Thursday 1st Jun 1995
It had been an unspoken decision that Remus and Sirius would leave whatever they'd had in school behind.
It was usually manageable. Or it had gotten manageable. Occasionally, if he caught Sirius in the right light, Remus' mind would betray him.
He remembered when they'd first gotten back that night. Sirius had been quiet after the run-in with the officer. They'd pulled up to the block of flats, Remus had walked up and twisted the tacky brass handle. Sirius walked in and Remus could feel the way his breath was knocked from him. Remus' skin itched, and as Sirius silently paced through their old house he felt painfully scrutinised.
Remus had meant to change the flat, to get rid of Sirius' LPs in the front room bookcase, to clear out the kitchen cupboards and get rid of Sirius' mugs, Sirius's leather jacket was still hung up in the utility room next to a pair of cherry-red docs he never wore.
The photo of Sirius meeting a newborn Harry was turned face down on the bedroom windowsill, but Sirius seemed to recognise the frame.
He'd caught a glimpse of it in the corner of his eye and immediately walked to it. Remus had reached an arm out to stop him but couldn't.
Sirius had lifted the picture with gentle fingers, gasping softly at the photo of himself at 20, scooping up his godson in a small blue blanket. He'd turned to face Remus, who'd looked tortured.
"Sorry... the place is a bit of a tip." Was all Remus had said.
Sirius had nodded, his steel gaze flickering back to the photo. He'd smiled softly.
"That's the old pull-out sofa in the lounge, isn't it?" Sirius said, his tone comforting. Remus nodded dumbly, then remembered Sirius wasn't looking at him.
"Yeah."
Sirius placed the photo back, face-down again. He turned to Remus and smiled, it didn't reach his eyes.
"I'll sleep there."
At least Sirius didn't carry himself the same. He kept a light stubble along his jaw. He didn't wear his leather jacket. Had no interest in his bike.
His smile was smaller.
Remus found himself talking about James a lot, mostly when cooking. He could tell Sirius didn't want to talk about Lily yet, but he'd chip in on conversations about James. Mostly the early years. It gave him a strange sense of relief talking about school again. It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to think about one of the warmest people he'd ever met. He was no longer the only witness of James Potter left.
Sometimes they'd talk about the pranks. The failed ones mostly, those were always funnier in hindsight.
Sirius' laugh was drier, but his eyes still crinkled the same way. Shimmering flecks of silver dancing on the iris. Of course, Remus' worst torment hadn't changed.
Ignoring the familiar cadence of his voice had been another obstacle in the beginning. Still equal parts patronising and adoring. It heated Remus' blood, but eventually, he could cling to the differences. The gravel of it, the newfound maturity in his tone.
Remus' newer problem had been entirely unforeseen - loving Sirius again. The new Sirius he'd desperately constructed in his mind to keep school Sirius dead. Azkaban Sirius was different, and Remus loved him.
He didn't want anything to do with Sirius again, not like that. Even if his soul was aching for it. An ache he could handle. Losing him after getting him back would be his end.
This Sirius also kept secrets. The Sirius he'd had from before had a few about home, about Andromeda and Regulus. This Sirius was a closed book. Remus was desperate to pry the stories of those 12 years from him, Sirius wouldn't budge.
Remus asked outright at the table one morning.
"Why did you confess?"
Sirius had looked up darkly. "I don't remember the trial." Was all he'd said before leaving to wash his plate. It was all he would say when asked anything to do with it.
Remus had cost Sirius freedom twice now. Once in 1981, then the previous summer. He owed him.
Kingsley called the flat that Thursday morning. It was early. Sirius was still stretched out along his thin mattress in the lounge, ignoring the blaring ringing. Remus had picked up after the first call fell through, rolling his shoulders and yawning.
"Yeah?"
Lupin?
"Yeah."
Bartemius Crouch is dead.
Remus paused, suddenly far more awake.
"They caught him?"
Bartemius Crouch Sr. is dead. He was found on Monday.
"What- At the school? Is Harry-"
Harry's fine. Listen, Remus, I think you should come down here. His court files have been released. Including one you've been pressing about.
At the sound of Remus' panic, Sirius rolled over and pried his eyes open. His brows furrowed in curiosity. Remus rubbed his own eyes to evade Sirius'.
"Ministry Office?" He murmured.
Grimmauld Place. I've already got it.
There was a strain in Kingsley's voice that Remus didn't like.
"You've read it."
Read what? Sirius mouthed, tense. Remus shook his head and looked away. Sirius seemed very alert now.
I glanced. Kingsley took a breath. Just get here as quickly as you can.
Remus hung up and walked back to the bedroom. He slipped on an old woollen jumper sitting in the draw and the trousers hanging off the back of his chair. He yanked on socks and boots in a panic before stumbling back into the lounge.
Sirius was sat up. He was hosting a guarded expression.
"Who was on the phone?"
"Bolton."
"Order stuff?"
"No, Barty's dad's dead."
"While at Hogwarts?"
"Dunno, Harry's fine, though."
Sirius nodded and relaxed his back against the sofa, brows still furrowed.
"You off, then?" He asked. Remus nodded, stepping toward the tall fireplace at the back wall. When they'd decided to have it put in in 1980 they'd laughed at how ridiculous a massive ornamental fireplace looked on the third floor of a tower block. Once or twice neighbours had stuck their heads in and the confusion about the design choice was palpable. It was just another thing Sirius couldn't use now, a reminder that the hunt for him was still very much ago.
"Kingsley asked me to go to the hideout in London."
"Was he murdered?" Sirius asked.
"What?"
"Barty Crouch, was he killed?"
Remus shook his head as he grabbed a loose handful of floo powder from the pet urn on the mantlepiece labelled "Padfoot 1959 - 1980" - another joke that had been very funny 13 years ago. "No idea."
"Remus-"
"Sirius, I've got to go."
"If you're not going to investigate Crouch's death, what are you investigating?" Sirius was watching Remus with a suspicious, nervous gaze.
Remus frowned and turned to face Sirius. "You know what." He whispered, gripping the grey sifting power tightly as he stepped beneath the tall mantlepiece.
Sirius' eyes widened. "You won't find anything." He said.
"Okay."
Sirius rushed to stand but by the time he'd reached the fireplace all that was left was his reflection in the tiled corbel and a plume of green smoke.