March 1995
‘I’ve got to tell him.’
Remus reached up with one hand and rubbed his eye, hard. He opened it, blinking in the harsh light and looked around the room. He was on the sofa in the flat, his face buried in the old blanket, Sirius sitting in the armchair beside him, one of Reg’s notebooks in his lap. Sirius' face was hard as he examined the page in front of him, the tightness around his eyes and mouth that had appeared last night in Dumbledore's office had not loosened.
‘Did you sleep?’
Sirius didn't answer.
It had been a bit of a surprise when they had ended up here. Their meeting with Dumbledore had continued for only a few minutes more: just enough time for Sirius to process a little further what the prophecy meant and ask Snape how he felt about being the reason his childhood friend was dead.
‘You twisted bastard!’ he’d shouted, ‘You killed her! And you expect us to trust you?’
Another inkwell had exploded, and that had been the final straw. Dumbledore had sent them away, ushering them into the Floo and throwing the powder in after them. Sirius had wrapped his arms around Remus, tightly, as if trying to contain him, and for some reason, shouted the address of the flat - his default perhaps, in times of great stress. They'd tumbled out of the fireplace together and Remus had vomited, finally, ungracefully on the rug.
‘Harry needs to know,’ Sirius said again, ‘He shouldn't be lied to about this.’
Remus pulled himself up and looked at him. The crease between his eyebrows that had appeared during the war was a deep crevice, his grey eyes like storm clouds. He was so -
‘It isn’t fair. Albus keeps all these things to himself, deciding what everyone is allowed to know -’
‘Perhaps he will tell him?’ Remus mused, wondering if he believed in the possibility, ‘Perhaps it will be part of this training?’
Sirius looked at him, panic suddenly flashing across his face.
‘But that’s even worse! If Dumbledore tells him and he finds out we knew and didn’t!’
‘Don’t you think it will - don’t you think it’s a bit frightening?’
‘Of course I do! I’m fucking terrified! I just think -’ he hesitated, ‘- how can we not?’
Remus chewed at his lip. He didn’t disagree, he just couldn’t quite imagine how the conversation would go.
There was a tap at the window and he looked up to see an owl bobbing against the glass, a newspaper in its talons. He rose, slowly, surprised at how unsteady he still felt on his feet and realised he couldn’t remember when they had last eaten anything. He slid the window open and paid the owl, scanning the front page.
‘Skeeter’s found out about Karkaroff,’ he said, dropping it onto the coffee table. ‘Let’s get some breakfast. Try and - I don’t know - make some kind of plan.’
*
‘It was great!’ Harry's eyes were shining with enthusiasm as he sipped his hot chocolate, ‘Yeah really good. We did a bit of this thing called Occlumency? Try and control any more dreams. Really hard though. And then we did some defensive stuff - I even disarmed him! Probably going easy on me -’
Harry, it seemed, had thoroughly enjoyed his lesson with Dumbledore, but was yet to mention if he had shared any knowledge of the prophecy.
‘Do you think he is waiting for us to do it?’ Sirius had whispered as had Harry turned to wave at some friends across the tea room.
‘I expect he knew we would -’ Remus replied, a little too slowly -
‘Knew you would what?’ Harry asked, turning back to them.
Remus glanced at Sirius, who was watching Harry, a strange look on his face.
‘Shall we go for a walk?’
They paid for their drinks and left the tea shop, wandering up the cobbled street towards the path that led to the forest.
‘Professor Dumbledore did tell me not to talk about the training though. I think he's worried it might look unfair on Cedric - y’know? That people might think it's for the Tournament.’
‘Has he explained what it is for?’
Harry looked up at Remus, a confused expression on his face, ‘Yeah of course,’ he replied slowly, ‘Because Voldemort’s back,’ he hesitated, ‘You guys told me that.’
Remus almost laughed.
‘Yes, Harry, yes, we did.’
‘We haven't talked about it properly though,’ Sirius said, ‘How are you feeling about it?’
‘I -’ Harry stopped. They had reached the end of the high street now, where the trees started, growing thicker and thicker as the hill rose. He turned, leaning against the rickety fence that separated the forest from the road. ‘I don't know. I guess I'm not happy about it, but I'm glad I can get prepared in advance this time, and I'm glad you guys are around too.’
‘This time -,’ Sirius choked slightly as he repeated the words.
‘Yeah,’ Harry said, ‘I mean he's tried to kill me twice hasn't he - three times actually if you count when I was a baby and if he's going to try again, at least I can try and get good enough at magic to stand up to him, and maybe this time round I'll have some help.’
He looked between them and shrugged slightly, but his eyes were wide, hopeful.
‘Of course you'll have some help,’ Sirius said, his voice hoarse, ‘Of course. We - we’d do it all for you if we could. We’ll do everything that we can -’
‘Yeah, I know,’ Harry said, eyes on his feet which were kicking at a loose stone on the ground. ‘He said you guys have been working really hard, trying to do stuff to weaken him, but that probably, in the end, I'll have to face him myself.’
Remus glanced at Sirius, who was watching Harry with a look of utter helplessness on his face. He reached out and squeezed his hand. Don't show him, he tried to say, don't show him how scared we are.
‘Professor Dumbledore certainly believes that the most likely scenario,’ Remus said and Sirius turned away as Harry looked back up at them, ‘But we’re going to be ready, and we are going to be there with you.’
Harry smiled slightly, with one side of his mouth and kicked the stone again.
‘I just want it to be over,’ he said quietly, eyes back on the ground, ‘I just want to get on with -’ he gestured vaguely at nothing.
Sirius had turned back, face suitably arranged, and without hesitation pulled Harry to him, hugging him tightly. Harry let him, his face buried in Sirius’ jacket.
‘You’ll help me?’
‘I promise.’
*
‘I think that was maybe worse than I'd expected,’ Sirius said, nose almost in his pint glass.
They were nursing their drinks at a table in the corner of The Hog’s Head. They had arrived back from walking Harry to the school gates, sat down and not spoken since. The conversation they’d had at the end of the lane ran round and round in Remus’ head. ‘I just want it to be over,’ Harry had said.
‘It was like he was just - resigned to it,’ Sirius continued, ‘Like he’s just - accepted it.’
Remus watched as the bubbles in his beer drifted lazily to the surface. He thought of last year, of the little boy who sat in his classroom, well on the way to mastering the Patronus charm, wishing his only problems were homework and Quidditch. He sighed.
‘I think he’s used to it,’ he said, sadly.
‘He shouldn’t be -’ Sirius began, shaking his head, ‘This is all so -’
‘It’s all wrong,’ Remus finished for him, ‘All of it,’ he picked up his glass, only to put it down again, leaving a second wet ring on the scratched wooden table.
‘I’m going to kill them all,’ Sirius said, ‘Peter, Barty -’
He tailed off, eyes still on his drink, one hand clenched tightly around the glass. Remus watched him, silently as the beads of condensation ran over his fist, making their way gradually into the soft wood. He looked suddenly tired, in a way Remus didn’t think he had seen in months, his grey eyes dark, deadened, the way they’d been when he first came back.
‘Hey,’ he said quietly, reaching across the table, casting around for something, anything that might take some pain away, ‘We can do this. Steal the cup, kill the snake, work out how to help Harry -’
He was interrupted by Aberforth, who nodded to them as he passed, dropping a scrap of parchment onto their table and giving it a cursory wipe with his cloth. Sirius did not react, so Remus unfolded it carefully. Hand written words appeared across it underneath a slim golden feather.
‘7 Wisteria Walk, 9/3 9pm’
‘It’s a meeting,’ he said, glancing up at Sirius, ‘Albus is calling the Order back together.’
*
It was raining when they arrived at the end of the overgrown path, the front door opening before they had a chance to knock. Mrs Figg ushered them in, peering suspiciously out into the garden as she closed the door. They followed the cluttered hallway towards the living room at the back of the house, a warm light glowing in the cracks around the closed door. Remus pushed it open, finding it more crowded than he had expected.
‘Oh,’ Sirius said, looking over his shoulder at the nine or ten faces that had turned towards them as they opened the door.
‘Over here boys,’ Arthur Weasley called to them, gesturing to a couple of mismatched armchairs at the back of the room. ‘Saved you seats.’
Mrs Figg had followed them into the room, pulling the door shut behind her, and settling into an easy chair by the fireplace. She picked up her knitting, as if completely unaware that her sitting room was full of wizards. Dumbledore was standing by the back window, talking to an old man with tufty white hair.
‘Merlin, is that Elphias?’ Sirius whispered, ‘I'd have never believed he could look even older -’
Remus watched them for a moment, looking around the room at the other faces - some familiar: Sturgis, sitting on Arthur's other side, muttering in his ear; Dedalus, looking a lot less athletic than when Remus had last seen him, standing by the door, talking to a tall slim witch with a curtain of dark hair -
‘Emmeline!’
She looked up at Remus’ call and smiled broadly, picking her way across the room to perch on the arm of Sirius’ chair.
‘Heard you two might show up,’ she said, smiling again, ‘Really glad to see you.’
She leant back slightly, appraising them both, ‘It's been too long.’
‘How have you been?’ Remus asked, sensing Sirius beginning to prickle at being so closely examined.
‘Fine,’ she said, ‘Been working mostly, all over, quite a lot of research abroad - some in Greece, some in Egypt.’
‘Ah,’ said Arthur, overhearing, and leaning in, ‘My eldest is in Egypt at the moment! Curse-breaking for Gringotts.’
‘A lot of curses to break over there,’ she said, ‘The ancient magic really is fascinating, so much of it has been lost -’
The door opened again and she tailed off at the sight of the grizzled man who entered, limping unevenly into the room. His hair was still sparse, the little of it that remained sticking up at the back of his head but his magical eye had been reinstated and whizzed enthusiastically in its socket.
‘Ah,’ he said, catching sight of them and heading their way. Sirius stood up quickly, offering his seat and Moody sat down with a groan, reaching down to rub his stump.
‘Can’t get the bloody thing to fit right since that scumbag messed with it,’ he grumbled, ‘Flipping eye keeps sticking as well.’
‘It’s good to see you, Alastor,’ Remus said, shifting so that Sirius could balance on the arm of his chair instead, ‘I’m so sorry -’
‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, lad,’ he grunted, ‘Heard it was you two that got me out of there, so I owe you one for that, although -’ he looked at them, his blue eye swivelling to join his other one, ‘Trunk might’ve been preferable to this place, that mad old bat supposedly looking after me. All it is is cups of stewed tea and cats knocking over my instruments -’
‘You’re staying here?’
‘Albus thinks I need someone keeping an eye on me until I’m back on my feet. Doesn’t want me in St Mungo’s. Thinks the security isn’t high enough -’ he rolled his eyes, the blue one spinning around twice, ‘I tell you, when I get my hands on that little shit -’ he made a violent movement with his fists.
‘Thank you all for coming.’ Dumbledore had moved to the front of the room, his announcement pausing the individual conversations. Only the clack of Mrs Figg’s knitting needles persisted as he surveyed them all, his blue eyes looking to each of them in turn.
‘I hoped that we would never have to meet in this way again,’ he began, his voice grave, ‘A feeling that I am sure we all share. However, it is at this time, necessary to recall the Order of the Phoenix,’ he paused, and Remus felt Sirius’ hand find his shoulder. ‘As I know you are all aware, from the conversations that we have had individually, Voldemort has returned, aided by two of his followers, and is in the process of recruiting others.’
Moody grunted, shifting his leg awkwardly and dragging his stump roughly across the worn carpet.
‘He is not the only one who has been recruiting,’ Dumbledore paused, gesturing vaguely around the room, ‘We are already more than you see here. My brother sends his apologies, Minerva and Hagrid are watching over the school. We also have several members currently working abroad. We are fortunate that we were already in the process of preparing for this eventuality, but it is paramount that we are ready to act as the situation develops. Voldemort is still in the early stages of his return. He may also not be fully aware of the preparations we have been making, and we must use this to our advantage.’
‘The highest levels of the Ministry have been informed of the situation, however they were only too eager not to announce the news publicly, yet. We do, though, have support within the Ministry,’ at this Dumbledore nodded to a witch and wizard Remus didn’t recognise, sat together by the overstuffed dresser, ‘Representatives of which are with us this evening.’
‘We have all spoken privately, and I know that you will fulfil the duties I have given you with your utmost dedication. I would like you to use this time to acquaint, and reacquaint yourself with each other, as we will be working closely together over the coming months. You will receive all communication as you did today - believe nothing else and follow only instructions that you know you can trust,’ he paused to look at each of them again, ‘I believe we can do this,’ he said, his voice clear and firm, ‘I believe we will defeat him.’
Dumbledore nodded, solemnly, and moved away from the front of the room. Remus watched as he waved his wand, conjuring himself a seat beside the Ministry officials, before sitting down and engaging them in conversation. He glanced up at Sirius who was watching them closely, his eyes narrowed slightly.
‘What does he mean about individual duties?’ he whispered to Remus, ‘What else has he got people doing?’
‘There’s a lot of monitoring going on at the Ministry,’ Arthur said, leaning in, ‘Fudge might be in denial, but there are enough heads of enough departments looking into things. We’ve got a few people trying to track down Voldemort himself, tracking magic, that sort of thing, although he seems to be being extremely careful so far.’
‘Assume you two are on some kind of special mission,’ Moody grunted, adjusting his leg again, ‘Heard you were poking around Hogwarts looking for ghosts when you found me-’
‘Not exactly -’ Remus began, as Emmeline said, ‘Ghosts? How interesting. I suppose that does make sense, they always know more than people give them credit for.’
Remus looked up, intrigued, ‘Have you been doing a lot with ghosts then?’ he asked.
‘Here and there,’ she said, ‘They pop up more than you’d expect. A lot of them just keep themselves to themselves so you don’t realise quite how many there are. Bit of a damned existence I suppose, but they’re extremely valuable historical sources. Just last month -’
‘I’m going to get a drink,’ Sirius said, suddenly standing up, ‘You want anything?’
Remus shook his head, ‘Are you alright?’
‘Fine.’
Remus watched as he made his way over to the side table piled with tea cups, a teapot floating precariously above them.
‘Of course,’ Emmeline was still talking, ‘Tombs are difficult things - your son would know about that Arthur, I’m sure, and really the dead should be left to rest, but if you do have to get inside then you’ve got to do it the right way.’
Remus nodded, distractedly, only half listening as Sirius crossed the room and introduced himself to the Ministry officials, taking the seat Dumbledore had just vacated, and shaking hands with each of them.
*
‘So what did those Ministry people have to say?’ Remus asked, stirring milk into Sirius’ coffee and setting it down in front of him as he slid into his chair in the kitchen. The Order meeting had run late, and they'd floo-ed back to the flat and gone straight to bed, exhausted from the gravity of it all.
‘Not much, they don't seem to have much intel yet,’ Sirius said, unrolling the paper that had been delivered only moments before, ‘Aurors, both of them - Kingsley's pretty high up I think - doesn't rate Fudge but I guess that's no surprise. Does seem like most of the Office would be on our side though, if it comes to that,’ he paused, turning over the front page of the paper, ‘Had some nice things to say about Dora too.’
‘Mm,’ Remus said, carrying his own mug over to the table, squinting slightly in the morning sun that shone through the tiny kitchen window, ‘It was weird, wasn't it?’
‘What?’ Sirius said, without looking up.
‘Being at a meeting again. It was so different but it still had that kind of - I don't know -’ he cast around for the right words, he didn't completely know what he was trying to say. It has been a strange feeling, sitting again in a room full of people, listening to Dumbledore as he spoke, as he tried to rally them, tried to make them feel - what? Prepared? Inspired? Strange to have normal conversations in such an abnormal setting -
‘You seemed to be enjoying it last night,’ Sirius said, eyes still on the paper.
‘What?’ Remus asked, disturbed from his efforts to explain, ‘No I wasn't?’
‘Didn't look that way to me.’
‘What are you on about?’ Remus turned to him, genuinely confused. Sirius looked up, a funny expression on his face, and for a moment Remus couldn't tell if he was joking or annoyed -
‘Oh Emmeline,’ Sirius said, ‘It’s so good to see you, do tell me more about old tombs and the haggard spirits that haunt them -’
Remus flushed slightly, ‘Oh shut up-’
‘Ancient Greek curses are so fascinating -’
‘I didn't say any of that! It was her that said she was glad to see us!’
‘She meant you.’
‘She was being nice!’ Remus stopped, examining Sirius closely. He was looking back at him, a smile on his mouth, but it didn't quite reach his eyes -
‘Oh my god, you're jealous!’ Remus almost laughed at the unlikelihood of it.
‘I am not,’ Sirius replied, turning back to the newspaper, his eyes not moving across the page as he stared at it.
‘You are,’ Remus couldn't help himself, ‘Oh, don’t deny it now, let me have it.’
‘Stop enjoying it so much,’ Sirius mumbled, ‘She was looking at you like - You always liked her at school -’
‘I thought she was clever!’ Remus couldn't suppress his smile now, ‘She had good revision technique. And that was at school - you know - 20 years ago?’
Sirius shifted slightly, placing a hand around his mug, but didn't look up. Remus rubbed at his eyes.
‘Sirius,’ he said, ‘Look at me.’
Sirius looked up at him, slowly meeting his gaze. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘Stupid.’
‘Not stupid,’ Remus reached for his hand, ‘Just - you just don't need to.’
Sirius blinked hard, squeezing Remus’ fingers and scrunching his nose.
‘School doesn't always feel that long ago to me,’ he said, quietly, ‘I missed all the years you had in-between.’
Remus bit his lip, watching the steam rise slowly from his coffee cup, disappearing as it hit the shaft of light that cut the table in two. He looked at Sirius, who was still staring at the paper, still holding tightly onto his hand, as if afraid to let go. He understood, of course he did. He understood every time they had this conversation, often when he wasn’t expecting it, off the back of some passing remark, an innocent anecdote, Sirius suddenly quiet, or sad, or a little dead-eyed.
It frustrated him: not that Sirius felt it, or that he showed it, but that he, Remus, could do nothing about it. That he'd made so little progress with his grief in twelve years of freedom that he was ill-equipped to support Sirius with his. That he still felt so cheated. That he felt so much like he’d failed. That this vast abyss ran beneath them at all times, just waiting to swallow them up. It made his skin hot and his eyes sting. He rubbed at them again, roughly, with his free hand.
‘I can't fix it,’ he said, eventually, ‘I wish I could. I wish we could go back -’
Sirius looked up. ‘I’m not asking - I don't expect you to -’
‘I know,’ Remus said, ‘But I still wish I could,’ he turned Sirius' hand over in his, moving his thumb gently across his palm, still so rough against Remus’ scarred fingers. ‘But I need you to believe that I am so, so happy I got you back. I don't even know what I was doing before. It's like I don't remember. Like that day you reappeared in the shack was the beginning of everything. And all this -’ he gestured vaguely to the paper, ‘- we're going to survive it. We have to. It isn't like last time. We're going to make Harry safe and have our happily ever after. Because this is just the start and we've waited so long and there is going to be so much more. I know there is. There has to be.’
Sirius was looking back at him now, eyes glassy. Remus squeezed his hand again, trying desperately to make Sirius understand. To communicate how much he meant it. To prove it to himself.
‘Rem-’
Sirius was interrupted by a loud thunk and the shadow that fell across the kitchen table. Sirius turned to slide open the sash, retrieving a mound of grey feathers that hooted feebly as he lifted it inside, and untied the package it had been carrying. Remus got up in search of owl treats, and returned with a dish full of some he didn't remember buying, hoping they wouldn't be stale.
‘What is it?’ he asked Sirius, who was staring fixedly at the parcel. Without answering he reached for the paper, flicking it back to the front page and looking up at Remus with eyes full of horror.
‘What is it?!’ Remus asked again, turning it over, and seeing his own name inked neatly on the front.
‘Oh shit, Moons,’ Sirius said in a strangled voice, ‘I’m so sorry -’
‘What?’ Remus was starting to feel quite alarmed.
‘Just been so much going on. I don't know what happened -’
Remus pulled the paper across the table and looked down at the front page. It looked as innocuous as it had when he’d first glanced at it. Sirius was sitting with his head in his hands.
‘Sirius, you're scaring me -’
‘It’s your birthday,’ he said in a muffled voice, ‘And I forgot.’
Remus felt the laughter bubble up from the pit of his stomach and clapped his hands to his mouth as it emerged. He looked at the paper again. Friday 10th March, 1995.
‘Thirty-five,’ Remus said, ‘Shit.’
‘I didn't forget,’ Sirius said, ‘I just didn't know what day it was - I - we can -’
‘I forgot,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘Honestly, don't worry about it.’
He turned the parcel over and undid the string, revealing a wrapped present and a card in a red envelope. He opened it, finding an enchanted image of a birthday cake, candles glowing.
‘How does Molly even know?’ he muttered, standing it on the table and unwrapping the present. ‘Wow -’
It was a shirt, soft yellow cotton, somehow still crisp despite its crash landing on the window ledge. Remus unfolded it, holding it up in front of him.
‘Do you think she's made it,’ he said, as he turned it round to show Sirius.
‘She has, look -’ Sirius replied, reaching out to lift the front hem, revealing, just below the last button hole, two embroidered paw prints. One big, one small.
‘We’d better find out when hers is,’ Remus said, running his thumb over the silken thread, ‘And write it down.’
*
‘Whoops! Careful don't -’
‘Oh fuck, sorry - I'll find a tea towel -’
‘It’s fine, stop! Just vanish it -’
‘Oh shit, forgot I could do that!’
Sirius collapsed, laughing, onto the arm of the sofa, sliding immediately backwards, his head hitting the books Remus had left on the seat cushion earlier. He shoved them onto the floor and stayed there, knees hooked over the armrest, hands clutching at his stomach.
‘It's on you too,’ Remus said, pulling off Sirius’ right shoe and tossing it back towards the door, missing the doormat by a mile, ‘Shit.’
‘Just leave it Moony,’ Sirius gasped, trying to catch his breath, ‘Morning problem.’
‘It is morning,’ Remus replied, leaning over to retrieve a handful of the chips that survived his trip over the threshold.
‘I am so so glad that kebab shop shut down,’ Sirius said, waving a piece of fried chicken before biting down into it, ‘Food of the gods.’
‘Dogs, you mean,’ Remus sighed, resting his head back and closing his eyes. ‘Merlin I'm going to feel bad in the morning.’
‘It is morning,’ Sirius said with a smirk.
Remus threw a chip at him. ‘That was fun,’ he said.
They'd been out. Out out. Despite Remus’ indifference, Sirius had been mortified by the fact he had no birthday surprise planned and had insisted they do something to celebrate immediately. ‘When’s the last time you had a birthday?’ he'd asked, and Remus had shrugged, unable to answer. Probably the last time they'd been together on the right date - probably March 1981. Sirius had looked at him with sad eyes only once more, before grabbing his hand and handing him his coat.
They'd sent Errol on his way and wandered down to Soho, the sunshine that, an hour earlier, had been so blinding, now smiling down on them as they cut across the east side of Regent’s Park. Sirius had led the way, steering Remus down side roads trying to avoid the crowds, until they emerged at the top of Berwick Street, London's record shops before them. Sirius had charged into Musicland, running his hands over the cardboard sleeves as he browsed the aisles, Remus finding he was enjoying watching him more than looking at the records.
‘Hey, you haven't got this one?’ Sirius had said, waving a record behind him for Remus to see, ‘Or this one - or - wait - hang on - why did you stop buying Bowie records? What happened? Is he not good anymore?’
He'd turned, an expression of deep concern on his face.
‘No, no, he's still good,’ Remus had paused, moving round his aisle and taking the record Sirius was still holding out, one thumb sweeping across blue lettering, ‘I just didn't buy many new records after - I just didn't listen as much -’. He’d tailed off, unsure what to say, and Sirius had looked at him for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip, before turning back to the rack. ‘Just gotta catch up then, Moony,’ he’d replied, and they'd left the shop shortly afterwards, five new Bowie albums in a plastic bag.
‘Look at that one - ’ Sirius had said a moment later as he stepped back onto the road, eyes on the bright blue shop opposite, ‘Mister CD?’
‘Assume it's a CD shop,’ Remus shrugged.
‘A what?’
‘A CD shop. Oh - yeah, right, erm Muggles have these things called CDs now. They're like -’
‘Are they mini records?’ Sirius had asked, peering eagerly through the window at the little plastic boxes.
‘Uh - sort of.’
They'd spent quite a lot of money in there too, rummaging through the boxes in the basement and finding all sorts of bargains, having to stop off on Tottenham Court Road for a CD player before apparating home to change. Remus had put on his new shirt, and they’d gone out again, first to one pub, then another, then a club, and then another, and they'd danced and danced - and suddenly it had been 3am and they’d been falling back through the front door. It had been fun. It had been like -
‘It was so fun,’ Sirius agreed, scooting further onto the sofa on his back, making himself comfortable. ‘We should do it again.’
‘We will,’ Remus replied, eyes still closed. ‘We will do it again.’