Chapter 8
When I walk in the kitchen
My heart hits the floor
'Cause it's you that I'm missing
I still see a vision of us cooking dinner
And you holding me from behind
And you say "Please be careful
The knife is so big
And we can't have another ER trip
We're too young, too dumb, too in love to afford it"
Padfoot
Sirius didn’t sleep. At all. Poppy said that it was normal, that with all the potions she had given him, he would most likely be out for the rest of the day. Rationally, he knew things were under control. But he wasn’t really known for his rationality, especially when it came to him. He needed to see it with his eyes, he needed to see him wake up and look back at him and hear his voice telling him he was okay.
He stayed sat on the floor next to the sofa guarding him like a dog, with a hand circling his wrist to feel the constant beating of his heart under his fingertips. Poppy had cleaned him up: there was no dirt nor blood on his face, his hair curled softly around his face and the cuts on it had knitted back together leaving behind thin slithers of white scars. Poppy had checked his side, but the potions James brough back did most of the heavy lifting for both of them. He wasn’t sure what it was, nor how he got it since most of the potions they had stocked were Pepper-ups and other small bits that Monty periodically sent them; nothing has advanced as that. But it didn’t matter, not anymore. He was left with three thick scars on his side, travelling from his ribcage down to his hip: Poppy couldn’t do anything more about them besides stopping the bleeding and close the skin back, she had apologized multiple times, but Sirius didn’t care much. Remus had a lot more of them anyway.
James paced the living room occasionally. He would come in and pace in front of the library or along the front door, rubbing his hands together and sometimes staring at him for a while. He was probably worried. He offered to make him tea a total of five times, but Sirius didn’t think he would be able to stomach anything until Remus woke up, not even tea. At some point, James sat behind him on the floor and braided his hair, still dirty from the night before. Getting up for a shower wasn’t in the cards and the cleaning spell was good for making them clean but not as good as a relaxing shower. He’d just have to wait for Remus to wake up.
“Alright, Pads. Let’s eat something, yeah?” He tried to pull him up, but Sirius shook his head.
“I can’t.”
“You need to get up, it’s just ten minutes.”
“I can’t.” James sighed but didn’t pressure him further. He leaned down to kiss his forehead and disappeared towards the kitchen. He could hear him shuffle pots around and the water running. Sirius knew that James liked to cook the muggle way: it helped him when he needed his hands busy. They ate hot soup sitting on the carpet: Sirius had to balance the bowl in his lap and eat it one handed just so he could keep holding onto Remus’ wrist.
He felt a little guilty for making James handle everything, making him cook and wash the dishes once they were done, but he was glued in place. He felt physically unable to move from where he was, almost like if the moment he turned away something horrible would happen.
Around midway through the afternoon, James crashed in a bedroom to try and get some sleep and Sirius was left alone again. He stared at Remus for a while, at the way his bandaged chest was slowly rising and falling, at the way his lips parted slightly when he exhaled, at the little shifts behind his eyelids.
“Come on, Moony.” He whispered, bringing his hand up and pressing his lips on a thin scar that run up the back of it. Remus didn’t really react at the touch, too deep in a potion-induced sleep to feel the touch of his lips on his skin. Kissing his hand after all that time felt strange, foreign, like time had wiped away its taste and the way their skin felt against each other. He leaned on the sofa, gently pressing his forehead to his arm. “Moony.” He whispered again, quieter, closing his eyes.
Some time passed and none of them moved. The sun was setting out of the window and there still was no sign of James when Sirius felt movement in his hair. Blinking his eyes open he realised he must’ve dozed off: he was no longer holding Remus’ wrist and his head was fully leaning on the other’s chest. What he felt in his hair turned out to be Remus’ hand, playing with a loose lock around his face, his fingers occasionally grazing his cheek. Looking up, his eyes were open, staring down at him intently.
“You’re awake.” Remus smiled. Sirius didn’t want to move, afraid to break the moment and worried that once Remus realised he was awake he would stop. He didn’t.
“I am.” He stared down at him, his eyes searching around his face. Suddenly his smile dropped and the hand stilled. “I hurt you.”
“I’m fine.”
“But I did. I remember.”
“Do you remember what freaked you out?”
“I don’t- no, not really. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Poppy was here, everything is fine.” Sirius knew it wouldn’t really be enough for Remus; he knew that he was probably beating himself up over it. But he also knew that no matter how many times Sirius could repeat he was alright, and it wasn’t his fault he wouldn’t believe him. It was a lost battle. So he tried distracting him by grabbing his hand and holding it close. “You scared me. And James, he panicked.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I wasn’t scared of you. I was scared for you, you weren’t waking up.” Sirius swallowed a lump. He had always hated the transformations, the way his bones popped and the screams that would hunt him for days after. Back in Hogwarts, he was always reluctant to leave in the Shack when hadn’t seen if he was okay yet. He wasn’t sure if Remus truly understood how much it affected him, how it affected all of them: seeing him like that, laying limp and covered in scratches did something to him he didn’t like. It made him feel reckless and a little out of his mind, like he couldn’t fully control his impulses. “Poppy said you’re fine. Do you feel fine?”
“Like I was run over by a train. But it’s mostly a bad headache.”
“Maybe you should get some more sleep.”
“You should as well.” There was no way Sirius could sleep after the previous night and he wasn’t sure how to tell him. But maybe he wouldn’t have to. “Do you want to… come up here?” He stared at him at first, unsure if Remus really meant it, or if he was just being polite. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter. Because Sirius missed being close to him like they were depriving him of air. So, Remus shuffled closed to the back of the sofa to leave some space for him to climb into. They were squished together and couldn’t do much but hold each other so he wouldn’t fall. Remus’ hand easily found the dip of his waist and Sirius’ head naturally tucked under the other’s chin, laying on his chest.
Sirius often wondered if that would’ve been them if he hadn’t fucked up.
Thinking back to that night made him feel like someone was squeezing his heart, tightening the grip until it turned into bloody mush. If he just hadn’t, maybe they would still be okay; perhaps the feeling of being in his arms wouldn’t feel as foreign and would just be part of their daily routine. In that scenario, Remus would kiss his head and maybe slip his hand under his shirt just because he loved to feel his skin against his palm; perhaps he would be the one braiding his hair and making him tea. All things that used to be the norm.
But it was wishful thinking. He had hurt him so much already, he was lucky they were still friends. At least he could feel him again; at least he could hear the beating of his heart against his ear and feel his breath against his head. Sirius would have to learn to make do with what was left and be grateful there was anything at all.
They finally got back to the apartment two days later. Everything was how they left it, besides their potion cabinet left open, probably because James forgot to close it in a hurry, and the empty box of coconut biscuits resting on the table. Archie seemed to have behaved while they were busy patching themselves up, since the sofa was mostly untouched and there weren’t any socks scattered around the living room. Speaking of which.
“Where’s Archie?” The cat was always curious whenever someone opened the door and most of the times would be nearby, checking out whoever was entering. That time, the cat was nowhere in sight. He wasn’t even in his claimed spot on the sofa.
“Maybe he’s offended you left him alone for three days.”
“Of course. We are inseparable, after all.” Sirius rolled his eyes and started looking for the cat. He looked under tables, in the laundry, in the downstairs bathroom. Sirius climbed the stairs and noticed the door to his room was slightly ajar. Strange. He was sure he had closed it, specifically not to let the cat inside. After all that happened, it was likely he misremembered.
Sure enough, there he was. Archie was curled up on his pillow, eyes wide and looking at him but not getting up to greet him. Sirius sat on the bed and started scratching him in the point behind his ear that usually made him purr. But the cat started meowing loudly, clawing his hand and pulling it close.
“Are you alright? You’re being a little strange.” Archie was then alternating between biting his knuckle and giving it tentative licks with his scratchy tongue. It almost hurt, his tongue. Sirius didn’t know cats had scratchy tongues. He looked around the room, to make sure Archie didn’t damage anything as some sort of revenge for their absence, when he noticed something. Laying on his bedside tables, was a book. He picked it up and turned it around. It was one of Remus’ muggle books, the one about the painting; he vaguely remembered Remus reading it in their dorm back in Hogwarts. “Huh.”
Sirius was sure, he didn’t grab it. He wasn’t partial to books, not like Remus was, and he hadn’t seen that book since before their N.E.W.T.s. How did it get on his bedside table? Maybe Remus put it there on accident. Except, Remus never came in his room anymore.
Probably disturbed by the lack of attention, Archie was desperately meowing, rubbing his face against every part of him he could reach. Sirius jumped a little when he rubbed himself against his newly scarred side. Somehow, Archie got even more talkative after that. “What the fuck’s gotten into you?” Sirius reached over to pick him up, but the cat bit him again. “I feel like you have unresolved issues, so I’m going to let you resolve them alone.” He stood up and grabbed the book. Now Archie stood so close to his feet he was in danger of tripping on his with every step.
“Found the cat?”
“Yeah, but he’s being a little brat.” He said, sitting at the table and observing Remus making tea. “Also, found this in my room. Did you forget it there by any chance?” Remus eyed the book with furrowed brows.
“Haven’t picked that book up since we moved in. Why?”
“I must have picked it up by mistake, somehow.” Strange. Had it somehow fallen in between clothes? Perhaps in was in a bag, or a pocket. It was probably a coincidence anyway.
Archie’s behaviour stayed strange for the days after. The cat wouldn’t leave Sirius’s side no matter what, which made slipping out the front door to go grocery shopping all the more difficult. The cat had also taken to sleep directly on top of his chest, waking him up during the night because he constantly felt like he couldn’t breathe or simply because of the cat hair slipping in his mouth as he snored. He would glue himself to his feet wherever he went, and whenever he sat down the cat just had to sit on him. Sirius would’ve thought it was cute if it wasn’t for the biting. Because Archie was very affectionate while at the same time being angry with him. It reminded him of Remus when he used to annoy him while he worked on assignments: he would get snappy and irritable but never made a move to get away from him. It made sense the cat liked him best.
This sort of behaviour also seemed solely reserved to Sirius. He was still the same cat to Remus, accepting cuddles from his place next to him on the sofa. Even Mary, someone he had never met in his own life, had to suffer his bites.
She had stumbled through the fireplace at ten in the evening because she wanted to see Remus as soon as her and Lily’s vacation was over; Lily was too tired and stayed behind, but he promised they would all get together soon and catch up properly. She cried a little and Sirius was pretty sure Remus almost did as well.
She had pretty much the same reaction to the cat as everybody else, but since She and Lily had a cat of their own at home, she was quickly swayed by the big blue eyes and immediately started fussing around him. Archie was standoffish but not aggressive. Maybe he was getting crazy after all.
“I hadn’t realised how much I missed her before she showed up.” Sirius had said after the smoke in the fireplace had died down, bringing her back home.
“I get what you mean. Since I came back if felt a little… like we were the only ones left.”
“We should get together, maybe at Potter Manor so Effie can stop sending you letters begging you to visit.”
“It’s different with them.” Remus sighed, moving the empty cups in the sink. “You know the Potters, they dote on everyone. It makes me feel like I’m leaning on them.” Sirius wanted to tell him that he felt that way with everyone, remind him that he didn’t let any of them lift even a little bit of weight from his shoulder. He understood it though. That was part of the reason he himself was visiting the manor a lot less. Every time Effie looked at him he remembered that time immediately after the end of the war. He could see the way she looked at him, and it made him feel guilty. The Potters were getting older, they shouldn’t have to worry about him.
“We should still visit once. They’ll be less stressed once they see you’re well.” Remus gave him a look and Sirius huffed a laugh. “Alright, mostly well.”
“At least me and Monty have matching canes.”
“I could get one of the fancy ones, if it makes you feel better. Like the one Lucius has been using since he was barely of age.” Remus snickered and the mere sight of his dimple was enough to tangle Sirius’ stomach like a knitted blanket. “I could push Mellie around with it.”
“Please don’t. Effie would smack you for that.” James would have as well. A bell in the back of his mind reminded him that even Regulus would’ve smacked him as well. He remembered how sad he got whenever Sirius would be mean to Kreacher, and the elf was a real asshole. He guessed he would’ve liked Millie.