Remus
“Did they all make it out safely?” Remus asked as the door opened.
Raindrops dripped from Sirius’ clothes onto the floor, and Remus could almost see him trying to repress the urge to shake them all off like a dog. “Most of them.”
Remus froze, his hand hovering over the stray pencils on the table. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“You’re very dramatic, Moony.” Sirius shed his jacket and reached over to straighten a pile of coloring paper. “Missy tripped off the steps and skinned her knee when she saw Emmeline.”
“And is she alright?”
Sirius tossed the coloring paper to the side so he could clear Harry and Ron’s bottles. The papers landed on a wet spot and Remus fought the urge to scream bloody murder. He let out an exhale and tied a rubber band around the pencils.
“She was fine,” Sirius said. “Until I told her that we’d have to rush to St. Mungo’s and amputate her leg immediately.”
Remus’ head snapped up. “Sirius! You’re supposed to be trying to win her over!”
“Calm down! Everybody loves a bit of humor in a bad situation.”
“Not Missy.” Remus shook his head.
Sirius brought the bottles to the sink. “Yeah. Probably not Missy.”
Remus could see it in his mind, Missy squeezing her eyes shut and asking, How bad is it? He could imagine how Sirius’ smile had twisted into a look of horror, how his voice had dropped to a whisper as he relayed the terrible news, Oh no, Missy. We’ll have to take the whole leg off. Maybe both.
Remus bit his cheek to keep from smiling, glancing quickly towards the kitchen to make sure Sirius hadn’t seen. He hadn’t. He was content at the sink, humming Star Baby under his breath as he rinsed the bottles.
The pile of records on the floor caught Remus’ eye, and he stepped into the sitting room. He quickly scooped them up, calling back into the kitchen, “Sirius, did Effie alphabetize her records?”
“Yeah, by the artist's last name,” Sirius yelled back over the sound of the running water.
Remus groaned as he lowered himself onto the floor, sounding more like an eighty five year old man than a twenty one year old. Even if Remus didn’t stay up all night, watching the moon wax and wane, he would know the full moon was coming. A dull, throbbing pain started at his left hip and continued to his ankles, forcing him to sit sideways on the floor like the Gryffindor girls used to do when they didn’t want to crease their uniforms.
He picked up Werewolves of London and tucked it underneath the record player, trying to ignore the sounds from the kitchen. The tap spluttered off. The sound of the broom sweeping across the floorboards meandered closer. There was an occasional crash as the broom handle hit the sitting room doorway.
Remus’ felt his face burning crimson, and he was afraid that if he looked up, Sirius would be able to see every single thought behind his eyes. They’d been doing that too much lately— sharing looks and memories and all that came along with it. It was exhausting. Especially because most times, Remus barely knew what he was thinking and Sirius always did.
“Use Scourgify," Remus said.
“What?”
Remus forced himself to meet Sirius' stare. “You’ve been sweeping the same spot for five minutes. Just use Scourgify."
Sirius’ mouth opened and closed, but he leaned the broom against the door jamb and pointed his wand at the floor. “Scourgify," he mumbled.
The floor didn’t change.
Remus narrowed his eyes. “What were you even cleaning?”
“The floor…” Sirius averted eye contact. His jaw clenched and unclenched.
Remus grabbed Sweet Baby James. “What do you want to ask me?”
Sirius looked over his shoulder, as if he expected Effie and Monty to arrive home or the Weasleys to burst in. He ran a hand through his hair and tugged at the ends. “There were some good parts, right?” he said nervously, voice cracking in question.
Remus shrugged, sliding the record into place. “Yeah, the afternoon was fine. The morning was a bit rough—”
“I don’t mean today," Sirius interrupted. “I mean… it. Us. Months ago. Me and you. You and me. The flat. Some of it was good, right?”
Remus blinked, nodding slowly. “Some of it was good.”
Sirius’ eyes flooded with relief.
“But I don’t know—” Remus added quickly. “I don’t know. About now, and everything—”
“No, I don’t expect—” Sirius waved his hands in front of him. “I didn’t want—”
They awkwardly looked away again, and Remus tried to calculate how he could pull himself off the floor to remove himself from the situation. The coffee table was just out of reach and the wall was too far away.
Sirius gave an uncomfortable cough, jolting into action as he noticed the records. “Moony, you've been out of school for too long. Sweet Baby James comes before Werewolves of London."
“Maybe it’s not my fault. Maybe someone’s distracting me from the tidying up.”
Sirius scoffed, crossing the room to correctly organize the vinyls. “You’re free to go. I can do the rest.”
Remus drummed his fingers on his thigh, still sitting in the center of the room. His hip killed.
Sirius started to laugh, a bright, gleeful laugh that reminded Remus of school. “Moony, you can’t get up, can you?”
Remus bristled. “Of course I can get up.”
“Then stand, old boy.”
“I can, but I don’t want you to look. Go away.”
“Come on, sweetheart. You don’t want to be trapped in the house with me all night.”
Remus raised an eyebrow. “I thought you slept at James'. You sleep here, too?”
Sirius crossed his arms. “I'm all over. Now, can I help you?”
Remus shook his head, moving at a snail’s pace as he shifted his legs underneath him.
Sirius took a step forward. “Merlin’s beard, Moony, let me help.”
“No!” Remus snapped, holding up a finger to silence Sirius. “I swear to God, do not touch me.”
Sirius threw his hands up in defeat and backed up against the wall.
Remus focused on propping himself up on one knee, finally struggling into a wobbly standing position. “See?”
“Wow, that really showed me,” Sirius said, eyes flashing with quiet humor.
Remus cut him a sharp glare. “Be quiet. Will you pick up our payment from Dumbledore early tomorrow?”
“Will you come to James and Lily’s tomorrow night?” Sirius challenged, hands hovering around Remus’ elbow for a moment before clasping them behind his back.
Remus grabbed his jacket and stack of books off the kitchen table as they walked slowly to the front door. “I’d rather not.”
“Then no early pay.”
“Fine,” Remus said. “I’ll go.”
Sirius suppressed a smile, obviously very proud of his persuasive skills. “Be honest, is it because you can’t bear to part with me?”
"No," Remus said, twisting the door knob. “The money’s just really important. Please go straight to Dumbledore. Don’t forget.”
“Straight to Dumbledore.” Sirius held up his pinky finger, lingering in the doorway as Remus hobbled down the steps. “Hey! Love you!”
On instinct— terrible, awful, cruel instinct— Remus called over his shoulder, “Love you!”
As soon as the words left his mouth, his feet skidded to a halt. His mouth dropped open in pure fear, and he whirled back around to face the house.
But the door was locked and bolted, which was somehow so much worse. He knew Sirius was on the other side, most likely in hysterics, probably spying through the kitchen curtain, watching the once cool and collected Remus Lupin flounder.
Remus knew him. He knew what Sirius was doing.
What was it that Effie always used to say? That even offhanded words came from places of truth? Remus tried to reassure himself that Sirius probably forgot about that specific piece of advice. Sirius was an overactive, impatient, living distraction of a man that could barely remember the day of the week. He had to have forgotten.
But somehow, Remus found that unlikely.
If there was one thing that he'd had learned from the past couple of days, it was that Sirius remembered everything.
Just like Remus.