or was this a different one? 

The other thing that came, unbidden, drifting into his mind at the late hours, was the way it had felt. Sirius’ hands. His wrists. His skin. His hair. His scent. His mouth–

“Remus John Lupin!”

Jumping, Remus turned his head towards Frank, who was looking at him as if he had grown a second head. 

“You've been cleaning that glass for ten minutes, mate,” Frank said. Remus blinked, and set the gleaming glass and cloth down on the counter. 

“Um,” Frank frowned at him, his hands perched on his hips, “You want to take a break?”

Grimacing, he muttered, “I'm fine.” 

“Really? What are you thinking about?”

Remus hesitated, and then replied, “Actually, maybe I will take a break. Just a short one.”

“There's no rush,” Frank called after him as he stepped outside. His breath fogged in the air, and he tucked his hands under his arms, gazing blankly out at the streets, the skeletal trees, the pale sky. 

The freeze had come sweeping in across the town, just like Winnie had said. It was four days until Christmas, and everyone was bundled up in their coats and gloves as they did their last minute shopping. Remus supposed he should be glad he had hardly anyone to give presents to in his life, because at least he got to save some money. 

His mind, as if it were on a frustratingly short leash, wandered back towards Sirius Black. 

It wasn't just that he hadn't seen Sirius around. In fact, the lights of Grimmauld House were dark. He had even, to his own embarrassment, asked Winnie about it after meeting her for one of their usual coffee dates one cold afternoon. 

“You know the Big House?” He started. They had been sitting down for a while now, and their drinks were cold, but he still took a perfunctory sip to soothe the tightening of his throat. 

She hummed in agreement. Beneath their legs, a ginger cat wound itself between the tables. Winnie leaned down to stroke it as it passed, asking, “Did you get on okay with the garden?”

“Yes,” Remus said, quickly, relieved that Sirius had not relayed the information that he hadn't actually finished working on it. He had no idea how he would explain to Winnie why. 

“Fabulous.”

“Um, you know– the guy who's living there…”

“You met him?”

“Yeah.”

“Manage to talk to him at all?”

Remus chewed down on his bottom lip. They had done a lot more than talk. Sometimes, if he closed his eyes, he could smell Sirius still. Feel the contours of his body. It was driving him completely–

“A bit,” he replied. He stirs meaninglessly at his coffee with a spoon, his gaze focused on the swirling brown liquid, “Although, um, it doesn't seem like there's anyone in the house recently.”

It came out a lot less casual than he would have liked, but Winnie only shrugged a shoulder, “I think he's gone out of town.”

“Oh.”

He raked his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face as he leaned back in his chair. He was not going to push it by asking when Sirius would return. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted Sirius to return. The thought of seeing him again made him feel physically, devastatingly ill and the thought of never seeing him again…

“How's your dad these days?” Winnie asked, and Remus, not expecting the question, stiffened; this, she noticed, because her eyebrows darted upwards and she added, “Not good?”

“I don't want to talk about him,” Remus had replied.

It was fucking unfair, Remus thought as he leaned against the wall outside the pub watching people pass, for a person to kiss someone and then disappear. Especially when the kiss turns out to be some sort of all-consuming, life-ruining, soul-killing enchantment that stops you from doing basic–

His stomach buckled, as if he had been punched. He had just realised that he knew the person crossing the street ahead. All his breath squeezed out of him, like juice from an orange; he was abruptly a little weak. Unsaturated. Heart pounding, he forced himself forwards to intercept the path. 

Sirius had noticed him. He knew this, because he was now looking literally anywhere else, even as he neared. 

“Black,” Remus said, but this did not make him stop– in fact, Sirius quickened his pace, swerving down one of the side alleys. 

For a few seconds, Remus stared at his retreating back, cursing him and then cursing himself and trying to regain his footing on the pavement, which suddenly felt a little unsteady. His palms were clammy. His throat clamped. What the fuck was happening to him?

Sighing, Remus did not follow him, but instead made his way down a lane running parallel. It was unfortunate for Sirius that Remus knew this town like his own palm; he walked until he reached the end of the street. 

He waited, arms folded, and sure enough, Sirius appeared from around the corner. As they came face to face, he stopped dead in his tracks, his whole body tightening, shoulders straight and rigid. Remus took this opportunity to study him. Sirius had had a hair-cut. His curls were shorter, less wild. 

“Hello,” Remus said. 

His expression stormy, Sirius went to push past him, but Remus stepped into his path. He still felt faintly as if he may throw up.

“Lupin,” said Sirius through gritted teeth. It was just the word, his name– a warning. A shiver cascaded down Remus’ spine. 

Now that he was here, and Sirius was there, Remus was a lot less sure on what to say. It was far more difficult to ignore your own daydream once it was standing and glaring right at you. 

Remus opened his mouth, uncertainly, already warm in the face, “I…” 

Sirius cut in, “Can you move?” 

“What?”

“Move. I was walking. Now I am not. So move.”

Frowning, Remus decided to try a different tactic, “Did you manage to fix the sprinkler?”

“Yes,” Sirius said. He did not elaborate. 

“Oh. Good.”

When Sirius tried for a third time to continue on down the street, Remus blurted out, “Black. In the garden–”

“What happened in the garden,” said Sirius, again before he could finish, “was a mistake. A giant fucking mistake. The mother of all mistakes. In fact, any mistake that came before this one might as well start a religion, and call our mistake God. Got it?”

He was a little short of breath, a little pink in his cheeks, his grey eyes tinged with both the harsh bite of anger and a tremble of panic; he had never been more beautiful. And more deranged. 

Remus couldn't help staring at him, “Are you okay?”

Sirius looked at him as if he had just spat on his shoes, “Get out of my way.”

Remus spared himself any more mortification, and did just that - got out of his way. He let Sirius walk past him, and did not watch him leave. 

Instead, he went back to the Howl & Thistle and continued to polish the same glass for another fifteen minutes before Frank finally ordered him to just go home. 

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

On Christmas day, Remus packed his badly wrapped presents into a bag, and walked the ten minutes to Lily’s house.

It had only become a tradition over the last three years. Before that, after leaving his dad’s flat, Remus had had the tendency to just spend Christmas with himself. Lily described it as a ‘self-punishment’, which he denied, even though she knew him better than himself and was probably right. So a few Christmases ago, she managed to convince him to come and eat Christmas dinner with her family.  

He had been sure that this was not something her parents would want, and was surprised that day to find not only that they treated him as if he were part of the family, but had gotten him presents. There was, of course, always the issue of Petunia, Lily’s sister, who complained about anything she could at any chance. Remus taking up space at her dining room table was only an inconvenience to her, even if it was Christmas. 

When he knocked on the door, it was Petunia that answered. She looked at him as if he was going to start singing a carol, and then when he didn’t, she sniffed, and said, “Oh. You.”

“Me,” Remus grinned nervously, “Can I… come in?”

She stood there with her eyes narrowed for a few more moments, but then there was a blur of red hair from behind her, and Lily barged into the doorway, sending Petunia stumbling backwards.

“Ow!” hissed Petunia, although Lily promptly ignored her, grabbing Remus’ elbow and pulling him inside. 

Lily had only arrived home a few days before, having stayed longer past term-time. She squeezed him in a tight hug, saying loudly in his ear, “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” he waved a hand towards Mr and Mrs Evans, who had both come out of the kitchen to say hello, “Merry Christmas Mr and Mrs Evans.”

“You too, sweetheart,” said Daisy Evans, smiling widely, “I hope you’re hungry. Edward has cooked enough to feed us all twice.”

“I’ll manage,” laughed Remus, finally managing to detach himself from Lily’s vice-like grip.

After the dinner, which had them all lying across the sofas and armchairs on the living room groaning, Remus and Lily were weakly attempting to play a card game neither of them really understood. 

“I think,” Remus was saying, squinting down at the coffee table, “That if I put down a three after I put down a four, and you’ve already put a three down, then I get to keep the cards.”

“But you don’t do that with any other cards,” Lily sighed, “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Says the Oxford student,” muttered Petunia from where she sat on one of the chairs.

“Shut up, Tuney,” replied Lily. Petunia fixed her with a deep, unrelenting scowl, and Lily stuck out her tongue right back. In Remus’ pocket, his phone buzzed. When the girls began to quietly bicker under their breaths, Remus pulled it out and clicked on his messages.

Happy Christmas 

Love Dad. 

Remus’ traitorous mouth twitched into a smile, until his eyes tracked down to the next text. 

Talk soon yh?

Dad. 

He put his phone on silent and spent the rest of the evening trying to work out the rest of the rules to the card game with Lily.  

It snowed the morning after Boxing Day. In the early hours, thick flurries come pouring down from the grey skies, settling across the rooftops and the lawns of the town. By the time Remus pulled open his curtains at 7, having woken suddenly from another strange dream, the houses and hills that stretched out beyond his window were beautifully white. 

He allowed himself, for once, to have a slow morning. He made himself hot chocolate, the cheap kind that came in a tin, and was only nice once you got to the sirupy bit at the end. He listened to cheesy Christmas music from the tiny speaker he had got from Marlene for his last birthday, even though the festivity was two days overdue. 

In the afternoon, he went for a walk along the back-roads. Over the hills, he could catch glimpses of Grimmauld House, sitting amongst the frosted trees, its ornate roof covered. As he neared it, passing closer along the lanes, he could see that the front lawn had nearly been completely submerged by snow, with only the top half of some statues poking out. There were a few laboured footprints from someone who had waded in and out.

For a minute or two, Remus stood at the bottom of the property, by the gate. He put a hand to the iron. It was freezing to the touch. He thought of the last time he had been here. His spine pressed up against the rungs. Sirius’ hands on his skin. 

He glanced over at the house again. The lights were all dark. So he walked around the side of the house, and into the back garden. When he had left in such a hurry before, he had left all his tools strewn across the grass, and he was surprised to find them neatly put away in the creaky shed. 

Remus yanked free the shovel, waded back around to the front, and started trying to make sense of the path that led up to the entrance-way. It took a few tries to find it, and he was thankful he had remembered to bring gloves with him.

He continued to upturn the blanket until he could see the wet grass and patterned stone shining from underneath. As he worked, it had started snowing again, thick in the air as it patterned down, speckling his hair with white flakes. 

The front door opened. Flinching, Remus looked up, and Sirius was leaning in the entranceway, watching him. When Remus straightened, half breathless from the digging and half from the surprise of seeing him, Sirius’ expression did not give much away. He was wearing knitted slippers shaped like bunnies, and grey tracksuit bottoms, which made him difficult to take seriously. 

“You’re not getting paid for that,” said Sirius.

Remus rested his arm against the handle of the shovel, “I know. I’m just a perfectionist.”

“I can see that,” Sirius replied, and then he craned his neck to gaze up at the sky, “It’s snowing.”

“You don't say.”

Sirius lingered there for a moment longer. His left bunny-rabbit slipper twitched against the stone steps. A small frown was working its way at his eyebrows. Finally, he said, “Come inside.”

Tilting his head, Remus asked, carefully, “What?”

“You should come in. Just until it calms down.”

“Are you sure?” Remus began to ask, but Sirius had already turned back inside, so he followed him before the door could slam. By the time he was inside and slipping off his grimy, snow-drenched boots, Sirius had already walked on ahead. Steering himself towards the kitchen, Remus came in to see Sirius by the counter. He had a cup of steaming coffee in his hand, which he raised to his mouth, eyes flicking shakily over to Remus as he entered.

“James and Peter will be back soon,” was the first thing Sirius said, “They’re just getting dinner from town.”

It couldn’t be more obvious that Sirius did not want to be alone with him. Remus muttered, “Right.”

There was a plate on the surface-top with a few leftover crusts. Remus rolled his eyes; of course Sirius didn't eat his crusts. The remaining piece of toast was smothered in something thick and orange. A small jam-jar sat next to it, and Remus wandered closer to lift it up, turning the glass over in his palm.

“Rustic,” commented Remus, and he squinted, studying the scrawl on the makeshift label.

Marmalade for Sirius,

Oodles of love, 

Euphie xxx

“Christmas present from James' mum,” Sirius said, much quieter now that Remus stood closer to him. 

Remus smiled to himself, “That's sweet.” 

“It's really good.” 

“I'll take your word for it.”

Sirius placed his coffee mug down, and pushed the jar back towards him, “Try some.” 

“I don't like marmalade.”

“You'll like this kind,” Sirius replied. He slipped the slice of toast from the plate and offered it out towards him.

Remus leaned an inch forward and took a bite of the corner from right out of his hand. Sirius blinked, his gaze dropping down to his mouth, his arm wavering for a moment. Chewing, Remus leaned back. The sharp, honeyed taste of orange flooded his tongue.

“It is good,” He admitted. Sirius put the toast down again, 

“You've got marmalade on your…” Sirius told him, his voice a little strangled as he gestured vaguely towards him, “Um…”

“Where?” Remus asked, tilting his head. 

Sirius cleared his throat, “Your lip.” 

Dragging his thumb along his lip, Remus licked the marmalade off, his eyes flickering back to Sirius, whose expression had taken on an odd, pained quality. Pale. Irises blown wide.

Remus was not sure what came over him then– what made him hook his fingers into the waistband of Sirius’ joggers, pull him close, and kiss him. 

It did not take more than a muffled noise of surprise for Sirius to kiss him back. For his lips to part, for the kiss to turn wet and hot and slow, before Sirius pulled himself away, only a few inches.  

Sirius said, his voice tight, almost confused, “Lupin.” 

The dark pupils of Sirius’ eyes were dilated, two black sinkholes that reflected the light of the windows as they traced the line of Remus’ jaw, leaning closer with the intensity of his gaze. They flickered down to his mouth, and stayed there, and Remus was rooted to the spot, hardly able to draw a breath. Unable to speak. 

“I–” murmured Sirius, squeezing his eyes shut, “I shouldn't–” 

Remus swallowed, “Shouldn't what?” 

“I just– shouldn't…”

“Then stop looking at me like that,” replied Remus, quietly. 

“I can’t,” Sirius said, and he came forward this time. 

It came in flashes, like a fever dream. The hard edge of the counter digging into Remus’ back, the soft bite of Sirius’ teeth, the furious taste of his mouth. Sirius with his hand bunched in the hem of his top, Remus with his fingers caught deep in Sirius’ black curls. Remus, mapping Sirius’ throat with hard, bruising kisses– and Remus could feel Sirius hard and heavy against his hip– their mouths found each other again– 

The front door slammed.

The sound startled both of them, Sirius pushing him away, Remus nearly biting his own tongue.

“What the fuck,” said Sirius, wide-eyed, panting, angry. 

“Um,” Remus began, unhelpfully, still reeling. His heart was thumping in his chest. He could hear James and Peter coming down the hall, their voices loud as they turned the corner.

When James saw him, he unceremoniously let his bags fall to the kitchen floor, and bounded towards him to wrap him up in a hug that made Remus feel a little as if he was suffocating, albeit in a nice way. 

“Remus!” He beamed, his voice booming, “It’s been so long!”

“Did we know you were coming over?” Peter said, and he peered into the bag he was carrying anxiously, “We only have enough for three. Sirius, did you forget to tell us–”

“It was spontaneous,” cut in Remus, quickly, “I just came to shovel the path.”

James’ eyes brightened, “You legend. Stay for dinner? Ignore Pete, there’s definitely enough.”

“Oh, um,” Remus glanced towards Sirius, who now stood with his back to them, his hands braced against one of the kitchen chairs. As Remus weakly stalled his answer, Sirius turned around. 

“I'm going upstairs,” he said. 

James squinted at him in a disgruntled fashion, “What? Why?”

Sirius paused, not quite meeting James’ eye, “Having a nap.” 

“Can I have his portion of fries?” Peter said as he walked out into the hallway. Remus listened to the creak of the stairs, wincing when he heard the hard bang of a door. 

“What's up with him?” James turned to Remus, who tried to look clueless. 

“No idea.”

“I’ll check on him later. You’re staying for dinner?”

“I better not,” Remus said, unsure he wanted to see Sirius’ reaction when he eventually came back downstairs to see that Remus was still in his house. He cleared his throat, “Maybe some other time. How long are you visiting? You weren't here for Christmas right?” 

“We went to my parents place for Christmas day,” James told him, and spying the uneaten slice of toast, he scooped it up and took a bite. “It's kind of a tradition.”

“We?”

“Me and Sirius.”

“Oh,” said Remus, and suddenly he was imagining Sirius wearing a paper hat and sitting at a family table, which was almost enough to make him laugh. “Yeah, I spent Christmas day with Lily’s family as well.”

“Really?” James’ eyes brightened, his words garbled as he spoke through a mouthful of toast, “What are they like?”

Grinning widely, Remus patted him on the shoulder, “Still no luck with Lily then?”

“What do you mean?” replied James, leaning closer surreptitiously, “Has she…. said something?”

“She's said you keep bothering her with hot chocolate while she's trying to study.”

“Did she use that exact word? Bothering?” 

Peter, who had already tucked into the fries, said, “Sorry, mate.”

James gave Remus a sheepish smile, brushing his hands free of crumbs, “Can't blame a guy for trying.”

“Sure.”

“The point is, we’ll be here until January 4th. Or 5th. Haven’t decided,” James jabbed a finger at him, poking his shoulder hard, “Hey, Sirius probably mentioned we're having another party to ring in New Years–”

“You're having a New Year's party?” Remus asked, frowning as he rubbed at his arm, “That’s ambitious. I normally just eat shit food and watch shit TV by myself.”

“That's exactly why you have to come, Remus.” 

Remus laughed, shaking his head, and then looked back over at James, who was standing there and smiling with his hands on hips, looking a bit ridiculous. 

“James,” Remus began, quietly, “Can I ask you a question?”

He nodded, “Anything.”

“Why do you ask me to hang out with you guys?”

“What do you mean?”

Sighing, Remus said, somewhat through gritted teeth, “Well, Sirius can’t stand me–”

Immediately, James interrupted with, “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is,” replied Remus, firmly, thinking of the anger on Sirius’ face, his hastiness to leave, “And you three are already friends. You don’t need me tagging along. Why invite me?”

“Because of Lily,” Peter said. He had a few fries sticking out the corner of his mouth. 

“Peter,” James hissed, and he grabbed a spatula to smack Peter in the chest, who grunted in pain. 

“What?” Remus glanced over at Peter, and then back at James, his eyes narrowing, “Because of Lily? My Lily?”

“No,” said James, shaking his head, “Seriously, no. Peter is a fool.”

“Hey!” whined Peter. 

“You’re hanging out with me because you think it’ll get you pull points with my best friend,” Remus said, his voice flat. 

“No! Jesus!” James’ expression was maybe the most serious Remus had seen it, his brows drawn together, “Of course not. I just– I spoke to her. At the party. And at school. I spoke to her about you.”

“And?”

“And…” He sighed, throwing Peter a rather dirty look, before relenting, and leaning forwards, “And, um… she seemed a bit worried about you, mate. She said you were lonely, sometimes.”

“Okay…” said Remus slowly. Heat climbed up his neck. Lonely. It was hard not to feel a little pathetic. 

“Well, I just thought that…” James smiled at him, his eyes searching his face, “It isn’t nice to be lonely. Is it? So I thought I’d offer some company.”

As Remus stood there and considered this, it was, somehow, irritatingly, Sirius’ voice that came bursting into his head: You can’t ever accept help! It’s infuriating! Just because someone does something for you doesn’t mean they’re treating you any differently. 

He drew in a long breath, and then said, “That’s nice, James. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” James snorted at him, and he slung an arm around his neck, “And you’re coming to the party. No arguments. We’re inviting the whole town!”

Raising his eyebrow, Remus asked, “The whole town?”

Peter chipped in, “We saw Marlene at the shops and asked her to invite people.”

“Oh,” Remus nodded, “The whole town. Okay.”

“This is unfortunate to bring up given the imminence of our previous conversation,” said James, his mouth pressed into a tentative grin, “But could you possibly–”

“Invite Lily?” 

“Maybe.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

He phoned Lily as soon as he left the house, walking down the garden path he had shoveled out himself. He turned and looked up at the rooms of the house’s second floor as the phone ring by his ear. One of the lights in the far left wing were on. 

He almost wanted to see Sirius' silhouette against the closed curtains. But then Lily picked up. 

“Hello?” 

“I'm not lonely,” was the first thing he said to her. It had only been a couple days since they had last seen eachother, and he could have just gone round the house, but he was sure he had already intruded enough on her family’s hospitality for one day.

“Uh…” she replied, “You've lost me.”

“I am not lonely,” he repeated firmly, “I know we don't see each other a lot nowadays, but I'm fine. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, softly, “Where's this coming from?”

“Had a conversation with James.”

“That twat, what did he say?” 

“Nevermind that,” Remus said, biting back his laugh, “Do you know how you can make it up to me for assuming I'm a loser with no friends?” 

“I did not assume you were a–”  she began, hotly, but when he cleared his throat pointedly, she sighed, and asked, “How can I make it up to you, dearest?”

He said, “Come with me to a party.”