Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Author's note: Quite fond of this, yessir. Written for the 2008 RS games, (promt: "It's the friends you call up at 4 a.m. in the morning that matter" –Marlene Dietrich)
--
Finding Boys in Fields and the Consequences Thereof
--
The phone is ringing.
Remus looks up from the novel he is reading on the couch and uncurls slowly from his burrow of afghans.
Rhiannon has already picked up the phone, twining the cord around her wrists unconsciously.
The only person who ever calls Remus is Lily and Rhiannon usually ends up talking to Lily a bit before relinquishing the phone off to Remus - one of the prices of having a nosy sister.
Remus's grandmother has poked her head around the kitchen door, and he knows that she probably wants to know who's calling too - it's a late after all, the hands on the clock reaching spindly fingers for eleven.
"Excuse me sir." Says Rhiannon. "But could you please refrain from yelling into the phone, I can hear you just fine."
Remus looks up and meets his grandmother's eyes. There's something off about the Rhiannon's speaking, she sounds uneasy, a little worried.
"I'm sorry….No, this is Remus's sister."
Remus sits up straighter, suddenly intent on the one-sided conversation.
"Please calm down. Would you like to speak with Remus?"
"Okay, okay," she says soothingly, "It's alright."
Another pause, longer pause, in which Rhiannon fidgets with the phone cord more.
"'Kay, here he is."
Remus stands up as Rhiannon waves him over silently. She puts her hand over the receiver.
"I dunno who it is." She stage-whispers. "It's some boy and he sounds really freaked out … and he's talking rather loudly. I think he's asking for you."
Remus nods and takes the phone, a little apprehensively. "Hello?"
"Oh God. Oh god oh god oh god. Moony, is that you? That's you, right? Oh fuck, I am so screwed."
"Sirius?"
"I left, Moony. I left and I'm not going back. I mean - that's it, end of line. I can't take it anymore. I don't want to. I'm dead. I'm dead. I…"
"You left where…?" Remus speaks with a practiced calm. He doesn't even try to get Sirius to stop shouting into the phone, he tried all last summer, but Sirius has an issue with believing that it's possible to hear through a wire all that way. Besides, Sirius has that pitch in his voice, and only someone with years of practise can handle Sirius at all when he's like this.
"Home. I left…fucking left home. Moony. I ran away from home and I don't know where to go or what I'm doing and it wasn't even home, but I left home and…oh God."
Oh crap. Remus thinks, feeling panic well up in his throat. "It's okay, Pads. It'll be okay." He says into the phone, as reassuring as he can be on one end of a cheap plastic connection.
"Okay." Sirius whispers into the phone. "Okay…sorry."
It's nearly tangible - the way all the riled energy has deflated out of him, Sirius is often like that, a hot air balloon that expands and collapses on a moments notice. Remus can hear the thick sound of tears that linger just on the edge of his speech.
"Where are you, Pads?"
"At a payphone."
"Do you remember how to get a taxi?"
"Yeah."
"Do you remember my address?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, get a taxi to my house - we'll pay when you get here if you don't have any money. It's okay, Sirius. You're alright."
"'Kay. Bye. Seeya. Love you. Um…a lot."
"You too, Pads, Bye."
The line goes dead, and for a moment Remus hangs onto those last few words from Sirius and tries to put something into them that he knows isn't there, eyes tight closed, a lump of hope lodged somewhere between his lungs and his heart.
Then he stands straight again and turns to face his sister and grandmother, who are staring at him wide-eyed. Remus drops his eyes to the floor and feels a despair that is not quite his own settle there.
Sirius will be here before morning.
--
Earlier that morning:
Dawn was insistently forcing her pale fingers of streaked blue and gold across the sky when Rhiannon Lupin emerged from the cottage. It was unusually warm for so early in the morning and the dew clung thick to the heavy ivy content to wrap around the peeled-paint wooden lattice.
Rhiannon could remember the first time she had ever seen Remus after the moon.
Blood was redder than Rhiannon would have guessed. True red both the colour of a rose and of a stop-sign and of blood. It made such a stain against Remus's too pale, baby soft skin. She had only been twelve then, just old enough to realize that she would never see her name in emerald ink on a Hogwarts letter.
Remus had been seven, too innocent. And Rhiannon barely even knew her brother then.
But that had been a long time ago, and there was no sense in reminiscing. She turned her face back to the path.
The wind had the smell of summer in it; of the unfurling of thick green leaves; and the hot scent of sun bruised grass, an ozone smell like lazy storms coming from far away.
Rhiannon knocked twice on the shed door before unlatching it. It was only after she saw that the square, steal-beam-enforced room was vacant did she realize that the lock hadn't even been in the latch.
Empty.
Rhiannon had always known that someday these careful precautions they took to protect her brother from the world and the world from him would not be enough, but she couldn't help but wish it hadn't been on her watch.
Last night a werewolf escaped.
Rhiannon felt as hollow as the room she looked in on, her heart was cold and too far up in her throat.
Last night a werewolf escaped.
"Grandma! Grandma?!" Rhiannon took jogging strides up the cobble-laid pathway to the back door of the cottage, meeting a tall iron-grey haired woman halfway. Thick, perfectly square glasses perched on her nose, only amplifying her brown-hazel eyes both sharp and warm.
"What is it?" Lynette Lupin asked her granddaughter, fearing she already knew. "It's bad isn't it? I felt something in the air last night. I was hoping it was the opposite, some sort of goodness, but he's hurt isn't he? Do we need a doctor?"
"I-I don't know. He escaped."
"Oh no." said Lynette, her hand coming up to press against her cheek.
"The door wasn't even forced."
Lynette's mouth made a small 'o' of surprise. "Either way, we'll do best to find him fast."
And they ran
The field seemed to stretch under their feet. Soft grass, sweet wind and dawn sky were one; it was hard to have such a heavy heart with the pleasant promise of summer. Rhiannon thought they might do better in the car or perhaps on bicycle, but it was unlikely that they would be able to follow wherever the wolf had gone that way. They came to the fence that marked the edge of Lupin property and clambered over it.
And there. There was Remus in the meadow. Remus and…a boy.
The boy was barefoot, wore ripped Muggle jeans, and a black t-shirt with 'The Clash' written across it in jagged white letters. His hair was the raven-black of new moon night and pulled away from his face in a ponytail making his already aristocratic face appear sharper. He was leaning over Remus, propped up on one elbow, and as Rhiannon walked closer she could see his face was 'sharp and aristocratic' but he had the softest, most fragile smile she had ever seen.
Remus was asleep, a dark-coloured cloak draped across him. Rhiannon could see that it was not the fitful fevered sleep she often found him in post-transformation, but instead quiet and true. He was curled on his side, toward the other boy, and oh-so hesitantly, the black haired boy reached out one hand and traced his fingers along the line of Remus's chin. Remus unconsciously leaned into the motion.
Rhiannon took another step forward, her feet silent in the tall grass and her eyebrows knit together in confusion.
Who was this boy? she thought furiously to herself. The person in question sat up slowly, as though trying not to disturb Remus and looked down at his wrist. Checking his watch. And then he stood, removed the cloak from Remus, clasping it back across his own shoulders and looked down a Remus one more time, bending to brush a lock of Remus's hair from his closed eyes.
It was when he turned to walk away that he saw Rhiannon.
She stood frozen, a snake whisperer afraid to move for fear her pet might strike. And the boy's eyes widened in surprise and fear. He took two stumbling steps forward with none of the easy grace he had possessed just seconds ago and suddenly he leapt forward into the air, arcing like an animal, when he hit the ground he was one.
A shaggy black dog streaked away from her, glancing back only once to see her still standing as if made of stone, staring after him.
Remus mumbled something, now sans cloak the cool caress of the wind unsettled him and Rhiannon took the remaining steps to Remus at a half jog. She glanced up to see Lynette still standing, rod straight, looking out to the place the boy…dog…boy had disappeared a strange, surprised smile on her face.
Remus blinked sleepily, showing Rhiannon the slightly disturbing sight of Remus's eyes: yellow and wolf-bright one second and then gold-brown and all-too sleepy vulnerable human the next.
"Sir-Rhiannon?" Remus shot up to his feet, realizing who stood next to him and then collapsed awkwardly back onto his rear.
"Oww." He grumbled clutching at his head and back. "I - did you - why are you-"
Rhiannon deliberated for a moment. He wasn't hurt at all, she noted. His skin laced only with old scars. In the shed he always had managed to injure some part of himself. But how would she explain about his being outside? Did he even know about that mysterious boy? Rhiannon knew a bit about magic, of course, but really, what kind of person turned into a dog?
"I-" Rhiannon began, and then stopped. Remus stared up at her, sleepy confusion and tension heavy in his eyes. "We just found you out here. I guess you must have got out, but we're only at the edge of the property so I don't think you went very far. We'll have to do something about the lock next time."
Something eased in Remus eyes. "Okay." He smiled. "I'm thirsty, let's go back, yeah?"
She studied his expression for another moment before say finally, "…Sure."
--
Padfoot's breath was sharp and high in his throat and he made lolling-tongue pant-gasps as he ran. His paws burned, he had been on the on pavement too long, the soft pads of his feet wished for the gentle green grass of the fields he'd run through the night before.
Moon, pregnant, golden apple, and full, heavy in his eyes, and he howls, his own voice is joined inseparably, irrevocably with another, the wine dark night wraps around him, wind ruffled, summer sweet, and the blood of small things he drinks down, it is ambrosia. They will run this way forever, and the silver-grey fur of pack-mate shines bright like the pinpoint stars. The night is young and always theirs for the taking.
His thoughts were too human to rest comfortably in his dog-mind. Simple deductions like, warm, far to go, hungry, smells did not fit in with the complications of Oh crap, last night I snuck out of Grimmauld Place, went to Moony's farm house in the middle of nowhere, let him out to run with him and then got distracted by how freaking beautiful he is when he's asleep, had a friendly share of impure thoughts about this fact, and then accidentally got found by his sister and grandmother. Now I'm in love with Moony (okay, so maybe I was before), his relatives probably think I'm some weird freak, and I'm in love with Moony like really in love not just some kind of best-mates love but love love. Okay, so I knew I was before but it seems all the more real now…
He couldn't just run all the way back home, and this realization made him stop and assess his situation. His brain hurt. It appeared that he was on the borders of some small town, much like the three he had passed through not so long ago. He ducked off into the side road of tall wheat stalks and changed back from a dog. He sighed with relief at the sudden order of thoughts, but to be human was to know the pain and worry and fear for the future that a dog did not see.
Fiddling in his jeans pocket, Sirius retrieved the tiny broomstick, cleverly charmed to resize properly when twisted on one end, he really didn't need to be charged with underage magic use on top of everything else.
On the broom, Sirius felt easier, his feet dangling gently, cradled by the morning. His thoughts wandered and then fell away, lost to the cold air brushing past.
The back door was open when he returned.
It was just about then that he realized that while it was unlikely anyone would notice if he left late at night since he often retreated to his bedroom directly after dinner, Kreacher always came up to his room to wake him at seven on the dot, and it was probably already approaching eight.
The kitchen was silent, though that wasn't unusual; his parents never went into the kitchen.
He found them in the blue drawing room.
"Hello Sirius." His father said when Sirius entered, rising up out of the cerulean armchair he had been occupying.
They stood for a moment clouded grey eyes boring into clouded grey eyes and there was some retribution in those matching gazes. Equal sorrow for the non-existent love of a father and the absent respect of a son. Sirius's father broke away first, and Sirius understood that he had won, not only the battle, but the war - and he felt no victory.
"Your mother wishes to speak with you." And his father left the room.
Sirius swallowed, and remembered that his father was only one front of the war, and by far the easiest to defend.
She sat frozen on her settee, queen of her fiefdom, eyes sharp icicle daggers and frozen blue as the silk fabric draped across her legs. The door clicked shut behind Mr. Black.
"What are you wearing, Sirius?"
"Clothes."
"Filthy Muggle clothes."
Sirius said nothing.
"Are you even wearing shoes?"
"No."
"Where were you?"
"Out."
"With whom?"
Sirius said nothing.
"Sirius Arcturus Pollox Black, where did you go last night and who with."
"I really don't think that it's any of your business."
"If it was with some filthy muggles it is. I bet you were off with that little red-headed Mudblood, weren't you. I saw her look at you at the train station, like she was better than you. Someone should slap her for that insolence. The Potters let that brat pant after their son like a bitch in heat, they don't take any action against 'It' they'll find-"
"Lily is not an 'it'!" Sirius exploded. He knew, logically, that his mother said things like that to him only to evoke a reaction, the only time Lily was around James was when she was hexing him, and so he quashed down his flaring anger, willing the red in his cheeks to fade away a little. He didn't even like Lily.
"So it was the Mudblood?"
"No."
He could've lied. It wouldn't have been so hard. To just say some meaningless words. Something his mother wanted to hear from him, like 'Narcissa invited me to her midnight, sneak-out-of-the-house-to-be-dark-teen-wizards-and-torture-kitties party'. Or he could say something she didn't want to hear but would probably accept just as well, and get some sort of indecent pleasure from, like 'I went off with some Muggle whores for the night.'
But if he lied?
Then he was no better than them. Conniving, secretive, base. A lie like another bit of Black poison to seep under his skin and corrupt him from the inside out.
"No." He said again.
"The Potter boy, then. They've fallen in the last generation. Blood-traitors, the lot of them, and someday you'll wake up and find that boy's knife in your back, because that's all he'll be good for, deceit and-"
"Shut. Up." Sirius growled. "He's been a better family to me than you ever were."
Something flared in his mother's ice eyes, and Sirius recognized it to be knowledge of her own parental inadequacy. She did know that she failed him as a mother, but Sirius saw also that she thought her failing was in her not keeping his mind appropriately disciplined, empty and ready to follow her orders, as though she failed to produce an appropriately functioning piece of machinery.
"It was the Potter boy, then?"
"No."
"Maybe the other one then. The short one? The poor one. He barely even counts as a wizard, you know."
"No. I wasn't with Peter."
"The last boy then. That ragged half-blood, always dragging vile Muggle 'literature' with him, and walking about as though he deserves to be allowed to associate with you. You know, I heard a few things about that boy. I heard he's got a squib half-sister. I heard his father was so worthless, even the werewolves can't stand him. I heard his own parents sent him away to live with his grandmother, and no one knows why. I wonder why he was sent away? It would be interesting if I found out, don't you think?"
"I wouldn't know." Sirius said, stiffly.
"Were you off playing with the nasty half-blood exile, Sirius?"
Sirius broke.
"His name is Remus. He has a name. And he's a better person than you'll ever be. My friends are all a better family than you ever gave me. You wonder why I'm not loyal to you, you wonder why I leave. What is there for me here? Nothing. Nothing. Why would I give my loyalty to a vindictive harpy like you? 'Remus deserves to associate with ME?' I don't deserve to associate with him. I love him. I don't deserve him…" Sirius's voice fell quieter with each word until it died away in a mumbled garble of thought, he stood almost panting for a moment, and looked up to find his mothers' eyes, looking a little surprised, but mostly smug and loathing. He met them, head on, something he rarely dared to do.
She met them back - an equal and opposite force.
"And I hate you." Sirius said, bluntly.
Her eyes flickered, and died a little. That hurt her. He realized. I hurt her. She doesn't want me to hate her.
"I hate you. And I love them." Sirius knew there was no retracting the statement, and he didn't want to. He felt very distant from the whole conversation, distant and cynical.
"I hate you."
Mrs Black did not say anything, her lips pressing into a thinner and thinner line, like an angry slash of red across her face. Sirius was light-headed with his revelation. He didn't need these people in this cold dead house. He didn't need them, he didn't want them, and he didn't love them, but somewhere there were people who did care about him. Why should he stay here?
"I'm leaving," Sirius said, a sudden, slightly manic smile splitting his face.
Mrs Black stood up, and Sirius watched her impassively. She could stand up if she wanted to. She was not his mother anymore, she barely ever had been. Once a long time ago, he could half remember his cheek pressed against the folds of her skirt, and her hand, gentle on his head. Her voice, soft in his ear. But it was so long ago, that Sirius barely believed in that maybe-memory, and so the woman before him was not his mother.
"I'm leaving." Sirius said. "I'm not coming back."
Mrs Black slapped him, and Sirius laughed. He laughed because she wasn't his mother; why should he care if she slapped him or not. Plenty of girls had slapped him before, this was just another to add to the list. A woman he didn't love, he didn't care about.
Sirius could still hear James' voice comforting a curvy blonde conquest from fourth year in the common room after he thought Sirius had gone up to bed.
"Won't you tell him to take me back?" she sobbed against his shirt. "I didn't do anything. He didn't even leave me for someone else. He just told me he was done. What did I do? You must know; he's your best friend. What did I do?"
"It isn't your fault." James said. "Sirius is like a dog who was treated badly as a puppy. He wants nothing more than to give his love completely and fully, and when Sirius loves you it's passionate, whether it's for family or friends or a girl, but he takes a long time to trust people enough for that."
The girl hadn't even heard James. She didn't want to. She wanted only to see the surfaces of the world where everything was only was only the little frozen cap of the iceberg, but Sirius had heard, and he knew that what James said was true.
"I'm not coming back." Sirius repeated to his mother, a grin still splitting his face, and his chest cramped with ugly guffaws. He spun on his heel and walked from the room, turned defiantly away from her, though he could still remember her slapping him when he was small. Never show your back to someone of a higher authority than you, it's very rude.
"Sirius. SIRIUS! Come back here." She shouted after him, and he was perversely pleased to hear some small bit of desperation in her voice. But she did not come after him. Only stood in her snow coloured gown and watched him leave, and Sirius knew that if she really wished him to return, she would have come after him.
Sirius ran up the steps to his bedroom, still laughing, and pushed his door open. He began to shove things into his school trunk: socks, a book Remus gave him for Christmas last year, chocolate, a photograph. It was slightly disturbing how little he wanted to keep. How small his lasting impression on his home of sixteen years was.
It made him feel very lonely.
He charmed his trunk to fit in his pocket, found trainers under his bed, and turned to leave his room.
Regulus stood in the doorway. Sirius had forgotten about him briefly, that he had this family member whom he could still evoke some feeling for.
"You're leaving." Regulus said flatly.
"Yes." replied Sirius.
"I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too." Sirius paused, about to hug him. "I would tell you to get out too, Reg, but I don't think you'd listen to me, and I don't think it'll be easy, being a disowned Black heir, I mean."
"No, I don't suppose it will." And Regulus met Sirius the rest of the way, pulling him into an embrace, in which, for one last fleeting second, Sirius felt he belonged.
"I hope you're happy." Regulus whispered after a few moments. There was no sarcasm in the statement, and Sirius's manic, desperate grin faded into a real smile for a moment.
They did not say goodbye.
It wasn't until Sirius was several blocks away that he realized he was broke. I'm not filthy rich anymore.he thought. He was glad, like a drug dealer finally out of business. No more blood money.
He deliberated for a moment upon where he could go. He could probably go to Peter's, but he didn't exactly want to. Peter would be nosy and fidgety and then stick Sirius somewhere out of the way and give him vaguely scared looks every few minutes, while his four younger sisters stood around and braided Sirius's hair. Peter's jumbled life was sometimes pleasant but not very calming, and besides out of the four of them, Peter and Sirius were probably the least close, and Sirius reasoned that he needed some affection.
James was on vacation in Cornwall with his family, but their cottage had a floo connection and James had told him to call if his parents let him out at all. He knew he would probably end up there before the summer's end.
But if he went then when he was still all raw...
If he went, James would stand around him, awkwardly trapped between feeling guilty that he had a loving family and Sirius did not, trying to enjoy his vacation, and genuinely worry over his best friend, before finally deciding that Sirius just needed some fun, and dragging him around to as many seedy minor-serving pubs as possible, and then James' parents would tip-toe around him anxiously, attempting to somehow fix him, as though several good meals and a hug would sort him right out.
Sirius loved James' family for this slightly delusional but optimistic outlook on life, but he didn't think that he would be able to take it right then. Sirius felt rather rational presently, but knowing himself, it was only a matter of time before he had a (as James affectionately dubbed them) 'freak out', and then James would hover around for a few minutes before nervously slipping away to give Sirius some 'time to himself'.
'Time to himself' was well and good, but Sirius felt so empty and lonely that he just wanted someone there to prove that in his worst moments he was still worth something.
Remus, then. Some bit of pent-up, coiled, white-hot-tight tension leaked away. Remus who was so beautiful just by being Remus, and had tumbly milky coffee hair that always fell in his eye and bothered him, but he never moved it away. Remus who smelled of new leaves and old books, and calmed Sirius like tea. Who made Sirius rational, just by being present. Remus who was all that was good with the world.
"I'm never going back to that house." Sirius said to himself aloud, the words tasted grim but freeing on his tongue, like the doctor calling to inform you that your comatose wife had finally died.
At the same time, some bit of him panicked, realizing what he had done. He was still underage, he had no real home, it was nearly two months before school started again, and he couldn't stay with Remus all that time. Remus's family was poor and had enough trouble as it was; another mouth to feed wouldn't help them at all. He had no money to support himself, and as of yet, few employable skills. His knowledge of the Muggle world was limited.
Fear rose in his throat. Just find a fellytone or whatever it's calledhe firmly told himself, Moony will tell you what to do.
--
Present:
Remus sits idly on the porch swing and watches the fading, sinking moon glint off the black taxi in the distance. If he were human, it would be unlikely he would be able to see it yet, as it is still quite far away, and very dark. But he isn't human.
This is bad. Remus thinks to himself. Really bad. Sirius is going to be hard to handle.
The porch door creaks open and his sister pokes her head out. "Can I talk to you?" She asks.
"May I." Remus automatically corrects, and then meets her eyes sheepishly. "I mean, sure."
Rhiannon quirks the right side of her mouth up at him. "What's going on? Why is this kid coming?"
"You know how I was explaining to you Wizarding society, how there are Purebloods and Half-bloods, and Muggle-borns."
She nods, and moves to lean against the porch railing, the old damp wood splitting a little as it bend outwards ominously.
"Well," Remus continues, "One of my friends, you know, I've spoken about him before, Sirius."
She looks at him sharply. "Sirius? You mean the one who always makes you go all dreamy and sigh a lot and look forlorn and troubled."
"I do not!" says Remus, affronted. She only smiles, and Remus knows his cheeks have reddened. "Anyway," He forges on, adamantly ignoring the look on her face. "He's from a rather old and very powerful Pureblood family - the heir, actually - and his mother, especially, are very into 'blood purity'. Basically, they take the stand that people with purer blood are-"
"Better. They think they should have more power." She finishes. Remus looks up at her, slightly surprised. Rhiannon sticks her tongue out at him. "I've nearly got a degree in Anthropology, you know. I'm not stupid."
"I know." He grins. "With the way you act, it's quite easy to forget."
"Whatever." But her glance darkens a little. "I'm not quite sure how I'm supposed to feel about this boy being one of your best friends. After all we're half-bloods. Does he, I don't know…is he mean to you?"
Remus rolls his eyes. "Yes, why just last month he was beating me to a pulp, and then we went out and played Exploding Snap."
"Exploding Snap?"
"Never mind. The problem is that Sirius does not believe in the same pureblood friendly morals as his family, and they've been having a lot of fights about it for the last year or so. It apparently reached a breaking point. He ran away."
"Lots of kids run away after a fight with their parents."
"He's run away plenty of times before. Last night he left."
"So he's coming here?"
"I asked him too. I…I know I didn't exactly talk to you or Grandma first, but…I…"
"No, it's okay. I'm just worried for you."
"For me?"
"Remus, never let it be said that you are not a reasonable and responsible person, but you have a way with ending up in bad places, with the wrong people, at bad times."
They are silent, and the sound of an approaching car, Sirius Remus knows, becomes evident.
Rhiannon pats Remus on the head and then walks back into the house. The taxi is now only at the edge of the little stone wall surrounding the cottage, and it pulls to a stop.
The door opens, and Remus can hear the conversation from inside the cab as he approaches.
"Hey kid - you gonna be okay?" The taxi driver's voice is gruff like five o'clock shadow, but gentle.
"Yes. Thanks for listening." replies Sirius, and his voice is calm and even and reminds Remus of what he has heard Sirius sound like when he is smooth-talking his way out of a detention or insulting the seventh year Malfoy boy. Mixed martini voice: three parts control, one part venom. It makes Remus very wary because often this voice has been preceded and exceeded by breakdowns of epic proportions.
Remus vaults the wall and comes to stop next to the taxi. Sirius gets out and turns to him, their eyes meet, and Remus heart clenches for this boy who he loves - oh life is not fair to any of them.
Remus hugs him. Sirius is stiff in his arms only for a moment before suddenly he is barely keeping himself upright, his entire weight heavy against Remus, who bears him because he can - because he wants to.
When they pull away, Sirius face is crumpled, a used paper napkin, all desolation and loneliness; and Remus wants only to wrap Sirius in himself again and tell him that he promises never to leave him alone again.
Instead he pays the taxi driver.
When he turns back, Sirius's face is carefully trained, a solid dead expression, like late winter and six more weeks till spring.
They walk up to the house. Rhiannon is standing at the door when they approach. She drops the cup of tea in her hand when she sees Sirius.
"You're the boy." She says pointing, her eyes too wide. "The boy who turns into a dog."
Sirius turns his head to the floor and looks slightly sheepish, as though he had been accused of stealing the last cookie from the cookie jar. "Hi." he says. "I'm Sirius."
Remus turns from his sister to Sirius and back again; he makes a rather exasperated sound in the back of his throat. "You." He points accusingly as Rhiannon. "I thought you saw him. But you didn't say anything. I would have told you if you had asked."
"I didn't even know if you knew. All I saw was some random boy probably letting you out of the shed and then turning into a dog. I thought it might worry you."
Remus looks a little sceptical, but he turns his attention to Sirius. "And you. You shouldn't have turned into Padfoot."
"Sorry Moony. I panicked. No harm done anyway."
Remus huffs, but then looks pleadingly at his sister. "Don't tell anyone that he can turn into a dog. Promise me? It's really illegal, high-level magic, he'll get sent to jail. He doesn't have a licence for it."
"Who would I tell? 'Yeah, hey guys, guess what, my brother's best friend can turn into a great hulking black dog; I only know of course, because my brother's a werewolf, and….Yeah. Not likely." She pauses and studies Sirius closely for a moment, as if gleaning from him everything she had not been able to see in the few short moments their eyes met in the dewy field of the previous morning. Remus bends to gather shards of the broken teacup from the ground. "May I ask you, though." she says after a few moments, "if it's so illegal, why do it? Why not get a licence?"
Sirius returns her gaze, and then answers, "Well. The whole point of it was to help Remus, and you can't get a licence until you're of age, 17. And I knew I could do it, and I wanted to help Moony right away. So we just…broke a few rules."
"We?"
"James and Peter too."
Rhiannon nods. "I met them last summer."
Sirius grimaces. "I was supposed to come too. My parents wouldn't let me." He smiles then, briefly, remembering that he can go anywhere he'd like now. He is free.
After that, Remus and his sister go off to find Sirius a cot, and they send Sirius into the kitchen on strict orders to eat something. Sitting at the kitchen table, Sirius finds Remus's grandmother.
"Hello, I'm Sirius Black." Sirius says politely.
"You're the boy my grandson is in love with," is the first thing she says to him. Sirius feels his jaw drop open.
"I-I'm sorry…what?" he says, almost hiccoughing in surprise.
"I realize this is a bad time, you having family troubles and all," She offers him a cookie, "But I'd just like to speak to you, I don't know when I'll get you alone again."
Sirius takes the cookie, nervously, and leans back against the kitchen counter, vaguely aware that he is 'lolling gracelessly' (as Lily calls it), something he tends to do in awkward situations. Where normal people stiffen with politeness, Sirius becomes as loose and boneless as an octopus.
"When I was a younger, I tried to become an Animagus, you know. I failed. I was twenty-three, and I was good at magic. I lacked purpose. To become an Animagus, you need purpose. I can hear it in your voice, Mr Black. You love my grandson, and Remus needs every bit of love he can take. I often fear that he feels he must keep an unhealthy distance and it isn't right. I wish you luck, love is a beautiful and treacherous thing. Now please excuse an old woman her greeting-card-like mantras, I'm going back to sleep, tell Rhiannon to wake me in an hour."
"It doesn't bother you that, um, you know, I'm a boy?"
"Pfft." She interrupts, standing. "Details, details. Love is love. Happiness is happiness. You'll just end up going nowhere fast if you let things like that stand in your way. You just remember Mr Black, if you want something, you have to go and get it. You obviously know the value of action -- getting yourself out of a bad family -- but you can't expect to do one thing right an have everything else fall into place."
She leaves.
"Thank you." Sirius says to the empty kitchen. He likes Remus's grandmother. He thinks she probably gets things done. He glances at the clock. It is three fourty-two in the morning.
--
"Padfoot I fear that this cot is older than my grandmother. It's probably a fire hazard. You sleep on the bed. I'll sleep on the floor."
They stand in the rather cramped loft that is Remus's bedroom (extra small, really, as every wall is lined with bookshelves), Sirius wearing his boxers and holding a dripping toothbrush in one hand.
"It's fine, Moony. I'm not going to let you sleep on the floor."
The cot collapses.
It is only around nine at night, but no one slept much the night before (seeing as Sirius was busy running away from home, and Remus was busy trying to make sure he didn't end up sleeping in an alley) and so they all voted for an early bedtime. Sirius has been disconcertingly quiet all day, and Remus can almost feel all the pressure bottled up inside him, akin sharing a room with a time bomb.
Remus sits on the bed, and tugs Sirius down next to him.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Remus doesn't say anything more - it would just make Sirius angry, and Sirius will break soon enough - he always does.
They fumble around for a few more minutes and by the time they're situated; Remus is on the bed, and Sirius on the floor, though Sirius has somehow ended up with most of the extra blankets and all the pillows.
"Night."
"Night."
They lay in silence for long dragging minutes, the sound of summer bugs chirping outside the window is somehow inappropriate. Too cheery and light-hearted.
"Remus?" Sirius's voice says finally into the silence. Remus lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding in. If Sirius hadn't spoken, he knows that they would have lain there in silence like that all night, tired and edgy.
"Yeah?"
"I lo…"
"What?"
"Umm…the ground is kinda hard, and you'll get a crick in your neck without pillow. Lets just share. We do all the time at school."
"Yeah, sure."
They fidget around in the dark for several minutes, lit only by the glint of moonlight through the smallish skylight window. When they've settled again, they are both lying on the bed, lined up and staring at the ceiling so that their shoulders and legs are pressed together but nothing else touches.
Sirius begins to shake. It takes a few minutes for Remus to realize that it's because he's crying.
"The scariest part." he says finally, "Is how little I care. How little it matters to me. Shouldn't I feel something? Abandonment? Anger? Sadness? I don't. I just feel…hollow."
"Do you want to feel something?" Remus replies carefully.
"No…but hollow feels all wrong. Like I was taken apart and put together backwards. Like missing something you never had, which all sounds like sadness, but it isn't. I just want to feel right again."
Remus finds Sirius's hand and grabs it, feeling the whisper of blood-in-veins and life-under-skin and relishing in it.
"I know." Remus does know that feeling. He knows what it is to be taken apart and put back together all wrong. It happens to him once a month, and he know what it is to feel empty but to not want that space filled. That place in him that yearns for the moon, always, is better off vacant.
"I'm glad I left. It's the best thing I've ever done." He pauses, and then a little half laugh escapes. "I've got bigger mood-swings than Lily Evans. I keep feeling like I'm ready to get angry, to get all fed-up and explode, but it never happens. I just keep remembering when I was looking at my mother and thinking, I don't need her. It's weird."
"So don't explode. Just let go."
Sirius thinks about trying to explain that it isn't that easy, but it is that easy so instead he says, "Okay."
They are silent for a few more minutes but the sliceable tension is gone now, and instead everything feels deflated and grey.
"You know, I should be happier. I'm free. I left, they didn't kick me out. We've determined that I don't have to care, or be depressed about it. Why am I moping?"
But Sirius knows exactly why Sirius is moping.
He doesn't have Remus.
He has Remus but in none of the ways he wants, and it seems completely unfair that he should finally get out of that hell-hole of controlling Black-ness, and yet the one thing he longs for the most is still untouchable.
Sirius makes a decision.
"I don't know why you're moping." says Remus, "You tell me."
"It's because I'm in love with you." That light-headed feeling again, but different, happier. Relief. "I know we're both boys and whatever. I don't really care. Love is love, the rest doesn't matter, and I'm telling you, you know, I'm in love with you."
Remus is silent, and Sirius knows that he heard him, so he waits.
"Don't do this to me." Remus finally speaks, his voice nearly imperceptible even though their heads are only a hand span apart. "Don't make me have to tell you 'no', Sirius. I'm no good at it. But I can't be your filler. Whatever part of you belongs to your family. I can't fit there, Don't try and make me."
"No." Sirius says, and mentally he swears. He should have known what Remus would think. Sirius is notorious for finding distractions when he's upset.
But Remus isn't a distraction, and there is a space he wants Remus to fill, but it's a perfect Remus shaped spot that has been waiting since Sirius was eleven and desperately trying to see around Remus's book to catch a glimpse of his face on the train.
But how is Remus supposed to know that?
"I'm not trying to use you as a distraction, Remus. I love you."
"Sirius. I know you love me. But not the way you are trying to play it. Please Padfoot, don't make it so hard."
"What do you mean?"
Remus turns to face him, and as though some laughing god is playing a trick on Sirius, his face catches the moon-light for a split second, making him the most beautiful thing Sirius has ever seen, his eyes and hair silvered and his skin, milk-white like the colour of wedding dresses.
Remus leans forward until his nose is an eyelash width from Sirius's and Sirius cannot breath for the exquisite curve of Remus's cheekbones, and the delicate arch of his eyebrow say to him 'I cannot say no because I love you. I love you. Don't make me break my own heart'.
"Don't make me say no." Remus says again, his voice so soft that Sirius feels the words in a breath against his lips instead of hearing them.
"Then say yes."
Their lips meet halfway - as beautiful and treacherous as Remus's grandmother said - and it is both tentative and freeing. This freedom is something Sirius could never find by running away, only by reaching closer.
When they break apart, Remus's hair is plastered up one side of his face with Sirius's forgotten tears and their foreheads are pressed together, breath rapid and high in their throats.
"I'm done waiting for things I want, Moony. I want you, and I've wanted you for too long to keep fooling myself anymore. I'm done with fooling myself. I didn't belong as a Black and I don't belong without you."
Remus says nothing, but there is a yes there, a silent, overpowering yes that Sirius can feel.
Their lips meet again, hot but gentle, and they cradle their fragile hearts between them, in the hollows of throats and the sharp angles of hips.
When Sirius begins to cry again Remus holds him flush, skin against skin, all forevers and I will always want yous, and need. This is their loyalty, this is their retribution.
When Remus whispers, "Sleep", Sirius nods, his eyes already heavy.
--
Rhiannon comes up to retrieve them for breakfast the next morning and she finds two boys, their limbs are tangled in long gangly sixteen year old pieces that fit together wrong in the right way, breath soft and even, eyes brushed closed, all shadows of morning. Two people put together backwards to make a forward. She grins and shuts the door.
Downstairs, Lynette fries eggs and puts water in the kettle for tea.
"You win." Rhiannon says as she comes into the kitchen. "They're all curled up like puppies in a basket."
"Told you." Lynette replies. "Now you have to do the dishes. Never bet against your grandmother."
"Whatever."
Fin