Chapter 8
The train ride back to Wales is long and tiresome, and despite the beautiful rolling hills of Scotland, Remus finds himself fed up with it all only an hour into the ride. Was there really no better way? They are wizards for fucks sake. They are literally magic. Surely they're intelligent enough to come up with a mode of transportation that muggleborns could access just as easily as purebloods. Since the incident, Remus had found himself falling back in with the Gryffindors with a certain ease. They had been friends for the past five years, after all. Still, sitting in that train cart with Sirius so close to him became too much just over two hours into the journey.
“I just need to stretch my legs,” Remus told his friends, politely excusing himself. Once he’s out of that crowded train cabin, it feels like something heavy has fallen off his chest, making it easier to breathe. That Sirius Black. He was going to be the death of him one of these days.
He managed to find an empty cabin in the very back - a miracle if there had ever been one - to sequester away in. Remus opens the window and lights a fag, the smoke trailing up into the air around him before swirling out the window, lost to the Scottish winds. All alone, he had the room to stretch his legs across one of the seats, his back resting comfortably against the window. He took in the expanses of green and grey, mist blurring the lines between the shrub-covered ground and the sorrowful sky.
Remus wasn’t the least bit surprised when droplets of water started to fall from the sky, pattering against the glass. He closed his eyes, letting his lungs fill with smoke, holding it in his chest before letting his head fall back against the window, smoke exiting his nostrils in a way that must have looked akin to a dragon. When the rain began to pick up Remus closed the window, tossing away the cigarette bud as he did so, only feeling a little guilty about littering. The rain continued to fall, and the sounds of the light pitter-patter relaxed Remus, the tension seeping out of his shoulders. Remus slipped into sleep not long after, the dreamless rest a reprieve from the short and restless sleep he had become accustomed to over the years.
When his eyes opened, the rain had stopped, and the sun was beginning to poke its rays through the heavy grey clouds, a cast of warm light sweeping through the hillside.
“Sleep well?”
“AH!” Remus cried with a start, sitting up straight, his heart thumping in his chest. Pandora smirked, not looking up from the pile of purple and blue yarn she had in her lap, her hands hard at work with a crochet hook.
“What the hell Dora? Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
She only snorted. “It was hardly sneaking. I announced my presence, it’s not my fault you didn’t rouse from your sleep.” Remus shook his head, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “And you haven’t answered my question.”
“I slept fine, thanks,” he told her, more than a little disgruntled. He eyes the pile of yarn in her lap. “What are you making?”
“I’ve decided that Regulus needs some more colour in his closet.”
Remus raises an eyebrow. “So you’re making him a purple and blue, what, cardigan?”
“Precisely.”
“You think he’ll go for that?”
“If it’s from me he will.” Remus smiles at that, thinking about Regulus's fondness for his sister.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“Of course I am.” Remus chuckles softly, relaxing in his sister's company. She smiles at him. “Did James like the hat I knitted him? He had mentioned that he didn’t have one a while back, so I figured it would make a good birthday gift.” Remus’ lips quirks up. James’ birthday party had been as loud and joyous as always, with alcohol flowing and music blaring. Remus hadn’t danced, of course, instead opting to man the record player the way he did each year. And as always, he played at least one ABBA album, putting aside his own distaste for the band for his dear friend who, for reasons unbeknownst to Remus, adored ABBA, as did the girls.
The Gryffindor Commonroom was packed, with students from every house celebrating Hogwarts’ beloved James Potter. Barty, Evan and Regulus had even come, which had surprised Remus a little bit, but once he caught Regulus staring at James from across the room, it had all clicked into place. Dorcas had been there too, of course. She had been spending so much time with Marlene and the girls that she was practically a Gryffindor at this point, which Remus was pleased by. He liked Dorcas, she was smart and cunning like any Slytherin, but also fiercely loyal, with the passion of a Gryffindor. Plus, she made Maz happy, so the rest of it didn’t really matter.
Pandora had been there as well, and James had accepted her handmade gift with misty eyes and a hot ball of emotion in his throat the way he did every gift, always awed at how dearly his friends cared for him. It was a little sad, Remus thought privately, the way James always seemed a bit surprised at how many people showed up for him as though he wasn’t one of the best the world had to offer.
“He loved it,” Remus told her. “He put it on immediately and proceeded to wear it for the next hour before it fell off while he was dancing to the Bee Gees. I put it in his room before it could get lost or stomped on.”
Pandora smiled brightly. “That’s good. I’m glad he liked it.” Remus nodded, turning back to the window. He had been dreading Easter break. Not only did it mean that OWLs were just around the corner (He had lost track of the hours he and the girls had spent hauled up the library, studying furiously. Lily had been a bit of a mess, and at one point had threatened to cut all of her hair off when it kept falling out of the bun she had thrown it up in. Mary had been the only one able to calm her down, convincing her to take a break while Mary braided her hair out of her face. Remus had watched with suspicion as Lily’s face burned red.), but he also had to spend a whole week with his family - with his father - in the isolated Welsh countryside.
His relationship with his mother had always been one of love and comfort. His relationship with his father on the other hand… Well, let’s just say it hasn’t exactly been good. More often than not Remus spent this holiday out in the fields reading all day and then arguing with his father over dinner. Something about his presence had always bothered Lyall Lupin, and now Remus felt the same constant irritation by the older man.
“Maybe this time will be different,” Pandora said, always able to read his mind.
“Yeah, maybe.”
This time was no different.
After the whirlwind of hugs and onslaught of questions from his lovely mother, they fell into the usual routine. Remus took his homework and studying material outside to read under his favourite tree in peace, and only went back inside for dinner where he listened to his father complain about his ministry job, not missing the glances Lyall shot him as he droned on about the policies regarding half-breeds he was trying to pass. On a good day, Remus would simply put down his fork and leave the table after his father's hundredth backhanded comment. On a bad day, they’d end up yelling at each other, Remus arguing about the complete lack of humanity the ministry’s policy had. Lyall always had the same response: “Humanity hardly matters when handling the inhuman.”
And Remus would sigh, the fight leaving his body, a cool, stone-cold facade falling over him, as though his father’s words didn’t burn holes in the fabric of his person. As though he wasn’t left bleeding and wounded after their verbal sparrings. As though it didn’t hurt.
Of course, it did hurt. It always hurt.
It came as a great relief when they received a letter from Effie inviting the Lupins to the Potter’s annual easter party. Hope accepted, of course, getting to work on her famous Welsh Cakes immediately, while Lyall only sighed and agreed to go. Remus later got a letter from James explaining that Pete would be staying over for a day or two and that Remus was of course welcome to stay if he’d like. Remus almost said no on the principle of Sirius living there, but the idea of escaping his father was too tempting, so he agreed.
“Alright, Lupin?” James asked upon his arrival, an easy smile on his face as always. Remus grinned, the tension in his shoulders easing up already.
“Alright. Ready for tonight?” James groaned a little as he led Remus through the expansive Potter Cottage.
“Oh yeah, can’t wait to be peppered with questions about OWLs.” Remus walked alongside him, taking in the warm embellishments that filled the home; a knitted blanket thrown over an armchair, a gallery of photos on the wall to his right.
“I thought you liked these social gatherings,” Remus said in response.
“Oh, I do,” James said easily, “I’m just complaining. Here’s your room.” They stopped in front of a large mahogany door, the same room Remus always used when visiting. “I’m across from you, as you know, and Sirius,” James frowns a little, “is beside you.” Remus nods, chewing his lip. He already knew this, but it still felt strange. James must have felt similarly because he looked at Remus apologetically.
“Look, Moons-”
“-James,” he interrupted, “it’s okay. I knew he was going to be here. I didn’t just agree to staying over at your house, but Sirius’ too.” James softened, a ghost of a smile appearing at the mention of this being just as much Sirius’ home as it was the Potter’s. “It’ll be fine,” Remus added, reassuring himself more than James.
“Prongs! Mum’s asking if you know where the- oh.” Sirius cut himself off as he rounded the hallway, spotting Remus. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, Remus’ throat drying up while Sirius’ eyes widened. He was wearing a pair of soft-looking jeans, a red sweater hanging from his elegant frame, and most damningly his hair was thrown up in a bun, his wand holding the black waves in place, a few stubborn strands falling into his face. Sirius looked utterly domestic - no leather or eyeliner in sight - and yet he could still take Remus’ breath away.
James cleared his throat, bringing the two boys back to reality.
“Hey, Remus,” Sirius greeted, a little breathless.
“Hi,” he said, feeling foolish. He glanced at James and then at the bag he had placed down on the floor. “I’m just gonna, um.” He gestured to his room.
“Right! Right, yeah of course.” Sirius turned to James. “Effie needs your help with something.”
James glanced between his two friends, wearing a slightly amused expression. Remus’ ears burned, feeling as though James wasn’t quite as clueless as he sometimes let on. “Yeah, come on, let’s help Mum get everything set up for tonight. You can join us once you're settled in,” James added.
“Yeah, I’ll join you in a bit.” Sirius smiled at him one last time - a small, timid thing - before walking back down the hall with James at his side. Remus slipped into his room, dumping his bag on the floor before falling back onto the soft king-size bed, unable to wipe the image of Sirius from his mind.
Jesus fucking christ.
Remus hasn’t been to many parties in his life, but he’s pretty sure that Euphemia Potter throws some of the best gatherings in all of Great Britain. It’s early yet, the spring air still warm, a summer breeze carrying the scent of flowers through the backyard as wizards and witches mill about. Remus watches as his mother - one of the only muggles present - hangs onto Lyall’s arm, doing all the charming and talking for him. If there was anything Remus had in common with his father, it would be his lack of conversation skills. James is off doing his due diligence greeting each guest, Sirius close behind him, eagerly re-enforcing his place as a Potter.
Pete’s off talking to a girl in his herbology class, and Remus smirks thinking about the wide-eyed look he had shot Remus when the girl - Amelie, was it? - approached the two of them to ask Peter a question about their upcoming exams. Remus had excused himself, shooting Peter a thumbs up behind Amelie’s back, smiling like an idiot. Pandora is somewhere - probably exploring the Potter’s expansive garden - and Remus is happily people-watching from his place against the wall, sipping from a cup of lemonade. He’ll have to wait until the adults are a tad more drunk before he can nick a bottle of beer or sneak a shot of firewhisky.
“Remus,” a familiar and kind voice greets him, and it has him focusing on a smiling Euphemia. She’s swept her hair up into a messy yet elegant updo and is dressed in a floral summer dress, smelling of jasmine and eucalyptus.
Remus nods his head at her, his curls falling into his eyes. “Hey,” he replies, then silently panics, wondering if that was too curt of a greeting. Effie seems to sense this, because she only chuckles softly, leaning against the wall beside him.
“Still as quiet and succinct as your father, I see,” She remarks.
“Well, I certainly didn’t inherit my mother’s loquaciousness,” is Remus’ dry response.
Effie only laughs. “True enough. Though,” she adds, “I’ve always found you to be more like your mother.” Remus shoots her a questioning look. “What,” she challenges, “don’t believe me?” Remus only shrugs.
“Pandora’s always been seen as the Hope incarnate.” Effie seems to mull this over.
“She leaves an impression similar to your mother’s,” She coincides, “but you, Remus, have your mother’s spirit, while Pandora’s is all her own.” And while he certainly doesn’t disagree, at least where Pandora is concerned, something in him remains skeptical. Another trait he inherited from his father.
“I’m not sure I know what kind of spirit Mum has,” He admits, looking down into his cup.
“A strong-willed one,” Effie tells him, “with a need to prove herself to a world that doesn’t fully accept her.” And it’s that that finally gets Remus to look at her, to meet her gaze. He isn’t surprised that she knows about his condition, per se, just a little caught off guard. Had Hope said something? Had James? He dismisses the latter immediately, knowing that James would rather die than let such an important detail slip. Merlin, had Sirius told her? Had Snape not been the first time he had left Remus exposed in such a way?
“I’ve always known, Remus,” Euphemia tells him, almost as though she can see all this play out in his eyes. “Eleven-year-old boys don’t end up covered in scars for no reason.” Remus blinks, and looks away, clearing his throat uncomfortably.
“Right,” He says stiffly. And then because he just- he needs to know , “Did Sirius-?” His voice breaks off, unable to even finish the sentence. He clenches his jaw, dropping his head, feeling a little nauseous. God , he’s pathetic .
“No,” Effie tells him after a moment, somehow understanding what it is he was trying to ask. “None of the boys ever even hinted at it. Including Sirius.” And for some reason that doesn’t ease the tightness in Remus’ chest, not even a little. They stand in silence for a moment, like Effie’s giving him time to digest her words. Remus takes a sip of lemonade, turning his attention back to the swaths of guests, laughing and drinking and utterly oblivious to the heaviness that seems to live with Remus.
“I received a letter from Professor McGonagall regarding the… incident, from earlier in the year.” Remus’ eyes flutter shut, and he lets his head fall against the brick of the manor. He wonders distantly if his father had received something similar. If he had he didn’t mention it, though that wouldn’t be out of character for Lyall. “I won’t excuse his behaviour, Remus,” She continues, “but I will express how truly sorry I am.” He can feel her gaze land on him, even still he refuses to open his eyes. She sighs, accepting his lack of a response. “Sirius is… well, I have a feeling you know Sirius better than anyone.”
His grin is rueful when he says, “And isn’t that the crux of it all?”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Effie says honestly, her voice painfully gentle. He forces himself to open his eyes but stares stoically ahead as he takes another sip of his drink.
“I know him better than anyone, and I was still blindsided.” He shakes his head, huffing a laugh devoid of any humour. He stiffens when Effie pushes his hair out his face, an act so tender and maternal that it causes him to suck in a quick breath.
“Oh love, even those we know inside and out have ways of surprising us. And unfortunately, they seem to be the best at hurting us.” Remus chokes back a croak, instead taking a shaky breath. He watches from the corner of his eye as Effie leans in, pressing a light kiss to his cheek the same way he’d seen her do with James hundreds of times. “You’re always welcome here, okay? Always .”
“Thank you,” Remus manages. Effie squeezes his shoulder and then steps back. Remus glances at her, relieved to see an easy smile on her face.
“Enjoy the party, Remus.” He nods and watches as she walks back into the ocean of people.
After Remus recovers from his arduous conversation with Euphemia, he spots a flash of red hair amongst the bodies and finds himself grinning as he makes his way through the crowds to Lily. She’s standing with Mary, a hand thrown over her mouth as she laughs, and Remus can’t help but raise an eyebrow.
“Hey, Red,” He greets, then nods at Mary. “Macdonald.”
“Lupin,” Mary returns. She’s wearing a pair of bell bottoms paired with a cropped halter top, gold glitter brushed over her cheekbones and eyelids. She looks good, as per usual, and given the flush on Lily’s face, she seems to think so too.
“Hiya, Remus,” Lily says, turning her attention to him. She’s got a wide, white headband on, which matches nicely with the white GoGo boots accompanying the dusty orange bell-sleeve mini-dress she’s sporting. “I’m gonna grab us some lemonade,” She tells Mary before turning and making her way to the drinks table. He watches as Mary’s eyes follow her.
“She looks good, doesn’t she?” Remus smirks as Mary’s lips pull into a coy smile.
“Yeah, she really does.” Fucking knew it.
“Christ, Mary, Keep your pants on.” Mary’s eyes shoot right back to Remus, her jaw slack.
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me,” he tells her as he lifts his cup to his lips. For a moment, Mary looks like she wants to kick him in the shin and walk away, but then she bites her lip and looks down.
“Is it really that obvious?” Remus is surprised by the uncertainty in her voice.
“No,” he says honestly, “I’m just observant.” Mary laughs out loud, and Remus frowns.
“Are you serious? I’m convinced you’re bloody blind half of the time.” His ears burn, and he chews his lip.
“Okay, fine, maybe I can be a bit…”
“Thick? Blundering?”
“I was going to say abstracted.”
“Oh, fuck off.” Remus smiles and watches as Lily talks to Marlene at the drinks table.
“I can’t speak for her,” Remus says, his voice low, “but she’s happy around you in a way she isn’t with anyone else.” Mary’s face brightens, something like hope dancing in her eyes.
“So… you think-”
“That’s for her to tell you,” Remus interrupts. “But, from where I stand…” He shrugs. Mary bites down on her smile and nods. They stand in silence as Lily leads Marlene back to them, a glass in each hand. She gives one to Mary easily, looking between the two of them.
“What were you two talking about,” she asks them lightly.
“David Bowie’s ass.” That startles a laugh from Mary, and Lily seems to forget about Remus and Marlene right then. Remus shoots Marlene a sideways glance, nodding his head towards a quiet-looking tree away from the guests. Marlene looks at the girls, then nods, and they slip away, leaving Mary and Lily to their pining.
“So,” Marlene starts, “how’s the break been?”
Remus snorts. “I’m staying here basically for the sole purpose of escaping my father.” Marlene nods sympathetically. They’d always had a sort of solidarity born from having parents who were never bad but weren’t necessarily good . It was what separated them from Sirius and James, two opposite ends on a vast spectrum. Marlene’s parents had always been traditionalists - not in the blood-purest sense - but having a daughter with such a fiery attitude and no qualms about letting her masculine side show had always been a point of contention between her and her mother in particular.
“How’s it going with Dorcas?” It’s the best branch he can think about extending. While things have been easier between them since the attack, Marlene’s cold shoulder hasn’t melted away completely. He doesn’t blame her for it, exactly. As far as she’s aware, the Marauders gave Sirius the boot for no reason at all. Still, the logic behind it hadn’t made it sting any less. Thankfully, Marlene smiles unabashedly; all tender and lovesick, no walls in sight.
“It’s been good. Really good.” Remus stifles a laugh, already a bit amused by his friend's fondness. Marlene bites her lip, almost like she wants to say something but is afraid to. He knocks her shoe with his own, getting her to look at him. He raises an eyebrow, silently telling her to spit it out. For a moment, she looks like she’s going to stay silent, but then her eyebrows pull together and she drops her face into her hand.
“I’m so fucked,” She groans, her voice muffled by her hand. Remus snorts, nodding.
“Yeah,” he agrees, making the mistake of looking back at the guests. “OW! What was that for,” he cries, rubbing his shoulder where Marlene had just socked him.
“ That ,” She says, sitting down under the tree, “was for being a prick.”
“Sorry,” Remus grumbles, not the least bit apologetic. He joins her on the ground, wincing as his hip clicks. They sit in silence for a couple minutes, both staring ahead. Remus has a feeling that Marlene’s working her way up to saying something, so he sits and waits, comfortable in their silence.
“I think I’m in love with her,” She says finally, and yep, that’s pretty much what Remus had been expecting. He gives her a dry look that says Think? Really? Marlene scoffs, shaking her head. “I’m in love with her,” she amends. “I love Dorcas Meadows, and I have no fucking idea what to do.”
“What do you mean? Isn’t this a good thing?” It’s clear that Dorcas at the very least likes Marlene, and they’ve got a good thing going on, so what could possibly be so damning about the situation?
“It’s complicated,” Marlene mutters. “You wouldn’t get it.” Remus snorts. If only you knew , he thinks.
“Try me,” He says instead.
“It’s just-” She stops, takes a breath, then starts again. “If I love Dorcas - a girl - then… then I can’t just pretend it’s all a phase, you know? It’s not some small crush or a bit of fun, it’s- it’s real , and that’s fucking terrifying.” She takes a shaky sip of her drink, Remus sits and listens. “I’ve known I’m a lesbian for- for years, really, and that’s- it’s fine. I know there’s nothing wrong with me. But mum…”
“She’d feel differently,” He finishes for her after a moment of silence.
“Yeah,” She breathes. “She’d say that I’m sick, or some shit like that, and I can’t face that, Remus. I might not care much about what she thinks of me, but this?” She shakes her head, frustrated. “I couldn’t stand it if she thought me to be broken.” Remus looks at her, understanding cloaking him.
“I’m sorry Maz, that… Well, that’s shit.”
Marlene laughs a little. “Yeah, it is.” Remus bites his lip, trying to figure out what to say, how to navigate this. He’s not usually the person his friends talk to about these sorts of things, James has always been the expert comforter.
“But, you do love her, yeah?” She nods. Fuck it. “Then love her, Marlene. Damn everyone else who can’t see how fucking beautiful that is. I know it’s not that easy, but if your mum cares for you even a little, she’ll see how much this means to you and love you for it.”
Marlene sniffles. “She’ll say it isn’t normal.”
“Then she can learn to redefine the word,” Remus tells her, his tone matter of fact. Marlene turns to him.
“And if she doesn’t?” Her eyes are watery, and she’s looking at him like this is quite possibly the most important question she’s ever asked.
“Then you’ll still have Dorcas, and Lily, Mary, James, Sirius, Pete,” He lists off. Marlene’s
eyebrows furrow.
“And what about you? I mean, are we not-”
“You already have me, Maz. And I would be more than happy to have a little talk with your mother personally .”
“Merlin,” Marlene gasps, “no, you’d traumatize the poor women.” Remus shrugs, not fussed in the slightest.
“It would be deserved.” Some of the tension in Marlene’s shoulders seems to fall away as she giggles, taking another sip of her lemonade.
“Thanks, Remus,” she says quietly.
“Don’t worry about it,” he tells her easily. They sit in silence for a moment, their words still washing over them in waves. Then, “Hey, Maz?”
“Yeah?”
“Are we good?”
“Yeah,” Marlene says, dropping her head on his shoulder. “Yeah, we’re good.”
A little while later Remus and Marlene’s little bubble of quiet is burst by none other than James and Sirius. They plop down on the grass in front of them, complaining about how many people they just had to introduce themselves to, and the unnecessary amount of cheek-pinching that occurred. Marlene laughs at them, pointing out the massive matching lipstick marks on their cheeks. Apparently Aunt Gloria - who that was, Remus didn’t know - was the culprit, and had James and Sirius furiously trying to rub the red smooch away. Lily and Mary made their way over too, and soon after Peter with Amelie in tow.
Remus didn’t say much, opting instead to watch with amusement at his friends' antics. At one point, Marlene got up to chase Sirius, while Lily stuck flowers in Mary’s hair, the girl’s head resting in her lap. James asked Amelie questions, trying his best to make her feel comfortable in their bubble of chaos. Remus had to bite down on a grin when Amelie took a page out of Mary’s book and rested her head in Pete’s lap, causing his face to burn bright red. He liked this girl, Remus decided.
As they ate dinner (which was absolutely delicious) on their plates outside pic-nic style, Pandora joins them with bottles of beer and butterbeer to choose from. Remus grins at her while Sirius sings her praises. Mary even pulls out a tall flask of spiked punch and passes it around, giving Remus a pleasant buzz. The party ends up inside as the air begins to cool off, and that’s when the real party begins. Tables and chairs are moved aside to make a dance floor and the stereo blares music that the teenagers around eventually take over, switching Sinatra for Bowie.
It’s fun and warm, and it reminds Remus of the parties that have been hosted in the Gryffindor common room over the years. The alcohol continues to flow, and while Remus doesn’t get drunk, almost everyone else does. At one point Mary pulls Lily onto the dancefloor, ignoring her protests and ‘I don’t know how to dance’ excuse.
“If you don’t know how to dance I’ll teach you,” Mary had yelled above the noise, grabbing Lily’s hand. Remus cheered as Mary showed her how to move her body, laughing at the shade of crimson Lily turned when Mary put her hands on her hips to ‘help’ her, or so she claimed.
“Fuck it up, Red!” James cheered from beside Remus before pulling Sirius onto the dance floor to join them. Remus watched for a while longer before deciding to slip away for a smoke. He made his way through the manor to his room, grabbing a sweater, sliding the window open and crawling out onto the roof the way he had done numerous times before. It was his little place to escape to when things got too loud. He lights his cigarette with a snap of his fingers, a bottle of half-empty beer sitting beside him. The air is cool now that the sun’s gone down, the remains of winter clinging to the night.
“Moony?” Remus turns around as Sirius slips into his room, the noise of the party filling the quiet until the door shuts behind him once again.
“Sirius, what are you doing here?” He asks, eyeing the boy wearily. He’s drunk - or at the very least tipsy - and he doesn’t know how he feels about a sloshed Sirius searching for him.
“I was looking for you,” he says, resting his chin on the window sill, the moon (a waxing gibbous) highlighting his cheekbones and silvery eyes. A few strands fall around his face, escaping the French braid Sirius had given himself earlier that evening, and there’s a rosiness in his cheeks and lips from the alcohol. He’s so fucking beautiful it sucks the oxygen out of Remus’ lungs.
“Oh,” Remus says, his voice rough. He clears his throat. “Well, you found me.”
“I always do,” Sirius agrees, nodding his head. “What’re you doing out here?”
“I just needed a little break, s’all.”
“Oh.” Sirius chews his lip. “Can I join you?” He almost says no, the word is right there on his tongue, but then he stops himself. Says, “Yeah, alright,” instead. Sirius' face lights up, and he scampers onto the roof. Remus grabs his shoulder, steadying him, then takes another drag from his cigarette, blowing smoke out of his nose.
“Can you spare one?” Again, Remus almost refuses, but it seems he’s in a forgiving type of mood because he pulls out a cigarette and wordlessly hands it to Sirius.
“Cheers,” Sirius whispers, holding the fag like it’s precious.
“You gonna smoke it?” Remus asks, laughing a little bit after a few moments. Sirius licks his lips nervously.
“Right. ‘Course.” Then he pops it between his lips, and leans into Remus, using the tip of Remus’ cigarette to light his own. Remus freezes, staring at Sirius whose face is now only a few inches away. You’re so close I could kiss you, he thinks, but then Sirius pulls away and Remus has to give himself a little shake. I absolutely can not kiss you, he corrects mentally. They smoke in silence for a few minutes, breathing in sync the way they always seem to.
“You like that sweater?” Sirius asks, breaking the silence. Remus looks down at the one he’d grabbed before crawling out the window. It’s the one he got for his birthday. He never did sort out who gave it to him.
“Yeah,” Remus tells him. “It’s nice and warm.” Sirius hums happily.
“I thought you’d like it.” Remus blanches, turning to Sirius.
“What?”
“When I saw it in the shop,” Sirius explains, oblivious to Remus’ sudden stiffness. “I saw it and thought ‘Moony’d like that’ so I bought it. Wish I’d gotten to see you open it.” Remus takes another drag, processing this. So it had been from Sirius. It seems so obvious now, what with the pocket watch and all. Fuck.
“So it was from you.”
“Yup.”
“Huh.”
They lapse back into silence. Remus can’t decide if he likes the sweater any less, then seems to conclude that he actually likes it more. Merlin help him.
“Remus?”
“Hm?”
“I’m really, really sorry.” Remus takes a deep breath, letting the words land and settle. He waits for the intense anger to hit him, for his chest to tighten. And yes, the anger is still there, and something in his chest constricts, but it’s softer than it was before like the edges have been shaved down, smoothed with the sands of time, or so they say. Or maybe the exhaustion and anger have simply started to catch up to him, the weariness bone-deep baked into his marrow.
“I know, Pads,” Remus replies, gentler than he meant to be. He feels Sirius turn to him, waves of something akin to hope wafting off of him.
“I’ve messed everything up,” Sirius chokes out. “Even before Snape, with the kiss on my birthday, and then again on yours-”
“That was my fault, that time,” Remus points out, bewildered that they’re even having this conversation.
“But I started it,” Sirius insists, “and I’ve been so horrible to you Moony, so disgustingly horrible .”
“Sirius,” Remus tries.
“You should be yelling at me right now,” he continues, “I can handle it, I promise.” Remus feels sick, images of a young Sirius standing before his screaming mother flashing in his mind. “It wouldn’t hurt- well, it would, but it would be deserved.”
“Sirius,” Remus begs, “ stop . I don’t want to yell. I don’t want to fight. I especially don’t want to hurt you.” Sirius is looking at him with these wide watery eyes, like he can’t believe the words falling out of Remus’ mouth. Remus pushes onwards, the alcohol in his body making it harder to think everything through. “And don’t apologize for the kiss. You don’t see me apologizing for it, do you?” He shakes his head, his lip tugged between his teeth. Remus sighs, swallowing thickly. “It wasn’t- I shouldn’t have done it, given… everything.” He winces at his own words, hating the way they taste. “But that doesn’t mean- I don’t regret it.”
“You… you don’t?” And his voice is so quiet like he’s afraid if he raises his voice even a little it’ll break. Remus looks into Sirius’ eyes, all starlight and cigarette ash, and can’t help himself from tucking a hair behind his ear. He’s had a lot of time to think about this.
“No, I don’t,” He reassures, hoping that if Sirius believes anything he says, it’s that.
“Oh,” Sirius says on exhale. “I don’t either.” And it’s like he’s admitting to some kind of heinous sin. As though he was a lowly repentant, Remus his priest, the night sky their confessional. Something fractures in Remus’ chest, anger licking its way up the fissures with the knowledge that Walburga has stolen something from Sirius, replacing it with shame.
“Good,” Remus says forcefully, “because we didn’t do anything wrong.” It’s not entirely true, but that has everything to do with the circumstances surrounding their stolen kisses, and nothing to do with the kisses themselves. Sirius closes his eyes, a single tear falling down his cheek. Remus gently wipes it away with his thumb.
“Okay,” Sirius says eventually, his voice a hoarse whisper. Remus lets his hand drop away, turning back to the night air, his breathing a little uneven. He doesn’t know what to do with this conversation, or where to go from here. Sirius huffs a laugh, and Remus can’t help but do the same.
“I have no idea where the fuck to go from here,” Sirius admits, lying back against the roof. Remus smiles ruefully.
“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Remus spares Sirius a glance and finds him relighting his
forgotten cigarette with a snap of his fingers. Remus taught him that trick. Wordlessly, Sirius reaches out his fag, and Remus relights his the way Sirius had done earlier. When the smoke fills his lungs, he relaxes a little, the nicotine taking the edge off.
“I really should quit,” Sirius mumbles, never one for prolonged stretches of silence. “You should too. James’ll never stop gloating if we get lung cancer or some shit.”
Remus smirks. “And be left without any vices to make me interesting?”
“Well, you’ll always have lycanthropy and Dostoyevsky.” And for some reason that startles a laugh from Remus, a real, honest-to-merlin laugh. And it’s- well it’s a fucking relief. He forgot how good it felt to just laugh . Sirius, once over the initial horror of what he just said, begins to laugh too. The two of them must look like a piece of work; cackling like madmen on the roof of the Potter’s cottage, a party going on below them. But Remus can’t make himself care, it feels too good to ruin it. Once they calm down, the tension seems to have dissipated.
“The stars are lovely tonight, aren’t they?” Sirius’ eyes are darting across the sky, taking it in hungrily. Remus scans the sky, but finds his gaze settling on Sirius when he says, “Yeah, they really are.” Sirius hums in agreement, completely oblivious to the true meaning of Remus’ words.
“Sirius?”
“Yeah, Moons?” Remus missed the way that name sounded coming from Sirius’ lips. He holds his gaze.
“We’re gonna be okay.” It’s not forgiveness, at least not in its entirety. It’s the promise of eventual forgiveness, and permission for what exactly, Remus isn’t sure, but he’s giving it freely. For a moment, Sirius looks at him, completely stunned. Then his lips pull into a grin - that fucking grin - and something heavy seems to slip off of Remus’ shoulders. They stare at each other for a moment longer, and Remus can practically taste the affection in his words when he says, “We should probably get back to the party.”
“Yeah, James’ll be wondering where we went.” They crawl back into Remus’ room, their cheeks flushed from the cold night air.
“You go ahead,” Remus tells him, “I’ll be there in a minute.” Sirius nods, clearly not wanting to push for answers, and slips out of the door and back to the party. Remus takes a deep breath, then goes to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. Before leaving, he pulls the pocket watch out of his bag, his fingers trailing over all of the little details. Sirius had gotten this for him. Fuck, he’d probably gotten it made for him, knowing it’s exactly the kind of thing Sirius would do. Regulus’ words ring through Remus’ mind.
Sirius wants you, you know
Maybe - just maybe - he had a point.
When Remus makes his way back to the party, he finds a small group of people surrounding the grand piano that sits in the Potter’s living room. Intrigued, Remus makes his way through the people, shocked to find Sirius sitting on the bench. Sirius, like all members of the House of Black, was given extensive lessons in classical music, most notably the piano. Sirius swore he hated the instrument, despite his impressive proficiency in the skill, naturally turned off by the harsh lessons he had to endure with his horrible mother. James and Peter are right beside him, wearing surprised expressions that probably match Remus’.
“You’re playing?” Remus asks when he makes it to Sirius. He shrugs, playing an array of chords, really just noodling around.
“It looked sad, with no one playing it and all.”
“You’re playing the piano while tipsy,” Remus says, more to himself than anyone else. Sirius flashes him that grin of his.
“It’s Rock ‘N Roll, my moonage daydream.” Remus can’t stop the blush that
creeps up his cheeks.
“If you wanna be a rockstar, give us a real song, Black,” Mary says, leaning against the shiny black body of the instrument. Sirius smirks, offering no words as he switches tune, bars of familiar chords filling the room, not missing a single note. Remus grins, looking at his hands knowingly. And that’s when Sirius begins to sing.
People stared at the makeup on his face
Laughed at his long black hair, his animal grace
The boy in the bright blue jeans
Jumped up on the stage
Lady Stardust sang his songs
Of darkness and disgrace
His voice is deep and husky, his delivery cavalier and effortless. Remus feels his mouth go dry, heat crawling up his neck. Fucking hell . The group around them grows steadily, guests pulled in by the allure of Sirius Black’s voice. Remus can’t blame them. Sirius grinned, egged on by the audience. He always had been a performer. That’s when Mary joins in, her voice smooth and sultry.
And he was alright, the band was altogether
Yes, he was alright, the song went on forever
James - though not nearly as good as Mary and Sirius - sang along at that point too, no doubt moved by the alcohol in his system and the joy in the air. Then Peter starts, and then Marlene, and soon everyone is singing. Even Remus joins in, but only because his voice can’t be heard over Sirius’ impassioned singing. His chest feels warm, and the smile on his face can’t be wiped away. And when his mother rubs her hand on Remus’ back, her voice clear and honeyed, he knows that everything - however messy and confusing - will work itself out.
Oh, that was alright, the band was altogether
Yes, he was alright and the song went on forever
He was awful nice
Really quite paradise
He sang all night long…