Chapter 9
8th November, 1981
3.28am
Sirius was awake.
His eyes were burning, but he couldn’t bring himself to close them. He assumed Remus was awake too, but that was because the only alternative was that he was being haunted by a ghost who liked to pace around bedrooms at three in the morning.
Sirius was glad that Remus had rearranged the flat. The guest bedroom had remained the same, as well as the bathrooms and kitchen, but the living room and main bedroom had been switched, and the contents of the ‘study’ (which was just a room full of records and books) had been randomly put in different rooms. That left one empty. Sirius had turned it into a cat room, much to Remus’ dismay.
Why was he thinking about the bookstore? It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. He had stared down the corpse of his dead best friend a week ago.
A pang of guilt and pain hit him again and he rolled over. A cold feeling of loss crept into his stomach. The pacing had stopped. Remus was asleep.
The door opened slightly and Sirius sat up hopefully. “Remus?”
But no one was there. Ghost, he thought. He lay back down. A few seconds later, something jumped on the bed, and Sirius nearly fell off the bed. “Jesus fuck—Poseidon, you wanker.”
The cat started purring and kneading his legs. Sirius flopped back down, slightly irritated. The cat settled himself on his knees.
Sirius sighed. It was weirdly nice having a cat on his lap. A bastard cat, but a cat nonetheless.
Comfort joined the coldness in his stomach, and Sirius’ breathing slowed.
30th November, 1981
10.27am
“Molly. Hi,” said Remus, looking tired. “Come in.”
“Oh, Remus.” Molly hugged him very tightly. “You’re looking after my children today.”
“Never mind don’t come in—we don’t want your gremlins—”
“No, you are in grief, you have been in grief for a very long time, and you are going to distract yourself with children.”
“Molly!”
“I’ve got another two. Ron, he’s about Harry’s age—a few months older. Ginny’s three months old. I know you don’t have any plans tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow morning at 9.”
“Why!” Remus was handed a three-year-old and a one-year-old. “Molly!”
“Goodbye!”
“Sirius!” he called. “Come help me!”
“What?” Sirius hurried down the stairs into the store, holding Harry. “We’re meant to be opening for the first time today—AH, GINGERS—CHILDREN—GINGER CHILDREN—oh, it’s just the Weasleys.”
“Molly left all her children here. She thinks raising children will distract us—”
“We’re already raising a child! We don’t need seventy more.”
“Apparently we do!”
“Good God. Bill, how old are you?”
“Eleven.”
“Why aren’t you at school?” asked Remus. “Shouldn’t you be at Hogwarts already?”
“Because I turned eleven yesterday.”
“Oh! Happy birthday!” said Sirius. “Listen, we’ll get you some cake, OK?”
“Yeah!”
“CAKE!” yelled Fred and George at the same time, then started running around the store.
“Goblins!” cried Remus, running after them. Charlie laughed. “Not you too, goblin.” He pointed accusingly at Charlie.
“OK, I’ll take, uhh, Percy, Charlie, Bill, and Fred to get cake. You stay with Ginny, Ron, George, and Harry.”
“We’re splitting up the twins?” asked Remus, holding George back by his collar.
“I think they’ll be easier to deal with on their own.”
“Agreed.”
30th November, 1981
9.53pm
“Bill, get to bed, you tiny thot,” said Sirius, and was immediately elbowed by Remus.
Bill gave a laugh. “What’s Hogwarts like?”
Sirius grinned. “Excellent staying-up ploy, Weasley. 10/10 for distraction. Why, are you worried about it?”
“I just feel like I might be crap at everything.” Bill sighed, hugging his knees. “Charlie knows way more than me about…stuff. Well, just dragons, mostly.”
“First of all, crap’s a bad word. Second of all, your brother knows more about dragons than I do,” said Remus. “And I know a surprising amount about dragons.”
“It’s not surprising at all, your Uncle Remus is a nerd,” chimed in Sirius.
Bill giggled again. “What if I’m in Slytherin?”
“As long as you don’t blow anything up, your mum and dad won’t mind what house you’re in.” Remus patted him on the back. “You’ll be fine, Billiam. Is that your full name?”
“No.”
“Are you going to tell me what your full name is?”
“No.”
“It’s William!” yelled Charlie from the other room. Sirius gasped.
“Snitch!”
“GO TO SLEEP, GOBLIN,” cried Remus.
“Stop calling them goblins, Remus!”
Charlie ran into the room. “I found a dragon!”
“No, you didn’t, Char—” Sirius stopped in his tracks. Charlie was holding a miniature dragon. “Dorcas, what the shit—I mean, not that—what the FUCK—”
“Sirius, no.” Remus took the tiny dragon and looked at it. “This was…their wedding present from James and Lily.”
Sirius sat down. “Oh.”
“Kids, it’s time for bed, OK?” said Remus, slightly more authoritatively than before. For once in their lives, they went to bed when they were told.
“The mini Jurassic Park they were going to build,” said Sirius fondly. “I told them it wasn’t released until 1993, but that didn’t stop them.”
“Why is it a dragon, again?”
“James doesn’t—” Sirius paused. “James didn’t know what a dinosaur was. He thought Lily had mispronounced.” The dragon gave a half-hearted roar and curled up in Remus’ hand like a cat. The real cat jumped up onto the sofa at a convenient time.
“Hey, Poseidon.” Remus moved a little closer to Sirius and tucked his legs up.
“I can’t believe they’re gone, Moony.” Poseidon curled up on a pillow near them.
Remus didn’t say anything, and Sirius began to tap on the table. “They’re in the cupboard. Behind the tea mugs.”
Sirius sighed and got up. After several rather alarming clatters, he came out of the kitchen holding a lighter and some cigarettes.
Remus held out his hand. “Give me one.”
“You don’t smoke.”
“I know.”
Sirius handed him one reluctantly, and lit his own before handing him the lighter. “Killing people isn't fun.”
“Comes with the job.”
“No. Killing your best friend does not come with the job.”
Remus raised his eyebrows. “Got some Death Eater pals you aren’t telling me about? Other than me, obviously?”
Sirius winced. “Don’t. Anyway, you know what I’m talking about.”
“That wasn’t your fault, Sirius.”
Sirius shook his head. “I convinced them to switch to Peter. Last minute. It was me.”
“Peter betraying you sounds distinctly like a Peter problem.”
“I should have known. I should have realised it was him and not you. How the fuck did I think it was you? And why the fuck did you forgive me?”
Remus shrugged. “Did I?”
“Fine, so you’re not exactly married to me, but I’m staying at your house. Seriously, Remus, that’s not something a normal person does. What I did was—it was unforgivable, really and—you shouldn’t’ve trusted me! Everyone thought I was a Death Eater—it’s insane that you—”
Remus sighed, cutting him off. “You…” He paused. “If you give more than three seconds of thought to that whole thing, it makes no fucking sense.”
“Remus.”
“I had just lost Lily.”
Sirius blinked. “I wouldn’t’ve been dead if you left me alone.”
“You may as well have been.”
“Why did losing Lily make you forgive me? That makes no sense.”
“I…” Remus looked at a loss. “I don’t know why I said that.”
Sirius finally sat down, taking a drag, and trying very hard not to make a Mr Brightside reference here. “With all this obsessing over my best friend being dead, I didn’t stop to think that—”
“I know. Mine is too. S'pose I just didn't want to lose the last Marauder.”
“Goddamn, Molly was right, though,” said Sirius. “Kids really do take your mind off of things.”
As if on cue, a shriek was heard from one of the rooms. “GoBLINS!” Remus put out his cigarette.
“Remus, no.”
Remus went into the room and came out looking weary, a gleeful Bill attached to his leg. “I have lost. I have lost very badly.”
“I can see,” said Sirius amusedly, stubbing his cigarette out as well. “Alright, he wins, he gets to stay up.”
“Why d’you live in Auntie Marlene and Auntie Dorcas’ house?” asked Bill. “They’re dead.” Ah, children, truly the most gentle of creatures.
“They left me the bookstore after they—passed away,” said Remus.
“I thought the government got places after people died,” said Bill earnestly.
“Oh, you little communist,” said Sirius affectionately. “He’s been raised right.”
“How’d they die?”
Remus took a second to think how to word it. “You know about V—You-Know-Who, Bill?”
“Yeah.”
“He…was the one who killed your aunties.”
“Oh.”
“Listen, kid, go to bed. You’re going to want to all the time when you’re old,” said Sirius. “Also I kind of want to cry, and I don’t want to do that in front of a child.” Bill nodded earnestly and headed off to bed.
“I want a job, Sirius.”
“Why so Sirius?” asked Sirius, trying very hard not to laugh. “I mean—you have a job.”
Remus chuckled. “Well. As much as running a bookstore with my…” He trailed off.
“Let’s just call it a ‘thing’. I don’t know what we’re doing either.”
“Ex-lover, kind-of-not-betrayer, best-childhood-friend-son-of-a-bitch?”
“That works. Although, ex-lover?”
“Ex-lover turned…friend who I angrily kissed while drunk.”
“Accepted. Proceed.”
“Dumbledore…”
Sirius sighed. “That bitch.”
“I could be the DADA professor.”
“So do it.” Sirius looked at him fondly. “It’s what you’ve always wanted, Remus, and you’d be fucking fantastic.”
Remus’ jaw was tight. “I know. But—”
“Don’t worry about Professor Dickhead Man. You’ve yelled at him enough that I think it’s about equal now.”
“I did, indeed, fucking go off,” said Remus, a note of regret in his voice. “Possibly a mistake.”
Sirius shook his head. “Strongly disagree.”
“I’d have to leave, you know.”
Sirius blinked. He hadn’t thought of that. “That’s OK. I can take care of Harry by myself.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Well, maybe I’ll come with you. Get a job as a…chimney sweep, or something.”
Remus laughed. “Sure.”
“Oh, Filch will be so happy to see me.”
“Next year, then. The DADA teachers always leave after a year, apparently. The curse prevails.”
“That’s not a real thing.”
“Right. I’ll go owl…what was it you called him? Professor Dickhead Man.”
“Go for it.”
1st December, 1981
9.04am
“You’re late, Molly!” cried Sirius over the phone, desperately trying to make five pancakes in three different pans over one hob. It was going fantastically. “No—what do you mean half an hour, how do you entertain this many children for half—she hung up.”
Remus grinned and took a pan from him. “We’ll be fine.”
25th December, 1981
8.32am
A rather gloomy feeling had taken over the small bookshop in Surrey that Christmas. It was not quite as grief-stricken as the last Christmas that they had had together; then again, it was not necessarily the happiest of mornings. The loss of their best friends - the old loss, and the new - hung over them like a grey cloud.
And yet, there was the baby. Harry had officially learned several words — the main one being ‘dog’, which he yelled whenever he saw Poseidon. The next most common one was ‘thot’, which he yelled every time he saw Sirius as Padfoot, and which Remus had desperately tried to get him to stop saying. Then there was ‘angry’, ‘frog’, ‘Moony’, and ‘Pad’. Sirius had never quite gotten him to say the full thing.
“Fuck Christmas,” said Sirius bitterly. “Fuck it. It’s fucking awful.”
“Drama queen strikes again,” said Remus, putting an omelette onto a plate. “Also, language. Baby.”
Sirius sighed. “It feels the same as it did when I was a kid.”
“Like you’re surrounded by people you hate and don’t get any presents? I’m honoured.” Remus brought him a plate and picked up Harry. “So’s he.”
“You didn’t get me a present.”
“Omelette,” said Remus. “Also, remind me what you got me?”
Sirius flopped back on the sofa, defeated.
“Nana!”
“You don’t have a nana, she’s dead,” said Sirius. “Oh, he wants a banana. Got it.”
“Still offended.” Remus sat down on the sofa with Harry.
“It’s just…capitalism.”
“Oh, not your communism thing again—”
“I’m not fully a communist!”
“Stalin didn’t like the gays, Sirius!”
“Stalin wasn’t a good—no, I don’t support Stalin,” he sighed. “He was a dickhead—but look at Cuba!”
“Fidel Castro also hated the gays! And Cuba’s not doing great, let’s be honest—”
“Vietnam!”
Remus paused. “You got me there.”
“Anyway, capitalism is terrible. You got that, Harry? Down with the capitalists.”
“NANA!”
“I think he’s got it,” said Remus drily.
“Oh, I nearly forgot - Andromeda has invited us round to hers for Christmas. Probably as a reminder that I do have…some other people left.”
“That means you have to put trousers on.”
“Fuck.”
“She has a kid too, right? Fucking awful name - that’s what you get when you let white people name children—”
“Nymphadora. Dora for short.”
“As in…the Explorer?” asked Remus. “Wait, no, that was in 2000. Ignore me.”
“…Moving on. I don’t have to make Christmas lunch.”
18th March, 1982
11.24pm
Sirius was dicking around on a guitar. Remus was watching him, rather amused.
“You’re really shit at that.”
“Fuck yeah,” said Sirius, a twinkle in his eye. “I’m the most talented man alive.”
“Remember when you actually taught James how to play this instrument?”
Sirius grinned, but the smile faded quickly. “He wasn’t great at it.”
“No, but he was decent. Also, he never practised.”
“Yeah, well. Let’s talk about something else.” Sirius put the guitar down.
Remus leant his head on Sirius’ shoulder. “Yeah.”
There they sat, in heavy silence, for several minutes. “I want a drink.”
“Don’t, Pads.”
Sirius looked at him. “Why?”
“Just…don’t.” Remus sighed.
He sat back. “OK.”
10th May, 1982
12.53pm
“REMUS!” Sirius bellowed, the door of the apartment flying open. “REMUS!”
Remus automatically took his wand out, looking terrified. “How many are dead and who am I killing? Are they back? Is he back?”
“NO — GOD, NO — I need…” Sirius was panting very hard. “I need to play you a song.”
“Fucking—” Remus put his head in his hands. “Asshole.”
“It’s so important. It’s the most important thing I’ve ever—it’s so important. You have to hear it.”
“You went out for milk, Sirius! How did you come back with another fucking record?”
“Where’s Harry?”
“Napping.”
“Go wake him up, he has to hear this too—it’s the best goddamn thing I’ve ever—”
“Just put it on, moron, I’m not waking up the baby,” sighed Remus. “What the fuck is this?”
“IT”S THE MOST IMPORTANT THING YOU’VE EVER HEARD,” Sirius yelled.
“These are the guys who did Hold the Line, right? That’s not a great song.”
“THIS ONE’S BETTER. I PROMISE.”
four minutes and fifty five seconds later
“I have so many questions and I want the answers to none of them,” said Remus, slowly dying.
Sirius was laughing so hard he was fully sobbing. “FUCKING—OH MY GOD.”
“The—the—the—the—” Remus could not even articulate, and he was planning on becoming a teacher. “Kilimanjaro…does not rise like Olympus above the Serengeti.”
“The fucking—the keY CHANGES,” cried Sirius. “It’s so—popular—I can’t even—”
“WHY IS HE BLESSING THE RAINS DOWN IN AFRICA?” shrieked Remus, unable to comprehend his own being any more, and slowly barrelling towards an existential crisis. “I’m an old man, Sirius, I don’t understand this newfangled popular music—motherfucker, who let Toto write this—”
“I’m playing it again.”
“NO!”