Chapter 5
James had not been wondering where they were. He had been too busy worshipping the more recent and fleeting love of his life: the largest bonfire Remus had ever seen.
Flames licked at the darkening sky, glinting red and orange, ripping through the withered branches and salt-soaked driftwood shoved into the flaring embers. Thick, white smoke drifted up to the heavens, and James danced around it as if performing some ancient ritual. Somewhere along the way, he must have lost his glasses, because his nose was strikingly bare and he kept tripping over the sand.
"Merlin, Prongs." Remus called as he and Sirius trudged up the beach towards the blaze. "Are you trying to signal for help?"
"Naysayers will be fed to the fire." James told him with a grin that stretched all the way to his ears, his face aglow with the light. Black soot was smeared across his right cheek.
Remus' hands flew into the air in defense. "I'm not saying nay."
"Is that what happened to Peter?" Sirius asked, mildly, glancing around at the absence of the fourth and smallest Marauder. The flicker of the flames was mirrored in the jet glass of his pupils. "He won't make very good fuel, James, he's suspiciously inflammable."
"How many times have you set Peter on fire?" Remus asked.
"Tried." Sirius corrected. "I've tried on at least three separate occasions."
"Four." interrupted a reedy, tired voice, and Peter appeared from out of the shadows, dragging his feet. His wet blonde hair was plastered to his forehead and his t-shirt dripped from where it was slung across his burned-pink shoulder. "If you count when I was a rat."
"Rat-related arsony doesn't count." Sirius said. He stared at Peter, his brow furrowing. "Have you been swimming?"
"Prongs lost his glasses." Peter rubbed water from his eyes with his palm, sniffing. "In the ocean."
James squinted at him through the dark. "Did you find them?"
"No."
"Oh, for--" Remus bent to seize his wand from their crumpled pile of dry clothes and swished it upwards. "Accio James' glasses!"
In the distance, there was a faint splash and then a rush of wind as a pair of round wire-rimmed glasses flew right at Remus' head. Sirius' fingers clamped down on his arm to drag him out of the way, but James had already stretched out a hand to snatch them before they could soar past into the roaring flames.
James fastened his glasses back onto his nose and quirked an eyebrow, which had been half singed from his skin. "Did you see that catch? The Wimbourne Wasps may as well recruit me now."
"If you wanted to lose." mumbled Peter and he flopped down by the fire to pull one of the scratchy blankets around his body. "Everyone knows the Montrose Magpies are superior."
"The Magpies just lost their best player!"
"He died." Peter frowned. "That's not their fault."
It was hard to listen to his friends nattering on about Quidditch, Remus found, when Sirius was standing so close to him. The place where he had gripped at Remus, the pale, freckled skin of his arm, still seared, long after his touch had lingered. Remus chewed down on his lip and watched Sirius, the light guttering in the hollow of his cheekbone, his cast of his lashes, the faded smile of his mouth.
After a while, the breeze bled cold, ruffling through their hair and stinging at their bare chests and legs, and Remus sat beside the fire with Peter and James. The heat that washed over him was nothing in comparison to his flush, when, seconds later, Sirius settled down next to him. Pressed hip to hip, leg to leg, he could feel Sirius shiver.
It was fraying at the edges, but Remus pulled his favourite red jumper on over his head and huddled into it. He fumbled for his cigarettes and lit one, his shoulders slumping as he drew its slow warmth into his lungs. Sirius leaned closer, tugging at his wrist, and Remus raised the cigarette to Sirius' mouth. Warm palm cupping Remus' hand, stray locks of Sirius' hair fell into his eyes as he took a long, deep drag, but he didn't quite meet Remus' gaze.
"What do you think Lily's doing right now?" James sighed.
"Practising new hexes for the next time you enchant all the pumpkins in the Great Hall to serenade her with Ain't No Mountain High Enough?" Sirius suggested, reclining back on his elbows in the sand.
"They could carry a good tune." Remus said and blew coiling smoke up into the air.
Resting his chin on his knee, James smiled, an absent, fleeting thing. "I could only speak in Beatles' song lyrics for a week after that. Lily is so clever, even Madame Pomfrey couldn't work out the counter-curse."
Remus grinned. "McGonagall asked you what the wand movement was for the Switching Spell and you said all you need is love."
"Wise words." James nodded, and Peter snorted with laughter.
While James stoked the dying cinders with a knobbled stick and watched Sirius with wide, tentative eyes, Sirius was staring into the flames. He flicked his wand, and the sparks leapt up into moving shapes and forms; a wide-winged dragon or a floating gold snitch, and once, even the smiling, bearded face of Albus Dumbledore.
There was no way to tell what time it was, but soon, James had fallen asleep, curled in on himself on one of the towels, his glasses crooked across his face. Remus lay back in the soft sand, tugging a fraying blanket up over his shoulders, only for Sirius to wriggle underneath it with him, their legs tangling together. The ground was hard beneath their bodies, and salt and sand were thick on his skin, but Remus was too tired and warm to care.
"What if the tide comes in?" Peter asked in a low, sleep-ridden voice, and Remus couldn't see him, or anything, in the pressing blackness, apart from Sirius' face, inches from his, flickering orange with firelight.
"We're wizards." Sirius said, and he was smiling at Remus, wide and real and teasing. "We're more likely to die from Moony fucking up in Potions than by drowning."
Remus glowered at him as he laughed, quiet and soft, but he was half-asleep, and he didn't want to kick him like he normally would. There was a moment, when they were both silent, where Remus thought he might finally drift off into the darkness, Sirius shifted next to him, his eyes flickering back open to look at him.
"You're terrifying." He whispered. The rush of the ocean whistled along the beach, wind battering at the dying flames of the bonfire. Above them, the moon peeked through cloud, not quite full, but casting silver across the still water.
"I don't know if you've noticed," Remus murmured, "But I am a blood-thirsty werewolf."
"No." Sirius shook his head. "Shut up. You fold your socks. I don't mean you. I mean how much I need you."
"What?"
"It's terrifying, how much I need you." Sirius rolled onto his back, the blanket slipping slightly from his chest. "Didn't have you for eleven years but now I don't think I'd survive without you."
"That's ridiculous." Remus said, his voice strained and weak, but Sirius only hummed and didn't offer any further reply. You don't have me, Remus wanted to tell him. But he did. He always would.
For a long while, Remus lay awake, staring up at the black night sky, where the stars glinted, and thinking to himself, what do you want what do you want what do you want?
And it echoed back, Sirius Black Sirius Black Sirius Black.
*
Remus woke to someone shaking at his shoulders. As he pulled himself out of the strange, frantic dream that he couldn’t quite remember, he saw that it was James, crouching over him.
"Early bird catches the flobberworm." James raised an eyebrow, tousling Remus’ tangled hair as he squinted up at him through heavy eyes. A slow ache rumbled through Remus’ muscles as he sat up, his bones cracking, the sun blinding bright. "It's a long walk back."
Bonfire smoke clung to Remus’ jumper, woven into the wool like a memory, and sand was sticking to his bare skin. He leaned a cheek against his knees, blanket bunching up around his waist, and sighed. His head shot up again when he realised that there was no Sirius next to him, only to see that Sirius was standing at the shore, his jeans rolled up to his ankles as he stared out at the faded horizon.
It seemed that James was right; the walk back seemed longer as they climbed uphill, slogging through the thickets of trees, the beach shrinking behind them. James had offered to carry the bag this time, and Sirius soon transformed into Padfoot, leaving Remus and Peter to walk together again.
“We haven’t gone back to Hogwarts yet and I’m already failing Charms.” Peter began to babble as they stepped out into a wide, green field, despite the fact that even he was pale with exhaustion. “I spent hours looking over the homework the other day, and I didn’t understand it at all. The only thing I’m looking forward to is getting away from my parents. And, I’m thinking of asking out Mary MacDonald. Reckon she’ll be up for it?”
“Mary?” Remus said, stretching out an arm to brush his hand through the tall grass and thinking of Mary MacDonald, one of the prettiest girls in their year, who had never said yes to Peter before and was unlikely to this time, but he nodded. “It’s worth a shot, I guess.”
“What about you? Interested in any of the girls?”
Remus looked over at him, biting down on his bottom lip. "I don't like girls that much." He told him.
"Yeah, they can be a pain in the ass."
"No," He couldn’t ward away his smile and he glanced back at where the other two trailed far behind them, James throwing sticks and Padfoot chasing after them through the meadow. He drew in a deep breath and, in a low voice, said– "Peter, um-- I mean I'm gay. I like men."
Rather suddenly, Peter stopped walking to stare at Remus, blinking against the shine of the rising sun. Pushing his tongue into his cheek, Remus looked back at him, knowing he was betting on something unsure, knowing that this was the kind of thing that people threw stones for, that people spat in the street at, that people might not understand.
"Really?" Peter asked. "Are you sure?"
There was a distant, familiar bark, but Remus didn’t turn this time as he sighed, thinking of silver eyes and black hair and shaking, lovely fingers. "Pretty damn sure."
"Right." Peter tilted his head, rubbing at his burned pink nose, which had begun to peel, before setting down the path again. "Well, do you think you could ask Mary McDonald if she's into me?"
Remus lowered his gaze to grin down at his shoes. "I can try."
When they reached the Potter Manor, trudging up the driveway and through the halls, Peter insisted on going back to sleep, flopping down onto the sofa. Remus dragged himself up the stairs to the bathroom and washed off the salt and the sweat and the sand and the bad night’s sleep in a scalding shower, the kind that made all the blood rush to his head.
By the time he had walked back down, Peter was snoring loudly, and Remus could smell grease cooking as he passed into the kitchen, where James leaned against a gas cooker, prodding at sausages sizzling in a pan.
“Are you sure you should be cooking?” Remus said. “You burn everything you touch.”
“Don’t be ungrateful.” James smacked him on the head with the flat, wooden spatula. A pink apron was tied snugly around his waist, embroidered with the words kiss the witch, and adorned with sewn toadstools and flowers. “Or you’ll have nothing to eat for breakfast but gruel!”
Remus peered into the saucepan at the sausages, which were looking suspiciously charred, and thought that gruel might be better, but instead he asked, “Where’s Padfoot?”
“I think I saw him go into the garden.” James said, and he sighed, turning to frown at Remus. “Does he seem, um, erratic, to you?”
“Erratic?” Remus echoed dryly. “Sirius Black? Can’t imagine it.”
He stepped out into the hallway, and from one of the shadowy corners of the passage, there came a scuttle and a flash of chipped china as a mug on small, thin porcelain legs dashed past towards the back door. Remus smiled and followed it out into the garden.
When he found Sirius, he was sitting, legs crossed, on an old wooden bench, rifling through one of Peter's dented boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Rolling heat beat down from the clear sky, and Remus winced as the slabs of searing stone scorched his bare feet. As Remus neared, Sirius popped one of the sweets into his mouth, chewed, and then gagged, spitting it out into the flowerbed.
"Disgusting." Sirius muttered under his breath, but when he glanced at Remus, his face lit up into a warm, bright grin. Suddenly, there was that look in his eye, that hungry, defiant look and he crooked a beckoning finger. "Moony. Come here."
"Why?"
Sirius stood from the bench, but Remus withdrew when he saw how his lips curved upwards at the corners, clever and wicked and familiar. It was the kind of face he wore for pranking, the kind he showed professors and prefects: pretty, but never trustworthy.
"You're not putting your tongue in my mouth." Remus said.
Fluttering his dark lashes, Sirius edged closer. "Don't you want to kiss me?"
Remus narrowed his eyes, his hands curling and uncurling into fists at his sides. What a stupid, stupid question. He flushed, red rushing up his neck. "What flavour was that Bertie Botts’ bean?"
"Strawberry."
"I know when you're lying, Black." Remus hissed at him.
"Moony," Sirius crooned, and tugged at the hem of his shirt, winding his knuckles into the fabric. "Kiss me."
"No chance."
"Come on!"
"No!"
"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" chanted Sirius as he wrapped his arms around his neck, pressing soft, eager kisses to his jaw and to his cheek.
Biting down on his laughter, Remus took another step away before he could reach his mouth, but his left foot smacked into something hard. Stumbling, his ankle twisted and buckled, a sharp pain shooting up his leg. As he toppled, Sirius yelped, his grip tightening on his shirt, and the pair of them were falling back, going down, down, down.
Trees, flowers, blue sky, it all blurred into one colour. The impact with the ground trembled the length of Remus' spine. At first, he couldn't work out what the hell had happened, blinking as cold water soaked through his clothes, but Sirius' shoulders were shaking with laughter. Propped atop him, he pressed his forehead into Remus' shoulder, their legs tangled together.
They had fallen into the wide, stone-rimmed fountain, and green algae and pink lotus flowers floated all around them on the rippling surface. Drenched through, Remus lifted himself up on his elbows, Sirius' arms still draped loosely around his neck.
"You're fucking ridiculous." Sirius said, breathlessly, picking a stray piece of duckweed from his collarbone. "Are you trying to kill me?"
Remus tipped his chin up and kissed him, smoothing his wet, dark hair back from his glinting eyes. Sighing, Sirius pushed closer, his tongue swiping at his bottom lip, before Remus was drawing back, his nose wrinkling.
"You taste like mud." He told him.
"I know." Sirius said, and burst into loud laughter.
There was a crunch of gravel and both of their heads snapped towards the sound as James appeared from up the garden path. Sucking air through his teeth, Sirius scrambled up from where they had been sprawling in the fountain, his soft smile tightening into something that wasn't quite there.
"Breakfast ready?" He called to James. His soaked shirt stuck to his back, his muscles shifting and drawing taut as he rose to his feet from the water.
"Sirius." James said, no nickname, no arrogant smirk, and he lifted his arm to show the letter clenched between his fingers. He was rubbing at his cheek with his thumb, his brow furrowed. "An owl's come for you."
The parchment he held out to Sirius was stamped with black wax, marked with a familiar shield: a sword pointing up towards two stars.
Pale, Sirius stared down at the letter and then glanced back up at James, urgent gaze darting across his face. "Is it…"
"It's from your mother." James told him. Remus stood, too, dripping water, shivering despite the muggy warmth of the air, his gaze fixed on Sirius.
Sirius took it from James’ outstretched palm and tore into the envelope, with shaking hands, his knuckles white, leaving wet marks across the scroll. There was a bird calling from one of the trees, high and piercing. Still as a statue, Sirius read the letter, once, twice, and a swallow passed down his throat.
"She's blasted me off the family tree." He said, looking back up at them. "I've been disowned."