Fic: Accidentally In Love, part 7
Apr. 29th, 2005 07:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lls_mutantWhoohoo! I thought this was flowing, and it was, but I hit the scene I didn't want to write, and... ugh. Ah well.
Fic Title:Accidentally In Love, part 7
Disclaimer: Definitely not making any money off this.
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Parts 1-6 can be found here. The title does NOT refer to any domestic abuse, so don't worry about that ;)
Part VII- Hitting Hard
Mornings had a certain routine about them now, although neither Sirius nor Remus thought much of that fact. Remus would get up first and take a shower, while Sirius hit the snooze button on his alarm clock six times. He would wander in to the bathroom as Remus was shaving, and Remus would wonder how Muggles managed without anti-steam charms on their mirrors. If Remus was feeling industrious, breakfast was fried eggs and sausage. If Sirius only hit his snooze button five times, it was pancakes. But most often it was corn flakes for Sirius and some children’s sugared cereal for Remus, and a stack of toast to be split between the two of them.
The Daily Prophet was also part of the routine. Sirius read the front pages first, because they were increasingly relevant for work. Remus started with the sporting pages as he made sandwiches, and then switched when Sirius was ready. When they left they would kiss each other goodbye, and Sirius would take his bike to the Ministry and Remus would walk to the lab, unless the weather was poor. It was rare for their routine to be broken, except on Thursday mornings when hangovers were likely.
Which is why it was such a shock when Sirius spit a mouthful of coffee over the morning’s front page.
“What is it?” Remus asked, looking over his shoulder and eyes widening in surprise, and then rustling the edge of the paper so he could read the article himself. “Your father stepped down from the Ministry?”
“I can’t believe it,” Sirius said, lips numb from shock. “I didn’t think…”
“Pads, did you read all this?” Remus asked. Sirius shook his head. “Ministry officials indicate that not all is well with Black. There have been speculations of illness, domestic troubles, incompetence, and mental illness. ‘A couple years ago, Black’s oldest kid ran off,’ an unnamed official comments. ‘It really undid him. Some of us think he’s bonkers.’ When asked for comment, the Unspeakables who work under Black refused unanimously.’”
“I drove him insane?” Sirius sputtered, crumpling the paper. “I drove him? Moony, he was driving me insane!”
“I know it,” Remus said, laying a comforting hand on Sirius’s shoulder.
“I mean, you should have heard the things he said when… him and his pureblood mania! He only got worse as time went on you know!” Remus sank down into his chair, nodding and watching Sirius with calm eyes. “Remember that time second year? When you had to go to the hospital wing and I did too?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that was the first time he’d hit in me in three years. Know why he’d hit me before? Once because I talked back to my mother- I swore at her and everything. Once when I locked Regulus in the basement. And once when I poured ink over some papers after he’d told me eight times to get out of the study. And those three times he hit me a couple of times, mostly across the arse, and that was IT. It wasn’t until second year that he really started hitting me.
“And then the summers before fifth and sixth year we’d just fight all the time. Constantly. It never used to be like that, Moony. It used to be… well, not like your dad or James or Peter or whatever, but he used to love me. I think. He used to be proud of me. And then it just all went to hell. I couldn’t do anything right for him anymore. Nothing!”
Remus picked up the paper and crumpled it into a ball, handing it to Sirius. “Want the honors?”
Sirius took it, scowled, and tossed it in the fire. They watched the flames lick the paper, Sirius standing with his fists clenched and Remus with his hand on Sirius’s shoulder.
“I’m going to work,” Sirius finally growled.
“All right.” Remus picked up the two sack lunches and handed one to Sirius. “I’ll see you at the Dragon Rider tonight?”
“Yeah.” Sirius picked up his keys, stopping and closing his eyes as Remus dropped a quick kiss on his lips and then backed away. “I’ll be there.”
***
Sirius’s bad mood stayed with him all day. It was not helped by a morning of reading case files, or an afternoon of lessons under Moody and Doge. Or, for that matter, Alice wondering what was wrong and asking him in a deep, meaningful tone of voice if it had anything to do with the article in the paper this morning, and had he really run away? Only the presence of Moody and Doge (and really, only the threat of the types of punishment that made McGonagall seem like a sweet, gentle, motherly type) kept him from hexing her into oblivion. Didn’t the bloody bint know this was something you didn’t talk about?
Women.
Damien knew how to handle it. Damien had clapped him on the shoulder that morning, eaten lunch with him, and talked about Quidditch the entire time. His sole comment had been, “I saw your old man in the paper.”
“Yeah,” Sirius had said, looking away, and Damien had gone on to speculate about the Wasps’ chances, and wondering if Bagman would be asked to play for England. It was a surprisingly unobtrusive offer of help and caring, and some part of Sirius had been touched. Touched and angry, because it was the kind of thing his own father never would have done.
His bad mood ebbed slightly when he walked into the Dragon Rider later that night and the first thing he heard was James laughing. James was sitting with Peter and Remus, and the three of them were looking at some paper. “Padfoot!” James called, as he caught sight of Sirius. “You have to see this!”
“What is it?” Sirius asked, settling down. “The Quibbler? Where’d you get this rag?”
“Tina’s brother is one of their writers,” Peter said. “He told her about this story, and she gave me a copy. It’s a scream.”
“’The Secret and Unauthorized Biography of Sirius Black’,” Remus read dramatically. “’He drove his father insane with his antics, broke his mother’s heart, tortured his brother, and brought shame to a pureblood family. OR DID HE? It may be that the treatment Sirius Black received at home led him into the life of decadence he enjoys today.’ Oh, Pads, you’ve really got to read this one.”
“They must get advance copy of the Prophet or something,” James mused.
“Nah. This is hot off the press,” Peter explained. “The Quibbler doesn’t hit the streets until five. And since it’s not like any of this is true, unless your parents beat you, starved you and let you be-” Peter broke off as he snorted. “-raped by house-elves!”
Sirius howled with laughter and took the paper from Peter. There was a terrible sketch of some injured-eyed pretty boy that looked nothing like him, and an account of a childhood that would make a horror writer scream. And a very, very colorful description of how Sirius had dealt with this life of physical, mental, sexual, and emotional abuse. “I never knew I was a billiwig addict,” he said. “Or a drunk. Wow. According to this, I had my first firewhiskey at thirteen.”
“We were at least fourteen,” James scoffed, and pulled the paper back into the center.
“Oh, I like this one,” Remus said. “All A’s and D’s on your O.W.L.s, and only two N.E.W.T.s!”
Peter sputtered with laughter. “Oh, this is too much! Look here,” he pointed down the column. “’Reliable sources have also stated that Black has found something like love… with his a showgirl from the States! ‘It’s true,’ says his landlord, Frank Whipplenapper. ‘This little hussy walks in and out with legs up to here and a feather headdress.’ Black’s neighbors also have claimed that the couple indulges in very loud and perverted sexual practices, as evidenced by the loud and distinct noises that can be heard several houses away.”
“Oh that’s ridiculous,” Remus simpered. “Everyone knows I prefer the one with sequins. Although…” he stuck out a foot. “Legs up to here, huh? I never saw anything that great about them, but if The Quibbler says it, it must be true.”
“And they say nothing about your breasts or your ass,” Peter said. “And everyone knows they’re your best features.”
“Well, not so much my breasts,” Remus complained, cupping what didn’t exist. “But I must admit I’ve got an ass like an onion.”
“An onion?” Peter asked dubiously.
“It’s round and it’s tight and it makes you want to cry,” Remus declared, and they all dissolved into hysterical laughter.
“You should send this to your parents,” James suggested as he wiped tears from his eyes. “And tell them you granted The Quibbler an exclusive interview or something. That would really make them blow their tops.”
Sirius grinned, and transfigured a knife into a pair of scissors to cut out the article. “I should make it a Howler,” he decided, “so it they can hear this all at top volume.”
It should have felt like home, like Hogwarts again, with James laughing and Remus’s concerned eyes and Peter cheerfully animating pictures to go along with the crude slogans James was devising. But he still felt empty, even if he could smile.
***
That night they sat in Sirius’s flat, Sirius stretched on the couch with his head in Remus’s lap. Remus combed his fingers through Sirius’s hair, the repetitive motion soothing them both. Sirius’s eyes were closed, his eyelashes forming dark crescents on his cheeks. From this angle with the flickering light of a candle ghosting over his face, Remus thought he looked exotic and beautiful.
For as long as he could remember, Sirius was the symbol of everything Remus wished he could be. Brave, defiant, and confident, with an easy intelligence and fanatical loyalty. Sirius, who could wear his heart on his sleeve and give the finger to the world, unlike Remus, who hid so much and tried to fit in with what parents and friends and everyone expected. Most days, anyway.
Remus didn’t like seeing Sirius not like that.
“That really feels good,” Sirius murmured.
“I thought you were asleep.”
Sirius shook his head lazily. “No. Just relaxed.” He sighed and nestled deeper into Remus’s lap. “Long day.”
“It was,” Remus agreed, saying nothing of the fact he’d spent the day worrying about Sirius, or the vulnerability he’d seen his those grey eyes all evening. “Are you done in?”
“Not quite,” Sirius said, cracking one eye open.
“Well then.” Remus shifted so he could lean in and kiss Sirius softly. His lips lingered, tasting and breathing the life back into Sirius as he gathered him in his arms to pull him close.
Sirius deepened the kiss, but his hands shook as they trailed down to the Remus’s robes and hesitated there, and Remus’s heart hurt as he pulled away and saw the questions in Sirius’s eyes. Sirius hadn’t looked this uncertain since… no. Even that first time, Sirius had believed Remus wanted him. Tonight he didn’t.
Remus cupped Sirius’s cheek and caressing the skin with his thumb. “I’m here, Pads,” he whispered as Sirius rubbed his cheek against Remus’s hand.
“I know.” But there was a funny catch in Sirius’s voice.
Remus leaned forward and brushed his lips over Sirius’s face, gentle and reassuring but firm. “I’ll be here as long as you need me,” he murmured, and then captured Sirius’s lips again.
Sex between them had always been for mutual pleasure; Sirius had been clear on that from the beginning. Tonight it wasn't. Tonight was about Sirius’s skin under Remus’s hands, the way his head fell back as Remus mouthed along his throat, and each hitch of his breath as Remus stroked and nuzzled and touched. He took his time, caressing and kissing until Sirius was moaning, and then entering him reverently, with Sirius’s legs wrapped around his waist and the light of the candle casting shadows over their bodies. He rocked them gently, building until Sirius came silently, his arms squeezing tight and his cheek against Remus’s.
They lay tangled on the sofa for a long time afterwards, and when Remus opened his eyes he found Sirius smiling at him, and his heart jumped. “Thanks,” Sirius said, and for the first time that day he sounded like himself.
“Any time,” Remus replied with a mischievous grin.
***
"I see your knuts, and I raise them two."
Sirius and Remus both guffawed, and Peter glared at them. "Honestly! Could you two please stop that for one minute? Just one!"
"Sorry, mate," Remus said, trying to stifle a snicker. Sirius did nothing of the sort. "It's just…."
"You two really need to get laid upon occasion," Peter muttered sourly.
"Nah, we don't," Sirius said, finally getting himself under control. "We just need to grow up a little."
"And I think I'll take all your knuts," James said. "Show 'em." He laid down his cards with a straight flush.
"I’m out," Remus admitted, showing three of a kind.
"Got me," Peter said as he laid down a full house.
"I had the ace of hearts, the two of diamonds, the jack of spades, the nine of hearts, and the eight of clubs," Sirius sighed. "What's that amount to?"
"Absolutely nothing," James said smugly, pulling in the pot.
"Hey, listen," Peter said, as James let the cards shuffle. "Does anyone want my Quidditch tickets for this weekend?"
James, Sirius, and Remus stared at him. James was the first to speak. "What? You're not coming? But I'm starting this week!"
"You never miss!" Sirius said, shocked.
Peter looked at them with a mix of irritation and misery. "Look, Tina really wants me to go do this thing with her. Something with her friends. She doesn't ask for much-"
"Doesn't ask for much?" Remus said. "She's on you every bloody day about a commitment!"
"Yes, but that's normal when you're in love," Peter insisted, eyes narrowed. Remus cringed inwardly, but kept a bland face. "She really wants me to do this, and you know… I’d rather like to."
"What exactly are you going to do?" James wanted to know. "What's better than watching the Wimborne Wasps- and me- play Quidditch?"
"It's just this party some of her friends are having," Peter said. "We'll actually be listening to the game on the WWN, I'm sure. But she really, really wants to go. C'mon, James. You're a married man. You get this."
"Yeah," James sighed. "I do."
"So anyway," Peter said, picking up the cards and dealing. "Who wants my tickets?"
"My parents aren't in town this week," James said. "And Lily's parents are both Muggles. They won't come."
"Can't think of anyone who'd want 'em," Sirius said with a shrug.
"I'll take them," Remus volunteered. "My dad's birthday's this weekend, and I know he'd love to go. And if they're a birthday present, Mum can't say no."
Peter dug out his wallet and handed Remus the tickets. "How much do I owe you?" Remus asked.
Peter waved a hand. "Don't worry about it."
"All right. Thanks, Wormtail. You're still going Saturday, right Pads?"
"Rampaging hippogriffs couldn't stop me," Sirius said with a grin.
They played another three games in comfortable near-silence, when James finally asked, “So Wormtail. Are you thinking about getting married?”
“Yes,” Sirius said, tilting his chair back. “What are your intentions towards the lovely Miss Lovegood?”
“Completely dishonorable, I hope,” Remus muttered.
Peter stared at Remus, exasperation showing plain on his face. Remus kept his eyes fixed firmly on the table. “What?” he demanded.
“Would you please stop making snide comments about my girlfriend?” Peter asked.
“Sorry,” Remus said, even though he wasn’t. Privately, he thought Peter was too good for Tina, but any statement like that would result in a recital of Tina’s attributes.
“Anyway,” Sirius said, lightening the tone and kicking Remus under the table for good measure, “you’ve avoided the question.”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Peter admitted, turning a card around and tapping each edge on the table. “I kind of really want to.”
Remus fumed, Sirius stared at him with his mouth gaping open, and James whooped. “Finally! Company in the madhouse! When are you going to ask her?” he asked.
“I’m not,” Peter sighed. “Not yet.”
“Well, whyever not?”
“One, we’re twenty.”
“So?” James asked, feathers ruffled.
“No, that’s a valid point,” Remus said, and Peter tossed a grateful smile at him.
“Two, I can’t afford it.”
“What’s to afford?” James said. “She has a job, you have a job, and you could get a flat no problem.”
“It’s not that. It’s my mother and my sisters.” Peter looked back down at the table, and the other three exchanged glances. “Mum makes some money,” Peter explained, “but she really doesn’t make that much. There’s a mortage on the house, and you know the Gringotts goblins. Anyway, they’re my first responsibility. I can’t do anything until they’re taken care of.” His voice was a mix of pride and bitterness, which Remus could understand.
“Why do you need to even do that?” Sirius asked dismissively. “Your Mum could get a better job.”
“It’s just for two more years,” Peter said. “Once the house is paid off, and then Penny will be out of school and Patricia will be, well, maybe until Patricia’s out of school, we’ll see how things go.” But he looked tired just talking about it.
“How’s Tina with it?” Remus asked, trying to keep the barbs out of his voice.
Peter shrugged, and Remus strongly suggested the phrase “Mama’s boy” had been brandished about more than once. “Look, that’s the way it is, all right?” Peter said, leaning down and fishing for the bag he brought with him. “Anyone want a break? I grabbed samples from work. Chocolate Frogs and Ice Mice.”
The appearance of snacks had the desired effect, and soon they were back to poker and wagering the sweets. Remus patted the two Quidditch tickets in his wallet. At least something good had come out of Tina Lovegood. His father would be delighted.
***
Saturday was bright, clear, and crisp. The stands were alive with the yellow and black of the Wimbourne Wasp supporters, mingled with the orange of the Chudley Cannons. "No wonder James is getting to start today," Sirius told Remus as they took their seats. "The Wasps will walk right over the Cannons."
"Think he's nervous?" Remus asked.
Sirius gave him a mock-disdainful look. "When have you ever known Prongs to be nervous about a Quidditch game?"
Remus sighed. "No, I suppose not," he agreed. "Stupid of me. Hey- there's my parents." He waved wildly, and Sirius spotted Damien pointing them out to his wife. "You want to take Tina's seat?" Remus asked Sirius. "Mum can sit next to me and drive me batty with Quidditch questions, and you and Dad can argue over the plays to your hearts' content."
"All right," Sirius agreed, scooting down two places. "Your dad's a lot more fun to argue with than Wormtail is."
Remus grinned and then jumped to his feet to greet his parents as they edged along the row to their seats.
Although they'd been working together for almost a year now, it still amazed Sirius that he was actually glad to see Damien Lupin. And vice versa, for that matter. As Damien took his seat, he had a warm, eager smile on his face that Sirius had certainly seen, but was still privately promising himself never to take for granted.
"Beautiful day for a game!" Damien said. "How'd you boys get such good tickets?"
"Season tickets from James," Sirius answered, with a smile. "We still had to pay for them, but with our connection to today's starting Chaser, we at least got early dibs."
"Can't complain." Damien looked over at Marilyn, who was looking at a sketch Remus was making on the back of his program with a pencil as he patiently explained the rules to her. "I keep telling her she'll understand it when she sees it," he confided to Sirius. "It's not something you can explain easily to a Muggle."
"No," Sirius agreed enthusiastically. "I still think Lily doesn't always get it, although maybe she pretends just to annoy James."
The Chudley Cannons might not be the best team, but the game was far from boring, especially in the beginning. "The problem with the Cannons," Sirius opined, "is that they start out too fast." A Cannons Chaser scored, bringing a cheer from the orange-clad supporters. "They don't save anything, and their Seeker isn't very strong."
"That's why they start out so fast, I think," Damien said. "Compensation. James is flying well."
"He always does," Sirius said proudly, and they both jumped to their feet to cheer as James scored.
"So that's ten points to the Wasps, right?" they could hear Marilyn say as the cheering died down.
"She's getting it," Damien said in surprise.
"Remus is good at explaining things," Sirius chuckled. "I never really thought about it, but last month he mentioned the idea of teaching and…" he shrugged. "Now that I think about it I guess he'd be good."
"He would. He takes after his mother," Damien said proudly, although Sirius detected a hint of wistfulness in his face. But it was gone as Damien looked back out at the field. "By the way, did you read Doge's memo yesterday?"
"About the escalation in you-know-what attacks?" Sirius asked, pitching his voice lower so people around them wouldn't hear. "Yeah, I read that. Eighteen last month?"
"That went reported. What's more alarming was the fact that eight of them were on private homes. Oh, bugger- FOUL!" They both rose to their feet, shouting with the Wasps supporters as the Cannons Beater blocked James and swung, James ducking just in time with lightening-fast reflexes.
"So James gets a penalty shot?" Marilyn was asking Remus. "Like in football?"
"Exactly."
Damien choked on his surprise, making Sirius chuckle. They cheered as James scored, and then settled back down to their seats.
"Anyway, as I was saying, eight private homes," Damien said.
"I'm surprised we haven't been called out on any of them."
"I think we will be eventually, but Doge thinks you and I do better chasing down fugitives. It's not an easy task, and most of the Aurors aren't as adaptable as we are."
Sirius grinned with pride. "Can't really complain. I think it's my favorite part of the job."
"Same here," Damien agreed enthusiastically. "I used to travel a lot when I was younger- younger than you, even, with my family- but I didn't properly appreciate it then. Now I just wish we had more time to see the sights and everything when we go."
"Me, too," Sirius said, and then felt guilty, because at least he could go. He watched Remus studying the field intently, his eyes following Bagman longingly. "Hey, Damien?"
"Yes?"
"Why did Remus never try out for Gryffindor's Quidditch team? He could have made it easily, you know."
"I know. He's one hell of a Beater," Damien agreed, affirming Sirius's guess that Remus had learnt Quidditch from his father. "I tried to talk him into it, but he always insisted he'd miss too many practices."
"So being a w-word caused him to miss out on that, too?" Sirius asked bitterly.
Damien chuckled. "No, I thought that too. But if Remus wants something- really wants something- he won't let that stand in his way. He won't let anything stand in his way. He didn't want to play for the House team, and that's the long and the short of it."
"Oh. Did you play for the House team?" Sirius asked.
Damien smiled. "I did, for two years. I was a Chaser for Ravenclaw during their winning streak." He began telling Sirius about the Quidditch Cup in 1951, and Sirius listened, fascinated. As Damien talked, it occurred to Sirius that perhaps if he just asked, Damien would answer other questions Sirius had never realized he had. How he'd met a Muggle woman like Marilyn. How his family had responded to their marriage. When did he know he wanted to be an Auror? What did his parents think of it? And maybe, if he was very, very lucky, Damien might tell him a bit about when Remus was bitten.
It was funny, though, he reflected as Damien described the play that had resulted in the Ravenclaw Seeker catching the Snitch, that he'd never asked his parents any of those questions. His parents had been just that in his head- parents, not people. He'd never really thought of them as having much of a life before he was born. Then he remembered the Christmas James had visited and talking with his mother, and thought maybe he did and would have, if things had been normal. He shook his head and pushed it back, because mourning about it a week and a half ago had been more than enough and Sirius wasn’t going to waste his life with regrets. And that mood was pushed aside even further when the Wasp Seeker caught the Snitch, ending the match 310-210. The four of them were on their feet cheering, and even Marilyn looked flushed and excited with the victory.
The team took their victory laps and the crowds began to file out of the stadium, talking happily and arguing over the more salient points of the game.
“Smile,” Marilyn said, turning around suddenly, and Damien put an arm around Sirius’s shoulders before the flash went off. “I’m glad you boys talked me into this,” Marilyn sighed. “It was fun.”
“It was,” Damien agreed. “An excellent birthday present.” He reached out and ruffled Remus’s hair. Remus ducked away, but Sirius noticed that his reflexes seemed much slower than when James tried the same trick. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Are you going to the pub to celebrate the win, Sirius? Or do you want to join us for dinner?”
“I think I’ll go congratulate Prongs,” Sirius said. “Come by when you’re done?”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you later.”
Remus left with his parents, and Sirius watched the three of them walk off together, only slightly jealous. Then he began making his way to the pub.
***
It came as a shock three days later when Sirius stopped by Damien’s desk. He really wasn’t expecting it.
All of the Aurors decorated their cubicles as they saw fit. Sirius himself had a Wimbourne Wasps banner (of course), a picture of himself, James, Peter, and Remus, three pictures that involved the bike, and a poster of the Lobalugs. He was used to Damien’s desk, decorated with automotive diagrams and a small Queen sticker (which Sirius still found highly amusing, for multiple reasons). On the desk itself sat framed pictures of Marilyn and Remus.
But on Wednesday, when he dropped by to get Damien’s signature on a report, he noticed a new photo tacked to the corner of the wall, next to where the framed pictures sat. It was the photo that Marilyn had shot on Saturday, with the both of them smiling and waving eagerly at the viewer. Damien’s arm was still draped around his shoulder, and the wind mussed their hair and reddened their cheeks.
Sirius didn’t comment on it, but he smiled for the rest of the day.
***
Remus-
Mum stayed home from work today because she’s sick, and I have to stay late at the Ministry. Would you go over around supper time and check on her?
Thanks.
Dad
“Caradoc?” Remus called out, folding the parchment and slipping it into his robe pocket. “Do you need me to stay late tonight?”
Caradoc poked his head out of the office. “No lad. I’m leaving early myself. Briggs has a chap visiting from Japan, and I want to speak to him about his knowledge of kappas. ‘Konichi-wa’ is Japanese for hello, right?”
“I think so.” Remus began gathering his things together, stifling a yawn. “I have the critters fed and the redraft of the discussion section done. Do you mind if I take off early? I’m tired.”
“That’s fine. You do look rather under the weather, don’t you? Usually you look better three days after the full moon.”
Remus waved his hand. “Just up late last night.” And Caradoc didn’t need anymore details than that, even if the details were very pleasant and involved Sirius, a length of rope, a blindfold, and an orgasm to end all orgasms. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“All right.”
He made a few stops along the way, and then Apparated to outside the Lupin house, examining it. His father had set up wards- an important precaution these days, given how many homes Sirius said had been attacked. It looked like his father had done a fairly thorough job, and had keyed them so people could still come near the house, so friends could approach. Remus unlocked the wards, let himself in and then reset them. "Mum?" he called out. "Are you home?"
His mother came out to meet him in the hallway. Remus noticed she did look tired. She had dark circles under her eyes and her hair was not properly brushed. "Hello, Remus," she said, kissing him carefully on the cheek. "Don't get too close. I think I'm sick."
"Dad said. I got an owl from him saying he'd be back late tonight and asking me to come by and check on you."
Marilyn waved her hand. "I'm fine. It's just a head cold."
Remus held up the pot he was carrying. "I stopped by James and Lily's place and got some of Lily's soup. I thought we could have it for supper. Sit down, and I'll get it ready."
His mother tried to argue, but Remus pushed her into a chair and she subsided - a sure sign that she was sick. In fact, he thought she might have drifted off as he heated the soup and made cheese toast.
"You look tired yourself," she said as he set the steaming bowl before her. "Are you getting over the full moon all right?"
"Yes. I just haven't been sleeping well," he confessed.
"Sirius?"
"No. Not at all," Remus said, shaking his head. "Things with Sirius are… good."
"Just good?"
"Great, actually," he admitted with a shy smile. His mother smiled back. "It's just been… I don't know. I really like living there with him."
Marilyn snorted. "Still not in love?"
Remus shrugged.
"We'll tackle that one later then," his mother said with a sly grin. "Eat your soup, and tell me about your job."
He obeyed, and by the time he was telling her about the modifications the reviewers had requested he and Caradoc make to their paper he had eaten everything before him. In the warm, well-lit kitchen with the worn placemats, polished wood, and the smells of Lily's soup and melted cheese he felt safe, secure, and as if everything was far away. It felt good to be home and safe, and his worries about the war and about his job faded to the background.
They did the dishes together, and Marilyn poured some milk and put biscuits on a plate for them to share. They settled in armchairs in the living room, Remus pulling an afghan over his arms.
"So tell me more about you and Sirius," his mother said. "How long have you been together now?"
Remus thought as he munched a cookie. "I guess it's been a little over a year," he realized, surprised. "Last summer, when he got his flat. I guess."
"I thought you two were together before that."
“Well, no. Not really,” he said, wondering even as he spoke if that was true. “Mum, do you have to make this so complicated?”
His mother raised her eyebrows. “I’m not. You are.”
He scowled, but was saved from answering by the ringing of the doorbell. They exchanged glances.
“Are you expecting anyone?” he asked.
“No, but your father put up some wards. You should be able to see who it is if you look in that crystal.”
Remus looked in a small prism, and to his surprise saw Tina Lovegood standing on the doorstep, her face streaked with tears and her hair mussed. “It’s Peter’s girlfriend,” he said. He studied the prism and tapped his wand to it to unlock the wards, and then opened the door. “Tina! Are you all right?”
“I’m sorry to barge in on you, Remus, Mrs. Lupin,” Tina said, sniffling and wiping her nose on the back of her hand. “It’s just I needed someone to talk to and I can’t talk to my own mother because she’d kill me.”
A feeling of foreboding filled Remus, and Mrs. Lupin instantly came out and put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “It’s all right, Tina. You didn’t disturb us,” she said gently, even as Tina shook her head and pulled away. “Why don’t you come in?”
“All right.” Tina followed them in.
“Is it Peter?” Remus asked, heart in his mouth. “Did something happen?”
“No. Peter’s fine. He’s at home with his mother. It’s me.” Tina sniffled again, and Marilyn got up to get a box of tissues as Remus sat down on the couch.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, but her wand was out and he was looking up at cold, tearstained eyes, knowing it was too late even as she said “Stupefy.”
***
Hangover. Where am I? Stag night? No. Ages ago. My eyes… stuck together... I He raised his hand to rub at them, and was brought up short by the ropes binding him. Shit.
The Muggle lights were extinguished, with the lamps broken and shards of glass scattered over tables. The only light came from wands; eerie light that bounced off the glass and only served to exaggerate the darkness. Hooded, masked figures loomed over him. This close he could see the gleam of eyeballs behind the mask, but he could make out nothing else. He tried to swallow, but the muscles wouldn't work.
He was on one of the kitchen chairs, tied tightly with cords that cut deeply into his skin. Wand? No, no wand. Merlin, I hope they didn’t break it. I like that wand. The figures in front of him shifted, he saw the most horrifying sight of all: sitting across from him, tied to another chair, gagged, and blood trickling down the side of her face, her eyes wide with terror... MUM! NO!
Thick dark fear choked him, worse than even in the alley when he'd had his wand and Lily was able to fight. And as a Death Eater loomed over him, the fear froze and expanded, his heart pounding wildly in his ears.
No. This can’t be happening. Not again. Not this time. Not her.
He expected mocking. Werewolf, half-blood scum, Mudblood… any of those. Mocking and gloating and a sick sort of glee. And yet, their silence was infinitely more terrifying, until a Death Eater aimed a wand at him and once again his body shook with the Cruciatus Curse and electric fire coursing his veins and seizing his limbs.
Not again not again but I can take it and please stop oh please and I just want it to end!
He'd felt it before and yet he was still not prepared.
Abruptly it stopped, and his screams faded as his body trembled in the chair. And that was when he realized it.
No gag. Why would they… oh NO! Mum!
They turned the Crucio on his mother, and her gurgled shrieks of pain tore at his soul. And the question of why he was left unsilenced was answered when he heard himself crying out, "Stop!"
They didn't, not at first. Of course. But finally one of them turned and said, "Why should we, werewolf?" as his mother was left panting and crying in the chair.
No answer. There’s no answer. Nothing that they’d accept. Nothing that they’d believe.
From the corner of his eye he saw a wand tremble, and the sweat from a hand dampened a dark robe.
He focused on that figure, that slight shiver, and probed, just like Dumbledore taught him. And even as he probed, he knew the answer; all the answers.
Give up now. Please, don't take long. Just give it up now, Remus.
A flash of a Sirius, lying on a bed and laughing, and laughing so hard that it hurt. A brief vision of cold, hard anger and resentment and tears, and Remus instinctively knew it was the night Sirius ran away. And the longing of a little brother as he watched Sirius talk to his friends, pushing at them playfully, confidence overwhelming.
Please Remus. Don’t make me do this. I never liked you but you didn’t deserve this.
"Again?" a tall Death Eater asked.
"No, we can be kind," a smaller one said. He had a smooth, velvet voice that dripped more than it flowed from behind the mask. He knelt down in front of Remus, no expression because that damn mask never changed. "Our proposition is simple, Lupin. As you undoubtedly know, the Dark Lord is amassing his forces. Now, naturally you are not eligible for the most exclusive of the Dark Lord's circles, coming as you do from this creature." He gestured over his shoulder at Marilyn, whose eyes were now blazing with pain and pride. "But you are a valuable asset in your own way, and the Dark Lord would reward your service."
"My service,” Remus croaked. What service I have nothing to offer, just go away please go away and wait… this is what he wanted, isn’t it? This is why he’s training me…
“Your service,” the Death Eater kneeling in front of him said. Behind the mask, his eyes glittered. “The Dark Lord desires a new society. He needs agents. Creatures that can help him enforce his rules. And in return, he’ll give you the right to run free. To feed. To be what you are.”
He knew this day would come and he wanted me to say yes, didn’t he? No. he wouldn’t do that. No. Would he? Remus glanced at Regulus. Look at how he’s standing, he won’t believe me if I cave now he knows me too well, or at least he knows Sirius and knows what Sirius would care about… not yet if I even do- NO! I can’t do that!
“No.” He shook his head.
“Well, then, there are other compensations. A place in society, perhaps? The right to work anywhere you want? No more background checks or Registry visits. We’ll even see to it that the identification numbers are removed.”
“I have a job,” Remus snapped, and then regretted it immediately. That’s it then it’s death, that was your plausible reason to switch and you gave it away… oh well, sorry Mum, but we knew it would come to this someday and I’d give my life for it but I don’t want to… Mum, I don’t want to die… but I guess neither do you.
“Then we are no longer kind,” the Death Eater said, standing back up.
Pain. He was expecting it, and the knife cutting into his skin from behind him was no surprise, nor was the Crucio that followed.
This is all- this is nothing- kill me now fuckwits.
He was left panting and shaking, wracked with tremors that belied the pain and glaring up with defiant eyes. Too defiant, and they backed away. Blood trailed down his neck and he heard one murmur, “No good. He’ll let us kill him before he agrees.”
“So kill him then.”
“Or use better motivation.”
“Both?”
“Both.”
And before he could beg or plead or bargain, the knife was against his mother’s skin and against his as well, and there was something else that was magic that wasn’t a Crucio but burned like nothing Remus had ever felt, singeing hair and clothing in blue flame and curling up skin into char. The noises that came out of his mother made his voice catch on the jagged edges of his breaking heart and he had to squeeze his eyes closed because he couldn’t watch- couldn’t see what they were doing to her. Every move of wood and metal and magic against his skin made his nerves shriek in agony, and every moment slipped from him and he was powerless to stop it.
“They’ll kill her,” a voice said against his ear. A tenor voice, lighter than Sirius’s but with the same undertones. “You know that, Remus. They’re going to kill her no matter what. Promise your service now and I’ll kill her this minute, and she won’t suffer. That’s all you can do for her now, Remus.”
I can’t I can’t I can’t no it’s selling my soul and no I can’t and Mum, please don’t believe me because I have to and NO don’t scream like that anymore I have to, Mum, I have to because they won’t let you go anyway and besides I’ll lie and they’ll never see it and I can pretend and Mum, NO! Don’t hurt her anymore she’s my mother and how can you do this to her and-
“Not good enough,” he gasped over shredding tendrils of torture.
The Death Eater shifted. “All right. I’ll do what I can to save her. I promise.”
I have to gamble I have no choice you’d better be good for this-
“All right, Regulus. I’ll do it.”
***
Most of the Ministry had left for the day when Sirius finished writing his report. Most of the lights had been turned out except for scattered desk lights of either forgetful or dedicated Ministry workers. Sirius sat back and stretched, cracking the bones in his back with satisfying pops, and then glanced at the clock. Nine fifteen. Definitely time to go home. He gathered his things together and stood to leave.
He noticed another light on and padded quietly down the row of cubicles to where Damien Lupin was hunched over his desk. "Do you need any help?" he asked, hoping desperately that the answer was no.
His wish was granted. "No," Damien replied, stretching much like Sirius had done. "I was just finishing up. Doge wants this file by tomorrow morning. Can't say I blame him, either."
"Mmm." Sirius was noncommittal.
"Did you get your expense report for Albania in?"
"Yeah. Although Umstead went over it with a fine tooth comb."
"She tends to do that." Damien tightened his pony tail and then picked up his quill aimlessly. "I should get home, but I know Marilyn was looking forward to having Remus to herself tonight."
Sirius smiled. "If you want, I could give you a ride instead of you Apparating."
"On the bike?" Damien perked up. "If you don't mind."
"Not at all. I can give Remus a ride back then. I know he's still tired."
"Sounds great." A new life had come back to Damien as he swept his papers into a pile and grabbed his cloak. "How's the bike doing? Did you get the problem with your fuel injectors sorted?"
"Yeah. They were coked up but I soaked them in some solvent and that took care of it."
Talk of the bike carried them out of the Ministry and to the lot where Sirius kept it. "No invisibility charm?" Damien asked.
"Someone might hit it," Sirius pointed out. "I'll pay the Muggles to keep her safe."
He kicked out the stand and backed out expertly, and Damien climbed on, eager as a child. It was hard to talk much once the bike was in motion; the rushing air made it hard for either party to hear or
be heard. But neither of them minded much. The days were full of talk and rumors and stress and bad news; it was a relief to be hundreds of feet in the air where all of that could be ignored.
Until they saw the sickly green light of the Dark Mark, beckoning death and tragedy.
Sirius's first reaction was to swear. He was tired and just wanted to go home. But Damien's arms tightened convulsively around his waist as he let out a strangled cry that was a cross between protest and denial, and Sirius realized that the Dark Mark hung over the Lupin house.
For the life of him he could never remember how he landed, only the light of the Mark glinting off the metal in the bike and etching the desperation and anguish on Damien's face. As soon as the wheels
touched the ground Damien stumbled off the bike, running for the house and calling out for Marilyn and Remus.
But something was wrong- very wrong. Sirius's instincts knew it before he could pinpoint the reason, but as Damien flung the door open, he understood. The house was still intact. Death Eaters were still inside, waiting for the last Lupin to come home.
Sirius fired off a distress signal to the Order and broke into a run, just as the lights began to flash and voices hurling curses and hexes. He burst into the house to a fevered impression of destruction and blood and the smell of singed flesh, and two bodies slumped in chairs and many more standing around him, now firing spells at him as well. Damien must have been somewhat prepared for this possibility, because he was fighting as viciously as Sirius had ever seen him. It wasn't just his life he was fighting for, Sirius realized. It was his family.
No cold, specific attacks and counter attacks. No planning. No retreating. Sirius fought with a hot hatred and intent, deep in the chaos of colored lights and harsh voices, Damien's shoulder solid against his. He had no idea of how much time passed before a new voice joined in, but there was James in a flash of messy black hair and glasses standing at Sirius's other side, just as ferocious and fraught as the two Aurors. And as he spun about he glimpsed Peter in the back, with fear written on his face but trying- trying to help save their friend.
A gurgled, pain-filled cry choked Damien and he crumpled to the ground, followed closely by two more hexes. Sirius managed to Transfigure a Death Eater with a raised wand into a wombat before he
could cast what could have very well been the Killing Curse, and Damien was still but alive.
An angry roar barged through the air, and Damien's place was filled by Alastor Moody. Moody, who always fought with calm precision, was firing hex after hex with an anger in his face that Sirius had never seen. But the ranks weren't thinning, Sirius realized. The Death Eaters weren't losing any ground.
Behind him Peter was chanting rapidly, and Sirius was relieved to realize that Peter was spelling some object to be a Portkey to get them all out of here. "Defend Peter," he told James. "And stay close to him!"
How long did it take to make a Portkey anyway? Sirius wondered irritably. The only advantage they had was the size of the Lupin's living room; it made it hard for the Death Eaters in the back to attack
without hitting their own. But everything was chaos and death was so close and they couldn't last much longer, and Sirius couldn't even tell if any of the Lupins were alive or dead. The thought froze him
badly enough that it cost him as a burning hex caught his arm and set it alight. He extinguished it quickly, but not before damage was done.
"Padfoot! Prongs! I've got it!" Peter shouted.
"You grab Mrs. Lupin!" Sirius shouted to James. He managed to get a free hand on Remus's hair, and from the corner of his eye he saw Moody haul Damien up and over his shoulder. Peter gathered himself
and then barreled into them, holding out the picture frame he'd Transfigured. A single finger on it sent them hurling out of the Lupin's house and explosions and war and into the cushioned lobby and medicinal smells of St. Mungo's.
The first thing Sirius was aware of was that his hand was still gripping Remus's hair, and that it must hurt. He unclenched it slowly. The hair was matted with blood and dirty with soot. Sirius finally got a good look at Remus, and his inarticulate cry drew the attention of both James and Peter.
Remus was still tied to a chair, bound so tightly that his hands were purpling. His eyes were closed and his lips were bloodless, and there were cuts and burns and bruises far worse than the morning after a full moon. Sirius used his wand to release the bonds and Remus slumped forward into his arms, and his chest loosened a little as he felt Remus breathe.
St. Mungo's faded away, Moody, James and Peter were distant voices, and Damien and Marilyn were forgotten. All that mattered in that moment was that Remus was alive in his arms, breathing. Sirius
held him close, kissing his face and hair, heedless of the tears streaking his cheeks. Slowly he realized that Remus's breathing was uneven and labored, and he became aware of the warm, sticky blood that covered his hands and shirt.
When he turned around, wild-eyed and every nerve on edge, James and Peter were staring at him in shock. But Sirius didn't bother to notice.
What he noticed now were the healers moving through the waiting room, and the blood and groans of patients. Many patients. But none of them mattered quite this much, did they? No situation could be as serious- even with his minimal medical knowledge, Sirius knew that Remus wasn't far from death. "Can we get a Healer over here?" he shouted, his voice ragged and hoarse with anguished demand. "Hurry!"
Next to him, Moody was leaning over Damien, tying some sort of tourniquet and trying to staunch the flow of blood. A Healer was already bent over Marilyn, who was also still bound to a chair and looked even worse than Remus. The Healer was talking to her colleague in an urgent, hushed voice, and soon a stretcher was conjured and they eased Marilyn on to it, carrying her away swiftly. But no other Healers came, even though Damien and Remus both looked bad, and James and Sirius could both use medical attention as well.
So he waited, Remus in his arms and against his chest, unable to attempt basic healing spells or do anything besides sit in shock. Finally red hair and lime green robes whirled over to them, and James put out his hand to stop his wife. She shook her head at him quickly and joined the older Healer at Damien’s side, watching with wide, horrified eyes. She fell back as the witch conversed with Moody, and James grabbed her wrist and pulled her in.
“Lily,” he hissed. “What’s going on? Why aren’t they taking them immediately?”
“There was an accident with the Knight Bus,” Lily said, and as she faced Sirius he could see dark shadows under her eyes and blood already on her robes. “The driver was drinking, and they collided full-speed with a Muggle bus. Something happened to the engine, and all the injuries have to be treated by wizards. We’re short staffed tonight anyway, and we’ve got patients in every room and so many that are critical. They took Mrs. Lupin already because- oh, James, she’s alive, but….” Lily wiped at her eyes and pulled herself together quickly. “I’m taking Damien with Healer Maxwell, and someone will be over very soon to check out Remus. But it’s a triage; we have to make sure we’re taking the most serious cases first.”
“Evans!”
“Coming. Understand, James?”
He nodded and let her go, and she joined the witch in moving Damien to the lift, the golden doors closing on her anxious face.
Two Healers appeared in front of them, and Sirius’s breath restarted. He hadn’t even been aware that he was holding it. An older, graying man was touching Remus’s face with competent, gentle hands, tilting his head to the sides. The younger of the two, a man with shoulder-length brown hair and a goatee, was watching, shifting from foot to foot and tapping his wand against his hand. “He looks bad,” the young one said. “Get him in now?”
“I think so. Let me finish checking first.” The older Healer pushed up Remus’s sleeves and then pulled back sharply, shaking his head. “No good. Werewolf. Leave him until we’ve treated the others.”
“What?” Sirius demanded, springing to his feet. “Are you joking?”
The younger Healer had also clenched his fists tightly. “Healer Malone,” he said with an angry deliberateness, “he’s on the verge of death.”
“So are many others in this room, and they’re human. Come on, lad. We’ve got work to do.”
“No.” The boy stood firm, much to Sirius’s surprise. “If we leave him until later, he won’t make it.”
Sirius hadn’t realized he’d moved forward until two sets of hands pressed against his arms, jerking him backwards. “Let him handle it, Sirius,” James commanded harshly as the two Healers argued.
“Look,” the younger one was saying, his face flushed dark red. “I don’t care if he’s a werewolf or a vampire or a bloody half-goblin half-house-elf. We were friends in school and I’m going to take this patient now. I am NOT letting him die just because of some Ministry regulation!”
The elder threw his hands in the air. “It’s on your head then!” he shouted. “Do what you want, Sommers, but you’ll answer for it when this is over!”
“Fine.” The Healer turned and faced them. “Potter, Pettigrew, can you give me a hand? I need help getting him up to a room.”
“Sure,” Peter said, although he was looking decidedly green. “Will he live?”
“He will if I have anything to say about it. Potter, get that end, and- good. I’ve got a bed on,” Healer Sommers paused and checked his clipboard, “third floor. Take him by the lift. I’ll Apparate up and get ready.”
“I’m coming too,” Sirius growled.
Healer Sommers flashed him the barest of glances and nodded, and then disappeared with a crack.
“Let me help,” Sirius begged as James and Peter began to move Remus. “Please.”
“He said for us to do it,” James said, and distantly Sirius was shocked at the coldness in his best friend’s voice.
“But I’m stronger than Peter,” Sirius insisted.
“He told us to do it,” James repeated. “Ready, Wortmail?” They began to move towards the lift, and Sirius could only follow along helplessly.
It was a terrible feeling to watch Remus lying on that stretcher, fighting for his life and Sirius powerless to do anything to help. They entered the lift and Sirius took Remus’s hand, cold and hard in his, and tried to convince himself Remus’s hands always felt like this. The lift ride seemed to last forever, when really it was a matter of seconds. “Sirius,” Peter said as the doors opened, “you have to let go so we can move him.” Sirius fell back, because there was really nothing else he could do.
The Healer was waiting for them, bustling about a bed as he gathered potions and bandages together. He seemed very young, Sirius thought, and then realized with a jolt that he must be about their own age. When the Healer turned around and Sirius saw his face again, the penny dropped into place at last. The face was older and the goatee changed it, but it was Alex Sommers, Remus’s first… first. But right now, Sirius could only resent the fact that an older, more experienced Healer wasn’t treating Remus and he was left with someone barely a year out of Hogwarts.
James and Peter settled Remus on the bed. Alex moved quickly, taking his pulse, checking his breathing, injecting something into his arm, checking the wounds and slowing the flow of blood with his wand.
“Pettigrew. Can you stay and help me?”
“Me? I don’t know anything about healing!” Peter protested.
“I don’t need you to. I need you to do what I say.”
“I’ll stay,” Sirius said, practically begging. “I’ll stay!”
“No. Potter, get Black out of here. Don’t go far. There are chairs in the atrium of this floor. Wait there.”
“No,” Sirius said, the pitch of his voice rising frantically. “I’ll stay. Please, Sommers. Let me stay.”
Alex turned back to him again, and to Sirius’s surprise there was compassion in his eyes. “I promise you, Sirius, if it changes one way or the other I’ll get you immediately. But I need to you to go now. Potter…”
James tugged Sirius by the arm. “Let’s go, Sirius.” Sirius had no choice but to stumble out behind James.
He felt sick as he sat in the uncomfortable chair, staring at the empty wall across from him. James also stared straight ahead, arms crossed over his chest and slumped defiantly. The coldness that flowed off him froze Sirius’s heart until it burned, but right now he couldn’t focus on that. He could barely breathe, each breath pure fire, trembling with the very real, very overwhelming fear that Remus would die. He wiped a sleeve across his nose, missing the sideways, pained yet sympathetic look from James.
The moments ticked by, silent except for the muted voices of other Healers. James still did not move, but his lips pressed together in a thin line. Sirius wanted to get up and pace, to fidget, to do something, but James’s silence held him in place.
Finally, they heard footsteps and Peter came around the corner, smudged with blood and sweat but flushed and smiling. “Healer Sommers said you can come back now, Sirius.”
Sirius leapt to his feet. “What about me?” James asked.
Peter shook his head. “He said just Sirius for now,” he explained apologetically, as Sirius ran for Remus’s room.
Alex met him at the door. “How is he?” Sirius demanded.
“I think he’ll be all right,” Alex said, smiling. “He was hit several times with a Crucatius Curse and with several burning curses, and he’s still in some danger, but his vital signs are stable and he’s sleeping. I’ll give you five minutes with him.” He glanced down at his clipboard. “Sirius, I understand his parents were attacked as well.”
“Yes,” Sirius said impatiently, shifting from foot to foot in his eagerness to go in.
“Should something happen, are you his next of kin?”
“Huh?”
“Let me rephrase that. I know you’re not family,” Alex said, with a wryly twisted smile. “But would Remus consider you his next of kin?”
Sirius regarded him warily. “Why?”
“Technically, that’s the only way you can see him right now. Blood relatives or next of kin- they really mean a fiancée or wife. One more time, Black. Are you his next of kin?”
“Yes.” The word was pronounced solemnly, answering everything that Alex had implied.
“All right then. Five minutes.”
Sirius walked in.
Remus looked smaller lying in the bed with regulation crisped white sheets around him. Sirius approached tentatively, sitting down beside him and taking his hand. Remus took a deep, shaking breath as Sirius’s fingers laced with his, and his lips moved in a silent word.
Sirius.
And memories and emotion swept him under, right then and there, so he couldn’t move and couldn’t breathe. He could only sit and look and think.
Continue on to part 2 of part 7
Fic Title:Accidentally In Love, part 7
Disclaimer: Definitely not making any money off this.
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Parts 1-6 can be found here. The title does NOT refer to any domestic abuse, so don't worry about that ;)
Part VII- Hitting Hard
Mornings had a certain routine about them now, although neither Sirius nor Remus thought much of that fact. Remus would get up first and take a shower, while Sirius hit the snooze button on his alarm clock six times. He would wander in to the bathroom as Remus was shaving, and Remus would wonder how Muggles managed without anti-steam charms on their mirrors. If Remus was feeling industrious, breakfast was fried eggs and sausage. If Sirius only hit his snooze button five times, it was pancakes. But most often it was corn flakes for Sirius and some children’s sugared cereal for Remus, and a stack of toast to be split between the two of them.
The Daily Prophet was also part of the routine. Sirius read the front pages first, because they were increasingly relevant for work. Remus started with the sporting pages as he made sandwiches, and then switched when Sirius was ready. When they left they would kiss each other goodbye, and Sirius would take his bike to the Ministry and Remus would walk to the lab, unless the weather was poor. It was rare for their routine to be broken, except on Thursday mornings when hangovers were likely.
Which is why it was such a shock when Sirius spit a mouthful of coffee over the morning’s front page.
“What is it?” Remus asked, looking over his shoulder and eyes widening in surprise, and then rustling the edge of the paper so he could read the article himself. “Your father stepped down from the Ministry?”
“I can’t believe it,” Sirius said, lips numb from shock. “I didn’t think…”
“Pads, did you read all this?” Remus asked. Sirius shook his head. “Ministry officials indicate that not all is well with Black. There have been speculations of illness, domestic troubles, incompetence, and mental illness. ‘A couple years ago, Black’s oldest kid ran off,’ an unnamed official comments. ‘It really undid him. Some of us think he’s bonkers.’ When asked for comment, the Unspeakables who work under Black refused unanimously.’”
“I drove him insane?” Sirius sputtered, crumpling the paper. “I drove him? Moony, he was driving me insane!”
“I know it,” Remus said, laying a comforting hand on Sirius’s shoulder.
“I mean, you should have heard the things he said when… him and his pureblood mania! He only got worse as time went on you know!” Remus sank down into his chair, nodding and watching Sirius with calm eyes. “Remember that time second year? When you had to go to the hospital wing and I did too?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that was the first time he’d hit in me in three years. Know why he’d hit me before? Once because I talked back to my mother- I swore at her and everything. Once when I locked Regulus in the basement. And once when I poured ink over some papers after he’d told me eight times to get out of the study. And those three times he hit me a couple of times, mostly across the arse, and that was IT. It wasn’t until second year that he really started hitting me.
“And then the summers before fifth and sixth year we’d just fight all the time. Constantly. It never used to be like that, Moony. It used to be… well, not like your dad or James or Peter or whatever, but he used to love me. I think. He used to be proud of me. And then it just all went to hell. I couldn’t do anything right for him anymore. Nothing!”
Remus picked up the paper and crumpled it into a ball, handing it to Sirius. “Want the honors?”
Sirius took it, scowled, and tossed it in the fire. They watched the flames lick the paper, Sirius standing with his fists clenched and Remus with his hand on Sirius’s shoulder.
“I’m going to work,” Sirius finally growled.
“All right.” Remus picked up the two sack lunches and handed one to Sirius. “I’ll see you at the Dragon Rider tonight?”
“Yeah.” Sirius picked up his keys, stopping and closing his eyes as Remus dropped a quick kiss on his lips and then backed away. “I’ll be there.”
***
Sirius’s bad mood stayed with him all day. It was not helped by a morning of reading case files, or an afternoon of lessons under Moody and Doge. Or, for that matter, Alice wondering what was wrong and asking him in a deep, meaningful tone of voice if it had anything to do with the article in the paper this morning, and had he really run away? Only the presence of Moody and Doge (and really, only the threat of the types of punishment that made McGonagall seem like a sweet, gentle, motherly type) kept him from hexing her into oblivion. Didn’t the bloody bint know this was something you didn’t talk about?
Women.
Damien knew how to handle it. Damien had clapped him on the shoulder that morning, eaten lunch with him, and talked about Quidditch the entire time. His sole comment had been, “I saw your old man in the paper.”
“Yeah,” Sirius had said, looking away, and Damien had gone on to speculate about the Wasps’ chances, and wondering if Bagman would be asked to play for England. It was a surprisingly unobtrusive offer of help and caring, and some part of Sirius had been touched. Touched and angry, because it was the kind of thing his own father never would have done.
His bad mood ebbed slightly when he walked into the Dragon Rider later that night and the first thing he heard was James laughing. James was sitting with Peter and Remus, and the three of them were looking at some paper. “Padfoot!” James called, as he caught sight of Sirius. “You have to see this!”
“What is it?” Sirius asked, settling down. “The Quibbler? Where’d you get this rag?”
“Tina’s brother is one of their writers,” Peter said. “He told her about this story, and she gave me a copy. It’s a scream.”
“’The Secret and Unauthorized Biography of Sirius Black’,” Remus read dramatically. “’He drove his father insane with his antics, broke his mother’s heart, tortured his brother, and brought shame to a pureblood family. OR DID HE? It may be that the treatment Sirius Black received at home led him into the life of decadence he enjoys today.’ Oh, Pads, you’ve really got to read this one.”
“They must get advance copy of the Prophet or something,” James mused.
“Nah. This is hot off the press,” Peter explained. “The Quibbler doesn’t hit the streets until five. And since it’s not like any of this is true, unless your parents beat you, starved you and let you be-” Peter broke off as he snorted. “-raped by house-elves!”
Sirius howled with laughter and took the paper from Peter. There was a terrible sketch of some injured-eyed pretty boy that looked nothing like him, and an account of a childhood that would make a horror writer scream. And a very, very colorful description of how Sirius had dealt with this life of physical, mental, sexual, and emotional abuse. “I never knew I was a billiwig addict,” he said. “Or a drunk. Wow. According to this, I had my first firewhiskey at thirteen.”
“We were at least fourteen,” James scoffed, and pulled the paper back into the center.
“Oh, I like this one,” Remus said. “All A’s and D’s on your O.W.L.s, and only two N.E.W.T.s!”
Peter sputtered with laughter. “Oh, this is too much! Look here,” he pointed down the column. “’Reliable sources have also stated that Black has found something like love… with his a showgirl from the States! ‘It’s true,’ says his landlord, Frank Whipplenapper. ‘This little hussy walks in and out with legs up to here and a feather headdress.’ Black’s neighbors also have claimed that the couple indulges in very loud and perverted sexual practices, as evidenced by the loud and distinct noises that can be heard several houses away.”
“Oh that’s ridiculous,” Remus simpered. “Everyone knows I prefer the one with sequins. Although…” he stuck out a foot. “Legs up to here, huh? I never saw anything that great about them, but if The Quibbler says it, it must be true.”
“And they say nothing about your breasts or your ass,” Peter said. “And everyone knows they’re your best features.”
“Well, not so much my breasts,” Remus complained, cupping what didn’t exist. “But I must admit I’ve got an ass like an onion.”
“An onion?” Peter asked dubiously.
“It’s round and it’s tight and it makes you want to cry,” Remus declared, and they all dissolved into hysterical laughter.
“You should send this to your parents,” James suggested as he wiped tears from his eyes. “And tell them you granted The Quibbler an exclusive interview or something. That would really make them blow their tops.”
Sirius grinned, and transfigured a knife into a pair of scissors to cut out the article. “I should make it a Howler,” he decided, “so it they can hear this all at top volume.”
It should have felt like home, like Hogwarts again, with James laughing and Remus’s concerned eyes and Peter cheerfully animating pictures to go along with the crude slogans James was devising. But he still felt empty, even if he could smile.
***
That night they sat in Sirius’s flat, Sirius stretched on the couch with his head in Remus’s lap. Remus combed his fingers through Sirius’s hair, the repetitive motion soothing them both. Sirius’s eyes were closed, his eyelashes forming dark crescents on his cheeks. From this angle with the flickering light of a candle ghosting over his face, Remus thought he looked exotic and beautiful.
For as long as he could remember, Sirius was the symbol of everything Remus wished he could be. Brave, defiant, and confident, with an easy intelligence and fanatical loyalty. Sirius, who could wear his heart on his sleeve and give the finger to the world, unlike Remus, who hid so much and tried to fit in with what parents and friends and everyone expected. Most days, anyway.
Remus didn’t like seeing Sirius not like that.
“That really feels good,” Sirius murmured.
“I thought you were asleep.”
Sirius shook his head lazily. “No. Just relaxed.” He sighed and nestled deeper into Remus’s lap. “Long day.”
“It was,” Remus agreed, saying nothing of the fact he’d spent the day worrying about Sirius, or the vulnerability he’d seen his those grey eyes all evening. “Are you done in?”
“Not quite,” Sirius said, cracking one eye open.
“Well then.” Remus shifted so he could lean in and kiss Sirius softly. His lips lingered, tasting and breathing the life back into Sirius as he gathered him in his arms to pull him close.
Sirius deepened the kiss, but his hands shook as they trailed down to the Remus’s robes and hesitated there, and Remus’s heart hurt as he pulled away and saw the questions in Sirius’s eyes. Sirius hadn’t looked this uncertain since… no. Even that first time, Sirius had believed Remus wanted him. Tonight he didn’t.
Remus cupped Sirius’s cheek and caressing the skin with his thumb. “I’m here, Pads,” he whispered as Sirius rubbed his cheek against Remus’s hand.
“I know.” But there was a funny catch in Sirius’s voice.
Remus leaned forward and brushed his lips over Sirius’s face, gentle and reassuring but firm. “I’ll be here as long as you need me,” he murmured, and then captured Sirius’s lips again.
Sex between them had always been for mutual pleasure; Sirius had been clear on that from the beginning. Tonight it wasn't. Tonight was about Sirius’s skin under Remus’s hands, the way his head fell back as Remus mouthed along his throat, and each hitch of his breath as Remus stroked and nuzzled and touched. He took his time, caressing and kissing until Sirius was moaning, and then entering him reverently, with Sirius’s legs wrapped around his waist and the light of the candle casting shadows over their bodies. He rocked them gently, building until Sirius came silently, his arms squeezing tight and his cheek against Remus’s.
They lay tangled on the sofa for a long time afterwards, and when Remus opened his eyes he found Sirius smiling at him, and his heart jumped. “Thanks,” Sirius said, and for the first time that day he sounded like himself.
“Any time,” Remus replied with a mischievous grin.
***
"I see your knuts, and I raise them two."
Sirius and Remus both guffawed, and Peter glared at them. "Honestly! Could you two please stop that for one minute? Just one!"
"Sorry, mate," Remus said, trying to stifle a snicker. Sirius did nothing of the sort. "It's just…."
"You two really need to get laid upon occasion," Peter muttered sourly.
"Nah, we don't," Sirius said, finally getting himself under control. "We just need to grow up a little."
"And I think I'll take all your knuts," James said. "Show 'em." He laid down his cards with a straight flush.
"I’m out," Remus admitted, showing three of a kind.
"Got me," Peter said as he laid down a full house.
"I had the ace of hearts, the two of diamonds, the jack of spades, the nine of hearts, and the eight of clubs," Sirius sighed. "What's that amount to?"
"Absolutely nothing," James said smugly, pulling in the pot.
"Hey, listen," Peter said, as James let the cards shuffle. "Does anyone want my Quidditch tickets for this weekend?"
James, Sirius, and Remus stared at him. James was the first to speak. "What? You're not coming? But I'm starting this week!"
"You never miss!" Sirius said, shocked.
Peter looked at them with a mix of irritation and misery. "Look, Tina really wants me to go do this thing with her. Something with her friends. She doesn't ask for much-"
"Doesn't ask for much?" Remus said. "She's on you every bloody day about a commitment!"
"Yes, but that's normal when you're in love," Peter insisted, eyes narrowed. Remus cringed inwardly, but kept a bland face. "She really wants me to do this, and you know… I’d rather like to."
"What exactly are you going to do?" James wanted to know. "What's better than watching the Wimborne Wasps- and me- play Quidditch?"
"It's just this party some of her friends are having," Peter said. "We'll actually be listening to the game on the WWN, I'm sure. But she really, really wants to go. C'mon, James. You're a married man. You get this."
"Yeah," James sighed. "I do."
"So anyway," Peter said, picking up the cards and dealing. "Who wants my tickets?"
"My parents aren't in town this week," James said. "And Lily's parents are both Muggles. They won't come."
"Can't think of anyone who'd want 'em," Sirius said with a shrug.
"I'll take them," Remus volunteered. "My dad's birthday's this weekend, and I know he'd love to go. And if they're a birthday present, Mum can't say no."
Peter dug out his wallet and handed Remus the tickets. "How much do I owe you?" Remus asked.
Peter waved a hand. "Don't worry about it."
"All right. Thanks, Wormtail. You're still going Saturday, right Pads?"
"Rampaging hippogriffs couldn't stop me," Sirius said with a grin.
They played another three games in comfortable near-silence, when James finally asked, “So Wormtail. Are you thinking about getting married?”
“Yes,” Sirius said, tilting his chair back. “What are your intentions towards the lovely Miss Lovegood?”
“Completely dishonorable, I hope,” Remus muttered.
Peter stared at Remus, exasperation showing plain on his face. Remus kept his eyes fixed firmly on the table. “What?” he demanded.
“Would you please stop making snide comments about my girlfriend?” Peter asked.
“Sorry,” Remus said, even though he wasn’t. Privately, he thought Peter was too good for Tina, but any statement like that would result in a recital of Tina’s attributes.
“Anyway,” Sirius said, lightening the tone and kicking Remus under the table for good measure, “you’ve avoided the question.”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Peter admitted, turning a card around and tapping each edge on the table. “I kind of really want to.”
Remus fumed, Sirius stared at him with his mouth gaping open, and James whooped. “Finally! Company in the madhouse! When are you going to ask her?” he asked.
“I’m not,” Peter sighed. “Not yet.”
“Well, whyever not?”
“One, we’re twenty.”
“So?” James asked, feathers ruffled.
“No, that’s a valid point,” Remus said, and Peter tossed a grateful smile at him.
“Two, I can’t afford it.”
“What’s to afford?” James said. “She has a job, you have a job, and you could get a flat no problem.”
“It’s not that. It’s my mother and my sisters.” Peter looked back down at the table, and the other three exchanged glances. “Mum makes some money,” Peter explained, “but she really doesn’t make that much. There’s a mortage on the house, and you know the Gringotts goblins. Anyway, they’re my first responsibility. I can’t do anything until they’re taken care of.” His voice was a mix of pride and bitterness, which Remus could understand.
“Why do you need to even do that?” Sirius asked dismissively. “Your Mum could get a better job.”
“It’s just for two more years,” Peter said. “Once the house is paid off, and then Penny will be out of school and Patricia will be, well, maybe until Patricia’s out of school, we’ll see how things go.” But he looked tired just talking about it.
“How’s Tina with it?” Remus asked, trying to keep the barbs out of his voice.
Peter shrugged, and Remus strongly suggested the phrase “Mama’s boy” had been brandished about more than once. “Look, that’s the way it is, all right?” Peter said, leaning down and fishing for the bag he brought with him. “Anyone want a break? I grabbed samples from work. Chocolate Frogs and Ice Mice.”
The appearance of snacks had the desired effect, and soon they were back to poker and wagering the sweets. Remus patted the two Quidditch tickets in his wallet. At least something good had come out of Tina Lovegood. His father would be delighted.
***
Saturday was bright, clear, and crisp. The stands were alive with the yellow and black of the Wimbourne Wasp supporters, mingled with the orange of the Chudley Cannons. "No wonder James is getting to start today," Sirius told Remus as they took their seats. "The Wasps will walk right over the Cannons."
"Think he's nervous?" Remus asked.
Sirius gave him a mock-disdainful look. "When have you ever known Prongs to be nervous about a Quidditch game?"
Remus sighed. "No, I suppose not," he agreed. "Stupid of me. Hey- there's my parents." He waved wildly, and Sirius spotted Damien pointing them out to his wife. "You want to take Tina's seat?" Remus asked Sirius. "Mum can sit next to me and drive me batty with Quidditch questions, and you and Dad can argue over the plays to your hearts' content."
"All right," Sirius agreed, scooting down two places. "Your dad's a lot more fun to argue with than Wormtail is."
Remus grinned and then jumped to his feet to greet his parents as they edged along the row to their seats.
Although they'd been working together for almost a year now, it still amazed Sirius that he was actually glad to see Damien Lupin. And vice versa, for that matter. As Damien took his seat, he had a warm, eager smile on his face that Sirius had certainly seen, but was still privately promising himself never to take for granted.
"Beautiful day for a game!" Damien said. "How'd you boys get such good tickets?"
"Season tickets from James," Sirius answered, with a smile. "We still had to pay for them, but with our connection to today's starting Chaser, we at least got early dibs."
"Can't complain." Damien looked over at Marilyn, who was looking at a sketch Remus was making on the back of his program with a pencil as he patiently explained the rules to her. "I keep telling her she'll understand it when she sees it," he confided to Sirius. "It's not something you can explain easily to a Muggle."
"No," Sirius agreed enthusiastically. "I still think Lily doesn't always get it, although maybe she pretends just to annoy James."
The Chudley Cannons might not be the best team, but the game was far from boring, especially in the beginning. "The problem with the Cannons," Sirius opined, "is that they start out too fast." A Cannons Chaser scored, bringing a cheer from the orange-clad supporters. "They don't save anything, and their Seeker isn't very strong."
"That's why they start out so fast, I think," Damien said. "Compensation. James is flying well."
"He always does," Sirius said proudly, and they both jumped to their feet to cheer as James scored.
"So that's ten points to the Wasps, right?" they could hear Marilyn say as the cheering died down.
"She's getting it," Damien said in surprise.
"Remus is good at explaining things," Sirius chuckled. "I never really thought about it, but last month he mentioned the idea of teaching and…" he shrugged. "Now that I think about it I guess he'd be good."
"He would. He takes after his mother," Damien said proudly, although Sirius detected a hint of wistfulness in his face. But it was gone as Damien looked back out at the field. "By the way, did you read Doge's memo yesterday?"
"About the escalation in you-know-what attacks?" Sirius asked, pitching his voice lower so people around them wouldn't hear. "Yeah, I read that. Eighteen last month?"
"That went reported. What's more alarming was the fact that eight of them were on private homes. Oh, bugger- FOUL!" They both rose to their feet, shouting with the Wasps supporters as the Cannons Beater blocked James and swung, James ducking just in time with lightening-fast reflexes.
"So James gets a penalty shot?" Marilyn was asking Remus. "Like in football?"
"Exactly."
Damien choked on his surprise, making Sirius chuckle. They cheered as James scored, and then settled back down to their seats.
"Anyway, as I was saying, eight private homes," Damien said.
"I'm surprised we haven't been called out on any of them."
"I think we will be eventually, but Doge thinks you and I do better chasing down fugitives. It's not an easy task, and most of the Aurors aren't as adaptable as we are."
Sirius grinned with pride. "Can't really complain. I think it's my favorite part of the job."
"Same here," Damien agreed enthusiastically. "I used to travel a lot when I was younger- younger than you, even, with my family- but I didn't properly appreciate it then. Now I just wish we had more time to see the sights and everything when we go."
"Me, too," Sirius said, and then felt guilty, because at least he could go. He watched Remus studying the field intently, his eyes following Bagman longingly. "Hey, Damien?"
"Yes?"
"Why did Remus never try out for Gryffindor's Quidditch team? He could have made it easily, you know."
"I know. He's one hell of a Beater," Damien agreed, affirming Sirius's guess that Remus had learnt Quidditch from his father. "I tried to talk him into it, but he always insisted he'd miss too many practices."
"So being a w-word caused him to miss out on that, too?" Sirius asked bitterly.
Damien chuckled. "No, I thought that too. But if Remus wants something- really wants something- he won't let that stand in his way. He won't let anything stand in his way. He didn't want to play for the House team, and that's the long and the short of it."
"Oh. Did you play for the House team?" Sirius asked.
Damien smiled. "I did, for two years. I was a Chaser for Ravenclaw during their winning streak." He began telling Sirius about the Quidditch Cup in 1951, and Sirius listened, fascinated. As Damien talked, it occurred to Sirius that perhaps if he just asked, Damien would answer other questions Sirius had never realized he had. How he'd met a Muggle woman like Marilyn. How his family had responded to their marriage. When did he know he wanted to be an Auror? What did his parents think of it? And maybe, if he was very, very lucky, Damien might tell him a bit about when Remus was bitten.
It was funny, though, he reflected as Damien described the play that had resulted in the Ravenclaw Seeker catching the Snitch, that he'd never asked his parents any of those questions. His parents had been just that in his head- parents, not people. He'd never really thought of them as having much of a life before he was born. Then he remembered the Christmas James had visited and talking with his mother, and thought maybe he did and would have, if things had been normal. He shook his head and pushed it back, because mourning about it a week and a half ago had been more than enough and Sirius wasn’t going to waste his life with regrets. And that mood was pushed aside even further when the Wasp Seeker caught the Snitch, ending the match 310-210. The four of them were on their feet cheering, and even Marilyn looked flushed and excited with the victory.
The team took their victory laps and the crowds began to file out of the stadium, talking happily and arguing over the more salient points of the game.
“Smile,” Marilyn said, turning around suddenly, and Damien put an arm around Sirius’s shoulders before the flash went off. “I’m glad you boys talked me into this,” Marilyn sighed. “It was fun.”
“It was,” Damien agreed. “An excellent birthday present.” He reached out and ruffled Remus’s hair. Remus ducked away, but Sirius noticed that his reflexes seemed much slower than when James tried the same trick. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Are you going to the pub to celebrate the win, Sirius? Or do you want to join us for dinner?”
“I think I’ll go congratulate Prongs,” Sirius said. “Come by when you’re done?”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you later.”
Remus left with his parents, and Sirius watched the three of them walk off together, only slightly jealous. Then he began making his way to the pub.
***
It came as a shock three days later when Sirius stopped by Damien’s desk. He really wasn’t expecting it.
All of the Aurors decorated their cubicles as they saw fit. Sirius himself had a Wimbourne Wasps banner (of course), a picture of himself, James, Peter, and Remus, three pictures that involved the bike, and a poster of the Lobalugs. He was used to Damien’s desk, decorated with automotive diagrams and a small Queen sticker (which Sirius still found highly amusing, for multiple reasons). On the desk itself sat framed pictures of Marilyn and Remus.
But on Wednesday, when he dropped by to get Damien’s signature on a report, he noticed a new photo tacked to the corner of the wall, next to where the framed pictures sat. It was the photo that Marilyn had shot on Saturday, with the both of them smiling and waving eagerly at the viewer. Damien’s arm was still draped around his shoulder, and the wind mussed their hair and reddened their cheeks.
Sirius didn’t comment on it, but he smiled for the rest of the day.
***
Remus-
Mum stayed home from work today because she’s sick, and I have to stay late at the Ministry. Would you go over around supper time and check on her?
Thanks.
Dad
“Caradoc?” Remus called out, folding the parchment and slipping it into his robe pocket. “Do you need me to stay late tonight?”
Caradoc poked his head out of the office. “No lad. I’m leaving early myself. Briggs has a chap visiting from Japan, and I want to speak to him about his knowledge of kappas. ‘Konichi-wa’ is Japanese for hello, right?”
“I think so.” Remus began gathering his things together, stifling a yawn. “I have the critters fed and the redraft of the discussion section done. Do you mind if I take off early? I’m tired.”
“That’s fine. You do look rather under the weather, don’t you? Usually you look better three days after the full moon.”
Remus waved his hand. “Just up late last night.” And Caradoc didn’t need anymore details than that, even if the details were very pleasant and involved Sirius, a length of rope, a blindfold, and an orgasm to end all orgasms. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“All right.”
He made a few stops along the way, and then Apparated to outside the Lupin house, examining it. His father had set up wards- an important precaution these days, given how many homes Sirius said had been attacked. It looked like his father had done a fairly thorough job, and had keyed them so people could still come near the house, so friends could approach. Remus unlocked the wards, let himself in and then reset them. "Mum?" he called out. "Are you home?"
His mother came out to meet him in the hallway. Remus noticed she did look tired. She had dark circles under her eyes and her hair was not properly brushed. "Hello, Remus," she said, kissing him carefully on the cheek. "Don't get too close. I think I'm sick."
"Dad said. I got an owl from him saying he'd be back late tonight and asking me to come by and check on you."
Marilyn waved her hand. "I'm fine. It's just a head cold."
Remus held up the pot he was carrying. "I stopped by James and Lily's place and got some of Lily's soup. I thought we could have it for supper. Sit down, and I'll get it ready."
His mother tried to argue, but Remus pushed her into a chair and she subsided - a sure sign that she was sick. In fact, he thought she might have drifted off as he heated the soup and made cheese toast.
"You look tired yourself," she said as he set the steaming bowl before her. "Are you getting over the full moon all right?"
"Yes. I just haven't been sleeping well," he confessed.
"Sirius?"
"No. Not at all," Remus said, shaking his head. "Things with Sirius are… good."
"Just good?"
"Great, actually," he admitted with a shy smile. His mother smiled back. "It's just been… I don't know. I really like living there with him."
Marilyn snorted. "Still not in love?"
Remus shrugged.
"We'll tackle that one later then," his mother said with a sly grin. "Eat your soup, and tell me about your job."
He obeyed, and by the time he was telling her about the modifications the reviewers had requested he and Caradoc make to their paper he had eaten everything before him. In the warm, well-lit kitchen with the worn placemats, polished wood, and the smells of Lily's soup and melted cheese he felt safe, secure, and as if everything was far away. It felt good to be home and safe, and his worries about the war and about his job faded to the background.
They did the dishes together, and Marilyn poured some milk and put biscuits on a plate for them to share. They settled in armchairs in the living room, Remus pulling an afghan over his arms.
"So tell me more about you and Sirius," his mother said. "How long have you been together now?"
Remus thought as he munched a cookie. "I guess it's been a little over a year," he realized, surprised. "Last summer, when he got his flat. I guess."
"I thought you two were together before that."
“Well, no. Not really,” he said, wondering even as he spoke if that was true. “Mum, do you have to make this so complicated?”
His mother raised her eyebrows. “I’m not. You are.”
He scowled, but was saved from answering by the ringing of the doorbell. They exchanged glances.
“Are you expecting anyone?” he asked.
“No, but your father put up some wards. You should be able to see who it is if you look in that crystal.”
Remus looked in a small prism, and to his surprise saw Tina Lovegood standing on the doorstep, her face streaked with tears and her hair mussed. “It’s Peter’s girlfriend,” he said. He studied the prism and tapped his wand to it to unlock the wards, and then opened the door. “Tina! Are you all right?”
“I’m sorry to barge in on you, Remus, Mrs. Lupin,” Tina said, sniffling and wiping her nose on the back of her hand. “It’s just I needed someone to talk to and I can’t talk to my own mother because she’d kill me.”
A feeling of foreboding filled Remus, and Mrs. Lupin instantly came out and put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “It’s all right, Tina. You didn’t disturb us,” she said gently, even as Tina shook her head and pulled away. “Why don’t you come in?”
“All right.” Tina followed them in.
“Is it Peter?” Remus asked, heart in his mouth. “Did something happen?”
“No. Peter’s fine. He’s at home with his mother. It’s me.” Tina sniffled again, and Marilyn got up to get a box of tissues as Remus sat down on the couch.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, but her wand was out and he was looking up at cold, tearstained eyes, knowing it was too late even as she said “Stupefy.”
***
Hangover. Where am I? Stag night? No. Ages ago. My eyes… stuck together... I He raised his hand to rub at them, and was brought up short by the ropes binding him. Shit.
The Muggle lights were extinguished, with the lamps broken and shards of glass scattered over tables. The only light came from wands; eerie light that bounced off the glass and only served to exaggerate the darkness. Hooded, masked figures loomed over him. This close he could see the gleam of eyeballs behind the mask, but he could make out nothing else. He tried to swallow, but the muscles wouldn't work.
He was on one of the kitchen chairs, tied tightly with cords that cut deeply into his skin. Wand? No, no wand. Merlin, I hope they didn’t break it. I like that wand. The figures in front of him shifted, he saw the most horrifying sight of all: sitting across from him, tied to another chair, gagged, and blood trickling down the side of her face, her eyes wide with terror... MUM! NO!
Thick dark fear choked him, worse than even in the alley when he'd had his wand and Lily was able to fight. And as a Death Eater loomed over him, the fear froze and expanded, his heart pounding wildly in his ears.
No. This can’t be happening. Not again. Not this time. Not her.
He expected mocking. Werewolf, half-blood scum, Mudblood… any of those. Mocking and gloating and a sick sort of glee. And yet, their silence was infinitely more terrifying, until a Death Eater aimed a wand at him and once again his body shook with the Cruciatus Curse and electric fire coursing his veins and seizing his limbs.
Not again not again but I can take it and please stop oh please and I just want it to end!
He'd felt it before and yet he was still not prepared.
Abruptly it stopped, and his screams faded as his body trembled in the chair. And that was when he realized it.
No gag. Why would they… oh NO! Mum!
They turned the Crucio on his mother, and her gurgled shrieks of pain tore at his soul. And the question of why he was left unsilenced was answered when he heard himself crying out, "Stop!"
They didn't, not at first. Of course. But finally one of them turned and said, "Why should we, werewolf?" as his mother was left panting and crying in the chair.
No answer. There’s no answer. Nothing that they’d accept. Nothing that they’d believe.
From the corner of his eye he saw a wand tremble, and the sweat from a hand dampened a dark robe.
He focused on that figure, that slight shiver, and probed, just like Dumbledore taught him. And even as he probed, he knew the answer; all the answers.
Give up now. Please, don't take long. Just give it up now, Remus.
A flash of a Sirius, lying on a bed and laughing, and laughing so hard that it hurt. A brief vision of cold, hard anger and resentment and tears, and Remus instinctively knew it was the night Sirius ran away. And the longing of a little brother as he watched Sirius talk to his friends, pushing at them playfully, confidence overwhelming.
Please Remus. Don’t make me do this. I never liked you but you didn’t deserve this.
"Again?" a tall Death Eater asked.
"No, we can be kind," a smaller one said. He had a smooth, velvet voice that dripped more than it flowed from behind the mask. He knelt down in front of Remus, no expression because that damn mask never changed. "Our proposition is simple, Lupin. As you undoubtedly know, the Dark Lord is amassing his forces. Now, naturally you are not eligible for the most exclusive of the Dark Lord's circles, coming as you do from this creature." He gestured over his shoulder at Marilyn, whose eyes were now blazing with pain and pride. "But you are a valuable asset in your own way, and the Dark Lord would reward your service."
"My service,” Remus croaked. What service I have nothing to offer, just go away please go away and wait… this is what he wanted, isn’t it? This is why he’s training me…
“Your service,” the Death Eater kneeling in front of him said. Behind the mask, his eyes glittered. “The Dark Lord desires a new society. He needs agents. Creatures that can help him enforce his rules. And in return, he’ll give you the right to run free. To feed. To be what you are.”
He knew this day would come and he wanted me to say yes, didn’t he? No. he wouldn’t do that. No. Would he? Remus glanced at Regulus. Look at how he’s standing, he won’t believe me if I cave now he knows me too well, or at least he knows Sirius and knows what Sirius would care about… not yet if I even do- NO! I can’t do that!
“No.” He shook his head.
“Well, then, there are other compensations. A place in society, perhaps? The right to work anywhere you want? No more background checks or Registry visits. We’ll even see to it that the identification numbers are removed.”
“I have a job,” Remus snapped, and then regretted it immediately. That’s it then it’s death, that was your plausible reason to switch and you gave it away… oh well, sorry Mum, but we knew it would come to this someday and I’d give my life for it but I don’t want to… Mum, I don’t want to die… but I guess neither do you.
“Then we are no longer kind,” the Death Eater said, standing back up.
Pain. He was expecting it, and the knife cutting into his skin from behind him was no surprise, nor was the Crucio that followed.
This is all- this is nothing- kill me now fuckwits.
He was left panting and shaking, wracked with tremors that belied the pain and glaring up with defiant eyes. Too defiant, and they backed away. Blood trailed down his neck and he heard one murmur, “No good. He’ll let us kill him before he agrees.”
“So kill him then.”
“Or use better motivation.”
“Both?”
“Both.”
And before he could beg or plead or bargain, the knife was against his mother’s skin and against his as well, and there was something else that was magic that wasn’t a Crucio but burned like nothing Remus had ever felt, singeing hair and clothing in blue flame and curling up skin into char. The noises that came out of his mother made his voice catch on the jagged edges of his breaking heart and he had to squeeze his eyes closed because he couldn’t watch- couldn’t see what they were doing to her. Every move of wood and metal and magic against his skin made his nerves shriek in agony, and every moment slipped from him and he was powerless to stop it.
“They’ll kill her,” a voice said against his ear. A tenor voice, lighter than Sirius’s but with the same undertones. “You know that, Remus. They’re going to kill her no matter what. Promise your service now and I’ll kill her this minute, and she won’t suffer. That’s all you can do for her now, Remus.”
I can’t I can’t I can’t no it’s selling my soul and no I can’t and Mum, please don’t believe me because I have to and NO don’t scream like that anymore I have to, Mum, I have to because they won’t let you go anyway and besides I’ll lie and they’ll never see it and I can pretend and Mum, NO! Don’t hurt her anymore she’s my mother and how can you do this to her and-
“Not good enough,” he gasped over shredding tendrils of torture.
The Death Eater shifted. “All right. I’ll do what I can to save her. I promise.”
I have to gamble I have no choice you’d better be good for this-
“All right, Regulus. I’ll do it.”
***
Most of the Ministry had left for the day when Sirius finished writing his report. Most of the lights had been turned out except for scattered desk lights of either forgetful or dedicated Ministry workers. Sirius sat back and stretched, cracking the bones in his back with satisfying pops, and then glanced at the clock. Nine fifteen. Definitely time to go home. He gathered his things together and stood to leave.
He noticed another light on and padded quietly down the row of cubicles to where Damien Lupin was hunched over his desk. "Do you need any help?" he asked, hoping desperately that the answer was no.
His wish was granted. "No," Damien replied, stretching much like Sirius had done. "I was just finishing up. Doge wants this file by tomorrow morning. Can't say I blame him, either."
"Mmm." Sirius was noncommittal.
"Did you get your expense report for Albania in?"
"Yeah. Although Umstead went over it with a fine tooth comb."
"She tends to do that." Damien tightened his pony tail and then picked up his quill aimlessly. "I should get home, but I know Marilyn was looking forward to having Remus to herself tonight."
Sirius smiled. "If you want, I could give you a ride instead of you Apparating."
"On the bike?" Damien perked up. "If you don't mind."
"Not at all. I can give Remus a ride back then. I know he's still tired."
"Sounds great." A new life had come back to Damien as he swept his papers into a pile and grabbed his cloak. "How's the bike doing? Did you get the problem with your fuel injectors sorted?"
"Yeah. They were coked up but I soaked them in some solvent and that took care of it."
Talk of the bike carried them out of the Ministry and to the lot where Sirius kept it. "No invisibility charm?" Damien asked.
"Someone might hit it," Sirius pointed out. "I'll pay the Muggles to keep her safe."
He kicked out the stand and backed out expertly, and Damien climbed on, eager as a child. It was hard to talk much once the bike was in motion; the rushing air made it hard for either party to hear or
be heard. But neither of them minded much. The days were full of talk and rumors and stress and bad news; it was a relief to be hundreds of feet in the air where all of that could be ignored.
Until they saw the sickly green light of the Dark Mark, beckoning death and tragedy.
Sirius's first reaction was to swear. He was tired and just wanted to go home. But Damien's arms tightened convulsively around his waist as he let out a strangled cry that was a cross between protest and denial, and Sirius realized that the Dark Mark hung over the Lupin house.
For the life of him he could never remember how he landed, only the light of the Mark glinting off the metal in the bike and etching the desperation and anguish on Damien's face. As soon as the wheels
touched the ground Damien stumbled off the bike, running for the house and calling out for Marilyn and Remus.
But something was wrong- very wrong. Sirius's instincts knew it before he could pinpoint the reason, but as Damien flung the door open, he understood. The house was still intact. Death Eaters were still inside, waiting for the last Lupin to come home.
Sirius fired off a distress signal to the Order and broke into a run, just as the lights began to flash and voices hurling curses and hexes. He burst into the house to a fevered impression of destruction and blood and the smell of singed flesh, and two bodies slumped in chairs and many more standing around him, now firing spells at him as well. Damien must have been somewhat prepared for this possibility, because he was fighting as viciously as Sirius had ever seen him. It wasn't just his life he was fighting for, Sirius realized. It was his family.
No cold, specific attacks and counter attacks. No planning. No retreating. Sirius fought with a hot hatred and intent, deep in the chaos of colored lights and harsh voices, Damien's shoulder solid against his. He had no idea of how much time passed before a new voice joined in, but there was James in a flash of messy black hair and glasses standing at Sirius's other side, just as ferocious and fraught as the two Aurors. And as he spun about he glimpsed Peter in the back, with fear written on his face but trying- trying to help save their friend.
A gurgled, pain-filled cry choked Damien and he crumpled to the ground, followed closely by two more hexes. Sirius managed to Transfigure a Death Eater with a raised wand into a wombat before he
could cast what could have very well been the Killing Curse, and Damien was still but alive.
An angry roar barged through the air, and Damien's place was filled by Alastor Moody. Moody, who always fought with calm precision, was firing hex after hex with an anger in his face that Sirius had never seen. But the ranks weren't thinning, Sirius realized. The Death Eaters weren't losing any ground.
Behind him Peter was chanting rapidly, and Sirius was relieved to realize that Peter was spelling some object to be a Portkey to get them all out of here. "Defend Peter," he told James. "And stay close to him!"
How long did it take to make a Portkey anyway? Sirius wondered irritably. The only advantage they had was the size of the Lupin's living room; it made it hard for the Death Eaters in the back to attack
without hitting their own. But everything was chaos and death was so close and they couldn't last much longer, and Sirius couldn't even tell if any of the Lupins were alive or dead. The thought froze him
badly enough that it cost him as a burning hex caught his arm and set it alight. He extinguished it quickly, but not before damage was done.
"Padfoot! Prongs! I've got it!" Peter shouted.
"You grab Mrs. Lupin!" Sirius shouted to James. He managed to get a free hand on Remus's hair, and from the corner of his eye he saw Moody haul Damien up and over his shoulder. Peter gathered himself
and then barreled into them, holding out the picture frame he'd Transfigured. A single finger on it sent them hurling out of the Lupin's house and explosions and war and into the cushioned lobby and medicinal smells of St. Mungo's.
The first thing Sirius was aware of was that his hand was still gripping Remus's hair, and that it must hurt. He unclenched it slowly. The hair was matted with blood and dirty with soot. Sirius finally got a good look at Remus, and his inarticulate cry drew the attention of both James and Peter.
Remus was still tied to a chair, bound so tightly that his hands were purpling. His eyes were closed and his lips were bloodless, and there were cuts and burns and bruises far worse than the morning after a full moon. Sirius used his wand to release the bonds and Remus slumped forward into his arms, and his chest loosened a little as he felt Remus breathe.
St. Mungo's faded away, Moody, James and Peter were distant voices, and Damien and Marilyn were forgotten. All that mattered in that moment was that Remus was alive in his arms, breathing. Sirius
held him close, kissing his face and hair, heedless of the tears streaking his cheeks. Slowly he realized that Remus's breathing was uneven and labored, and he became aware of the warm, sticky blood that covered his hands and shirt.
When he turned around, wild-eyed and every nerve on edge, James and Peter were staring at him in shock. But Sirius didn't bother to notice.
What he noticed now were the healers moving through the waiting room, and the blood and groans of patients. Many patients. But none of them mattered quite this much, did they? No situation could be as serious- even with his minimal medical knowledge, Sirius knew that Remus wasn't far from death. "Can we get a Healer over here?" he shouted, his voice ragged and hoarse with anguished demand. "Hurry!"
Next to him, Moody was leaning over Damien, tying some sort of tourniquet and trying to staunch the flow of blood. A Healer was already bent over Marilyn, who was also still bound to a chair and looked even worse than Remus. The Healer was talking to her colleague in an urgent, hushed voice, and soon a stretcher was conjured and they eased Marilyn on to it, carrying her away swiftly. But no other Healers came, even though Damien and Remus both looked bad, and James and Sirius could both use medical attention as well.
So he waited, Remus in his arms and against his chest, unable to attempt basic healing spells or do anything besides sit in shock. Finally red hair and lime green robes whirled over to them, and James put out his hand to stop his wife. She shook her head at him quickly and joined the older Healer at Damien’s side, watching with wide, horrified eyes. She fell back as the witch conversed with Moody, and James grabbed her wrist and pulled her in.
“Lily,” he hissed. “What’s going on? Why aren’t they taking them immediately?”
“There was an accident with the Knight Bus,” Lily said, and as she faced Sirius he could see dark shadows under her eyes and blood already on her robes. “The driver was drinking, and they collided full-speed with a Muggle bus. Something happened to the engine, and all the injuries have to be treated by wizards. We’re short staffed tonight anyway, and we’ve got patients in every room and so many that are critical. They took Mrs. Lupin already because- oh, James, she’s alive, but….” Lily wiped at her eyes and pulled herself together quickly. “I’m taking Damien with Healer Maxwell, and someone will be over very soon to check out Remus. But it’s a triage; we have to make sure we’re taking the most serious cases first.”
“Evans!”
“Coming. Understand, James?”
He nodded and let her go, and she joined the witch in moving Damien to the lift, the golden doors closing on her anxious face.
Two Healers appeared in front of them, and Sirius’s breath restarted. He hadn’t even been aware that he was holding it. An older, graying man was touching Remus’s face with competent, gentle hands, tilting his head to the sides. The younger of the two, a man with shoulder-length brown hair and a goatee, was watching, shifting from foot to foot and tapping his wand against his hand. “He looks bad,” the young one said. “Get him in now?”
“I think so. Let me finish checking first.” The older Healer pushed up Remus’s sleeves and then pulled back sharply, shaking his head. “No good. Werewolf. Leave him until we’ve treated the others.”
“What?” Sirius demanded, springing to his feet. “Are you joking?”
The younger Healer had also clenched his fists tightly. “Healer Malone,” he said with an angry deliberateness, “he’s on the verge of death.”
“So are many others in this room, and they’re human. Come on, lad. We’ve got work to do.”
“No.” The boy stood firm, much to Sirius’s surprise. “If we leave him until later, he won’t make it.”
Sirius hadn’t realized he’d moved forward until two sets of hands pressed against his arms, jerking him backwards. “Let him handle it, Sirius,” James commanded harshly as the two Healers argued.
“Look,” the younger one was saying, his face flushed dark red. “I don’t care if he’s a werewolf or a vampire or a bloody half-goblin half-house-elf. We were friends in school and I’m going to take this patient now. I am NOT letting him die just because of some Ministry regulation!”
The elder threw his hands in the air. “It’s on your head then!” he shouted. “Do what you want, Sommers, but you’ll answer for it when this is over!”
“Fine.” The Healer turned and faced them. “Potter, Pettigrew, can you give me a hand? I need help getting him up to a room.”
“Sure,” Peter said, although he was looking decidedly green. “Will he live?”
“He will if I have anything to say about it. Potter, get that end, and- good. I’ve got a bed on,” Healer Sommers paused and checked his clipboard, “third floor. Take him by the lift. I’ll Apparate up and get ready.”
“I’m coming too,” Sirius growled.
Healer Sommers flashed him the barest of glances and nodded, and then disappeared with a crack.
“Let me help,” Sirius begged as James and Peter began to move Remus. “Please.”
“He said for us to do it,” James said, and distantly Sirius was shocked at the coldness in his best friend’s voice.
“But I’m stronger than Peter,” Sirius insisted.
“He told us to do it,” James repeated. “Ready, Wortmail?” They began to move towards the lift, and Sirius could only follow along helplessly.
It was a terrible feeling to watch Remus lying on that stretcher, fighting for his life and Sirius powerless to do anything to help. They entered the lift and Sirius took Remus’s hand, cold and hard in his, and tried to convince himself Remus’s hands always felt like this. The lift ride seemed to last forever, when really it was a matter of seconds. “Sirius,” Peter said as the doors opened, “you have to let go so we can move him.” Sirius fell back, because there was really nothing else he could do.
The Healer was waiting for them, bustling about a bed as he gathered potions and bandages together. He seemed very young, Sirius thought, and then realized with a jolt that he must be about their own age. When the Healer turned around and Sirius saw his face again, the penny dropped into place at last. The face was older and the goatee changed it, but it was Alex Sommers, Remus’s first… first. But right now, Sirius could only resent the fact that an older, more experienced Healer wasn’t treating Remus and he was left with someone barely a year out of Hogwarts.
James and Peter settled Remus on the bed. Alex moved quickly, taking his pulse, checking his breathing, injecting something into his arm, checking the wounds and slowing the flow of blood with his wand.
“Pettigrew. Can you stay and help me?”
“Me? I don’t know anything about healing!” Peter protested.
“I don’t need you to. I need you to do what I say.”
“I’ll stay,” Sirius said, practically begging. “I’ll stay!”
“No. Potter, get Black out of here. Don’t go far. There are chairs in the atrium of this floor. Wait there.”
“No,” Sirius said, the pitch of his voice rising frantically. “I’ll stay. Please, Sommers. Let me stay.”
Alex turned back to him again, and to Sirius’s surprise there was compassion in his eyes. “I promise you, Sirius, if it changes one way or the other I’ll get you immediately. But I need to you to go now. Potter…”
James tugged Sirius by the arm. “Let’s go, Sirius.” Sirius had no choice but to stumble out behind James.
He felt sick as he sat in the uncomfortable chair, staring at the empty wall across from him. James also stared straight ahead, arms crossed over his chest and slumped defiantly. The coldness that flowed off him froze Sirius’s heart until it burned, but right now he couldn’t focus on that. He could barely breathe, each breath pure fire, trembling with the very real, very overwhelming fear that Remus would die. He wiped a sleeve across his nose, missing the sideways, pained yet sympathetic look from James.
The moments ticked by, silent except for the muted voices of other Healers. James still did not move, but his lips pressed together in a thin line. Sirius wanted to get up and pace, to fidget, to do something, but James’s silence held him in place.
Finally, they heard footsteps and Peter came around the corner, smudged with blood and sweat but flushed and smiling. “Healer Sommers said you can come back now, Sirius.”
Sirius leapt to his feet. “What about me?” James asked.
Peter shook his head. “He said just Sirius for now,” he explained apologetically, as Sirius ran for Remus’s room.
Alex met him at the door. “How is he?” Sirius demanded.
“I think he’ll be all right,” Alex said, smiling. “He was hit several times with a Crucatius Curse and with several burning curses, and he’s still in some danger, but his vital signs are stable and he’s sleeping. I’ll give you five minutes with him.” He glanced down at his clipboard. “Sirius, I understand his parents were attacked as well.”
“Yes,” Sirius said impatiently, shifting from foot to foot in his eagerness to go in.
“Should something happen, are you his next of kin?”
“Huh?”
“Let me rephrase that. I know you’re not family,” Alex said, with a wryly twisted smile. “But would Remus consider you his next of kin?”
Sirius regarded him warily. “Why?”
“Technically, that’s the only way you can see him right now. Blood relatives or next of kin- they really mean a fiancée or wife. One more time, Black. Are you his next of kin?”
“Yes.” The word was pronounced solemnly, answering everything that Alex had implied.
“All right then. Five minutes.”
Sirius walked in.
Remus looked smaller lying in the bed with regulation crisped white sheets around him. Sirius approached tentatively, sitting down beside him and taking his hand. Remus took a deep, shaking breath as Sirius’s fingers laced with his, and his lips moved in a silent word.
Sirius.
And memories and emotion swept him under, right then and there, so he couldn’t move and couldn’t breathe. He could only sit and look and think.
Continue on to part 2 of part 7
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-04-30 01:13 am (UTC)I don't think I really realized just how few people knew that Sirius had run away. Then again, I suppose it's not really something you publicise. I'm glad that Damien took the upper hand. Does it help him feel any better about Sirius?
“It’s round and it’s tight and it makes you want to cry,”
BAHAHAHA
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Peter admitted, turning a card around and tapping each edge on the table.
It's this level of detail - showing how Peter is fidgeting - that really brings your story to life.
I *KNEW* there was something wrong with Tina coming to talk to a Muggle woman. GRR. And gah - the torture and battle scenes - so horrible, but so brilliantly done. Is this (Remus pretending to go along with the DEs) what sows the seeds of suspicion with Sirius and Remus?
What a hell of a way to be Outed. And ... oh man. I didn't even think of the prejudice in a hospital. You're brilliant, did I mention that?
Man, you've almost got me crying here. Even my husband, reading over my shoulder, is making almost-sniffly noises.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-30 01:52 am (UTC)Heh. Any guesses? :)
I decided that the Blacks were not the "tell everyone your business" type- especially since, yeah, then they have to explain WHY their eldest son ran away.
“It’s round and it’s tight and it makes you want to cry,”
BAHAHAHA
I SO wish I could claim credit for this! However, I heard it today from a fellow postdoc. It was so good I HAD to find a spot for that line. And as soon as I heard it I knew it had to be Remus- I love giving Remus a bizarre sense of humor.
Man, you've almost got me crying here. Even my husband, reading over my shoulder, is making almost-sniffly noises.
::grin:: Wow- THAT's flattering that even your husband reads! My husband doesn't read it! (But he reads my movie reviews, so....)
BTW- thanks for the beta comments! I copied both sets to a word document. I was actually going to send you this part, but I'm leaving for a conference on Sunday and really wanted to get this up. I'll make the changes tonight or tomorrow and submit to FA.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-30 01:57 am (UTC)It's probably not quite as thorough a beta, but I hope it helps.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-30 08:09 am (UTC)“An onion?” Peter asked dubiously.
“It’s round and it’s tight and it makes you want to cry,” Remus declared, and they all dissolved into hysterical laughter.
continuing to the next part but I just wanted to say I love this fic utterly and that line just about killed me!
no subject
Date: 2005-04-30 08:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-30 01:52 pm (UTC)And thanks. I actually didn't come up with that line, one of my co-workers was joking around yesterday and said it, and I was just like "I HAVE to use that!" So I actually added it in last minute (glad there was a spot it fit!) But I was just laughing for like five minutes when he said it.
no subject
Date: 2005-05-03 06:24 am (UTC)I thought of Immeritus but the chapters are cut at the end T.T
no subject
Date: 2005-05-03 01:40 pm (UTC)Brilliant!
*dashes off to read part 2*