Chapter 22
They made quite the strange procession on their way up to Dumbledore’s office: Albus led the way with Peter at his side, who walked with his head down, eyes on his feet; Harry, Ron and Hermione followed behind them, Ron still glancing up regularly at Peter, a look of sheer disbelief on his face. Remus and Sirius came next, Sirius watching Harry carefully, and Severus brought up the rear, his wand still out and still raised. They made it all the way to the top of the spiral staircase without further mishap, and Remus was, for the first time in his life, relieved to find himself in Dumbledore’s office.
They gathered silently beside the desk as Dumbledore conjured enough extra seats for all to sit down. Just as Remus sank, gratefully into a chair, the fire in the grate burned bright green, and out stepped the Minister for Magic, followed by two burly men in purple Auror robes.
‘Ah, what perfect timing,’ Dumbledore said with a pleasant smile. ‘Please, join us,’ he gestured to the empty chairs that had just materialised around his desk. Fudge remained stock still by the fireplace, eyes moving from Sirius, to Harry, to the trembling man bound by shining cords.
‘Albus,’ he said sharply, ‘what is the meaning of this?’
‘Have a seat, Cornelius,’ Dumbledore replied, ‘I am afraid it is a rather long story.’
*
In the end, Remus was rather impressed and incredibly grateful. Somehow, Dumbledore had managed to retell the story without mention of childish indiscretions or lycanthropy, but of course both he and Severus had had to supply their memory of Peter’s transformation, so there was really no glossing over the illegal Animagi. The children had also given accounts of their knowledge of Scabbers, but no memories could be taken from them without a legal guardian present, and it was much too late for that to be arranged this evening.
‘You will have to appear in court,’ Fudge said to Sirius. ‘Arrangements will be made and you will be expected to cooperate. Stick around, we need to know where you are. You are effectively out on bail.’
‘Decided a trial is a good idea this time?’ Sirius muttered. Remus shook his head at him, ever so slightly. ‘Of course, Minister,’ Sirius added, nodding with convincing sincerity.
Peter seemed to have decided that it was in his best interest to keep quiet, and had declined to answer any of the Minister’s questions: ‘Not to worry, not to worry,’ Fudge had said, ‘we have veritaserum for a reason.’ The Aurors had arranged for him to be taken into Ministry custody, and several more had arrived through the fireplace to assist with his removal.
Severus had been dismissed with the promise of a one-on-one follow-up meeting with Dumbledore the next day. ‘I trust I can count on your discretion on this matter,’ Dumbledore had said, ‘this is, of course, an ongoing Ministry case and must remain confidential.’ Severus had nodded, a sour look on his face and left.
‘So!’ said Dumbledore, taking a seat behind his desk and smiling across it at Harry, Ron and Hermione. ‘I do believe you all have a very many questions, but I think we are all much too tired to solve anything effectively now.’ Remus looked at them all properly for the first time since they had arrived in Dumbledore’s office. They looked exhausted.
‘I think perhaps a meeting tomorrow can be arranged.’ Dumbledore continued, ‘I will send you information. I assume I don’t need to tell you this is not to be discussed with your classmates.’
‘Of course, Professor,’ said Hermione, immediately.
‘Well off to bed then,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I am sure everything will look much clearer in the morning.’
They rose, and Ron and Hermione turned to leave, but Harry hesitated. He looked from Remus, to Sirius and back again.
‘Tomorrow, Harry,’ Remus said, quietly. ‘I promise.’
Harry nodded once and followed his friends to the door.
‘Well,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I do believe we also have much to discuss,’ he looked at Remus with his cool stare and Remus wondered if repeatedly lying to the Headmaster about having information about an escaped criminal was a sackable offence. ‘But I rarely find I achieve anything of worth at this hour, which begs the question, what to do with you?’ he paused, looking at Sirius. ‘Too late for a room in Hogsmeade, but wholly inappropriate for you to stay in the castle.’
‘He could stay with me,’ Remus said quickly. ‘Just until the morning, and then it is the weekend and we can -’ he looked at Sirius, ‘we can, go to the flat.’
Dumbledore paused, thoughtful. ‘Alright,’ he said. ‘But I will have to shut you in I am afraid, and then come and collect you in the morning. I really cannot take any further risk.’
Remus glanced nervously at Sirius, whose knuckles had whitened where he was gripping the arm of his chair.
‘That will be fine. We’ll be OK.’ Remus said.
*
They followed Dumbledore in silence, back through the quiet corridors to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Before they had left his office, he had spent several minutes speaking into the fireplace, and when they arrived there was a spread of sandwiches on one table and a selection of potions and first aid equipment on another.
‘I will return at 8am.’ he said, ‘we will meet with the relevant people in my office and then you will depart. You should have a weekend bag ready Remus.’
Remus nodded, noting the word ‘weekend’ and wondering if that was an indication he was expected back on Monday. He saw Dumbledore to the door, and when he turned, found Sirius had collapsed into a chair. He was holding a sandwich, staring silently down at it. Remus sat down opposite him, and picked one up from the platter.
‘They're probably very delicious,’ he said, ‘you should try and eat it.’
Sirius looked up at him then, and Remus noticed tears in his eyes, just there, at the corners, threatening to fall, as they had been in the photograph in the paper. The crying he’d done today was - unexpected, but it felt appropriate. Healthy.
‘I - I feel so -’ he said hoarsely, ‘I don't even know what this is.’
‘I sort of know what you mean,’ Remus said, ‘maybe Dumbledore's right, maybe it'll all be clearer in the morning. Do you want to have another wash? Try some soap this time?’
Remus led the way, through to the bathroom, stepping over a fallen stack of books which must've been what Sirius had tripped over earlier. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. His tiny bathroom felt palatial compared to that of the shack. He turned on the taps, and the bath began to fill with fragrant steaming water. He found a clean towel and a pair of pyjamas and placed them on a stool under a gentle warming charm. Sirius watched him, sat on the toilet seat, taking slow bites of the sandwich he was still holding. Remus located a comb and a new razor, and transfigured a pen into a second toothbrush and laid them by the sink. He turned off the taps.
‘Right,’ he said, the sudden loss of an immediate task throwing him off, ‘there you go, you get in. I'm going to make a cup of tea.’
‘Come back?’ Sirius said, raising his eyes.
‘Yeah I'll come back in a sec,’ said Remus, reassuring, leaving the door ajar.
He went back into his room, tapping the kettle on his way past, and restacking the fallen books with a wave of his wand. He pulled a second set of sheets and blankets out of the cupboard and hesitated. Where would they sleep? He left them in a pile on the sofa, and went back through to the classroom to collect the food and supplies, levitating them through onto his study desk.
When he returned to the bathroom a few minutes later, it was with two cups of tea and a selection of sandwiches. He balanced them on the edge of the bath. Sirius was lying back in the water, his eyes closed. Remus sat down on the floor, back against the wall and sipped his drink.
‘Merlin, it creeps me out when you do that. I always think you've drowned.’.
‘I’m facing upwards,’ Sirius said, without opening his eyes, ‘my nose and mouth are both above the water.’.
‘Yes but you look dead,’ Remus insisted, ‘all pale and still with your hair all spread out. Your face looks weird when you're not moving.’.
‘The water helps me think. I need to be still to think properly.’ Sirius opened his eyes, ‘What do you mean my face looks weird?’ his tone was suddenly full of outrage..
Remus laughed, ‘I don't know, it just doesn't look… like you.’.
‘My face is never weird.’ Sirius said, pouting..
‘No, you're right,’ said Remus, smiling and shaking his head..
‘You love my face.’ said Sirius..
‘I do, I love your face.’ Remus replied.
Remus was staring when Sirius opened his eyes, and he quickly shifted his gaze to the tiled floor. He could feel Sirius’ eyes on him, and looked back up, holding his gaze.
‘I want to have a look at your feet,’ Remus said, ‘they looked pretty bad earlier. They must hurt.’
‘I've had worse,’ Sirius shrugged and Remus tried not to think about what he meant by that.
Once Sirius was out of the bath, and sat on the stool opposite the basin in Remus’ spare pyjamas and the jumper he'd been wearing earlier, Remus knelt before him and examined his feet. The skin on the bottom was thickened and hard, with deep fissures. The tops were red and sore, with weeping welts where forest thorns had scratched at them.
‘No shoes in Azkaban,’ said Sirius quietly. ‘Don’t need shoes if you’ve nowhere to go.’
Remus lifted Sirius’ left food onto his lap, and picked up a bottle of murtlap essence. He dabbed gently at the open wounds, and watched as the most minor of them began to close. He coated the sole with some balm made with dittany, wrapped it in a bandage, and carefully pulled a sock over it. He repeated the process with the other foot, only using his wand briefly to remove a large splinter from the pad behind his big toe. When he had finished, he looked up to find Sirius staring at himself in the mirror above the sink.
‘I think I'm going to have to cut my hair,’ Sirius said, ‘I can't get my fingers through it, let alone a comb.
‘Do you want me to try and brush it?’ Remus offered.
‘No, I think I want it off. A fresh start, you know.’ his eyes were shining.
‘Ok, yeah we can do that.’
Remus absented himself to find a pair of scissors, and returned to find Sirius sitting straighter on the stool, his mug of tea clasped in his hands, his fingernails now clean and short. His skin was still papery and thin looking but he was pink from the heat of the water, and looked almost, almost a little like himself. His once beautiful hair was in a bad way, long and heavily matted, and Remus lifted it very gently to see the damage.
‘It’s not so bad underneath,’ he said, not sure really what that meant for hairstyle options. ‘Are you sure you want it cut?’
Sirius swallowed, eyes on Remus in the bathroom mirror, and nodded.
‘I'm no hairdresser,’ Remus said nervously, and raised the scissors..
He moved incredibly carefully, cutting out the matted sections first, and surveying the damage. Sirius sat very still, watching him in the mirror, not speaking. The back was the worst, and he trimmed it short there, leaving the top and front longer and doing his best to blend the two lengths together. He moved round in front of Sirius to assess his progress, putting his ha
nds on either side of his head to tilt it forward a little. Without warning, Sirius pressed his temple into Remus’ palm, and for a moment they stayed like that, Remus thinking of nothing but the warm pulse of blood he could feel vibrating through his hand.
‘Beard?’ he said, eventually, when Sirius raised his head.
Sirius nodded.
Remus filled the sink and used the scissors to cut off the bulk of the hair. He lathered some shaving soap in a cup and carefully brushed it over one side of Sirius’ face, across and under his chin and then up his other cheek. He could feel Sirius' eyes on him as he did it, but kept his concentrated on the brush.
‘Ok, I'm going to use the razor now. You need to keep still. Tell me if you want me to stop.’
Remus carefully brought the razor up to Sirius' face and very gently, holding his’ chin lightly in his other hand, curved it across his left cheekbone.
‘Ok?’ he asked again.
Sirius nodded.
Remus continued, shaving his hollow cheek, rinsing the razor, and continuing along his jaw, down to the stubble on his neck. He repeated his movements on the other side, focusing on each careful stroke, each rinse of the blade. He took his time over Sirius' chin, and under his nose, not wanting to draw a single drop of blood.
When he had finished, he stepped back slightly to view his handiwork. Sirius watched him, as if trying to read his expression, and then very tentatively, threw a glance at the mirror. It was by no means a professional effort, but he did look a hell of a lot less frightening.
‘You look good,’ Remus offered.
‘Don’t know about that, Moony,’ Sirius smiled sadly.
‘It’ll grow.’
Back in the bedroom, they stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed.
‘Please, take it,’ said Remus.
‘Its your bed,’ said Sirius, ‘its got your - pillows,’ he finished lamely.
‘I’ll take the sofa.’ said Remus, moving across the room and unfolding the sheets he left there earlier.
Sirius watched him for a moment and then did as he was told, folding the quilt back carefully as if afraid to disturb it, and crawling onto the mattress. Remus watched him settle himself onto the pillow and close his eyes. He lay back on the sofa and flicked his wand.
‘Nox’.