Near You
The first week of Sirius’ NEWTs crept by. Every teacher somehow thought it necessary to assign work from the very first class, which even Remus complained about. Their prank for the feast hadn’t come to fruition, and there was nothing else in the works. Regulus still hadn’t said anything to him. He tried to convince himself that his brother just needed more time.
Every morning, Sirius was woken up by James (who was always far too energetic for so early an hour) and they went down to practise Quidditch. The pitch was always empty because no one else was mental enough to get up at such an ungodly time. After that was breakfast, then his classes (Divination, History of Magic, Transfiguration, and Defence Against the Dark Arts), then a hearty lunch, then more classes, another meal, and finally, they would all return to the dorm to complete their piles of homework. And every night in their dorm, Sirius found his eyes invariably pulled towards one of Remus’ new posters.
It was of a muggle singer, frozen in his performance. He had long hair, and his shirt was half open, but that wasn’t what intrigued Sirius the most. It was the little silver stud that drew his attention every evening. His eyes would wander over, and he’d think about the earrings. More specifically, he’d think about the earrings on him. An idea had begun to grow in his head.
By the start of the second week the idea had taken over completely.
“Will you pierce my ears?” he’d asked Moony, who seemed as though he would be the most competent at that sort of thing out of the Marauders. Remus had said yes of course, he always did, and that was how Sirius found himself sitting on the common room floor one weekend, holding half a potato and a red pocket mirror he’d stolen off Mary the previous year.
“Have you done this before?” he asked, growing suddenly nervous.
“Well, no,” Remus admitted, “But I’ve read about it. I know what to do.”
Sirius fidgeted with his hands. He brought the pocket mirror up to his face, turning his head side to side and imagining that he was wearing the small studs he had bought for himself.
“You could always wear clip-ons,” suggested Remus, who’d sensed his unease.
“No,” he replied, “I want it to be permanent.”
“Are you sure?” he pressed. Sirius nodded resolutely.
“Just make sure you pierce them right in the middle.”
“I will,” Remus assured him. He conjured a piece of ice and held it out to Sirius. “Hold this behind the lobe,” he instructed. Sirius did as he was told. The melting water trickled down his neck and wrists in thin rivulets. Remus had begun to heat up a sewing needle with a flame from the tip of his wand.
“This is the muggle way?” asked Sirius uncertainly.
“This is the muggle way,” confirmed Remus. He seemed to hesitate before what he did next. After a second, he slid a hand underneath Sirius’ long hair and moved it onto the other shoulder. He took great care to tuck it all behind Sirius’ ear, so that no hairs were in the way for the piercing. The gesture made his stomach flutter.
Remus was the only one allowed to touch his hair. Even Mary hadn’t been allowed to do it too much when they were together. It had been a point of tension between them, actually.
“Except if you have a gun,” said Remus absent-midedly. His voice was soft and low. It took Sirius a few seconds to realise he was merely continuing the last conversation; the muggle way of piercing. This somehow only made it worse. Suddenly the red hot sewing needle and potato half didn’t seem so bad when he imagined his earlobe being shot at. Lily had explained to him about guns in a conversation about cowboys and they had sounded absolutely terrifying to Sirius. “Alright,” surmised Remus lightly, “Should we start?”
Sirius nodded again. The nod was followed by a gulp, but hopefully Moony hadn’t seen that. Remus put down his wand, took up the needle and circled round to sit in front of him.
“Should I come closer?” asked Sirius.
“Yeah,” agreed Remus, “Good idea.”
Sirius shuffled forward. He had his legs splayed, and they rested over Remus’.
“You, uh, probably need to be a bit closer.”
Sirius pushed himself further forward, and now it was his thighs that rested over Remus’ legs. Their faces were very close together. So close, in fact, that he could feel Remus’ breath on his cheek and his neck. He had edged so close that he was practically in Remus’ lap. Sirius swallowed, again, his mouth dry.
Remus leaned in, concentration etched on his pretty features as he aligned the needle with Sirius’ ear.
“Alright, switch the ice for the potato.” Sirius obliged. “Ready?” Another tense nod. “You’ll barely feel a thing,” comforted Remus, giving Sirius’ arm a squeeze with his free hand. He moved it up to sit over Sirius’ jaw and throat, turning his head gently to the side. More butterflies. The piercing was really making him nervous, it seemed. “Deep breath in,” Sirius drew in a breath, “And deep breath out,” Sirius let out his breath and at the same time the needle passed through his lobe and into the potato behind before quickly retracting. His lashes fluttered at the shock. It had been over very quickly.
Remus swiftly returned the half-melted ice to the punctured skin. Sirius took another deep breath in and out and then Remus had slipped one of the studs through the hole. He moved Sirius’ hair over to the other shoulder, and Sirius took the ice and held it there for a while.
“Second one,” warned Remus. This time, he watched Moony’s face as he concentrated. “Deep breath in…Deep breath out…”
At the feel of the needle again Sirius let out a soft little gasp. He couldn’t help it. Before long the stud was in that piercing too, and then Remus held up Mary’s stolen pocket mirror and Sirius looked himself over.
“What do you think?” he asked.
Sirius slowly broke into a grin.
“Perfect,” he praised, looking at them this way and that, “Thanks Moony!”
“No problem.”
“Oh! I got you some chocolate,” he added, getting up and discarding the mirror to go and search for the confectionary. He found it in his bedside table drawer and brought it back to Remus, who was still sitting on the floor.
“Cheers,” he said, breaking off a piece. They began to eat it together on the floor.
“Do you reckon that if I ate chocolate as a dog, I’d die?” wondered Sirius once they were about three quarters through the bar, “Dogs are allergic to chocolate.”
“You’re not actually a dog, though, Sirius,” came the reply.
“What about if Peter ate rat poison?”
***
An hour later, and they were still sitting there on the floor. Every so often Sirius would pick up the pocket mirror to admire his new earrings, then put it down again. They had started a second bar of chocolate.
“How was it?” asked Remus quietly as they ate, “Running away, I mean.”
Sirius swallowed down the thick sweetness in his mouth and thought about it. It left a sour taste on his tongue.
“It felt… It felt really great, actually.” His voice came out quiet and hushed, as if he was confessing to something shameful. “It really was as simple as just… leaving. I just walked out.”
“And Regulus?” wondered Remus. Sirius smiled sadly. It came out as more of a grimace. He looked down at his hands.
“You know how he is,” he continued softly, “He takes these things hard.” He glanced over at Remus for his reaction. He was watching intently. Patiently. “I asked him to come with me, but I knew he wasn’t going to, even before he said it. He’s so stubborn.”
“Not unlike someone else I know,” interjected Moony with a soft glint in his eye. Sirius tried to smile at that, but all of a sudden found his lip to be trembling. He turned his head slightly, letting his long black hair fall over his face so that Remus wouldn’t see him so upset. “Sirius…” he said gently, hesitantly resting hand on his shoulder.
“He told me he never wanted to see me again,” confessed Sirius, his voice trembling just like his lip. Now he turned to look at Remus, tears on his face and in his eyes. “I wrote…But I don’t think any of the letters got through,” he took a deep, shuddering breath, “And I only wrote once. I could’ve tried harder.”
Remus’ warm hand cupped the side of his face, his thumb stroking away the tears, and his eyes watching Sirius tenderly.
“It’s not your fault,” he told him firmly. Sirius looked up at him, completely open, completely vulnerable.
“Isn’t it?”
“He just needs time.”
“That’s what James said,” he sniffed.
“Maybe he was right,” suggested Remus.
They looked at each other. Sirius found himself looking at Remus a lot, these days. His hand was still cupping his cheek, his thumb still stroking slowly. They were silent for a second of two, and then Remus stiffly withdrew his hand, as if he’d just realised what he was doing.
“Tissue?” he asked quickly, summoning the box over. Sirius sniffed and nodded, taking one. He was sure he looked a mess, the state he was in. He turned away again, blowing his nose.
James and Peter could be heard talking on the staircase, outside the dorm. Sirius looked furtively at Remus.
“You won’t tell them I was upset, will you?” he pleaded, quickly wiping the remaining tears away, “I don’t want them to think I was sad, or to worry…”
“I won’t,” agreed Remus, just as quick. Sirius nodded. He hated for people to think he was sad. He was Sirius Black; he was meant to be happy, and fun, and punk rock. He wasn’t meant to cry over a spat with his little brother.
The door swung open and James and Peter walked in, surveying the scene. Sirius remembered how close they were sitting, and Remus seemed to remember it too, because he sprang up and walked over to his bedside table, suddenly very absorbed in finding something in the drawers.
“Hey, lads,” said James awkwardly.
“Hi,” replied Remus. Sirius was quiet. He wiped again at his cheeks in a way he hoped was surreptitious.
“And then she said not to bother,” Pete was saying. He was clearly in the midst of a story, “I dunno what’s gotten into her, but it seems like she’s always pissed about something, you know?”
But James wasn’t paying attention anymore. He was looking at Sirius.
“Have you been crying, Pads?” he asked softly. That almost made Sirius want to burst into tears all over again.
“No!” he denied fiercely, getting up as well now.
“Are you–
“The piercing got a little too much for him,” explained Remus, “He couldn’t take it, poor sod.”
“Shut up,” replied Sirius, impossibly fond. He and Remus caught eyes, and shared a small smile.
“Moony!” admonished James, “Have you been torturing our dear Padfoot with the needle?”
Remus shrugged non-committedly.
“Let’s have a look at your earrings, then,” encouraged Peter. That was all it took, and Sirius was prancing around, showing off his new silver studs.
“We should all get them,” he proposed, “Like a gang.”
“Dunno about that,” replied Pete.
James looked a bit queasy at the thought, and Remus quickly caught on.
“We could do yours now, Prongs,” he said seriously, holding up the needle. James tensed, looking ready to make a run for it.
“It’s easy,” agreed Sirius, nodding along.
“I think they’d really suit you, too,” grinned Pete. Remus began to walk forward, holding the needle aloft.
And then James really was running, getting as far away from Moony and the needle as he could. He let out a little yelp, and they all chased him, full of laughter.
“Get it away from me!” he screamed shrilly.
“That’s no way to refer to Moony,” tutted Sirius, blocking the door to the bathroom.
“You’ll barely feel a thing!” huffed Peter, running after James as he circled the room.
The door opened again and Kingsley Shacklebolt entered. The marauders froze, caught in the act. He stared at them all, Remus with the needle, Sirius with his newly pierced ears and Peter and James in the middle of a wild chase. He sighed deeply, his expression severely unimpressed.
“I’m not even going to ask,” he told them all, making his way past the chaos and to his own bed.