We're Back, Baby! So back!
“Okay, so, I’ve already booked the photographer, called a few show hosts to get you interviews, and made all the social media announcements for the debut,” Dorcas informed James and Sirius, “All that’s left to do is call the restaurant for catering services and then we’re all set.”
“You, Dorcas, are a gem!” Sirius beamed at her across the table. “I’ll call my darling baby brother and-”
“No, it’s okay, I’ll call Regulus,” James interjected. Sirius raised a brow at James’ eagerness. James blushed and started backtracking, “Well, it’s just– you know– it is my museum–” At this, Dorcas raised her brow. “Um, I don’t know, I just– you’re so busy and, uh, tired, so I can do this,” James cleared his throat, “For you.”
“For me,” Sirius repeated back, a slight mock in voice. James flushed harder but smiled before nodding his head in agreement.
“Anyways,” Dorcas said, pulling the attention back to her, “Sirius, I’m going to try to schedule you at least three televised interviews before the in-person debut in two weeks. You can manage that, right?”
“Of course!” Sirius was giddy, practically bouncing in his seat. He was back, baby! So back! It seemed that Dorcas sensed this, and she shot him a sweet smile.
“Perfect,” she flipped to the next page on her clipboard and scanned the page, “Also, check your email. You should be getting a few questionnaires from newspapers so they can put a piece about you in their next issue.” Dorcas read a few things quietly to herself before adding, “Oh, you need to give me a key to your studio, so I can clean it and let the photographer in.” Sirius pouted slightly at this and went to object, but Dorcas cut in smoothly, “No, it needs to be cleaned to my standards. These are professionals, Sirius.”
“I’m a professional. I’m an adult. I can clean,” Sirius mumbled. Dorcas looked around the room; they were meeting in Sirius’ flat, which, Sirius will admit, wasn’t the cleanest. There were dishes in the sink, a few jackets were strewn about, and the ashtray hadn’t been emptied in a couple of weeks. But it wasn’t that bad. He was an artist, not a slob, after all. Dorcas gave him a blank stare. He slid his spare key across the table. She gave him another warm smile.
“Well, you know where to reach me if you have any questions,” Dorcas stood up and pushed Sirius’ dining room chair in, “I’ll be in touch. Bye, boys!”
“Bye,” they both called out after her. James and Sirius made eye contact; they had a matching glint in their eyes. Through his growing grin, James vocalized what Sirius had been thinking,
“We’re back, baby!”
“So back!”
… Four days later …
“Now, welcome tonight our special guest–” Fabian Prewett shouted out into the recording studio.
“Sirius Black!” His brother, Gideon, finished. Loud applause erupted from the live studio audience as Sirius walked onto the set, flashing a huge smile as he took a seat on the couch opposite the brothers. As the crowd settled down, Gideon spoke first.
“Well, well, well Mr. Black! It’s been too long since we’ve seen you!” Fabian nodded enthusiastically, agreeing with his brother’s statement.
“Yes, I’m afraid I had a bit of an art block,” Sirius exaggeratedly hung his head, pausing for a second before peering up through his lashes and giving a puppy-dog look that rivaled James’. The twins immediately burst out into a booming laughter.
“No worries now, Mr. Black! You’ve made quite the comeback, no doubt,” Fabian paused and looked at the audience, who started cheering in agreeance. Gideon jumped in,
“Do tell! What inspired this new statue?” He gestured to the screen behind them which now showed a photo of Sirius’ Dream Man statue. The crowd ooh-ed and aah-ed and Sirius felt his chest fill with pride; this was a really good statue, wasn’t it? Sirius leaned in, as if to tell a secret, encouraging everyone else to do the same. He took a breath while everyone else held theirs, and stage whispered,
“My muse, he came to me in a dream, hence the name Dream Man.” The room was silent. A giggle slipped out of Fabian. Gideon chuckled. Fabian laughed. Gideon howled. Fabian roared. Soon the entire room was filled with ravenous laughter, from the host brothers to the audience to the camera crew to Sirius, even.
“Brilliant, mate,” Gideon said, wiping a joyful tear from his eye.
“It was just because of a dream?” Fabian followed up, mimicking his brother’s action. Sirius nodded, still trying to shake off his own laughter.
“I want the melatonin he has!” Gideon said, nudging at the crowd.
“Actually, I passed out and the rock knocked me out cold,” Sirius interjected, excited at the easy flow. At this, the room’s laughter was immediately renewed.
“You heard the story here first, folks! The Dream Man statue will be debuted in The Potter Museum of Fine Arts for the first time on May 1st! Don’t miss it!” Fabian choked out, trying to address the camera while still struggling with the bubbling giggles in his throat. Sirius waved energetically as the camera panned away, signaling that the show was over. With a few parting conversations, a couple of handshakes, and several autographs, Sirius finally left the studio.
He pulled his hair out of its braid (Dorcas had said it made him look more professional) and let the cold wind whip it around his face. Leaning against the wall, Sirius felt the cool stone on his back through his thin dress shirt. He slid down the side of the building, plopping down on the gross London sidewalk. With a deep sigh, Sirius closed his eyes. He felt so alive. Alive, alive, alive. The cold air, the relief, this feeling; Sirius hadn’t felt like this since… Since he was sixteen. On that night. It was good. It was really, really good. A notification buzzed in his pocket. Sirius didn’t have to check it to know who it was, but he did anyway.
“AAAAAHHH GOOD JOBBBBB!!!! UR SO AMAZINGGG!!!”
Sirius smiled warmly, just like he had that night.
“Thanks, James :)”
… Ten days later, the day before the debut …
“Come on,” Remus mumbled, smacking the side of the copy machine in hopes it would work faster. It did not. He plopped down on the couch and rested his chin on his hand, watching as the copier whirred and clicked as it struggled to print out his worksheets. Remus wanted to go home. Badly. He had already been grading projects for an hour and a half and he forgot he hadn’t made these copies for his substitute Monday, so he had to stay even longer while the school’s dinosaur of a copy machine took upwards of thirty minutes just to print out his thirty-three copies. He sighed and went on his phone. He was slightly surprised to see a text from Lily.
“Remus, turn on the TV!” Never one to question Lily, he reached for the remote. However, just at that moment, Marlene came skittering into the teacher’s lounge and snatched up the remote, flicking the TV on lightning fast. Remus looked at her, mouth agape in awe of her pure speed, but she just grabbed his head and forced him to look at the TV. Marlene was going to give him a heart attack one day.
After taking a second to adjust, Remus analyzed the channel. It was Rita Skeeter, a young journalist who was known for her intense questions. He thought she was a bit tone-deaf at times, but that was neither here nor there. With her was Sirius Black. This must be why Lily, and Marlene he supposed, wanted him to turn the TV on; Black was Remus’ favorite current-day artist. He adored the style of classical French techniques with a modern, personal twist Black had. He often encouraged his students to draw on Black for inspiration on how to use good technique, yet still make a piece their own.
The screen changed to what Remus presumed was Black’s newest sculpture, but it wasn’t a dog like usual. It was– it– it was–
“It’s you, Remus!” Marlene exclaimed. Remus’ jaw dropped, again. Carved out of granite in excruciating, perfect, delicate detail was Remus, right down to the scar across his nose bridge. Snapping him out of his trance was Black’s voice explaining the piece,
“Yes, I got, ahem, I got knocked out by my stone and went into the deepest sleep of my life. I was in this stony room and he was just… there. My muse, my Dream Man, he was just there and he was just perfect. So, of course, I had to bring him to life in the only way I knew how.”
“And how’s that?” Rita prodded.
“My art, obviously.” It sounded like Black was trying to be sincere, but Remus could detect the slight Are You Dumb? tone of his voice. It made him smirk a bit.
“Are you dumb?” Marlene scolded Rita through the screen.
“Now, Mr. Sirius, are you sure it was a dream? You can tell the truth. The Skeeter brand is all about the gossip! I’ve heard it could perhaps be a secret lover of yours,” Reeta pried. Remus rolled his eyes. She’s so annoying.
“She’s so annoying,” Marlene scoffed.
“Ugh, I wish,” Black eyes widened a bit and his face flushed, but he quickly followed up with a smooth, “He’s quite attractive, no?” He gave a wink and a wry smile and Rita seemed to falter a bit before letting out a high-pitched giggle. Black continued, “But, seriously, it was just a dream,” a pause, “Unfortunately,” he added. With that, Rita did her signature sign-off, and the show cut to a commercial. Marlene switched the TV off.
Remus was shutting down. He could barely breathe, let alone process what just happened.
“Remus you should buy a ticket to the debut. Mary thinks so too,” a text from Lily read.
He should buy a ticket to the debut.
“Remus you have to get a ticket to that,” Marlene blew out a hefty breath.