![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lls_mutantMy post was too large. So...
***
“That’s the Potters’ owl, isn’t it?” Damien asked curiously at breakfast on Sunday morning.
“Yeah.” Sirius took the letter and gave the owl some crumbs from his bread. “It’s not like James to write, especially since I’ve only been gone for two…” His heart leapt up to his throat and his voice dried up.
“Sirius?”
Padfoot-
Whatever you do, do NOT let Mr. Lupin see this letter. He’ll find out about it when he gets back.
I wasn’t sure whether to write you or not. Moony said not to, but Wormtail and I both think you should know. Moony and Lily were attacked by Death Eaters the other night. They’re okay- they got away and everything- but Wormtail says they used Crucio on Moony and maybe on Lily, too. Sounds like they were young or weak- Moony says they tried to AK him but it didn’t work. They were both pretty healed up by the time I got there.
I know there’s nothing you can do, but Wormtail and I both thought that if we were the ones away, we’d want you to tell us, so… so yeah. They’re okay, and we hope you are too.
Take care, Padfoot.
-Prongs
Sirius folded the letter hastily, shoving it in his pocket. They were all right. Remus was all right, James had said so. And yet… he wouldn’t feel right until he saw Remus face to face.
***
That night Sirius finally inked a number on his forearm. He knew instinctively what number to use: 110974. Remus’s number. Damien had made a face when he saw it.
“At least we know it’s a number in use,” Sirius had pointed out. “No one will recognize it as being false.”
“I suppose I should just be grateful you didn’t use 24601 or something like that.”
“Very funny.” Sirius sorted through his clothing and pulled on an old pair of jeans, using a controlled severing charm to rip a few strategic holes in the knees and then to fray his shirt cuffs. “Kimberton has never seen you or Remus before, right?”
“Right,” Damien confirmed, pulling the hood of his cloak up. “Alice, Christine, Lichtenstein, and Stern have got us covered from the outside. Are you ready?”
“’Course.” Sirius checked again for his wand and then snickered. “Bet you’d never thought your kid would look anything like me.”
Damien snorted and to Sirius’s complete surprise, reached out and ruffled his hair. “Come on, then,” he said. “Let’s go.”
***
They stepped into the Night Creatures' Den. It was exactly what one would think: a smoke-clogged bar with dim lights, dingy corners and surly service. Sirius tried to think how Remus would enter a place like that and finally decided to enter it like he would any other bar. Beside him, huddled in his cloak, Damien hunched his shoulders and adopted an "I don't have a right to exist" look that Sirius recognized from the same source of inspiration. He pursed his lips and pushed that thought from his mind.
"He's not here," Sirius murmured to Damien as they found a corner table and sat down.
"Check the back room. Get up and get us a drink," Damien ordered.
The clientele of the Night Creatures' Den was rather monochromatic, Sirius noticed. A lot of browns and shabby faded blues, but gray dominated. Gray in clothing, in robes, in faces, in eyes. Signs of poverty and destitution were clear. Clothing had been patched, stained, recovered. The liquor was cheap, and the food that went by was greasy enough to turn even Sirius's stomach.
He scanned the faces quickly. Kimberton, a blonde bloke with a pale face and eyes, should stand out easily in Turkey. It wasn’t quite as easy as he would have imagined, but Sirius didn’t see anyone that looked like the pictures he’d seen.
He didn’t want to admit it, but being in the bar sent shivers down his spine. There was a low-key malevolence in the air that was almost tangible. Bitterness, hatred, bloodlust, and anger swirled red on the edges of vision. Sirius shivered and made his way back to Damien, carrying two glasses of cheap nettle wine. Damien was huddled over the table, shivering in his cloak.
“Are you all right?” Sirius asked.
Damien’s eyes reminded Sirius too much of Remus when he looked up. “Yes. I think so.” He sipped the wine that Sirius held out for him. Sirius settled down and waited, shifting uncomfortably, but Damien didn’t seem inclined to speak. He leaned back and watched the doorway.
“Damien,” he hissed, fifteen minutes later. “He’s here.”
For a fugitive from British magical law, Kimberton entered the pub with a surprising amount of nonchalance and confidence. “Give him a minute,” Damien said. “Or see if he notices us first.”
Kimberton stopped at the bar and exchanged a few words with the bartender. The bartender pointed to their table, and Kimberton turned to look. Sirius felt his stomach knot in anticipation, and it was all he could do to appear calm and uninterested in the pair at the bar. He took a drink of the wine and an intense, relaxing sensation swept through him. Good stuff, this Turkish wine. It had a very different taste than what he was used to.
The bartender slid a drink across the counter. Kimberton took it and laughed at whatever the man said, and then walked straight over to their table.
“May I join you?”
Sirius glanced at Damien, who shrugged. “All right,” Damien said in a hoarse, harsh whisper that Sirius had never heard him use.
“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you gents here before.” Kimberton accioed a chair to him and sat down. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”
“We’re not,” Sirius, master of excuses and fake alibis agreed. “Came out this way on business.”
“What sort of business do you have?” Kimberton asked interestedly.
“A few knick-knacks that we want to be selling. Preferably far away from England and somewhere there’s a market for them.”
“Ah. I see.” Kimberton leaned back, watching them with interest. Sirius smirked to himself smugly. Hook, line, and sinker. “Found buyers yet?”
“A few, yeah.” Sirius grinned, playing the innocent black market profiteer for all he was worth, the words coming easily. “Might be nice to get a higher price than Alphard and Arden’s is offering, but we gotta take what we can get.”
“Alphard and Arden’s? I’m not familiar with that particular store.”
Damien shot Sirius a look of annoyance. “Alphard Anardan. He’s a dealer in Ahlat.”
“Oh.” Kimberton seemed to accept this. “I’m Tom, by the way. Tom Kimberton.” He reached forward, and Sirius took his hand, deliberately letting his robe fall away to reveal a part of the number.
“Romulus,” he said.
Damien kicked him under the table, but accepted Kimberton’s hand in turn. “Colin. What do you do, Tom?”
“I’m something of a salesman myself,” Kimberton answered pleasantly. “I like to think of myself as a salesman of opportunity.”
“Opportunity?” Damien asked.
“Well, yes. You see, in this bar all around you are people- yes, I did say people- who are disenfranchised by the society they should belong to. They’re stuck in between worlds. They’re magical, so they can’t fit in the Muggle world,” Kimberton spat on the floor, as if the word ‘Muggle’ was a curse, “and yet they’re all people who are ostracized from wizarding society in some way. They’re forbidden contact with the world that might accept them by the world that rules them. Very frustrating.”
“You’re preaching to the choir,” Sirius said, leaning in with interest.
“I know. And that’s why I’m interested in talking to you. You see, it’s very frustrating for people like this… people like you. People who have been cast out from the society that should not only protect them, but damn it, should respect them for all that they’ve done and endured. It’s not easy to endure a transformation or to be compelled to drink blood for sustenance.”
“No,” Sirius agreed, warming up to the topic. Under the table, Damien kicked him again, and Sirius drew back.
“Right.” Kimberton gestured vaguely with his glass. “So that’s why I have a proposition for you.”
“A proposition?” Sirius asked. The alarm bells started ringing. Too easy. This had been way too easy. But the warning was buried under a stronger sense of lassitude.
“Of course.” Kimberton tilted his chair back. “You, the scorned, the hated, the despised, can be far more than that. I know people, you know.”
“People,” Damien said dryly. “What people do you know?”
“People who know people,” Kimberton said with a sly smile. “People that the disinherited, disowned son of a pureblood family and the father of a werewolf might be very interested in knowing, if they wanted to change things.”
Sirius froze. Or rather, he wanted to freeze, but he found himself picking up his glass of wine again. “What makes you think I’m the father of a werewolf?” he said glibly. “I’m a little young for that.”
Kimberton laughed, but Damien put a hand on Sirius’s arm. “You’ve had enough tonight, I think,” he said.
“What? This is only my first-“
“You’ve had enough.”
“Let the boy drink,” Kimberton said as he gestured grandly, but his eyes were hard and cold. “You never know what tomorrow will bring. So tell me, Sirius,” he said, stressing the name. “Haven’t you felt it was unfair, the way you were disinherited?”
“Well-“
“Don’t you wish there was a way you could show them, a way you could get revenge? A way that…” he trailed off, staring down Damien’s wand. “What? I was just talking.”
“Just talking my ass,” Damien said. Sirius noticed he was slurring his words, and struggled to get a grip on himself. Everything was too lucid. Too easy. Too… too. He fumbled for his wand, and then looked up to find himself staring down an ebony length.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you, Black,” Kimberton said. “There’s about ten patrons in this bar who are quite loyal to me and my cause.”
Sirius swayed, blinked, and pulled out his wand. “Incarcerous,” he said, ropes shooting out of his wand. Kimberton dodged easily, and the pub burst in a frenzy of hexes. The door blew open, and Alice, Christine, Lichtenstein and Stern rushed in as well.
It was a haze; nothing like that first time when everything was clear and sharp and simple. Sirius struggled against the murky fuzziness that threatened to cloud him and pull him under. But he must be doing something right. He saw his own wand flashing, bright red lights hitting opponents that rose up and came into view.
Something hit him, something sharp and painful that felt like shards of glass shooting up his arm. It shocked him out of that glib lethargy, bringing back his full awareness with a burning shock. He had a moment to be grateful and then he was wrapped up in the battle, Damien against his shoulder as they both fired hexes and curses at the onslaught.
He began to realize he was moving; running and dodging. Not all of the bar’s patrons were involved; some had fled and others had moved back along the walls, watching and weighing the outcome. Across the room he was aware of Alice shouting, her wand flashing bright with hexes fired off even faster than his own.
Kimberton. They had to get to Kimberton.
He heard a woman scream and spun around just in time to see Christine slump to the ground. “Stern!” Sirius shouted, spotting the werewolf near her. “Help her!”
Stern didn’t appear to have heard him. Instead, he came running towards Sirius, wand drawn.
There was no maniacal smile on his face, no evil laughter. In fact, later Sirius registered that his eyes had seemed conflicted. But his wand was drawn and the intent was clear, and it was only because Sirius had had Snivellus and years of feuding between them that he was quick enough to fire off the Impedimenta jinx. Across the room Damien shouted his name, and Sirius jumped over the body and rounded a table.
“Quick,” Damien panted, and Sirius noted that Kimberton was lying on the floor in front of him. “Go get Christine.”
“Mobilicorpus,” Sirius muttered, and Christine came floating towards them. Eerie to see that. Damien was working with something small, whispering some sort of enchantment, and then grabbed Kimberton’s hand..
“We got everyone? Alice? Good. Shit. Stupefy! Hands on- Sirius, make sure you’ve got Christine’s hand on as well, and three, two, one-“
Sirius touched the quill Damien was holding out, and felt the familiar jerking sensation of a portkey pulling him back to England.
***
Remus sat with James, Peter, Lily and Frank in the Dragon Rider pub, uncomfortable and on edge. Two nights to full moon, and to his surprise it still hung heavy in his mind. He’d thought it might not. What was a transformation after surviving the Cruciatus curse? But then, it had never really been about the pain.
“Remus?” Lily said, startling him out of his own dark thoughts. “Want a round of snooker?”
“Sounds good,” he said, joining her. As they walked back to the snooker room, he was acutely aware of Lily’s arm against his. “How are you holding up?” he asked, as she waved her wand and the balls flew into formation.
“All right,” Lily answered. “You?”
“Been worse, I suppose. Looks like you got healed up pretty well.”
“Yeah, you too.”
He felt like he was back in seventh year, right when Lily had finally agreed to date James and he, Sirius, and Peter had been threatened with a variety of hexes normally reserved for Slytherins in order to ensure good behavior. Nothing in common then, too much in common now. He gestured for her to break.
“Nice shot.”
“Thanks.” She missed the next one, and scratched her nose against the cue. “Full moon in a few days.”
“I know. I’m hoping Sirius will be back then.”
“If he’s not?”
“I’m thinking I might go to my parents’ place. I’m a little worried this time.”
Lily nodded. Unlike the others, she didn’t try to talk him out of it. She just accepted he knew what was best. He focused on the game.
“Sorry I’m not myself,” Lily said abruptly, after three rounds passed in near-silence. “I just started on the rag.”
Remus felt himself collapsing against the cue as he absorbed the meaning of Lily’s words- and their significance. Her green eyes flashed at him, and he knew it was part of his promise not to acknowledge that there was any reason to be worried. "That time of the month, hey?” he asked, forcing a smile into his voice. “Didn’t some Muggle scientist do some study where girls get into sync or something?”
“The McClintlock effect. Yeah. Are you saying you’re pulling me in line?”
“Something like that,” Remus teased.
Lily snickered. “Right then.” She shot the last ball in. “Two out of three, loser buys drinks?”
“You’re on.”
They kept up a steady stream of banter through the games, the levity hiding that broken fibers within them that would need help to heal, but not from each other. Through the entrance to the next room, Remus could see James sitting with Peter and Frank, laughing at something Frank was saying. He envied Lily, being able to go home tonight with someone who didn’t have to listen to understand and want to protect her. He envied her, too, to have James’s attention so focused on her. He snorted to himself. Being jealous of a friend’s fiancée was a low he didn’t want to sink to.
“You owe me a drink,” he told Lily shamelessly as he made his final shot. It was the least she could do.
Then he saw Frank jump up, and all his bitterness drained away as he saw Alice and Sirius enter the pub. Frank scooped Alice up in his arms, spinning her around and kissing her soundly in a show of affection that was almost embarrassing.
By comparison, Sirius’s entrance was quiet. He went over to James and Peter, exchanging clasped hands and brief hugs. Remus waited in the snooker room as Lily went out to greet him, just watching him.
Sirius looked tired. His clothes were rumpled and travel-stained, and his hair was lank. There were deep circles under his eyes, and a mostly-healed cut on his temple. But when he crossed the pub his steps were quick, and his eyes were bright as he enveloped Remus in an embrace tight enough to crack his ribs.
“You’re all right, then?” Sirius asked anxiously as he released him. “You don’t look any different.”
“I’m fine, Sirius,” Remus said, his smile not quite genuine and for once relieved that someone would see straight through it. “Come on. Let’s go bug the others and hear all your adventures in Turkey.”
“I brought you back something,” Sirius sing-songed as they made their way back over to where the others were sitting. “I’ll give it to you when you come over tonight.”
“You think I’m coming over tonight?” Remus asked, feeling like everything in the world had suddenly righted just because the four of them were back together again and Sirius was at his side.
“I know you are.”
“Smug egotist.”
“You’d better believe it.”
They smiled at each other like nothing had happened at all.
***
They laid in bed later that night, wrapped around each other with the echoes of the evening still lingering in their ears. Sirius’s hand traced slowly down Remus’s spine. When he’d gotten James’s owl about the attack, he’d envisioned Remus much as he was after transformations; bleeding and physically weak. It had been a shock to see Remus at the Dragon Rider Pub, on his feet and casually playing snooker with Lily, even if it had made sense.
The sex tonight had surprised him too. Sirius had rather thought tonight would be gentle and hesitant, like the first time, but as soon as the door had closed behind them they were on each other, hot and hard and absolutely desperate. There had been a moment when he’d pulled back, worried that this was too much, but Remus had tugged him back in, demanding and consuming. A trail of clothing marked their progress across the flat, and they’d never had a chance of making it to the bed. Not until they collapsed into it, spent and gasping and laughing at their own intensity.
“Well, we did make it to the bedroom,” Remus pointed out, his words muffled against Sirius’s shoulder. “Barely, if against the doorjamb counts.”
“And whose fault is that?” Sirius demanded. “Honestly, Moony. Ever heard of the Pushy Bottom Society?”
“Our motto is ‘Fuck me hard, fuck me now’,” Remus quipped.
“I’m thinking you’re a card carrying member.”
“Don’t have a card.”
“You will.” Sirius resolved to write one out the next morning. “Are you okay though?”
Remus nestled down, pulling the blankets up over his shoulders. “Fine, Pads. We’ve got the hang of it now, I think.”
Sirius snorted. “That’s not what I meant. I meant… the Crucio and everything.”
“Yeah,” Remus said softly. “Tell me more about Turkey,” he insisted when the silence grew to heavy.
Sirius told him about the mission, about how they’d left Lichtenstein dead on the floor of a pub and Stern had gotten away, and Christine Kinns would be in St. Mungo’s for two weeks at least. He told him about the snippets of information they’d picked up, and stories of things that had happened along the way. He didn’t tell Remus about the fact that Stern was a werewolf, or that Alice and Christine hadn’t trusted him.
“That’s not what I wanted to hear about,” Remus said when Sirius had finished. “Tell me about Turkey. What was it like?”
“Oh!” Sirius sat up, remembering. “I did get you something.”
Remus laughed as Sirius scurried out of bed and rooted through his bag. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know. But this was perfect,” Sirius said, holding the small package out to Remus.
“What is it?” Remus asked, unwrapping it as eagerly as a child. It was a small dome made of Muggle plastic, with a badly sculpted mosque inside, under water. When Remus shook it, glitter swarmed around the mosque. “A Muggle snow globe?” he laughed. “Sirius, this is priceless. Really.”
“No. Look closer,” Sirius insisted.
Remus did, bending over until his forehead nearly touched the globe. Without warning he felt that sucking sensation one felt when being pulled into a Pensieve, and there in front of him was the Blue Mosque of Istanbul, in all its glory.
“See?” Sirius was beside him. “Come on, Moony. I’ll show you around.”
For the next hour they walked through the mosque, Remus’s eyes wide with fascination as he took in the details, the sculpture, the exotic plants and the surroundings of a place he had never been. He pretended not to notice where corridors died off, where the magic ended and they couldn’t go. He knew it was only an illusion, but it was a beautiful one.
When Remus had seen enough they came out of the globe and back into the everdayness of Sirius’s flat. They sat for long moments, Remus’s head on Sirius’s shoulder and his hand twined with Sirius’s. “Thank you,” he said simply, overwhelmed.
Sirius took the globe, turning it over in his hands. “I know the Ministry won’t let you out of England any time soon,” he said gruffly. “And so I figured if I you can’t go to see the world, I’ll bring the world to you.”
Remus’s vision blurred. “Thank you, Padfoot.”
Sirius wrapped his arm around him. “You’re welcome. I missed you, Moony.”
Remus smiled into his shoulder. “I missed you too. Welcome home.”
***
“That’s the Potters’ owl, isn’t it?” Damien asked curiously at breakfast on Sunday morning.
“Yeah.” Sirius took the letter and gave the owl some crumbs from his bread. “It’s not like James to write, especially since I’ve only been gone for two…” His heart leapt up to his throat and his voice dried up.
“Sirius?”
Padfoot-
Whatever you do, do NOT let Mr. Lupin see this letter. He’ll find out about it when he gets back.
I wasn’t sure whether to write you or not. Moony said not to, but Wormtail and I both think you should know. Moony and Lily were attacked by Death Eaters the other night. They’re okay- they got away and everything- but Wormtail says they used Crucio on Moony and maybe on Lily, too. Sounds like they were young or weak- Moony says they tried to AK him but it didn’t work. They were both pretty healed up by the time I got there.
I know there’s nothing you can do, but Wormtail and I both thought that if we were the ones away, we’d want you to tell us, so… so yeah. They’re okay, and we hope you are too.
Take care, Padfoot.
-Prongs
Sirius folded the letter hastily, shoving it in his pocket. They were all right. Remus was all right, James had said so. And yet… he wouldn’t feel right until he saw Remus face to face.
***
That night Sirius finally inked a number on his forearm. He knew instinctively what number to use: 110974. Remus’s number. Damien had made a face when he saw it.
“At least we know it’s a number in use,” Sirius had pointed out. “No one will recognize it as being false.”
“I suppose I should just be grateful you didn’t use 24601 or something like that.”
“Very funny.” Sirius sorted through his clothing and pulled on an old pair of jeans, using a controlled severing charm to rip a few strategic holes in the knees and then to fray his shirt cuffs. “Kimberton has never seen you or Remus before, right?”
“Right,” Damien confirmed, pulling the hood of his cloak up. “Alice, Christine, Lichtenstein, and Stern have got us covered from the outside. Are you ready?”
“’Course.” Sirius checked again for his wand and then snickered. “Bet you’d never thought your kid would look anything like me.”
Damien snorted and to Sirius’s complete surprise, reached out and ruffled his hair. “Come on, then,” he said. “Let’s go.”
***
They stepped into the Night Creatures' Den. It was exactly what one would think: a smoke-clogged bar with dim lights, dingy corners and surly service. Sirius tried to think how Remus would enter a place like that and finally decided to enter it like he would any other bar. Beside him, huddled in his cloak, Damien hunched his shoulders and adopted an "I don't have a right to exist" look that Sirius recognized from the same source of inspiration. He pursed his lips and pushed that thought from his mind.
"He's not here," Sirius murmured to Damien as they found a corner table and sat down.
"Check the back room. Get up and get us a drink," Damien ordered.
The clientele of the Night Creatures' Den was rather monochromatic, Sirius noticed. A lot of browns and shabby faded blues, but gray dominated. Gray in clothing, in robes, in faces, in eyes. Signs of poverty and destitution were clear. Clothing had been patched, stained, recovered. The liquor was cheap, and the food that went by was greasy enough to turn even Sirius's stomach.
He scanned the faces quickly. Kimberton, a blonde bloke with a pale face and eyes, should stand out easily in Turkey. It wasn’t quite as easy as he would have imagined, but Sirius didn’t see anyone that looked like the pictures he’d seen.
He didn’t want to admit it, but being in the bar sent shivers down his spine. There was a low-key malevolence in the air that was almost tangible. Bitterness, hatred, bloodlust, and anger swirled red on the edges of vision. Sirius shivered and made his way back to Damien, carrying two glasses of cheap nettle wine. Damien was huddled over the table, shivering in his cloak.
“Are you all right?” Sirius asked.
Damien’s eyes reminded Sirius too much of Remus when he looked up. “Yes. I think so.” He sipped the wine that Sirius held out for him. Sirius settled down and waited, shifting uncomfortably, but Damien didn’t seem inclined to speak. He leaned back and watched the doorway.
“Damien,” he hissed, fifteen minutes later. “He’s here.”
For a fugitive from British magical law, Kimberton entered the pub with a surprising amount of nonchalance and confidence. “Give him a minute,” Damien said. “Or see if he notices us first.”
Kimberton stopped at the bar and exchanged a few words with the bartender. The bartender pointed to their table, and Kimberton turned to look. Sirius felt his stomach knot in anticipation, and it was all he could do to appear calm and uninterested in the pair at the bar. He took a drink of the wine and an intense, relaxing sensation swept through him. Good stuff, this Turkish wine. It had a very different taste than what he was used to.
The bartender slid a drink across the counter. Kimberton took it and laughed at whatever the man said, and then walked straight over to their table.
“May I join you?”
Sirius glanced at Damien, who shrugged. “All right,” Damien said in a hoarse, harsh whisper that Sirius had never heard him use.
“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you gents here before.” Kimberton accioed a chair to him and sat down. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”
“We’re not,” Sirius, master of excuses and fake alibis agreed. “Came out this way on business.”
“What sort of business do you have?” Kimberton asked interestedly.
“A few knick-knacks that we want to be selling. Preferably far away from England and somewhere there’s a market for them.”
“Ah. I see.” Kimberton leaned back, watching them with interest. Sirius smirked to himself smugly. Hook, line, and sinker. “Found buyers yet?”
“A few, yeah.” Sirius grinned, playing the innocent black market profiteer for all he was worth, the words coming easily. “Might be nice to get a higher price than Alphard and Arden’s is offering, but we gotta take what we can get.”
“Alphard and Arden’s? I’m not familiar with that particular store.”
Damien shot Sirius a look of annoyance. “Alphard Anardan. He’s a dealer in Ahlat.”
“Oh.” Kimberton seemed to accept this. “I’m Tom, by the way. Tom Kimberton.” He reached forward, and Sirius took his hand, deliberately letting his robe fall away to reveal a part of the number.
“Romulus,” he said.
Damien kicked him under the table, but accepted Kimberton’s hand in turn. “Colin. What do you do, Tom?”
“I’m something of a salesman myself,” Kimberton answered pleasantly. “I like to think of myself as a salesman of opportunity.”
“Opportunity?” Damien asked.
“Well, yes. You see, in this bar all around you are people- yes, I did say people- who are disenfranchised by the society they should belong to. They’re stuck in between worlds. They’re magical, so they can’t fit in the Muggle world,” Kimberton spat on the floor, as if the word ‘Muggle’ was a curse, “and yet they’re all people who are ostracized from wizarding society in some way. They’re forbidden contact with the world that might accept them by the world that rules them. Very frustrating.”
“You’re preaching to the choir,” Sirius said, leaning in with interest.
“I know. And that’s why I’m interested in talking to you. You see, it’s very frustrating for people like this… people like you. People who have been cast out from the society that should not only protect them, but damn it, should respect them for all that they’ve done and endured. It’s not easy to endure a transformation or to be compelled to drink blood for sustenance.”
“No,” Sirius agreed, warming up to the topic. Under the table, Damien kicked him again, and Sirius drew back.
“Right.” Kimberton gestured vaguely with his glass. “So that’s why I have a proposition for you.”
“A proposition?” Sirius asked. The alarm bells started ringing. Too easy. This had been way too easy. But the warning was buried under a stronger sense of lassitude.
“Of course.” Kimberton tilted his chair back. “You, the scorned, the hated, the despised, can be far more than that. I know people, you know.”
“People,” Damien said dryly. “What people do you know?”
“People who know people,” Kimberton said with a sly smile. “People that the disinherited, disowned son of a pureblood family and the father of a werewolf might be very interested in knowing, if they wanted to change things.”
Sirius froze. Or rather, he wanted to freeze, but he found himself picking up his glass of wine again. “What makes you think I’m the father of a werewolf?” he said glibly. “I’m a little young for that.”
Kimberton laughed, but Damien put a hand on Sirius’s arm. “You’ve had enough tonight, I think,” he said.
“What? This is only my first-“
“You’ve had enough.”
“Let the boy drink,” Kimberton said as he gestured grandly, but his eyes were hard and cold. “You never know what tomorrow will bring. So tell me, Sirius,” he said, stressing the name. “Haven’t you felt it was unfair, the way you were disinherited?”
“Well-“
“Don’t you wish there was a way you could show them, a way you could get revenge? A way that…” he trailed off, staring down Damien’s wand. “What? I was just talking.”
“Just talking my ass,” Damien said. Sirius noticed he was slurring his words, and struggled to get a grip on himself. Everything was too lucid. Too easy. Too… too. He fumbled for his wand, and then looked up to find himself staring down an ebony length.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you, Black,” Kimberton said. “There’s about ten patrons in this bar who are quite loyal to me and my cause.”
Sirius swayed, blinked, and pulled out his wand. “Incarcerous,” he said, ropes shooting out of his wand. Kimberton dodged easily, and the pub burst in a frenzy of hexes. The door blew open, and Alice, Christine, Lichtenstein and Stern rushed in as well.
It was a haze; nothing like that first time when everything was clear and sharp and simple. Sirius struggled against the murky fuzziness that threatened to cloud him and pull him under. But he must be doing something right. He saw his own wand flashing, bright red lights hitting opponents that rose up and came into view.
Something hit him, something sharp and painful that felt like shards of glass shooting up his arm. It shocked him out of that glib lethargy, bringing back his full awareness with a burning shock. He had a moment to be grateful and then he was wrapped up in the battle, Damien against his shoulder as they both fired hexes and curses at the onslaught.
He began to realize he was moving; running and dodging. Not all of the bar’s patrons were involved; some had fled and others had moved back along the walls, watching and weighing the outcome. Across the room he was aware of Alice shouting, her wand flashing bright with hexes fired off even faster than his own.
Kimberton. They had to get to Kimberton.
He heard a woman scream and spun around just in time to see Christine slump to the ground. “Stern!” Sirius shouted, spotting the werewolf near her. “Help her!”
Stern didn’t appear to have heard him. Instead, he came running towards Sirius, wand drawn.
There was no maniacal smile on his face, no evil laughter. In fact, later Sirius registered that his eyes had seemed conflicted. But his wand was drawn and the intent was clear, and it was only because Sirius had had Snivellus and years of feuding between them that he was quick enough to fire off the Impedimenta jinx. Across the room Damien shouted his name, and Sirius jumped over the body and rounded a table.
“Quick,” Damien panted, and Sirius noted that Kimberton was lying on the floor in front of him. “Go get Christine.”
“Mobilicorpus,” Sirius muttered, and Christine came floating towards them. Eerie to see that. Damien was working with something small, whispering some sort of enchantment, and then grabbed Kimberton’s hand..
“We got everyone? Alice? Good. Shit. Stupefy! Hands on- Sirius, make sure you’ve got Christine’s hand on as well, and three, two, one-“
Sirius touched the quill Damien was holding out, and felt the familiar jerking sensation of a portkey pulling him back to England.
***
Remus sat with James, Peter, Lily and Frank in the Dragon Rider pub, uncomfortable and on edge. Two nights to full moon, and to his surprise it still hung heavy in his mind. He’d thought it might not. What was a transformation after surviving the Cruciatus curse? But then, it had never really been about the pain.
“Remus?” Lily said, startling him out of his own dark thoughts. “Want a round of snooker?”
“Sounds good,” he said, joining her. As they walked back to the snooker room, he was acutely aware of Lily’s arm against his. “How are you holding up?” he asked, as she waved her wand and the balls flew into formation.
“All right,” Lily answered. “You?”
“Been worse, I suppose. Looks like you got healed up pretty well.”
“Yeah, you too.”
He felt like he was back in seventh year, right when Lily had finally agreed to date James and he, Sirius, and Peter had been threatened with a variety of hexes normally reserved for Slytherins in order to ensure good behavior. Nothing in common then, too much in common now. He gestured for her to break.
“Nice shot.”
“Thanks.” She missed the next one, and scratched her nose against the cue. “Full moon in a few days.”
“I know. I’m hoping Sirius will be back then.”
“If he’s not?”
“I’m thinking I might go to my parents’ place. I’m a little worried this time.”
Lily nodded. Unlike the others, she didn’t try to talk him out of it. She just accepted he knew what was best. He focused on the game.
“Sorry I’m not myself,” Lily said abruptly, after three rounds passed in near-silence. “I just started on the rag.”
Remus felt himself collapsing against the cue as he absorbed the meaning of Lily’s words- and their significance. Her green eyes flashed at him, and he knew it was part of his promise not to acknowledge that there was any reason to be worried. "That time of the month, hey?” he asked, forcing a smile into his voice. “Didn’t some Muggle scientist do some study where girls get into sync or something?”
“The McClintlock effect. Yeah. Are you saying you’re pulling me in line?”
“Something like that,” Remus teased.
Lily snickered. “Right then.” She shot the last ball in. “Two out of three, loser buys drinks?”
“You’re on.”
They kept up a steady stream of banter through the games, the levity hiding that broken fibers within them that would need help to heal, but not from each other. Through the entrance to the next room, Remus could see James sitting with Peter and Frank, laughing at something Frank was saying. He envied Lily, being able to go home tonight with someone who didn’t have to listen to understand and want to protect her. He envied her, too, to have James’s attention so focused on her. He snorted to himself. Being jealous of a friend’s fiancée was a low he didn’t want to sink to.
“You owe me a drink,” he told Lily shamelessly as he made his final shot. It was the least she could do.
Then he saw Frank jump up, and all his bitterness drained away as he saw Alice and Sirius enter the pub. Frank scooped Alice up in his arms, spinning her around and kissing her soundly in a show of affection that was almost embarrassing.
By comparison, Sirius’s entrance was quiet. He went over to James and Peter, exchanging clasped hands and brief hugs. Remus waited in the snooker room as Lily went out to greet him, just watching him.
Sirius looked tired. His clothes were rumpled and travel-stained, and his hair was lank. There were deep circles under his eyes, and a mostly-healed cut on his temple. But when he crossed the pub his steps were quick, and his eyes were bright as he enveloped Remus in an embrace tight enough to crack his ribs.
“You’re all right, then?” Sirius asked anxiously as he released him. “You don’t look any different.”
“I’m fine, Sirius,” Remus said, his smile not quite genuine and for once relieved that someone would see straight through it. “Come on. Let’s go bug the others and hear all your adventures in Turkey.”
“I brought you back something,” Sirius sing-songed as they made their way back over to where the others were sitting. “I’ll give it to you when you come over tonight.”
“You think I’m coming over tonight?” Remus asked, feeling like everything in the world had suddenly righted just because the four of them were back together again and Sirius was at his side.
“I know you are.”
“Smug egotist.”
“You’d better believe it.”
They smiled at each other like nothing had happened at all.
***
They laid in bed later that night, wrapped around each other with the echoes of the evening still lingering in their ears. Sirius’s hand traced slowly down Remus’s spine. When he’d gotten James’s owl about the attack, he’d envisioned Remus much as he was after transformations; bleeding and physically weak. It had been a shock to see Remus at the Dragon Rider Pub, on his feet and casually playing snooker with Lily, even if it had made sense.
The sex tonight had surprised him too. Sirius had rather thought tonight would be gentle and hesitant, like the first time, but as soon as the door had closed behind them they were on each other, hot and hard and absolutely desperate. There had been a moment when he’d pulled back, worried that this was too much, but Remus had tugged him back in, demanding and consuming. A trail of clothing marked their progress across the flat, and they’d never had a chance of making it to the bed. Not until they collapsed into it, spent and gasping and laughing at their own intensity.
“Well, we did make it to the bedroom,” Remus pointed out, his words muffled against Sirius’s shoulder. “Barely, if against the doorjamb counts.”
“And whose fault is that?” Sirius demanded. “Honestly, Moony. Ever heard of the Pushy Bottom Society?”
“Our motto is ‘Fuck me hard, fuck me now’,” Remus quipped.
“I’m thinking you’re a card carrying member.”
“Don’t have a card.”
“You will.” Sirius resolved to write one out the next morning. “Are you okay though?”
Remus nestled down, pulling the blankets up over his shoulders. “Fine, Pads. We’ve got the hang of it now, I think.”
Sirius snorted. “That’s not what I meant. I meant… the Crucio and everything.”
“Yeah,” Remus said softly. “Tell me more about Turkey,” he insisted when the silence grew to heavy.
Sirius told him about the mission, about how they’d left Lichtenstein dead on the floor of a pub and Stern had gotten away, and Christine Kinns would be in St. Mungo’s for two weeks at least. He told him about the snippets of information they’d picked up, and stories of things that had happened along the way. He didn’t tell Remus about the fact that Stern was a werewolf, or that Alice and Christine hadn’t trusted him.
“That’s not what I wanted to hear about,” Remus said when Sirius had finished. “Tell me about Turkey. What was it like?”
“Oh!” Sirius sat up, remembering. “I did get you something.”
Remus laughed as Sirius scurried out of bed and rooted through his bag. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know. But this was perfect,” Sirius said, holding the small package out to Remus.
“What is it?” Remus asked, unwrapping it as eagerly as a child. It was a small dome made of Muggle plastic, with a badly sculpted mosque inside, under water. When Remus shook it, glitter swarmed around the mosque. “A Muggle snow globe?” he laughed. “Sirius, this is priceless. Really.”
“No. Look closer,” Sirius insisted.
Remus did, bending over until his forehead nearly touched the globe. Without warning he felt that sucking sensation one felt when being pulled into a Pensieve, and there in front of him was the Blue Mosque of Istanbul, in all its glory.
“See?” Sirius was beside him. “Come on, Moony. I’ll show you around.”
For the next hour they walked through the mosque, Remus’s eyes wide with fascination as he took in the details, the sculpture, the exotic plants and the surroundings of a place he had never been. He pretended not to notice where corridors died off, where the magic ended and they couldn’t go. He knew it was only an illusion, but it was a beautiful one.
When Remus had seen enough they came out of the globe and back into the everdayness of Sirius’s flat. They sat for long moments, Remus’s head on Sirius’s shoulder and his hand twined with Sirius’s. “Thank you,” he said simply, overwhelmed.
Sirius took the globe, turning it over in his hands. “I know the Ministry won’t let you out of England any time soon,” he said gruffly. “And so I figured if I you can’t go to see the world, I’ll bring the world to you.”
Remus’s vision blurred. “Thank you, Padfoot.”
Sirius wrapped his arm around him. “You’re welcome. I missed you, Moony.”
Remus smiled into his shoulder. “I missed you too. Welcome home.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-03-03 09:01 pm (UTC)Lily could have got injured without being raped. I don't understand why you've chosen to make Lily pass through such a horrible experience. It was her first time! She was saving herself for James. Have you had a bad day or something?
What about " rag" I don't know the word. What does it mean? The rest was wonderful, as always. I liked the interaction between Frank and Remus. I am not so fond of Alice after this chapter. I think she is slowly turning Sirius against Remus.
This chapter was sad also because I felt that Sirius is moving without Remus somehow. Remus is denied so many things, that you can just imagine a time when Sirius will have to move forward and leave Remus behind.
I have only a request: Please take your time and not rush things up! I don't want to get too quickly at the part where the pups starts suspecting each other. There can be a few other chapters where they make love and have fun, and fight together against the darkness.
no subject
Date: 2005-03-03 10:54 pm (UTC)Lily could have got injured without being raped. I don't understand why you've chosen to make Lily pass through such a horrible experience. It was her first time! She was saving herself for James. Have you had a bad day or something?
You are right that the DE raped Lily. Could she have gotten injured instead? Sure. Was it cruel? Yup. Am I sorry? Mostly.
So why did I do it?
I explained a lot of it in my comment to
Lily isn't human to these guys. They simply don't see her that way. She is far less than them, and not someone- or even something- worthy of respect. If you read Holocaust history (I'm basing a lot of my DE behavior on SS behavior), rape was something very common. So, I made it common here.
It IS necessary to the story I'm telling. How this incident affects Remus- and this is something very powerful in his life- makes a difference in some of the decisions he makes later in the story.
So, not nice, no. But it was where I decided to go.
What about " rag" I don't know the word. What does it mean?
"On the rag" is a (probably American- bad me) idiom for having your period. Basically, Lily was telling Remus that she hadn't gotten pregnant from the rape, which was why Remus was so relieved.
I am not so fond of Alice after this chapter. I think she is slowly turning Sirius against Remus.
She is and she isn't. She's not doing it intentionally. As Remus observed, Alice at least TRIES, which is more than most of the wizarding world can say. But she's got points, and Stern proved it. Just because Remus is trustworthy doesn't mean all werewolves are- especially when they're fighting against a world that scorns them.
This chapter was sad also because I felt that Sirius is moving without Remus somehow. Remus is denied so many things, that you can just imagine a time when Sirius will have to move forward and leave Remus behind.
Sadly, I totally agree with you :)
have only a request: Please take your time and not rush things up!
Heh. Well, it took me a month to write this chapter, although I'm hoping this one will have taken the longest. I THINK it was the hardest, but I'm not sure. But the story goes the way the story goes! :)
Thanks for reading!