If I’m a Pagan of the Good Times, My Lover’s the Sunlight
The Black home is shadowed on the pavement in front of its dark exterior. It hung over Remus’s frame hauntingly, each thought leading him closer to the building as his fear amplified. It could be distinguished from the other houses lining the block, due to its intimidating structure. Unlike the other substantial homes, this one didn’t remind Remus of a home, lacking a welcoming and warm atmosphere. It looked like a house from a horror film. It looked like a house filled with secrets and lies. Remus gulped as he pressed on the doorbell (that too had a menacing buzz).
Seconds later, the younger Black brother opened the door. He was dressed in a dapper white oxford shirt, rolled at the wrist, and he had on black dress trousers. Remus felt particularly under-attired in his grey sweater and jeans. Regulus’s hands were gripping onto a violin that was polished so brightly it gleamed off its rosewood. He had no expression on his face, he just stared blankly at the boy in front of him.
They watched the other for antagonizing seconds that felt like centuries, both of their mouths refusing to open. Then, they were interrupted by a crash, and Regulus’s head turned to the space beside him. “What are you doing, Sirius?’
Dismantled, Sirius entered Remus’s panorama. He too had on a white oxford shirt, but his sleeves were rolled to his elbow, and his dress trousers were navy. His hair was tied in a ponytail, and a few slivers were spilling over his face. He scoffed once he noticed Remus, Remus glared at him as a response.
“Mum left shit on the stairs before she went to the church this morning, it’s all over the fucking place.” He spoke to Regulus, before looking Remus up and down. “Are you just going to stand there and scowl or are you going to come in?”
Remus tightened his grip on his messenger bag, and let the door shut behind him as he entered. The internal side of the house was far more disturbing than Remus had thought it would be. It was obscure and dreary. There was a chandelier hanging over their sitting room, and a black piano in the middle of the room, uninhabited. Several violins hung on the wall, along with rewards and family portraits. There was no television, no record players, no plants. It was ill-suited.
“What the bloody fuck?” Remus whispered to himself as he scanned the room.
“Alright, Lupin,” Sirius pulled on his sleeve. “Let’s get this over with, shall we? My father’s got shite on Dwynwen in the library. You brought a notebook, correct?”
Remus nodded, removing his arm from Sirius’s grip. “Yeah, in my bag. Lead the way, Black,”
Sirius’s cross necklace sparkled as he led Remus through the house, stepping up the stairs that led to the second floor. Remus’s discomfort had not been bleached of itself. The haunting aspects of the home, the darkness following after Remus like his own distorted shadow. The walls seemed as if they were caving in on him, forcing his breath to tighten. Sirius gave him a few perplexed looks as Remus followed him, but nothing out of the ordinary angered glances he spared Remus.
The library was astounding. Remus had never walked into a room filled with so many shelves, books on each one, not one crack left between any crevices. He grazed the pads of his fingers along each book, reading the tiles of several political and religious books. He pulled one book from the shelf, scanning it with wonder, and flipping through the pages.
“This is a first edition copy of Les Miserables,” Remus turned to Sirius, “Where in the bloody hell did you get this?”
Sirius shrugged, positioning himself on a loveseat sitting in front of a fireplace. “I’ve no idea, I think my grandfather bought it, but he’s done that with several books.”
Remus esteemed the book’s brilliance before placing it back on the shelf. He set down his messenger bag against a pillow resting on the loveseat, pulling out his journal and a pencil. He situated the pencil behind his ear and rolled the sleeves of his sweater. Sirius frowned at him, reaching for Remus’s messenger bag.
“What’s in here, Lupin?” He rummaged through the bag. “Your secrets, dying to be unsheathed?”
“Why are you so obsessed with me?” Remus rolled his eyes, “First the letter, now you’re going through my shite? If you want me to kiss you, Black, just say it.”
“That is–” Sirius raised a finger, pointing it before Remus’s face. “Absolutely not what I want to do!”
Remus snorted, sitting on the loveseat, only the width of a pillow separating his distance from Sirius’s. “I was joking, you dim-witted fool. Now, where are the books?”
“What books?”
“For the report,” Remus said, “The ones you said you had,”
“Oh,” Sirius stood from the sofa courteously, “They’re right over here, by the other Saint books.”
Sirius began to scan along a row of books, his pale hands palming over the spines. He was murmuring the names of saints to himself, the grumble of his voice imperceptible. Eventually, he came back to the loveseat, throwing a quintet of books on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
“Alright,” Sirius sighed. “We’ve got: St. Dwynwen, The Patron Saint of Lovers, The Life of St. Dwynwen, The Saint Who Chose God Over Her Love, St. Dwynwen: A Dedicated Biography, and The Three Wishes of St. Dwynwen,”
Remus reached for the top book but was stopped by Sirius’s hand. He rested his palm on top of Remus’s fingers, removing it from the pile, and giving him a stern stare. “I’ll do the research. You will do the writing,”
“You’re so demanding,” Remus scoffed but opened his notebook nevertheless. “Didn’t know you were into that kind of thing,”
“Would you please stop suggesting such– vulgar ideas!” Sirius cried, flipping through the pages of St. Dwynwen: A Dedicated Biography. “I knew this was an abominable plan! I’m never speaking to my parents again…”
“Where even are they?” Remus asked. “I always thought that Pastor Orion just stared at pictures of Jesus and his money all day while wanking off,”
“Relinquish that idea!” Sirius admonished, “And if you’re so curious my father is usually at the church or in his study downstairs,”
“Where is he now?”
“I’ve no clue,” Sirius flipped through the pages, displeased.
“What do you mean you have no clue?” Remus snorted. “He’s your dad,”
Sirius let out an abstruse breath. “Drop this! Alright, let’s start with the birth. Take that pen off your ear! I want to get this over with, alright?”
Remus slid the pen from his ear, resting it in the crest of his notebook as Sirius began to pour out the words from the book. He glanced up every few seconds to substantiate that Remus was copying down the information.
Soon enough, they got so caught up in the assignment that Remus’s brain seemed to turn impassive. He lay across the sofa, his fingers moving faster than the pace of lightning striking the ground, Sirius reading from the books, clicking his tongue at heavy words, and rolling his eyes every time Remus added a comment. The fireplace crackled in front of them, adding warmth to Remus’s skin, and a tint to Sirius’s paler skin. The pallidness of Sirius’s milky tone had an orange tincture, beaming against the side of his face. He had one book balancing on his knees, and another in the grasp of his hands, reading them out to Remus.
“I sort of feel bad for Maelon Dafodrill,” Remus snorted. “The love of his life left him for… God. You truly don’t hear that every day. Maybe it will be a rising epidemic within the next few years,”
Sirius scoffed, hitting his head against the arm of the sofa. “She left him because he tried to make sexual advances on her, out of wedlock! Which is a sin! A very dire and horrifying sin!”
Remus lifted his pen from his journal. “Black, are you telling me that I’m going to hell?”
“Well– I mean… have you?” Sirius stammered, keeping his vision focused on the pages of the book. “Done what Maelon Dafodrill has done?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Remus winked and Sirius opened his mouth, but no words spilled from his tongue.
“I knew this was a mistake!”
“This is– what? The eighth time you’ve said this?” Remus asked. “I’m not any bit happier about this than you are.”
“I’m only doing this because my mother thought I needed something to ‘put me in shape’” Sirius sighed, looking up at Remus. “She claims I’m too immature and need something else to fix my attitude. Last night she said I’m the most troubled child she’d ever had to interact with and then she threatened to send me to live on my Uncle’s farm until I’m eighteen,”
Remus stared blankly at Sirius, before slowly letting out deeply-held chuckles. “She thinks– she thinks you’re troubled! Oh christ… You! Sirius ‘Nothing But A Prick’ Black is troubled? Sure, you can be an absolute twat, but you’re like every parent’s wet dream.”
“You truly don’t know anything about me!” Sirius exclaimed. “If you spent one night with me you would see that I am– I can be… fun,”
“Fun?” Remus asked, skeptical. “What does a fun night of yours entail? Secretly wanking in your room so your father can’t hear? Forgetting your nighttime prayers? Sneaking into your brother’s bedroom to play chess?”
Sirius didn’t reply, instead, he looked at Remus with a stare so fervent that Remus felt a chill tickle down his spine. He flipped through the pages of the book between his knees, keeping eye contact with the brunette as his fingers brushed against the thin sheets. He went on with reading out quotes from the book, but with a different tone to his voice, acting as if Remus hadn’t said anything. As if Remus wasn’t even listening, sitting in front of him.
Again, time went by and the conversation seemed to blend in with the rest of their time. Remus had sunk into the sofa while Sirius had found himself thrown against the floor, frantically flipping through books, seeking one last drop of information on the woman.
Remus thought of Saint Dwynwen’s story as a tragedy. A woman who had fallen in love with the wrong man, a woman who chose to forget him instead of fighting for her love. She had simply given up for herself and dedicated herself to other lovers. Her love, the love she desired so strongly, she wished to never remember. She devoted herself to christ, the lingering thought of Maleon Dafodrill now resorted to the back of her mind. He couldn’t help but grip his pen tightly, forming blisters, as Sirius read from the book. The entirety of the woman’s history filled Remus with a desperate wanting for more. He wished there would be a better ending for a woman, and there was. But, it was with God. Remus wondered if that’s what she even truly wanted in the end.
The thought didn’t even seem to slip past Sirius’s mind. The boy carelessly spread on the dark wood paneling, sunset seeping through the blinds over the windows in a flurry of orange and pink. His cross necklace hung around his neck, slipping beneath his oxford shirt every time he rolled over.
The door opened and darkness poured into the room. Sirius shot up, adjusting his positioning and standing on his feet. Regulus stood between the hallway and the entrance to the library, sweat dripping down his face. “I’m not going to tell mother, Sirius. Relax,”
“Why are you here then?” Sirius asked, arms crossed.
“I just finished up with my violin,” Regulus sighed. “Mother will be home in about an hour, so just make sure he’s gone by then. Father went out to a fundraiser so he won’t be joining us today.”
“Of course, he won’t,” Sirius huffed.
Regulus shot Sirius a glare. “Don’t be so ill-mannered in front of guests, Sirius.”
“You’ve barely acknowledged Remus since you walked in the room and I’m the one who’s being rude?” Sirius ridiculed. “You’re so full of yourself, Regulus!”
Tu es grossier! Vous ne montrez aucun respect à nos parents, et vous êtes globalement un fils et un frère horrible!" Regulus cried. Remus blinked in confusion.
“Devons-nous le faire maintenant?” Sirius said. “Tu donnes une mauvaise image de notre famille,”
“Je ne suis pas. C'est toi, Sirius. Maman m'a dit de te corriger chaque fois que tu disais quelque chose de déplacé.” Regulus replied.
Tu n'es rien de spécial pour eux. Tu n'es qu'un cochon en sueur !"
Regulus shook his head, as Sirius approached him. “Stop, Sirius! I just… oh my, look what you’ve done…”
“What I’ve done?” Sirius yelled. “You’re the one who came in here to make a scene. I can’t wait until mother and father hear about this!”
Then Sirius slammed the door and it was so quiet Remus could feel the patter of Regulus’s angered footsteps. Remus could sense the bubbling feeling of Sirius’s wrath as his face reddened and his breath got heavier.
“I can go,” Remus suggested.
“Please,” Sirius replied, refusing to make eye contact.
゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜
Remus didn’t notice the next letter until the night before Sunday mass three days later. He was rummaging through his messenger bag, searching for the pen he had brought to the Black home. It was shoved to the bottom of the bag, folded neatly, and ripped at the edges. It was written in red ink over the pages of one of the Saint Dwynwen biography novels.
Lupin,
You’re very quiet when you choose to be, maybe you should resort to this for the rest of your life. You assume everything of me when you barely know an ounce of my personage. It is not fair for you to say I’m not troubled (as you had just moments ago) when we’ve only ever interacted in the home of Christ. If you’re in church and not on your knees begging to Christ, why even go? You’re not a true Christian. You don’t know me so don’t make assumptions about me, I don’t want you to make assumptions about me. I don’t even want the thought of me to cross your mind outside of this ridiculous project. I try not to think of you, but the problem is, sometimes I hate you so much, that it’s all I can think of.
“Ma vie est une énigme dont ton nom est le mot.” - Victor Hugo
Sirius O. Black
Remus crumbled the letter and ran to his desk. He wrote his response until his hands turned stiff, his limbs now transformed into blocks of ice, cold and unyielding. Sirius Black was an enigma, that was one thing he had gotten right in his passage.
Black,
Don’t make assumptions about me and I won’t make assumptions about you, it’s only fair. You ridicule me for making assumptions of you, yet you call me a false Christain and insult me in every backward way that comes to your mind. I can’t decide if you’re more of an enigma or a hypocrite. Just a week ago, you referred to me as a faded bruise. But Sirius, If I am a faded bruise, your entirety had faded a long while ago. You’re narcissistic, merciless, self-righteous, and have a desperate, quivering want for someone to even acknowledge you. I never thought much of these attributions, but now I will make assumptions about you, and I won’t stop.
Remus
He handed it to Sirius the next day before mass began. When he was done, he smirked, sliding into his pew as Sirius’s hands reached into his pocket. Remus turned away from the visionary focusing on the choir’s low hums, quietly laughing to himself as he heard footsteps exit through the door. James shot him a raised eyebrow from three pews ahead, his hands tucked into his pockets. Remus sealed his mouth by covering it with his palm, shaking his head, and avoiding James, looking down to his feet.
As they were still in the ongoing loop of Ordinary Times, mass seemed to flourish into a fury of boredom. Remus found himself counting every pew in the church and pulling on the skin of his fingers until they turned red. By the time Pastor Orion left the altar, Remus’s foot was halfway out of his seat. He ignored his father’s hushed shouts, meeting up with James, Peter, Frank Longbottom, and Alice Fortescue near the staircase to the basement.
Alice and Frank were the sort of couple whose hands would never be detached and their lips were always placed on the flesh of the other. Alice was a short girl, with long brown hair, and she was never seen without a cardigan adorning her shoulders. Frank, on the contrary, was on the Rugby team with James and was built off broad shoulders and a height that reached Remus’s (An extremely infrequent experience). Currently, Alice was on the tip of her toes, resting her head on Frank’s shoulder.
“Hey,” Remus greeted, running a palm along his blazer. “Where’s Mary and Marlene?”
“Mary’s just left,” Peter said, “Marlene’s gone up north, visiting her Uncle in rehab,”
Mary MacDonald and Marlene McKinnon, another pair who were inextricable. When Remus had first moved to their small town, the two girls were the first children he found himself befriending. Mary was a black girl with curly-coiled hair, and Marlene had blond hair so bright it almost looked ashen. They were both outspoken, even from a young age. Mary would tie herself to a tree in front of their school before it was cut down and Marlene would protest, holding a sign beside her. Marlene had an eagerness to speak her mind, yelling in the midst of a History lesson or punching Severus Snape in the nose when he was being a proper git. Mary worked silently, but even through her muzzled-speaking, she got her point across extremely well. Remus believed the two girls were absolutely brilliant.
“That’s a shame,” Remus sighed. “I was planning on getting proper wasted tonight,”
James nudged him. “What? Your day at the Black house was that bad, huh?”
Peter let out a deep-bellowed laugh, placing his hands on his knees. “Oh, that’s right! You had to write that bloody essay with Black for five fucking hours yesterday! If I were you, I would have raided their liquor cabinet.”
“Black?” Alice asked, her tone as soft as usual. “You poor thing, Remus. They’re all great twats!”
Frank kissed her cheek. “My darling’s always right. How did you do it, Remus, truly? God knows I couldn’t have, not even three drinks in,”
“It was actually quite interesting,” Remus shrugged, and chaos erupted.
“What?!” James exclaimed while Peter let out incoherent snorts and shouts, earning separate glares from the older church-attenders. Frank and Alice giggled lightly, their mouths open, and stupefied.
“I didn’t enjoy it– not one bit,” Remus said, yet it felt untruthful. “But, it was a strange experience to witness, that’s for sure. Their house is from those creepy comics Peter shows us when he’s pissed. And Black’s just on his own level of weird– always giving me odd looks.” He left out the part of the oddly discovered dynamic of the Black brothers. It seemed like a fragile, indescribable juncture, that was too brittle to leave the Black home or Remus’s mouth.
“Did you and Black fight at all?” James asked, slightly amused.
“Several times,” Remus replied, “I swear– he’s the most bewildering boy I’ve ever seen in my life. Everything he says and claims is so confusing, It hardly ever makes sense. Being in his vicinity is just– disconcerting. He called me a faded bruise, what does that even–”
“Speaking about me to your little friends, are you Lupin?”
His voice was recognizable yet it made Remus flinch as it rose upon his ear. Remus could feel Sirius’s figure behind him, acting like his shadow, and smirking behind his voice. “Black,”
“Lupin,” His voice was arctic. “Didn’t know you were a gossiping school girl,”
“Didn’t know you were such a knobhead…” Peter grinned. “Oh wait, I did!”
James shook his head, tugging on Peter’s sleeve. “Pete… no. That wasn’t a good… no just… no,”
Peter reddened and Remus felt a grip on his wrist, Sirius was looking up at him, clad in his Sunday suit. “May I speak with you, about the project?”
“Um– sure,” Remus didn’t move.
Sirius’s grip was still tight on his wrist, pulling on Remus. “I meant in private, Lupin,”
James and Frank snorted and Sirius glared at the two. Remus shook his head senselessly, allowing the shorter boy to pull him through the door to the church basement. “Really, Black? Down here?”
“Shut it, you plonker,” Sirius growled, loosening his palm from Remus and pulling away. “Your footsteps are so fucking loud, christ, Lupin,”
“I’ve got big feet,” Remus shrugged and Sirius looked down at his feet before turning his eyesight to the creaking stairs. “And what's with the language? I thought you were like pure or whatever,”
“As I said,” Sirius stepped off the last stair, “You know nothing about me, Lupin,”
“Oh, not this again,” Remus groaned. “I’m going to assume shit about you Black, because you’re a fucking self-absorbed idiot,”
And then Sirius shoved Remus into the cracked, concrete wall. For a few seconds, Remus swore he could feel their breaths balancing off the others, breathing in their blended space. His fists were curled around the collar of Remus’s shirt, and his eyes, which were bloodless, seemed to darken.
“Don’t fucking call me shit like that again, Lupin,” Sirius hissed, “You’ll fucking regret it. I am not self-absorbed! I am not attention-seeking! I am not narcissistic, merciless, or self-righteous! You’ve no idea!”
Remus chuckled breathlessly, “Jesus, Black, what the fuck’s gotten into you?”
Sirius shook his head, his eyes going wide, and he bit his lip. His hair ran through his hair and he suddenly pulled away from Remus. He began to shake his head, murmuring several ‘no’s’. Remus was disturbed at the sight, reaching for Sirius’s shoulder as his lips began to wobble.
But when his hand lightly reached the shoulder, Sirius let out a sharp gasp of pain.
“Black…” Remus began slowly. “Seriously, what’s happened? Are you ill? Do you need me to get someone?”
“No…” Sirius backed away, “No…”
“Black!”
“Stop it!” Sirius shouted, directly at Remus, but it felt as if it weren’t to Remus at all. “Stop it! Please, stop!”
“Fucking hell,” Remus said. “Black, snap out of whatever this is. If you’re playing a prank on me it’s not a very funny one…”
“I’m not self-righteous!” Sirius screamed, so loud his voice sounded hoarse. “I’m not! I’m not!”
“Alright, I believe you,” Remus said slowly. “I believe you, would you calm the fuck down now?”
“I’m sorry, Lupin,” Sirius whimpered and it almost grasped a touch of authenticity, but there was still a loose thread of mockery hanging from his mouth.
“For what?”
“I– I was supposed to apologize, my father said,” Sirius said. “For what happened when Regulus and I got in our row, we were just fooling around, I’m sorry. I’m embarrassed and humiliated.”
He sounded robotic, programmed to speak in a monotone voice. It made Remus sick. “Are you okay, Black?”
“Just a bit sick,” Sirius chuckled, “I threw up before mass,”
“Oh,” Remus said. “Is this all then? You just wanted to… apologize?”
Sirius nodded, “Yes– an apology, a sincere one,”
Sirius’s expressions fell so faux that Remus felt a bubbling, sickening feeling as he trailed up the steps to the first floor of the church. His mind was barren. He abandoned the boy in the basement and ignored the quiet sob he heard as he slammed the door shut.