at
http://download.archiveofourown.org/works/1047288
.
Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandom:
Relationship:
Lily Evans Potter/James Potter
Character:
Additional Tags:
Alternate Universe - Non-Magical
,
Stats:
Published: 2013-11-16 Words: 18547
The Night Is a Bridge Between Yesterday and Tomorrow
Summary
Our boys attend Four Parties and a Music Festival, in which we find romance, secrets,
dodgy relatives and lots of music.
Notes
Written for Team Post-Hogwarts at the
.
Prompt: "Here Comes the Sun" by The Beatles.
Thank you so much to gilpin25 and brighty18 for the beta read and encouragement ♥
I've made a playlist with the music mentioned in the story, which can be found
.
***
Party number one: Boys don’t cry. December 1978
Heart rate well above normal frequency?
Check.
Dry throat in spite of the two beers already consumed?
Absolutely.
Shallow breathing never even close to reaching the stomach?
Oh yes.
The facts all point to one conclusion: This is a very, very bad idea.
Remus walks the few steps across the small space serving as a combined living room and
bedroom, ending up in front of a narrow, full-figure mirror hanging beside the door. His eyes glide
over his own reflection, he frowns warily at what he sees, at the still too thin frame covered by his
best jeans and a green button-up shirt. An ordinary-looking, worried young man.
He meets his own eyes in the mirror and makes a small clicking sound with his tongue. So this is
what it looks like – someone getting all worked up because he’s been invited to an event which
most people would happily attend. Or more to the point, because he’s accepted the invite.
Hesitatingly he tries out a few poses in front of the mirror, he lifts his chin and pushes his
shoulders back in an attempt to give off a more confident vibe. Before long he abandons the idea.
This is ridiculous. Remus sighs, annoyed with himself. Four months, one week and six days as an
urban citizen, and this is what he has to show for it.
For heaven’s sake, Lupin, get a grip! You’ve not exactly been asked to endanger yourself
performing heroic life-or-death stunts.
Oddly enough this thought does nothing to ease his mind. These reactions would have been more
understandable if that were the case.
Since when has he been such an idiot? Since when has the thought of going out to meet people his
own age turned him into this self-conscious, fiddling dork? One who is pacing the rooms, having
weird thoughts about the wonders of secluded record shops and silent study halls and long
evenings reading a good book on his (not particularly comfortable) sofa?
An eager little devil immediately starts jumping up and down on his shoulder, whispering
insistently in his ear: “You know the answer to that!”
Remus’ Voice of Reason starts talking then. The voice that refuses to define itself by some
unfortunate experiences during that time when most people figure out who they are. It’s joining
the choir in his head.
As he walks over to his vast record collection filling up an entire corner of the cramped room, the
door bell gives a garbled sound. “I really need to get that thing fixed,” he says to himself as he lifts
off the phone handle by the door.
“It’s Lily!” a bright voice says, and Remus pushes the button with a cheery “come on up!”
He hurries into the kitchenette and swiftly grabs a couple of beers from the fridge. Rummaging
through his records, looking for the one by Kate Bush he knows Lily loves, the words from their
last conversation echo through his mind.
“Come on, Remus, it’ll be good for you. When’s the last time you went out just to have some
fun?”
“Uhm – I used to go roaming the forests with you and Benjy back home when we were in… uh,
primary school.”
“Mhm. I rest my case. Remus, you’re not in hospital anymore. It’s time to step into the real world.
Explore your possibilities. You’ll turn into a hermit if you keep this up. Come to the party with me,
okay?”
And Lily had been right, Remus has to admit that to himself – Lily usually is. Kind of annoying,
really.
“Wuthering Heights” starts playing in the corner, the door opens, and a friendly face peeks inside,
all sparkling, green eyes and a big smile. “Ready, Remus?”
*** ***
They sit upstairs, talking animatedly as the double-decker bus winds its way through crowded
London streets. That is, Lily is talking animatedly. Remus is still new enough in London to get a
secret thrill from looking down at the cars and people below them, inhaling sharply when the bus
narrowly misses hitting someone.
Lily hasn’t lived here any longer than Remus, but unlike her childhood friend, she’s been around,
discovering what a seething city has to offer. She seems to notice that Remus is even more quiet
than usual. Distractedly she adjusts her green woolen scarf that makes her hair look fierier than
ever, before laying a hand on Remus’ corduroy-covered arm.
“You have me as your bodyguard, you know.” Her voice is soft, her vivid eyes full of humour as
well as concern. “Nothing to worry about. Your charming, wonderful self will win everyone over,
and before you know it you’ll have to fight off attention-craving girls throwing themselves at you.
Easy peasy!”
Remus laughs, a wave of affection running through him. Suddenly he feels a bit stupid for making
such a big deal about this, for having immersed himself in solitary studying during his first
semester at Uni.
Live a little, Lupin!
“Certainly,” he answers Lily. “I have been known to turn quite a few heads in my time. I’ve got it
from reliable sources that more than one of the nurses used to carry a secret torch for me.
Especially the ones over fifty.”
Lily pats him on his head and smiles fondly. “Very droll, Remus. You should be grateful that
someone besides yours truly has discovered your indisputable wit. It’s not very nice to dismiss
them simply based on something as shallow as their age.”
He nudges her gently with his elbow, before looking out of the window. Leaning his forehead
against the cool surface, he watches through the dew made by his breath.
Christmas decorations are liberally spread across the huge display windows of the numerous
stores. Red and green colours, masses of tinsel, small trees with golden baubles and sparkling
Christmas lights.
They pass the Marble Arch and continue along Hyde Park. The pavements are filled with busy
looking people, huddled against the December evening in thick coats and long scarves. Most of
them give off an air of purpose and determination, and Remus feels a rush of excitement. He’s one
of them.
He turns his head towards Lily and clears his throat. “So, do I know anyone who’ll be there?
Except you, that is?”
Lily lets go of the loose thread on her fluffy mittens and starts ticking off her fingers. “You know
the Prewett brothers from Uni, don’t you? And I think you’ve met James?”
Remus isn’t sure if he’s imagining the light blush across Lily’s face. “The stalker guy?”
“Yeah, well, turns out he isn’t all that bad.” Lily looks him straight in the eyes as if preparing for
snarky comments, but Remus lets her off the hook with a simple “right”.
They have reached their bus stop. Swiftly they hurry downstairs without having to elbow too
many fellow passengers in the ribs as they leave.
The evening feels heavy and blue. A breath of snow is in the air, waiting for an opportunity to
cover the city. Lily leads them off the main street, and Remus remembers that Fabian and Gideon
live in the Bayswater area, in a flat apparently big enough to host a friends-of-friends type of
party.
Okay, let’s do this.
*** ***
“Lilyyy! The brightest diamond in all womanhood! Come in and let your light dazzle us all!”
Lily snorts, but laughs despite herself, raising her voice to be heard over Led Zeppelin booming
from somewhere inside. “Diamonds are cold and hard, James. I’d rather you find another
comparison.”
The dark-haired young man smiles even wider after this gentle admonishment before pulling her
into a tight hug. Over her shoulder James notices Remus and turns towards the guest, arm still
hung over Lily. “Lupin, right?” James grins. “Good to see you again! Any friend of the lovely
Miss Evans is a friend of mine.”
He extends a hand and shakes Remus’ before guiding them both to a small bedroom next to the
entrance, currently serving as a wardrobe for the guests. “Our hosts for the evening were busying
themselves by mixing the most spectacular, absolutely disgusting-looking punch that has ever
been drunk by man the last time I saw them, leaving the welcoming part to me. And using the
record player. Thankfully they have quite a few Led Zeppelin records, so I’m good. Just find a
place to stash your stuff, then come and join us, yeah?”
He flashes them a happy smile before bouncing off towards the living room, all messy curls and
fashionable clothes. His big-collar shirt looks very expensive.
Remus finds an empty peg for his thick, brown corduroy jacket and tries to stop the fluttering in
his stomach from rapidly spreading. “Soo,” he says, dragging the word out. “You and James?”
Lily adjusts her narrow skirt and combs through long, red hair with her hands.
“I suppose so, yeah,” she smiles. “He’s actually quite... quite amazing. He just used to spend an
awful lot of time doing his best to hide it.”
She throws an arm around Remus, and together they head back through the now empty entrance
and into a slightly run-down, crowded room full of laughter and bright colours and the nonchalant
guitars of “Stairway to Heaven”. It feels unreal to Remus, that he’s now inside where the music is,
and other people will still be walking outside in the streets, listening to them, listening to what’s
happening on the inside.
*** ***
Sweaty people. Dancing people. Laughing people.
One short hour and three long drinks later, and Remus is getting into the swing of things.
James had been right, the punch really looks vile, but it tastes sweet and strong, so what’s not to
like? A nice blonde girl in a turquoise tunic casually thrown over purple trousers has obviously
taken a liking to Remus. She hasn’t left his side except when walking over to the punch bowl and
pouring them another drink. He willingly takes what she hands him, he can always get some beers
later on.
So far he’s resisted the urge to check out the record collection for anything decent. A bunch of
giggling girls have put on the soundtrack from Grease, and the blonde girl, Marlene her name is,
joins Remus in some bemused eye rolling. She’s easy to talk to and seems to know an awful lot of
the other guests, eagerly pointing them out to him. They’re sitting on a small brown sofa placed in
a corner of the sparsely decorated living room, next to the table where the hosts have put both the
punch and the crisps. It provides a very comfy view over what’s going on around them.
Lily and James are spending a lot of time dancing together, even managing a passable swing when
the annoying rhythms of “You’re the One That I Want” echo through the room. Afterwards James
sinks down next to Remus, long enough for Giggling Girl Number One to hurry over. She leans
into James, her dark hair falling over his shoulder, speaking softly.
“So, when’s your friend coming, James?”
She wiggles her eyebrows and doesn’t seem to notice James’ mild snorting.
“He said he’d probably make it, but you never know if something else entered his radar. We’re
not talking about the biggest of attention spans here.” The crestfallen look on Giggling Girl
Number One’s face seems to soften James, making him add a quick “But I’m sure he’ll come.”
Apparently now happy, the girl bounces back to her Giggling Gang, completely missing James
mumbling “Not that he’s going to look twice at you anyway” to no one in particular.
James pats Remus rather absently on the shoulder. “Cheers, mate!” he says before swiftly getting
up to join a blond guy who’s been fidgeting with his beer, scanning the room with big eyes set in
his friendly face. At the sound of James’ cheery “Hi Peter!” he eagerly turns around, talking and
gesticulating wildly.
Marlene scurries off to get them more drinks. The vacant seat next to Remus becomes occupied by
the two red heads who live here, apologizing profusely for being so absent, hoping Remus has a
good time (“Glad you came, don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your lecture notes!” “All work
and no play makes for a grumpy and horny man, you know – no use studying with a sour frown
and perpetual hard-on!”).
As they move on to speak with someone else, a tall, brown-haired man sits down heavily. Remus
remembers Marlene calling him Frank. He stretches out his long legs and leans towards Remus,
head swaying and glazed eyes slightly unfocused.
“You know,” Frank begins in a low, conspiratorial voice. He seems to realise that his speech is
lost amongst the sound of Billy Joel singing that this is his life, and Frank is obviously determined
to get his message across. Practically yelling into Remus’ ear, he continues.
“This is a dream, my friend. There is no reality. But it’s not we who do the dreaming, we are the
dream! Got it? Someone else is dreaming us, dreaming this flat and the people and the flirting and
every fucking thing that we see here! Isn’t it wonderful?! Think of all the possibilities that
knowledge can give us!”
Before Remus has time to ponder this revelation, Frank is off again, walking serenely towards
Marlene as she balances two wide glasses of mysterious looking content. Remus is actually a bit
relieved when Frank leads a slightly hesitating Marlene towards a door on the opposite wall and
into what Remus assumes is the kitchen. He’s honestly had enough oddly coloured sweet drinks
for one evening.
Remus straightens his back and sits up, suddenly feeling strange sitting here all by himself, even
though no one spares a second glance in his direction.
Because no one spares a second glance in his direction.
Either way, it’s a blunt reminder that he’s the odd one out. There’s an uncomfortable stirring in his
gut as he watches the young men and women flying around with an apparently bottomless well of
confidence, and the ones who are standing in tight, laughing groups. He knows in some deeply
hidden part of his brain that the feeling is dangerously close to jealousy, but he refuses to
acknowledge it. Jealousy is almost self-pity, a feeling Remus has always fought hard to avoid,
telling himself to blame any lack of social skills on minimal practice. There is, after all, only so
much witty banter most hospital staff will see fit to engage in.
He finds a packet of cigarettes in his pocket, flips one out and lights it before hauling himself to his
feet. Inhaling deeply, he starts walking around the room, moving with the music (it is after all The
Cars playing “Just What I Needed” which isn’t all that bad), trying not to bump into anyone,
looking for Lily. Instead he finds himself cornered by one of the Giggling Girls who seems to
have given up on James’ mystery friend. It’s not that Remus isn’t happy for some female attention,
Lord knows there haven’t been too many opportunities to bask in it, but somehow her coy smile
does nothing but make him feel awkward and uncomfortable.
“Hello,” he says eloquently, taking another long puff of his cigarette, keeping it hanging from the
corner of his mouth, trying not to blow smoke onto Giggling Girl Number Two, or was it Three,
and her heavily painted face. She opens her mouth to say something, or so Remus assumes.
Before any sound leaves her mouth, another few members of the Giggling Gang make their way
towards them, barely able to contain whatever news they have from spilling out.
“He’s here!” they exclaim with one voice. Their arms entwine, and Remus gets a fleeting image of
girls back in school, sauntering around the schoolyard with a look on their faces as if they’ve been
let in on all the secrets in the world. Remus snorts silently. Apparently not everything has changed
as much as he’s feared.
Then he doesn’t do much thinking. His cigarette forgotten, he almost loses it as he silently mouths
a soft “Oh”.
A young man has entered the room. Remus blinks and wonders if the newcomer has brought the
sun with him; no, more like it’s the sun itself who’s chosen to take on human form and spread its
blessings and warm rays.
Apparently the sun in human form has the ability to turn Remus’ thoughts into romantic nonsense.
The Giggling Girls have appointed themselves both welcoming committee and party guide to
Sunshine Boy, but he doesn’t seem to take much notice of them. Full of friendly hellos, he makes
his way through the crowd toward James. The latter is still talking to the Peter guy not far away
from where Remus is trying to look as if he’s got somewhere to go. James waves merrily and
opens a beer, clasps Sunshine Boy on the back. Remus can hear James’ loud “Good to see you,
mate!” which Sunshine Boy answers with a brilliant smile.
Remus has seen winter nights less black than Sunshine Boy’s hair, he’s seen stormy clouds that
are less vivid and grey than his eyes. Even from a distance he can make out sinfully long lashes
and skin so pale it looks like it’s never received a ray of sun. Ironic, really, for a Sunshine Boy.
Sunshine Boy puts a cigarette in his mouth (his perfectly shaped mouth, for those who might
notice such things), it hangs unlit as he simultaneously listens to James and greets people around
him with hand waves and head nods. His eyes find Remus’ and hold still.
Remus feels sunburned by that look. Way too much time passes before he remembers to look
away.
He doesn’t hear the music anymore, there’s nothing in this room to hold his interest except those
eyes and the young man they belong to. The room feels too hot and his skin too tight.
His racing heart slows down on his way to the kitchen, wondering what just happened. It’s not the
first time he’s felt attraction towards another man, but he hasn’t given it all that much thought.
There’ve been other issues weighing heavier. Like staying alive.
But this...
Alcohol? Yes, let’s pretend it’s because of the alcohol.
The kitchen is less crowded than the living room, but still quite noisy. He spots a few bottles of
beer on the work surface, as well as Lily seated by the rickety kitchen table, chatting with
Marlene. Equipped with a beer in one hand and the almost burnt out cigarette in the other, he finds
a vacant chair next to them, grateful for any distraction from whatever it was that just shook him.
The music isn’t so loud in here, they can carry out a conversation without having to shout.
“Check out Frank,” Marlene says with a smile, nodding towards a corner where Frank is making a
young woman laugh – they make each other laugh. “He’s been in love with Alice forever, poor
sod,” she tells Remus. “Looks like tonight he’s decided he’s got nothing to lose.”
“Good for him,” Lily declares.
Remus takes a healthy swig from his beer and tosses the remains of the cigarette into a monster of
an ashtray. “Apparently having stamina in your love life does pay off,” he says, giving Lily a
wink.
“Says who?” Her eyebrows are impossibly high, eyes dancing.
“They,” Remus replies sheepishly. “They talk a lot, you see.”
Lily lets lose her lilting laugh, coming to an abrupt halt when a very elegant-looking man Remus
hasn’t noticed before sits down across from them, talking loudly to his sallow-faced friend.
“I’ve been here for at least two hours now, and I have yet to be offered anything truly edible. My
suspicions about the Prewett brothers’ hosting abilities have surely been proved correct.” He
tosses his long, whitish blonde hair over his blazer clad shoulders, raising his pointy chin at his
friend, who in turn moves his black eyes in Lily’s direction, holding her gaze as she sends him a
brilliant smile.
“What?” the blond man glares, following the other’s look. “Ah,” he says curtly, as if that explains
everything. “Lily. Marlene. Good evening, ladies. Who’s your friend here?”
Remus has never appreciated blatant scrutiny, and this man immediately manages to make him
uncomfortable. Not abandoning his manners though, he says his name, and is rewarded with a
questioning look and a subtle frown.
“That’s not a very common name?”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Lucius,” Lily snaps.
“No, that’s not what I meant, I mean if you...”
Remus never gets to hear what the man, Lucius, is about to say. Another voice breaks in.
“Is this where the club meeting for People With Unusual Names is held?”
It’s Sunshine Boy. He’s surreptitiously entered the kitchen, and what-do-you-know, his voice is
all soft and smooth. Once again the air seems to thicken, an odd tickling sensation making its way
through Remus’ body. He wants to do something, anything, when the door opens again. James
and Peter come stumbling in, obviously in the middle of a truly engaging conversation.
“Honestly,” Peter exclaims with undisguised glee, “if you could switch your body with whoever
you wanted, why wouldn’t you pick Sean Connery? Just think about it, I wouldn’t mind getting
all the girls’ attention.”
“As well as all the boys’ envy,” James snorts, stumbling slightly on his way to join Sunshine Boy
by the work surface. “What about you, Sirius? Whose body would you want?”
Sunshine Boy – Sirius (of course that’s his name, he owns both the night and the day) – stretches
out to reach for a beer. His white cotton shirt slides up to reveal a thin strip of silky skin above his
jeans. Remus has always found those tight jeans with no flares just a little bit ridiculous. Now he
realises they’re nothing short of spectacular. Not that he’s looking.
Sirius lights a cigarette, opens his beer and heaves himself off the wall, taking his time before
answering James.
“I’m quite happy keeping my own body, actually. But I wouldn’t mind exchanging some bodily
fluids with Mick Jagger.”
Remus chokes on his beer. Lily pats him gently on the back. James shakes his head amusedly,
Peter looks embarrassed and Lucius looks vaguely disgusted. Only Marlene leans eagerly
forward, eyes shining with interest.
“You’re a... a homosexual?”
Sirius seems completely undisturbed by the reactions his statement has caused, he simply shrugs.
“I’ve never felt the need to label myself.”
And at that he obviously decides the topic has been fully discussed. He flashes Remus a smile
(hopefully oblivious to what that smile does) and sits down next to him. “So,” he says, leaning on
his elbow, exhaling smoke, “Remus, right? A friend of Gideon and Fabian?”
This is surprising.
Remus isn’t one to talk about himself much, especially not to someone he’s known for less than an
hour. But before long, he’s told Sirius about how he’s studying architecture at Westminster
University with the Prewetts, about his long friendship with Lily. He even mentions some of his
health issues, some of his insecurities. Without really knowing why, he talks about how it’s been
difficult to maintain friendships when being sick so much. He finds himself saying how it’s hard to
trust after having been let down by doctors promising him the moon.
Remus doesn’t know if Sirius politely pretends to be interested, but if he does, he’s doing it so
wonderfully that Remus finds it hard to care. Sirius possesses some strange power, the power of
the sun and the stars and of magic.
This is dangerous, Lupin. Don’t let him in. Being alone is what you’re good at.
Someone – Lucius and his dark-haired friend it seems – scurries from the kitchen, opening the
door to the living room, letting in the sound of Freddy Mercury singing “Somebody to Love”.
Sirius straightens up, a truly happy expression flickering over his face.
“I love Queen!” he says. “Their music covers every aspect of life. And Pink Floyd! Don’t you just
love Pink Floyd?”
Remus does no such thing. Whenever people (and by people he mostly means Lily) have ranted
on and on about how powerful their music is, how intricate and wonderful their harmonies are,
Remus has silently snorted and gone to put on The Clash. But right now he can’t think of
anything he’d rather do than discuss Pink Floyd.
Sirius smiles widely. “I could talk about music all night!”
And that’s all it takes for the warning signs Remus has flashed at himself to be rapidly forgotten.
*** ***
Three and a half hours, quite a few beers and even more cigarettes later, Remus knows a whole lot
more than he did when he first came here.
He knows that Sirius and James have known each other forever, that they’re studying business
and management with Peter, and that James has been a fanatical lover of Led Zeppelin and Lily
Evans for a very long time.
He knows that Sirius is an unstoppable force of nature that without a doubt is harder to contain
than a thunderstorm.
He knows that this man can make thirty people simultaneously gasp and squeal by balancing on
the balcony railings, shouting at the top of his lungs into the dark December night, simply because
he had too much energy not to do it.
He certainly knows that alcohol blurs his own mind. Well, that part he knew before tonight. The
wonderful buzz that accompanies the blur, now that is new.
Remus also knows that it would be only too easy to fall for Sirius.
Now Remus finds himself in the living room, neatly seated in a shabby armchair next to the sofa.
He’s trying to tune out an increasingly drunk girl – one of the Giggling Girls, Dorcas something –
who’s curled up next to him on the armrest. The room is less crowded now. Some have left to go
disco clubbing, some have gone home, and some have passed out in a drooling stupor.
Remus’ attention is solely focused on the beautiful man dancing alone in the middle of the room.
One quality Remus has always admired is having the guts to do what you feel like. Sirius seems to
be the embodiment of this.
The voice of David Bowie fills the room. Sirius tilts his head backwards, closes his eyes and
moves relentlessly around. Dorcas’ voice goes on and on as if from far away, and Sirius keeps
dancing.
“I wish more blokes were like you, Remus, you’re such a good listener.”
I wonder if those jeans could sit any tighter if they were painted on him.
“Most men I meet are more interested in their own voice and their own opinions.”
Is it normal to feel envious of a shirt for being allowed to snuggle across his chest?
“Except getting into my pants, that is. It’s so refreshing meeting someone who doesn’t hit on me.”
He’s not a particularly good dancer, really. Arms swinging aimlessly, long legs going in all
directions.
“It’s like you’re too pure for this world, Remus.”
But it doesn’t matter. It’s the most wonderful dance I’ve ever seen.
“You know that can be a huge turn-on. That subtle sexiness.”
Would his hair feel as soft to touch as it looks?
“Maybe we could go somewhere, discover what lies hidden under your surface?”
I’d like to find out how my hands would fit around his neck, his shoulders, his back, his – you
have to stop now, Lupin.
“What do you think? Good idea?”
Of course he starts singing too.
“I’ll be your king volcano right for you again and again.”
It would be like a parody if it wasn’t so tremendously sexy and completely beautiful.
“Remuuuus! Are you listening to me?”
What’s that whiny voice in my ear?
Oh yes.
“Sorry, Dorcas. I’m just tired, I guess. Looks like Caradoc over there is gathering a crowd to go
out, I think they want you to join them.”
*** ***
Later. Remus shifts and turns, trying to find a comfortable position on the thin mattress Gideon’s
lain on the floor for him. Lily and James are crashing in the small bedroom, and more than a little
drunk and tired himself, Remus doesn’t need much convincing to prefer the Prewetts’ floor to
endless taxi queues.
He’s just dozed off when someone stirs behind him. That someone seems to lie down close to
Remus. Really close. A light and spicy smell reaches Remus’ nose, a heavy arm falls lazily around
Remus’ chest.
Sirius.
Remus tries to control his breathing, to pretend this is nothing he hasn’t expected. He doesn’t
succeed.
There’s no way he’ll fall asleep with Sirius lying behind him, sharing the thin mattress and the
flimsy blanket. He doesn’t want to fall asleep, he wants to remember every second of this.
Another man’s chest rising and falling against him. A hand clutching at the front of his shirt. A
mouth nuzzling the nape of his neck. Contented humming sounds.
He must have fallen asleep anyway.
Early morning finds Remus yawning lightly. Sirius is getting up, and Remus covers the blanket
over himself. Wait. Sirius is getting up.
Remus pretends to sleep, doesn’t dare open his stinging eyes.
Sirius leans over, pushes his lips against Remus’ forehead before silently walking out of the room.
Carefully Remus lifts his head, throwing a quick glance at the door, catching a glimpse of Sirius’
back as he slips out.
He doesn’t look back.
*** ***
Party number two: Have you ever fallen in love with
someone you shouldn’t’ve? March 1980
“For the love of everything that’s pure and holy, aren’t you done yet?”
James peeks through the bathroom door, shaking his head so his messy hair falls into his eyes,
sighing impatiently.
“I’m not at all taking your hair problems lightly, but this is getting ridiculous. And you don’t look
any different now than when you started. Probably an hour ago.”
Sirius calmly continues to tug his hair this way and that way, meeting his best friend’s eyes in the
mirror.
“I haven’t been out in ages,” he says firmly, fixing James with his best Black look. “I’m slowly
withering away, losing all my social skills and seductive powers from lack of use. It’s important to
emphasize any advantages I may possess when I finally make my grand comeback to London’s
party scene.”
James picks up a comb lying by the sink, half-heartedly dragging it once through his messy, dark
hair before giving up. He grins at his friend.
“If you’re fishing for compliments, you’d better try a different pond. Besides, you’ve not exactly
been on an expedition to the North Pole – you were gone like two months? I very much doubt
anyone’s had time to miss your ugly face.”
Sirius snorts, finally deciding his hair ends up looking the same way (which really isn’t at all bad)
whatever he does.
“I knew there was a reason I keep you as a friend. I can always rely on you to boost my
confidence. Haven’t you been crying yourself to sleep at night, snivelling all over Evans’ – uh,
Mrs Potter’s best bed linens?”
A soft smile spreads over James’ face. Sirius gets a sneaking suspicion his friend’s mind is filled
with rather different images by the mention of Lily’s bed linens.
“Of course I missed you,” James says though, walking out of the bathroom towards the leather
sofa in a corner of the cosy living room. His records are now mixed with Lily’s. According to
Sirius, this is a sign of love and devotion more lasting than any promise the two lovebirds gave
each other at their wedding.
When Sirius joins him a few minutes later, James has not surprisingly put on Led Zeppelin,
flashing Sirius a happy smile.
“I play “Black Dog” in your honour.”
The volume isn’t very high, though, and James’ expression is remarkably serene for someone
who’s getting ready for a party with his best friend. They both lift their tumblers and take a sip of
the smoky whiskey Sirius has brought with him.
“Not bad! Frank will love this for the Whiskey Club.”
James drinks some more, takes a deep breath, obviously deciding that beating around the bush is a
waste of time. “Why don’t you just pull out, Sirius? I worry about you, you know.”
“And you say I’m the girly one, mate. There’s no need for you to worry.”
Sirius shrugs, going for blasé. James is having none of it, he leans forwards, gazing imploringly.
Sirius looks away, fidgeting with his tumbler and pulls a cigarette out of his packet.
“You know why,” he says quietly when the silence has stretched on too long.
James screws up his nose, exhaling deeply. “Reg is a grown man now, making his own decisions.
You can’t keep looking out for him or letting him dictate your life like this.”
“He’s never done that!”
“Maybe not out loud or even consciously, but the longer you stay, the harder it’ll be to dissociate
yourself from what’s happening there. Even if you stay for noble reasons.”
Sirius looks away, looking anywhere that doesn’t involve meeting James’ earnest, caring eyes.
The poster from “The Godfather” hanging crookedly over the table is suddenly very interesting.
“It’s not as if I don’t think that way myself. But he’s my brother, James, my baby brother who
used to crawl into my bed at night when our parents had been particularly harsh. He was terrified
that the Nanny would find out he was with me and tell on us. Blacks aren’t supposed to show
weakness like that. It was always him and me against the world when we were little, at least the
world as we knew it. A big part of him is still that scared little boy who’ll do anything for
approval. Without me as at least some influence, I’m afraid he’ll do something...”
Sirius touches James’ arm lightly, grey eyes meet hazel, tension etched in every feature of his face.
“I really think they’ve gotten to him this time,” he says, voice barely a whisper.
They both sit still for a while, drinking more whiskey; one of them finding comfort in the other’s
company, one of them desperately wanting to say the right thing, not really sure what the right
thing is.
“What happened when you were away?” James breaks the silence, his expression soft, yet
persistent.
Sirius inhales deeply from his cigarette as if it contains the elixir of life, laughing humourlessly.
“It was utter rubbish. Complete and utter rubbish. They don’t let me in on the most secret
ceremonies, they’re only for the inner circle, but it’s obvious that their precious Order has more
influence than ever. And with that, more ambition than ever. I wouldn’t be surprised if their next
goal is to appoint the new King.”
Images of charismatic speakers and fanatical faces flash by as Sirius briefly closes his eyes. A
grimace flickers across his face.
“There’s this one guy.”
He opens his eyes again, swirling his amber drink around in the tumbler, swallowing hard.
“The almighty Order is about to lose a battle, and the devoted Blacks have been given the task of
fixing it. Reg doesn’t say much to me these days, but there’s been talk about him being up for
promotion. I think he’s been asked – or commanded more like – to make sure this liberal guy they
despise isn’t getting a minister post. To make really sure.”
James’ eyes widen, sheer horror evident in them. “Come on. He’s not going to murder the guy?”
“I don’t know, James. But I think there’s a chance he might, or at least make sure he isn’t up for
working in politics anymore. Acknowledgement from our precious parents and their corrupted
little club means the world to him. If there’s anything I can do to stop my brother from doing this, I
have to try. Going to the police isn’t an option, really, there’s no way of tracking this to the people
in charge.”
James nods slowly. “I get where you’re coming from,” he says softly. “Trust you to do what it
takes to protect the ones you love. But I’m not sure exactly what you can do if Reg doesn’t even
speak to you. You can hardly kidnap him.”
Sirius shoots him a pointed look that clearly says “Can’t I?” Instead of elaborating, he shifts in the
sofa, pulling up his legs underneath him.
“I need some more info, I’m not even sure who this bloke is. Supposedly it’s a candidate pushed
by this Lupin organization. If there is one person my family hates, it’s Mr. Lupin.”
“Remus Lupin’s father?”
“Dunno, I’ve never met Mr. Lupin, don’t know anything about his personal life.”
“I think you’ve met Remus, at some party ages ago. It’s not exactly a common name, sure you
don’t remember?”
Sirius quickly sorts through some of his party memories, coming up with vague images of quiet
charm, shy smiles and smitten eyes.
“Right, yeah,” he exhales.
James gives him an expectant look, but doesn’t push the matter. Instead he says: “He’s an old
friend of Lily’s. I’ve gotten to know him a bit, he’s a nice bloke. He was invited to the wedding,
but his mother died around then. There was a lot to take care of for him back home.”
The sudden flash in Sirius’ eyes doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Don’t, Sirius.”
“Don’t what?”
“Whatever it is you’re thinking. Use him to spy on his father or something.”
“Hey, I wouldn’t do that!”
“I know honesty is important to you, but I also know how you get when you’ve set your mind to
something.”
“My conscience is clear, I’ll have you know.”
“That’s usually a sign of bad memory.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my memory, thank you, James. You on the other hand seem very
familiar with what a bad memory can lead to.”
“You’re such an idiot.”
“You’re such a tosser.”
“And you’re such a queen. I think we have a winner?”
A hesitant smile spreads slowly across Sirius’ face; he casually swings both arms along the back
of the sofa. This change to a lighter atmosphere is most welcome. Maybe the night can still be the
island of joy he was looking forward to after having waded in muddy waters.
“So,” he says lightly, and not so subtly changing the subject, “imagine Frank and Alice got
married too. This is all going in the wrong direction, soon I’m the only single person left in
London. Can’t wait to see their new place, with a whipped Frank running around playing host.”
James grins, hauling himself to his feet. “Speaking of which, we’d better get a move on. Lily’s
probably already there.”
They finish their drinks with an “aah!” said in unison before they head for the pegs by the
entrance, taking down their embarrassingly similar leather coats.
“We’ve got something to ask you,” James says casually while buttoning up. “When the baby
comes, would you consider being the godfather?”
He doesn’t get an answer before they’re out in the foggy March evening. The air is moist and
grey, the streets are wet and black, yet there’s a promise of spring hidden somewhere.
“I’d be honoured. If that’s what you really want.”
“It’s what we really want.”
They take a few steps towards the tube entrance at Camden Road before James suddenly stops.
“Don’t do anything stupid with Remus. He’s been through a lot. Lily’s told me he spent much of
his youth in hospital, and a few operations went wrong. Heart surgery. Apparently they used him
as some sort of guinea pig for a new procedure. Poor sod. Be nice.”
*** ***
It‘s not surprising that Frank and Alice’s new place is in the Chelsea area. Like James’ and Sirius’
own family names, Longbottom is an old, respectable name with old money. What is surprising is
the level of sedate maturity that fills the spacious flat.
“It’s like an advertisement for responsible adulthood,” Sirius says bemusedly as they enter the
living room filled with antiques and heavy paintings decorating the walls. “They’re serving
canapés, for heaven’s sake.”
James nods his agreement, peering through the crowd. Soft music flows through the room, Sirius
can vaguely recognize Barry Manilow. The guests are gathered in small groups, chatting politely,
holding tall glasses of bubbly liquid. James spots Lily and heads over to her. Sirius walks towards
a corner, about to grab one of the drinks placed on a narrow sideboard, when Frank pops up out
of nowhere, excitedly throwing an arm over Sirius’ shoulder.
“Black! Welcome to Casa Longbottom!”
He leans closer and continues in a lower voice.
“This party really needs some life. Badly. My lovely Alice has gone overboard with this whole
Mister and Missus thing. I swear it won’t be long before she’s having us all to play Bridge here.
My hopes for a fun evening have risen considerably now that you and Potter have arrived.”
He walks them over to the sideboard, pressing a glass into Sirius’ hand.
“Maybe this can still be a night worthy of urban twenty-somethings.”
Sirius silently agrees, something needs to be done.
“We can start by changing that awful music,” he grins, already on his way. Two minutes later
John Lennon sings “Imagine” from the huge loudspeakers.
“We’ll gently ease Alice into tonight’s subtle changes. She won’t be able to resist this one.”
*** ***
If asked to describe him, quite a few of the people who have crossed Sirius Black’s path will say
that in addition to his indisputable charm, ridiculous good looks and generally cheerful behaviour,
it’s impossible not to mention his explosive temper.
Sirius can’t really blame them.
Hiding his emotions simply isn’t an option for him. None of his friends are therefore surprised if
they notice Sirius’ eyes getting a hard and steely expression and his mouth muttering something
(they don’t have to hear what he says to know it isn’t nice), when two young men glide in through
the door in a manner that would have been comical if it doesn’t seem so ominous.
“What are those snakes doing here?” he says to James, who is no more the voice of reason than
his friend when it comes to these men.
“I think Peter’s been hanging out with them. He must’ve invited them. Looks like they’ve got
nothing better to do a Saturday night than showing up where they’re not wanted. Soon they’re
going to start complaining about things, just watch.”
“Why would Peter want to hang out with Snape and Malfoy?” Sirius makes no effort to keep his
voice free from malice.
James frowns and shakes his head. “I’m as clueless as you. He’s probably grateful to be noticed
by them or something. Lily is annoyingly persistent there’s more to them than greasy hair and
stuck up noses, but hell if I know what it is.”
Four pairs of icy looks meet across the room. They can literally feel the temperature drop.
“Still the same slimy gits as ever.” James’ vocabulary returns to the maturity level of a time when
the hostility began, when the reckless joy of pulling pranks and causing embarrassment to their
school nemesis weighed heavier than the real reasons behind the mutual animosity.
Now the air is laden with something harder. Sirius knows more than James, has seen more.
Something dark starts stirring in his chest, the feelings of hopelessness he wanted to avoid tonight
are spreading. He has no wish to cause a scene, he just wants to enjoy himself, and he really
doesn’t want to piss off Alice, last seen dancing somewhat tipsily with Frank. She’s actually a lot
of fun once she loosens up a bit.
Gathering whatever power of self control he may possess – and contrary to popular belief there is
some – Sirius bites back the snarky comments that push their way towards his mouth at the sight
of Snape and Malfoy.
It’s like Pavlov’s dogs. Like the laws of nature. Unavoidable.
Strategy chosen to keep equilibrium: Remove oneself from the epicentre of destructive presence.
Nice going, Black! I’m proud of you.
Sirius mutters an excuse to James, nods hello to Marlene, before wandering off to an adjacent
room. It’s dimly lit and seems to be a mixture of a study and a small library. The decoration is
tasteful with dark oak and heavy leather furniture. His mind immediately turns to his parents’ taste
and to cigar clubs his father’s been trying to make him join. This room seems friendlier, lighter,
despite the dark colours.
There’s a big armchair a few steps away. He sinks down into it, absentmindedly humming the
chorus of “Imagine”, silently cursing the long shadows created by small people. His elegant
fingers follow the edge of the chair, caressing the intricate patterns carved in the tall bookshelf
standing next to him.
He lets loose a short laugh.
“Being stuck in the darkness,” he mutters to himself. “This isn’t where you wanted to end up.”
“Well,” a raspy voice says from somewhere in the shadows, “why don’t you get yourself out of
the darkness? Life’s too short to stay a prisoner somewhere you don’t want to be.”
Whoever the voice belongs to takes a few steps away from the dark corner.
Sirius starts, almost falling off the chair. He ignores it in favour of leaning forward, his interest
peeked by the sound of this voice.
The shadows soon lose out to the light being thrown by a small ceiling lamp, as the mysterious
person steps closer, revealing a rather tall figure, honey brown curls and a questioning expression
on his face.
Something clicks in Sirius’ memory. A comfortable buzz starts somewhere below his chest,
finding its way through the rest of his body when the man lightly crosses his arms, lazily saying
“We’ve met before.”
It isn’t a question. Sirius finds himself strangely flattered by the other’s recognition (and
appreciation? He thinks it is, surprises himself by hoping it is).
Well.
Remus Lupin. All grown up, and most nicely so.
“We’ve met before,” Sirius concurs, finding a smile, giving it to Remus.
This buzzing feeling, Sirius knows, can lead to any number of things. Initially there’s no way of
knowing if its origin lies in genuine interest or if it’s simply the thrill of something exciting
happening. But Sirius knows himself well enough to be certain that he’s not going anywhere until
he’s found out, one way or the other.
Remus. Looking good. Possibly knowing quite a bit about very interesting stuff. Seemingly quite
interesting himself.
“It’s Remus, right?” Sirius is certain of the answer, not certain of what the enquiring look meeting
his means, if he can still hold some power over Remus. It’s been a while, things change. They
have, after all, for him.
Remus nods slowly. When it doesn’t seem like he’s going to say anything, Sirius ploughs on.
“I’m Sirius,” he informs, feeling weirdly foolish doing so.
“I know,” Remus replies. Nope, definitely not imagining it, he really does have a delicious voice.
Quietly Remus walks over to an armchair similar to the one Sirius occupies. He doesn’t seem at all
flustered by the silence (or by Sirius’ presence). If anything, the expression on his face as he sits
down is one of amusement.
Okay. Sirius isn’t in the habit of getting easily flustered himself. He turns to face Remus, grey eyes
dancing. “Any particular reason you were here alone instead of out there, getting drunk and ogling
the ladies?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t have to, Sirius. You already told me. I believe “Stuck in the darkness” were your words.
They say a lot.”
“That – uhm – I was talking to myself.”
“Which is why I trust what you said.”
“You usually don’t believe what people tell you?”
“I think you learn more about people by observing them unguarded than by listening to what they
choose to present to the world.”
“What if I’m lying to myself then, Remus?”
“Are you?”
“I don’t think so. I’m a fairly honest person. Some would say painfully so.”
“That I can believe.”
“How come you’ve got an opinion?”
Sirius finds himself vastly amused by the conversation, but Remus doesn’t answer the question.
Instead he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs with one foot loosely placed over the other
knee, both arms slung over the armrests. He tilts his chin down a bit, gazes playfully up at Sirius,
smiling slightly. Sirius swallows.
“So...” He’s aiming for casual, somehow finding it harder than usual. “Has life been nice to you
since I saw you last?”
“Pretty nice, yeah.” Remus’ smile widens. “City life has really grown on me. I finally discovered
that most people aren’t dangerous. Quite a few of them are actually well worth getting to know.”
His smile turns lopsided, eyes narrow, voice raspier than ever.
“Though there are some I imagine can be really, really dangerous.”
Sirius feels that a witty answer is required, yet he’s in no hurry to say something. This new,
flirtatious (yes, definitely flirtatious) Remus gives Sirius a desire to simply sit back and enjoy. It’s
unfamiliar, it’s unsettling, and Sirius likes it.
“Anyway – “ Remus lets his foot glide from his knee to the floor with a soft thump, looking more
serene now – “much as I enjoy a party, I wasn’t able to resist having a look at Alice’s great book
collection.”
He pulls a book from the shelf, his hands turn a page fondly.
“The smell of books makes me think of long afternoons with pouring rain against the library
windows. Books have a very special smell, like some kind of mystery and wisdom you don’t find
anywhere else.”
Their eyes meet, and Sirius is about to open his mouth to respond when the door slams open,
letting in bright light, loud music, chatting voices and a cheery James. His wide smile is quickly
replaced by a more cautious one when he notices just who Sirius is with.
Oh, come on, Potter, what do you think I’m going to do? Use magic to get him to spill all his
secrets?
“Hey guys,” James says a little too loudly. “I’d like to inform you that the party is actually
happening out here. Whatever you two were up to can’t surely be as interesting as what’s going
on at Longbottoms’ headquarters!”
He turns to walk back into the living room, throwing a smile over his shoulder, waving an arm.
“We’ve got booze! We’ve got music! We’ve got women! Uhm – and men if you so prefer.”
James stops, turns again to look at Remus, clearly unsure of how he’ll react as a few guests are
now looking at them.
Sirius has been open about his mixed preferences for years, he can honestly say he doesn’t care
what people think. Much.
But this is interesting. James may not quite know how Remus will react, but he obviously knows
enough to include him in the first place. Sirius has thought so. Now he feels pretty sure. And the
fluttering sensation keeps growing.
Remus offers James a friendly smile, he’s the picture of calm. “We weren’t up to anything, James.
Just taking a time-out. You’re right, it’s time for some action.”
He starts rolling up the sleeves of his (very becoming) shirt, as if suddenly energetic enough for
anything.
Sirius is a bit disappointed by the abrupt ending to their talk in the near-dark. But he follows the
other two past the coffee table to a group in a corner. Most of them are sitting on the floor,
laughing loudly over soft Elvis Costello rhythms at the story being told by a very vivacious Lily.
Sirius almost walks away when he spots a familiar big-nosed face. Instead, he breaths deeply,
looks away and finds a vacant space in the crowd to focus on.
Lily’s voice drifts into Sirius’ awareness. “...so they had to translate the joke bit by bit, so the poor
blokes doing it wouldn’t laugh themselves to death. People who didn’t understand the language
read it out loud, it was a very efficient weapon!”
Amused laughter fills the air. Even Snape, who is notorious for his extreme lack of joy in
anything, is unable to stop his mouth turning into a smile. It’s a weirdly unsettling sight.
When Snape shortly afterwards disappears into another room with a sour-looking Malfoy (and is
that Peter with them?) Sirius finally starts relaxing.
This isn’t a night for holding grudges or plotting strategies. It’s a night for friendship, fun and
getting pleasurably drunk. And maybe it’s also a night for meeting someone special.
*** ***
It’s late.
Or early.
That’s probably more accurate.
Probably time to go home. But that is completely out of the question. No need to move for quite
some time. Or ever.
Sirius lies on the floor, both hands resting under his head, legs stretched out, eyes closed. Frank
and Alice half sit, half lie on the sofa, probably wishing that everyone went home, hiding it very
well if they do. James and Lily lie curled up not far away. Sirius thinks they’ve fallen asleep.
On the other side of him is Remus. He’s moving around a bit, trying to find a comfortable position
after having been up to put on a record. “Wow, they’ve got this one,” he’d said before coming
back. Definitely closer now than before he got up. Sirius can feel warm breath against his arm.
Melancholy, deep tones of a cello find their way into Sirius’ ears, heat from another man quietly
caresses his skin. Something soft is lurking around, on its way towards his heart.
For a long time they lie there, listening to the music, feeling each other without touching at all.
They’ve talked about music earlier in the evening, what they like and what they listen to. This is
Remus’ music – hard punkish and soft classical. Sirius feels certain there’s some sort of metaphor
hidden there, but he’s much too sleepy and happy to try and figure it out.
Afterwards the sound of the stylus scraping against the innermost grooves is the only sound that
can be heard in the room, making the sleepy breathing from the other four disappear.
Sirius opens his eyes slowly, blinks and looks around, noticing that Alice has fallen asleep close to
a candle. It flickers every time she exhales. Then his eyes meet Remus’.
“That was great,” he says in an almost-whisper. “What was it?”
“Gabriel Fauré. “Sicilienne.” My mother used to play it to me when I was sick. I wasn’t sure
you’d like it, it’s kind of soppy, I guess, but sometimes that’s just what I need.” Remus sounds just
as moved as Sirius feels.
“Music is so powerful,” Sirius says. “A song can be like a bullet, or it can be so comforting.”
He moves his hand to push away the hair that keeps falling into his eyes.
“You know, it’s like when you sit on a balcony; it’s summer, you watch the sun, you hear that
special song and you know that if you die now, you die happy.”
Remus’ eyes are soft under heavy lids, he nods slowly.
“And,” Sirius continues, “if you try to explain that feeling to someone, anyone, you realise it’s
impossible. It’s kind of a lonely feeling. But a good feeling too. The idea of owning something
that’s just for you, something others don’t understand.”
They lie even closer. Sirius isn’t sure who’s moved towards the other, all he knows is that it’s still
not close enough.
“Is that how you feel now?” Remus’ voice is hoarse.
“Actually, no. I get the feeling you understand.”
“I understand.”
For several seconds they lie completely still, hardly daring to breathe. The stylus is scraping
relentlessly, it’s really the most unnerving sound. Sirius is starting to feel how hard the floor is,
despite it being carpeted. Everything is perfect.
Remus lets out a low laugh, making Sirius smile back. “What?”
“The floor. It seems to be our thing.”
Sirius vaguely remembers sleeping close to Remus on another floor. It seems like another lifetime.
The thought of being allowed to do it again is dizzying. And the look in Remus’ eyes tells him it’s
a distinct possibility.
His hand moves towards brown hair, stroking slowly, feeling Remus’ breath becoming faster.
Silky curls glide through a big and slightly damp hand. The hand lets the curls go and finds its
way over a cheek, the nose, around an eye before following the shape of an eyebrow with the tips
of its fingers.
Sirius searches for his voice, opening his mouth a few times before any sound escapes.
“I want...” he says, trying not to sound as awed as he feels. “I want to kiss you.”
A hand covers Sirius’, guiding it gently towards Remus’ mouth, lips brush over the inside of the
wrist.
The small gesture makes Sirius feel more alive than more daring touches ever have. He can never
get close enough. But he sure as hell is going to try.
Two mouths meet, four hands glide over the other’s shoulders, backs, hips. It’s a mind-blowing
mix of giddy excitement and gentle peacefulness. How this can happen with someone he’s known
for one night – two nights – Sirius doesn’t know, but there it is.
He feels certain this is a moment that years from now will remain vivid and cherished in the white
fog of hazy memories.
After an eternity, and all too soon, the kiss ends. Sirius hastily swallows something that would
have been a lump in his throat if he were the crying type. Which luckily he isn’t.
He opens his eyes, not remembering having closed them.
Remus gently puts his hand around the nape of Sirius’ neck, ruffling his black hair, making Sirius
laugh breathily. “Mmm,” he says as Remus starts humming. “Is there any way you could be more
perfect? And did I just say that out loud?”
A wide, carefree smile explodes in Remus’ face.
“I’m not in the habit of thinking that about anyone. You may turn out to be an exception.”
Sirius grins stupidly, he knows he does, and he makes no effort to stop himself.
He knows this may not be the wisest of actions. He also knows that he’s rubbish at taking sensible
advice, his own included.
“I’d like to see you again, Remus.”
“I’d like that too.”
The fluttering sensation makes a big jump. This time it turned out to be a wonderful thing. He
knows it is.
*** ***
The music festival: Just for you, here’s a love song. August
1980
The catchy chord progression of “Kashmir” flows into the air.
James’ ghetto blaster is capable of producing a surprisingly loud volume, and James is more than
willing to demonstrate.
“Listen to this!” he yells happily while bouncing around, clapping Sirius on the back, impressively
energetic despite the lack of sleep. “This is going to be epic! The most epic concert ever!”
Remus shakes his head, laughing. “You act as if Led Zeppelin will be here.”
“Almost as good as!”
He keeps whirling, dragging Sirius with him. “Monsteeers of Rooock! How can this be anything
but brilliant!”
James has talked about little else except the Monsters of Rock festival since they decided to go. As
well as his newborn son back home, that is. This morning is no exception.
Sirius isn’t one to silently watch James jumping around, so he cheerily joins in.
A few meters away, Peter raises his head for a second from where he’s been lying on a wooden
bench. “How can you even...” he begins, before his tired-looking blond head falls down on the
bench again a little harder than anticipated. “Oomph!” he says, turning to his side in search of a
more comfortable position. He seems to be making plans for a nap.
Remus can’t blame him after last night. They all spent it wide awake on a chartered coach to
Castle Donington. The only hitch is that they arrived in the early morning, long before the gates
open, with their way too small sandwich boxes long since empty.
But who cares.
It’s a bright summer’s day, still damp after the rain. A mild wind makes the meadow dance, every
blade of grass gleams in the reluctant sunshine.
Remus picks up his hooded jacket, places it carefully on a huge rock close to where Peter’s
snoring lightly, and sits down. The air is full of summer and anticipation. Two men are dancing.
One of them represents mischief and energy and friendship. Remus never thought he’d find a
friend that would mean almost as much to him as Lily. But along came James.
And then there’s Sirius. The fiery man who’s captured Remus, crawling into parts of him Remus
never knew existed.
Sirius is dressed in his usual tight jeans and a blue t-shirt covered by a white shaded pattern. He’s
let his hair grow, he looks like a black-haired Jim Morrison. Remus isn’t complaining.
James sings.
Sirius dances.
Peter sleeps.
Remus observes.
“Oh let the sun beat down upon my face,
stars to fill my dream.”
“I named you Sunshine Boy when I saw you the first time,“ Remus had said once, hands linked
and hearts floating from the thrill of getting to know each other. “Your name couldn’t fit you
better. You capture the day’s light and the night’s darkness. It’s all in you. Like magic.”
Sirius had laughed, looking touched. “I guess that leaves the moon to you,” he’d said, leaning in
closer.
Growing up, Remus never dreamed of having all these vivid colours in his life. Grey is after all a
perfectly nice colour, safe and unassuming. The colours still scare him just a little. Sirius is so full
of love and laughter, sometimes of thoughtlessness or a burning temper, but always, always a
roaring Yes to life. So Remus takes the plunge, jumps off the safe bridge, and most of the time he’s
able to trust that they’ll catch each other.
*** ***
“Where is he?” Peter stops kicking his trainer-clad foot in the gravel, instead walking aimlessly
around, growing steadily impatient. He isn’t the only one.
“Relax, he’ll be here.” James tries to cover his nervousness, almost succeeding.
“I hope so,” Peter mumbles, lighting a cigarette and continuing to pace back and forth. “Where did
you meet this guy anyway?”
James shrugs. “I haven’t actually met him. As such.”
Three pairs of disbelieving eyes seek out James’, conveying various levels of are-you-kidding-me?
“It’ll be fine!” James assures, lifting his hands defensively. “The Prewett brothers have dealt with
him a number of times, they say it always works out. They put me in touch with him. We’ll get the
tickets!”
Remus can feel the outline of a neat little speech starting to form in his head, one about how
relying on a stranger to fix them up for cheap tickets, may not be the smartest idea James has ever
come up with.
They’re standing close to the entrance gate to Donington Park. The only thing between them and
a music experience unlike anything Remus has ever had, is the Ticket Bloke.
James has been the most eager to come, he’s organized all the practicalities, promising Lily to
make it up to her. He’s lucky to have a wife who understands that some passions remain even
when you’ve become a parent. “Plenty of opportunity to make it up to me when I go on girls’
nights out with Marlene,” she’d laughed.
Ticket Bloke should have been here half an hour ago, equipped with cheap tickets he’d got via
acquaintances, according to James. Dodgy acquaintances, Remus silently adds.
Just when he’s about to give his friends an excerpt of that speech, a small man with bloodshot
eyes approaches them, slightly short of breath. His chequered sweater clashes horribly with his
stripy trousers.
“Potter?” he says. “James Potter?”
James nods, making the newcomer smile.
“Ever so sorry I’m late! A friend o’ mine popped over with a little business opportunity as I was
on me way out. He’d only gone and got some t-shirts and caps and banners of the bands ‘ere
today! Gawd, me eyes nearly fell out me ‘ead at the quality of the merchandise. Unbelievable they
are!”
He bends down to open a huge, brown leather bag he’s been carrying, rummaging around,
mumbling to himself. There’s no missing his body odour.
Arched eyebrows and questioning looks are heading for James, who coughs lightly. “That“ – he
pauses for dramatic effect – “ is Dung. I suppose.”
The man – Dung – is upright again, walking towards them with his hands full of t-shirts. They all
have faded colours and gaudy pictures of Rainbow.
“Mundungus Fletcher’s the name, at your service gentlemen. Anything extra you’d like, just give
me the nod. See these smashin’ t-shirts ‘ere? Opportunity of the century they are, in fantastic
condition and only slightly used before. As good as new, I can see you thinkin’, because you’re a
shrewd lot, and you wouldn’t be far wrong!”
Remus’ eyes meet Sirius’, smothering a grin. “Why would anyone...” Sirius starts, shaking his
head. “If I wanted a new t-shirt, I’d buy, you know, a new one.”
Dung straightens up in all his not particularly intimidating glory. “’Ang on a sec, mate! You lot
contacted me at the last minute, you know, and you can’t expect top shelf goods with that sort o’
notice. If you’re at the pub at three in the mornin’ and you want a bit of company for the night,
you wouldn’t go expecting no lookers at that time. The best ones would be well gone by then and
you ‘ave to make do. Blimey, I certainly don’t let meself whine when in that situation. Law of
averages it is, as you young gents should know by now.”
He sniffs loudly.
“Right.” James clears his throat. “I’m afraid we only want the tickets. You do have them?”
“Course I do. That’s insulting, I’ll have you know. Mundungus Fletcher is a man of his word.”
His eyes slide into the corners of his grey face, narrowly glancing at Peter. “What about you then?
Fancy a t-shirt yourself, or have you got a little lady tucked away who’d like some token of
appreciation? Maybe encourage her to show hers in return? A red one would be nice, the ladies
love red.” He digs into his bag, coming up with a t-shirt that looks distinctly brown. “Got to give
the ladies a touch o’ class. They always like that, and I don’t like boastin’ or nothin’ but I’ve had
my share of warm appreciation over the years if you know what I mean.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fletcher.” Peter’s voice is impressively polite. “The tickets will be fine, please.”
Dung’s eager grin fades slowly as he shoves the shirts back into his bag. “If that’s what the
gentlemen want, that’s what the gentlemen get. I’m not one to nag or try and push people into
buying something they don’t want. Even if they can’t spot an opportunity right under their nose.”
He starts digging into the pockets of the bag, carelessly discarding various items onto the grass as
he keeps searching for the tickets. “But I’ll tell you this much, life’s too short to pass chances up.”
James clears his throat again. “Yes,” he says, cutting through Dung’s amazement at how time flies
by prompting: “Tickets?”
“All right, all right. ‘Ere they are, four of‘em. You got the cash? I don’t do cheques after a couple
of nasty misunderstandings with the banks. Not that I’m one to whine you understand, but they
can be right plonkers and not recognize a man just trying to make an ‘onest livin’ when they see
one.”
Yet another sniff follows. Remus really wants to give him a handkerchief.
The mood lightens considerably at the sight of the tickets. Before long they’ve said no thanks to
Dung’s suggestion of a few banners to flash in the audience and are walking towards the entrance
of the park.
*** ***
Sirius was never too eager to come here. It’s not really his kind of music, and standing for hours in
the middle of an enormous crowd made up by muddy rockers, isn’t his favourite scenario. But of
course he’d joined them. He’s seen James far less than he’d liked lately, and as for Remus...
They may have something wonderful going. Remus is wonderful.
But Remus is holding back. Or so Sirius suspects. Whether it’s because Remus has a hard time
letting go of the control he seems to crave or if he believes that his partner is keeping something
from him, Sirius can’t tell. In a way Sirius is keeping something to himself. He’s not quite certain
what Remus would think if he knew all about the Black family and the way Sirius desperately
needed information from Mr. Lupin. But Reg is safe now, it all worked out. New adventures
await, no point in brooding about painful memories. And it’s got nothing – nothing – to do with
what the two of them are building together.
Remus is his fixed point in life, his anchor, his centre of the storm, the circle of calm in the middle
of all the chaos he’s been living with. Sirius wants this to work, he wants it badly. He’ll have to
show Remus that it is in letting go that he can find solid ground.
And now they’re here. It’s crowded, it’s sweaty, it’s muddy, it’s deafeningly loud. And it’s great.
Peter’s brought booze, the sun is shining, and it’s so crowded that no one seems to notice two men
holding hands.
It’s sort of funny when the lead singer of Touch swallows a bee. Peter wonders loudly if it can be
dangerous. Remus replies he doesn’t think he will pull through. The bee, that is.
The Scorpions isn’t too bad. Rainbow’s gig is fantastic. And when Rob Halford of Judas Priest
arrives on stage riding a Harley Davidson, Sirius willingly admits that going to this festival was a
wonderful idea.
*** ***
“Are you hungry?”
Remus yells into his ear, Sirius grabs his hand and leads them to the outskirts of the crowd, where
they’re able to hear at least most of what they’re saying.
Sirius is. Hungry, that is. The festival is drawing to its end, and something besides the beer would
be nice.
“Here.” Remus pulls a big red apple from his pocket, it shines like a red moon. He digs his teeth
into it, the sweet smell flows into the air. And then Sirius takes a bite, they eat the entire apple this
way. They laugh, small drops of juicy apple drip down their chins, until there’s nothing left. The
apple core falls to the ground, and they meet in a slow, soft kiss. Apple kiss.
Before long, Remus breaks the kiss, glancing around. Sirius catches his eyes, leaning in, trying to
put a seductive purr in his voice, which isn’t easy since he still has to yell. “I don’t know about
you, but I’ve heard enough. Come with me?”
Remus smiles. Nods.
They make their way to the entrance, silently walking out of the area, drums and bass still
pounding in their ears. Shoulder by shoulder they’re heading for the meadow where they spent the
morning. Sirius noticed a spot with enough trees to offer a shield against intruding eyes. Neither of
them says anything as they walk at a leisurely pace. They both know what’s going to happen, no
point in talking about it.
The moment they reach the shadow of the trees, Sirius turns to look at Remus. He cups his hands
around the face of the man he’s come to adore – touching, exploring, interpreting every flash of
emotion running over it. He closes his eyes without really knowing why.
Remus leans in, starting to place small kisses on Sirius’ face everywhere that he can reach.
Forehead. Cheek. Earlobe. Chin. Mouth.
Each kiss is more insistent than the last. Sirius can feel his own hunger grow, and as Remus’
hands find their way under his t-shirt, he realises why he’s closed his eyes. It’s almost too much to
take in. He can vividly picture Remus’ expression. Instead of looking, though, Sirius lets his other
senses fill him.
Hearing. Remus breaths heavily, letting out a soft moan as Sirius kisses him fiercely. His own
pulse pounds in his ears. Increasingly impatient pleadings of “Yes” and “Come here” and “Oh” as
they start undressing each other.
Smell. The distinctive musky smell of Remus that Sirius would recognize anywhere, mixes with
the smell of grass and hot summer.
Taste. Remus’ tongue is still covered by apple taste. His skin is warmed by the sun, the hollow of
his neck tastes slightly salty.
Touch. Sirius opens his lover’s jeans, he helps to pull off his own. As they lie down on the
ground, their hands are free to wander over each other’s bodies, trace every line, feel every angle.
Remus is naked, and very palpably so. Sirius slips out of the last of his remaining clothes and pulls
Remus even closer to him. Closer, always closer.
Come lay on top of me, cover me, fill me completely, body and soul.
Remus acts as if he can hear the silent pleadings as he pulls Sirius underneath him, claiming Sirius
as his, making every thought of where they are or even who they are disappear.
Yes. Yes. Yes. You’re mine. I’m yours, always yours.
*** ***
“Come on.” Sirius stretches, reluctantly hauling himself up, reaching for his jeans. “We’d better
get back. The others will wonder where we are.”
A non-committal sound escapes Remus’ lips before he opens his heavy lids. “Can’t,” he says
lazily. “You’ve turned me into a jellyfish. Completely unable to move on my own accord.”
Sirius suppresses a sudden urge to giggle in his happiness. “You’re so daft.”
“You’re even dafter for loving me, then.”
Remus sits up with an abrupt movement, realising what he just said. He fumbles to get his clothes,
clearing his throat. “I didn’t mean...”
“I do. I may be daft, but not because I’m falling in love with you. That only makes me a better
person. You make me want to be a better person.”
Sirius swallows, sending a hesitant smile Remus’ way, unsure of how his words will be received.
Remus, now mostly dressed, slowly gets to his feet in a long, smooth movement. He closes the
gap between them, looks into Sirius’ eyes for a long time before pulling the slightly taller, black-
haired man close. Sirius leans into the embrace, laughing breathlessly when Remus tickles him
behind his ear.
“I... – ” Remus whispers.
“I know. Me too.”
*** ***
Party number three: Anarchy in the UK. October 1981
It starts like a perfectly ordinary day. At least as ordinary as any day in the company of Sirius
Black can be. Some might say that eating only half of their breakfast before an offhand, lewd
comment by Sirius leads to the two of them giggling furiously, making quick, breathless, laughing
love on the kitchen floor, and peeling a squashed piece of toast from Sirius’ back before
continuing their breakfast, is not quite an ordinary morning. To Remus, however, politely offering
more tea, this is his new normal. And he loves it.
*** ***
It’s been raining for days, making the pavements black and shiny, filling the air with an illusion of
freshness in the middle of the city. Sirius has been complaining about it. “No way can I take the
bike out for a ride in this weather,” he’ll say grumpily, eyeing his newly acquired motorcycle
longingly. “I want the sun back!” Remus will laugh, put an arm around Sirius’ shoulder and say
something like, “Instead of just looking gorgeous, now we have more time for indoors activities
and actually doing something about all that sexiness”, and Sirius will be all happy and cuddly
again.
Today, though, it’s chilly and clear. The air is crisp and golden, making the leaves glow. Even
now in the early evening, the sky looks warm and high, with a welcoming rather than ominous
darkness around the edges. At least that’s how Remus feels as they walk side by side, glove-
covered hands and soft scarves hanging loosely.
Sirius glances up. “The sky is hardening, getting ready for frost.”
“Maybe. I love autumn. It’s not as restless as spring and summer, it’s peaceful. It’s a time for tea
and fireplaces and golden shimmer. And the sun can be found many in places, not just the obvious
ones.”
Sirius laughs. “The way I see it, autumn is a grumpy, sallow little man who picks the leaves off
the trees and paints the sky dark. He makes sad, lonely ponds all over the place. Never ending
summer would be my kind of season.”
“The seasons are good friends who clean up after each other, who take some things down and
hang other things up. They make it beautiful, all in their own way.”
Remus can hear a quiet snort from the man next to him, the warmth of a hand caressing Remus’
takes every edge off it.
“You would say that, wouldn’t you. You always say the lamest, most wonderful things.”
They turn around the corner and find the right door bell, pressing it swiftly. Two minutes later
they find themselves in Lily’s warm embrace. James gives them a quick hug, followed by a hearty
“Come on in, I haven’t seen you in ages!”
“That’s fatherhood for you, Jamie. Still looking as devilishly handsome as ever. How’s my
godson doing?”
Before Sirius can take off his denim jacket, his knees are surrounded by surprisingly strong little
arms. There seems to be a nose wiping itself into his jeans, and an excited voice squeals up to him
– “Si-us!” Sirius lets himself be dragged into the messy living room, full of baby toys, soft
cushions, electronic gadgets and a loving atmosphere.
Life is good.
It isn’t until Lily asks if they’ve talked to Peter lately that the first tremor creeps through Sirius’
veins. He hasn’t talked to Peter for quite some time, none of them has, and in the back of his head
there’s a voice trying to make itself heard. “Something is wrong, you know there is, you’ve
noticed in your family.”
But it’s a fantastic day, his lap is occupied by a happy boy, his heart is full of love, and he’s with
his friends. Tonight they’re going out, drinking beers and talking rubbish. Anything else can
surely wait. At least one night.
Remus is catching up with Lily, trying to ease her worries over going out, leaving Harry with a
baby sitter, even if it’s their neighbour who knows Harry well. “Harry loves Mrs Figg, so you’ve
said. He’ll probably be disappointed tomorrow when it’s just boring old Mum and Dad again.”
“I suppose. Don’t know if that’s comforting or worrying.”
“I’m glad you’re coming tonight, Lily. I’ve missed you.”
“Me too. You seem happy, though. I take it things are going well?”
“They are. Yeah. I’m glad I pulled myself out of my little cave and took the leap.”
“It doesn’t scare you anymore?”
“Sure it does. Not so much. But it’s like I think it’s too good, sometimes.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve got the good guys, Remus. Neither of them seems to be hiding any dark
secrets at the moment – look at them!”
Lily snickers fondly, pointing Remus’ attention at the two dark-haired friends walking over to the
stereo, narrowly avoiding Harry on the floor.
“No, Sirius.” James sighs exasperatedly, putting on a Blondie record. “I know it’s Hallowe’en, but
we’re not going to dress up as the Village People!”
Sirius pouts for exactly two seconds before his abundant source of energy finds another target. He
starts to dance for Harry, making the little boy roar with laughter. Remus watches as Sirius begins
his usual display of long limbs being carelessly thrown around to the rhythm.
Silly Sirius. Silly, annoying, wonderful Sirius.
He waves his arms around and starts singing in a ridiculous falsetto matching Debbie Harry.
“Anytime, anyplace, anywhere, anyway!
Anytime, anyplace, anywhere, any da – ay!”
Lily gets up, joining in. The song ends, Lily and Sirius laugh, staggering slightly and seeming
quite dizzy. “I know just the song now,” Lily says as she hurries to the record player. A minute
later Kate Bush sings “Babooshka”, and Lily follows in her best airy voice, not particularly
bothered by the fact that she isn’t all that successful. James beams proudly. “That’s my Lily!” he
says.
Remus is happy.
There’s nothing to suggest that tonight will change everything.
*** ***
They enter the Railway Pub. Two couples, four friends, all of them enjoying the bonds between
them, invisible and strong.
After having stood on the tube most of the way to West Hampstead, it feels good to sit down at
one of the few vacant tables in the increasingly crowded pub. Remus takes the already lit cigarette
from Sirius’ hand, letting his hand linger. Sirius smiles, they pass the cigarette back and forth,
while Lily and James are getting them all something to drink.
“Weren’t you here just the other night, Remus?” Blue-grey smoke flows from Sirius’ mouth.
“It was the Moonlight Club downstairs, a band called U2 played. Come with me next time, will
you? It wasn’t nearly as much fun with Marlene, nice as she is.”
“I should hope not.”
“She got all insulted when I grabbed her bum.”
“Really? I know you, Mr. Lupin, you so didn’t. Besides, I hardly think she would have been
insulted. Maybe I’d better watch out, I know how easy it is to fall for you, and I don’t want to
share, thank you very much.”
“Well, Mr. Black, I thought maybe it was time to find out for myself if straight sex really is as
weird and unnatural as it seems. You know, the whole don’t-dismiss-it-until-you’ve-tried-it-thing.”
“Is that so? Not without me, you won’t. And I’m not so sure I want to go down that road. Looks
like you’re stuck with boring, old me.”
“Yeah. Too bad. Mind-blowingly great sex with a mind-blowingly beautiful man can get so
tedious. But I guess I’ll live.”
Sirius sticks his tongue out at him. Then he laughs, wiggles his eyebrows and makes Remus look
forward to coming home together later that night.
The music gets louder. Madness starts pounding through the air. “One Step Beyond.” Well,
they’re going to Fabian’s afterwards, so a little Madness is okay for now.
*** ***
The pub is packed, the air is full of smoke and elated people. Some are wearing colourful and
inventive costumes.
It’s nice to sit here, chatting with James and Lily, saving Remus’ chair while he’s in the loo. Sirius
can see his brown hair approaching. The rest of Remus follows, making his way through the
crowd. Only Remus isn’t alone.
A woman is with him, tall and upright, with a river of black hair falling down her back. There’s a
silvery mask covering her eyes. Still there’s no doubt in Sirius’ mind who this woman is. He’s
seen her in a mask before.
Doesn’t the room turn colder?
Remus and the woman reach their table. The former sits down with a questioning look on his face,
the latter places her beautifully manicured hands on her hips, slowly stroking her dark red velvet
dress.
“Hello, Sirius,“ she says, voice like an icy needle. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Sirius feels like someone is holding his head in a steady grip, just above the water surface,
threatening to push him under. He tries to control his breathing. No one has pushed him under just
yet.
“Hello Bella,” he says, amazed by how calm he manages to sound. Only he can hear the blood
pounding in his ears. One glance at Bellatrix tells him that she may not hear it, but she can
certainly sense it.
“I was just informing your boyfriend here of some crucial details you’ve apparently forgotten to
share with him, Sirius. Like why you bothered to get to know him in the first place. I guess he
must be a great fuck as well since you’re still holding on to him.”
Maybe this staying-calm-thing isn’t going to be as easy as he’d hoped.
Sirius had no idea anyone in his family even knew he was seeing someone, let alone who it is.
Now he realises he’s been foolish to think they haven’t been watching him. Especially after
helping Reg.
Bellatrix removes her mask, revealing eyes remarkably similar to Sirius’. He hopes the glimmers
of evil madness aren’t in his. Maybe he imagines seeing it, because he knows who she is. What
she can do.
Lily and James stare at them in silence. Just as James looks like he’s going to say something,
intervene on behalf of his friend, Bellatrix starts laughing.
“Oh, Sirius darling,” she purrs, swaying her hips slightly. “My sweet little cousin. Do you still
think you can mess with the Black family and with the Order and get away with it? Aww, that’s
so cute.”
James lays his hand firmly on top of Sirius’.
That woman. That mean, calculating, horrible woman. Sirius is so angry, he desperately wants to
make any trace of that evil smirk disappear, he wants to –
“Sirius, may I please be informed as to what is going on?” The voice of the man he loves sounds
small, yet insistent.
This is it. It’ll all have to come out now, and he silently curses his own thoughtlessness, that he
hasn’t told Remus the whole truth. If he loses Remus over this...
No.
Before Sirius can say anything, Bellatrix walks over to Remus, placing an arm lazily over his
shoulder, leaning down to whisper in his ear.
“Sirius really hasn’t told you? Why doesn’t that surprise me, oh yes, he’s a Black, that’s why. As
much as he likes to pretend he’s different from the rest of us, he’s still a Black through and
through.”
She straightens up, sending Sirius a glorious smile before continuing. “We Blacks, you see, are
only loyal to ourselves. It’s who we are, can’t be helped.” Shrugging, she lowers her eyes to the
floor as if to think.
“Except...” she says, eyeing Sirius again, “when someone forgets that being loyal to ourselves and
being loyal to the Blacks is one and the same thing. That just won’t do. You’ll find out soon
enough. Oh dear, very soon, when I think about it.”
She turns abruptly, tosses her long hair back over her shoulder and laughing. Very sweetly, very
nauseating.
“See you – “ she starts walking away, carelessly throwing her words back at them – “or not.”
Soon the crowd has swallowed her. The four of them sit there, look at each other with various
degrees of visible terror, neither of them quite sure what to say. Sirius says nothing, does nothing.
He’s always the one to leap up and take action. Now it’s as if panic has him frozen.
Remus is the first to break the silence.
“I’d really appreciate it if my boyfriend explains to me why a total stranger walks up and tells me
you hooked up with me only because you were spying on my father.” His voice is steady as
always, but the suppressed emotions don’t go unnoticed by Sirius. “Because you needed
information about his work. Is this true?”
“No, yes, well no! Not the way you think.”
“You didn’t know about my father?”
“Yes, I knew, but...”
“Did you want something from him?”
“No, yes, he had a name I needed, and I didn’t know how much you knew and... It’s not why I
wanted to be with you, why I want to be with you! Listen to me!”
This isn’t at all going the way he wants it to. He can hear the desperation in his own voice. This is
exactly what he’s been afraid of. He starts fiddling with an unlit cigarette.
“Why haven’t you told me?” Remus speaks as if it’s nothing, as if they’re talking about what
they’re having for dinner. Sirius knows him too well to be fooled.
“There was nothing to tell! I found the name I needed in your father’s office, and it was extremely
useful, you have no idea how much. Or you know some of it. But I wanted to be with you
because of you. Because of the wonderful person you are. I still do.” He breathes shakily, tries to
blink away the wetness in his eyes. “Don’t you?”
Remus says nothing.
“Remus...” It’s James now. “Sirius is telling the truth. He did –“
“Don’t.” Remus finally turns, meeting Sirius’ gaze with his own shut-down look. “You know
how difficult it was for me to let you in, to let myself believe in this. In us. That you wanted me
for me. Now it’s like... Nothing. I feel nothing.”
Finally Sirius reacts, finally he shakes himself out of the trance he’s been in ever since Bellatrix
opened her mouth. He gets up from his chair, puts his hands on each side of Remus’ face, making
him look up.
“I love you, you idiot! Everything else, like your dad and my stupid, crazy family, they aren’t a
part of this.”
Sirius would have been willing to bet most of his not inconsiderable wealth that the low point of
the evening was surely behind him. He would have lost.
The crowd around them has drawn back, they’re starting to attract attention. Bellatrix is there
watching, of course she is. Her friends are laughing with her, and Sirius doesn’t know why he’s
surprised to see that two of them are Snape and Malfoy.
Snape takes a step forward, obviously very happy to see Sirius in distress.
“There, there, Black. What would mummy dearest say if she heard you talking about your family
like that? Better watch out. I daresay they can take away your privileges just as easily as they gave
them to you. What’s the problem tonight – too much money and too little time? Or is it that your
boyfriend has finally discovered the real Sirius Black? Can’t blame him for looking so peaky. The
real Black isn’t a pretty sight.”
“You stay out this! You hear me? Just pull your oversized nose out of other people’s business.”
“That is so scary, Black. Maybe you’ll tell on me, oh no, then what will I do?”
“Fuck off.”
“Nice comeback. Is that the best you can do? The well isn’t particularly deep, I see. I’m sure
Lupin over there gets to benefit from that striking wit of yours. I can vividly imagine him waiting
for the punch line. And here’s Potter too, what a nice evening this is turning out to be and... er,
hello Lily.”
James swings his arm demonstratively around Lily, who looks up at Snape. “Hello Sev. So nice to
see you having fun with your – friends.”
Snape hastily retreats, making Malfoy roll his eyes in the most dramatic manner, muttering
something that sounds remarkably like “softie”.
“Lupin,” Malfoy drawls. “Remember this: Black would never have chosen you, not for real. A
quick dip into the mud can be fun for everyone, but when you’re from an old, first rate family,
someone like you doesn’t quite fit the bill, I’m afraid. You never had a chance. And the heir to the
Black dynasty ending up with a man? What a joke. He never would have done it. It’s all been
fake.”
He waves cheerily, dragging Snape with him into the crowd.
Sirius laughs, far too late and completely out place, like in a dream. Surely this has to be a dream.
“Remus... You can’t for a second believe there’s any truth in what they said?”
“It seems that truth and lies can come from the unlikeliest of sources.” Remus grips his glass with
tight fingers.
It turns out this isn’t a dream after all, despite this evening having Nightmare written all over it in
neon lights. Sirius can feel anger bubbling up again, fighting for space with disbelief and fear. His
hands briefly drag through his hair before landing on Remus’ shoulders.
“It was for my brother! And if I may be so fucking impolite, I would have done it again! It’s got
nothing to do with us, so would you stop being so bloody sarcastic?”
“Then stop asking stupid questions. You’re actually lucky if sarcasm is all I’m subjecting you to.”
“Gods, Remus. Stop this. Look at me, will you. I love you. You’re the smartest man I know,
surely you can see that?”
Remus stands up so abruptly that his chair falls backwards, making Sirius’ grip on him disappear.
His calm facade is gone.
“Let me tell you what I see, Sirius Black. I see a man who’s a magician, a wizard with words and
with charm and with laughter. And the mind is a funny thing. It believes what the eyes see. The
magician presents his truth, making his loyal audience accept it, no questions asked. But do you
know how he does it? He uses a deflection. He flashes something nice and shiny at everyone
watching him so that no one notices what’s going on. It’s really clever. I for one have always been
fooled by magicians, I never suspect a thing before we all sit there and gasp in awe. Oh yes,
terribly clever, and who better to pull it off than the sunshine and starlight personified? It certainly
did work, I was completely blinded. Didn’t see the truth right in front of me. Well, my eyes are
open now. I’ve got nothing more to say.”
This is where the silence begins. Sirius doesn’t know it yet, but the silence is going to continue
growing, until it seems impossible to break through.
“Remus, that’s enough.” James is on his feet, ignoring the strange looks they’re starting to get
from people around them. “I get why you’re angry, and Sirius can be a bit of a thoughtless prick
sometimes, but he’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you.”
A second later Lily’s up too, heading for Remus, saying something Sirius can’t hear. His attention
gets stuck on two police officers he first thought to have dressed up due to the Hallowe’en spirit.
Now he sees they haven’t. They’re as genuine as they get, steely expression and all. Why are they
talking to Bellatrix? Why is she pointing them in his direction?
There’s a terrible feeling of dread creeping in, heavy stones sinking low in his stomach.
The policemen make their way through the crowd, coming close. They fix their eyes on him, flash
their badges. “Sirius Black?”
He nods automatically before they utter the words he’s never going to forget.
“Sirius Black, you are under arrest for the murder of Peter Pettigrew.”
*** ***
It’s quiet. The chaos that erupted after the policemen made their announcement is long gone. Even
Lily and James have gone home to Harry, full of frightened hugs and promises to talk tomorrow,
to try and figure out what’s happening.
Remus is alone on the pavement outside the pub. He has no idea how to even begin making sense
of tonight.
Alone.
The word feels heavy and rotten. He fumbles for a cigarette, but his hands are shivering so badly
he can’t get the lighter to work. It’s dark outside, even with the city lights. It’s even darker in his
heart, it’s turned inside out like an old, well used umbrella.
He can’t believe this is actually happening. Surely he will soon wake up. But he doesn’t. He isn’t
going to. This is it.
*** ***
Party number 4: Let’s dance (put on your red shoes and
dance the blues). June 1983
There’s a tiny moment, a fraction of a second when he’s no longer asleep, but not quite woken up,
where everything is peaceful. The world is a good place. He’s not been left alone. No one
believes he’s done terrible things. There are no thoughts of his partner finding someone new,
someone who isn’t a complete fuckup. He doesn’t feel the chill of fearing that his life’s happiest
moments are behind him.
Then Sirius wakes up, and it all comes flooding back.
*** ***
Remus has been wondering how long it would take before hearing his name doesn’t automatically
make him flinch. Now he’s accepted that it’s not going to happen for some time. It’s one of those
dull aches he’s learned to live with, simply because there are no alternatives.
His greatest source of comfort has been music. And friends. Lily and James and dark music. His
love of Joy Division reaches new heights, and his love of the little Potter family does the same.
He’s begun working, at an architectural firm dealing with historic preservation. It keeps him
going, but he finds it hard to gather much real enthusiasm for it.
Being with Lily is easy. She’s as good at pulling him out of silent brooding and navel-gazing as
ever, making the days more tolerable and sometimes even joyful. Being with James is slightly
harder. He’s always been Sirius’ friend more than his. James has never doubted Sirius’ innocence,
not for one second. Remus wants to feel as certain, but he’s honestly been unsure of what to think.
One thing he’s been certain of is that distrust has driven a wedge between him and Sirius, one that
is so insurmountable as to effectively end their relationship. It’s hard to think about the
conversation, the lost look in Sirius’ eyes, when Remus went to see him shortly after that
disastrous Hallowe’en. Sirius begged to be believed. Remus was too confused to comment much,
focusing on the purpose of the visit. He still aches when the words play in his head.
“It’s over between us. It’s the only way.”
“Can’t you at least listen to me?”
“Nothing you can say will change my mind about this. What I thought was a relationship, never
really was.”
He’s being cruel, he knows he is, he can see it in Sirius’ wide, terrified eyes. The feelings of
distrust and betrayal are still too fresh and deep to care much.
Even Lily has a hard time making him come out of himself for some time after that.
Instead he crawls into the music, making himself comfortable inside it, letting the pounding
rhythms mercifully cover him. Lonely guitar solos lift him up and the heavy bass slowly drowns
him. It feels like he’s sleeping for months. He makes an effort to swim up again, up from the
bottom to the surface and the light and the air and the sun. He can see the sunshine from
underneath the water; it’s there, but somehow continues to evade his grasp.
Every now and then someone knocks on his door, making him feel like the house is shaking. So
he waits until that someone gives up and decides to leave. Then he carefully walks over to the
window, looks through the curtains to see if whoever it was will turn and try again. But by then
it’s too late.
He knows this isn’t healthy, yet for a long time he is unable to change it.
*** ***
It’s early morning. Bright sunbeams are already looking through the window, falling on the
sleeping young man, making his brown hair shine. He looks peaceful, lying on his side, head
resting on one arm. There’s no way of telling he’s been tossing and turning in his bed most of the
night, dreading what’s going to happen this summer’s day.
Sunshine tickles his eyes. Despite the lack of sleep, Remus wills them open and stumbles to the
high windows. The catches are hard to get up, but they finally yield, letting in waves of fresh air.
It’s still a little chilly. He leans on his elbows on the windowsill, looking outside, watching the
early June morning slowly erase the shadows of the night.
After a while his skin gets goose bumps. The well worn t-shirt and pyjama trousers aren’t enough
to keep him warm. Still, it feels good to stand there. At least as good as anything can today.
It’s been a few days since the phone call from Lily.
Her voice had been solemn and serene from the moment she said hello, asking him to come over.
Yes, he would come, but would she please – please – tell him what was up. His uncharacteristic
insistence (mild, yet firm, at least that was his intention) made her say it.
“He won his appeal. He’s a free man. It was pretty hard for the prosecution to maintain his guilt
when the defence found Peter, very much alive. It was all a set-up, all revenge.
...Remus? Are you there?”
He’s taking a moment to revel in the fact that he is able not to lose the phone handle, fascinated
by the way the cord is curling.
“Where’s he now?”
“He’s bunking here at the moment. We’re having a small diner party on Friday to celebrate his
release. Please come.”
“How is he? Has he – has he asked about me?”
“He’s as good as can be expected, I guess. Happy that he’s free, angry that he ended up there in
the first place, confused... No. No, he hasn’t asked about you. At least not to me.”
Remus decides it is quite understandable to indulge in some nervousness before going to the
Potters’ tonight. Nervousness, panic, self-loathing. They’re all there. Then there’s the question of
what to wear. He agonizes – quite literally agonizes – over what to pick, wondering if the bright t-
shirt he’s holding screams let’s-be-cheery-now-that-I-know-you’re-innocent-and-I-realise-I-
overreacted-about-the-whole-spying-on-my-father-issue. And clearly this is the most important
thing to ponder before meeting the man he’s loved so passionately.
He honestly doesn’t know what to expect of tonight, he doesn’t know what he wants to happen.
All he knows is that he’ll soon find out.
*** ***
“Where is he?”
James waves Remus in, giving him the usual quick hug and a pat on the back. The massive dinner
table is nicely set for four. The old gang.
“Gone for a walk, to properly soak himself into June, he said. He does that a lot. Going for walks,
that is. Lily’s over at Arabella’s with Harry. You want something to drink?”
Remus shakes his head, he wants his mind to remain completely clear. Some music would be fine
though. More than fine, it’ll have to serve as a soother of the mind in the absent of alcohol.
Purposefully he walks over to the record player, finding a record he gave Lily and James for
Christmas. Joy Division, and he knows just the song.
To the centre of the city where all roads meet, waiting for you
To the depths of the ocean where all hopes sank, searching for you
I was moving through the silence without motion, waiting for you
“I should have known you would pick “Shadowplay” tonight,” James says, coming into the
dining room clutching a drink in his hand.
Remus looks up and starts pacing between the record player and the dining table. He’s half-
heartedly searching for a smile to put on his face before giving up, glancing at his friend.
“Shadowplay is a good description of these endless months. Years. For more people than just me.
Gods, James, how could they do this to him? His own family?”
James sits down at the tip of the chair, gulping his drink in one swift movement.
“Turns out his family is only partly to blame. The real devil is the leader of that sick Order of
theirs. Cult, more like. Sirius has been a thorn in their side for ages, and from what I gather,
Peter’s been meddling with them too, apparently not all that successfully. I think he wanted to
impress and ended up making a mess of things. The leader, Riddle something, decided to use them
both as an example. He got rid of two troublemakers, and he scared the pants off his followers, all
in one operation. Sirius has always said that ruling by fear is the mantra of the inner circle around
Riddle.”
It’s hard to find an appropriate reply faced with all this madness. Staring wide-eyed into thin air
seems to be as good a response as any.
“How did they find out?”
James laughs, a short, humourless laugh.
“You’ll never guess. I’ve thought that Snape and Malfoy are close to Riddle, but it looks like they
weren’t involved in this. Bellatrix probably was. It turns out Snape suspected something fishy was
going on. I don’t know the details, but the badly burned body they found wasn’t Peter at all.
Somehow Snape managed to locate where Peter had been sent into exile. Honestly I think he did
it to impress Lily more than anything else, he’s apparently able to do anything when it comes to
her. Git. Malfoy on the other hand is too scared to say shit. At least he wasn’t actively involved.”
For a few minutes Remus contemplates what Sirius will say about Snape helping to save the day.
It’s far easier than thinking about Sirius soon entering the door.
“What happens next? Have they arrested Riddle?”
James shakes his head, sighing deeply. “He’s a sly and manipulative bastard, that one, and an
expert in covering his tracks. Peter on the other hand... It’s all a mess.”
A mess you made worse by doubting the love you shared, by doubting Sirius Black. Your
Sunshine Boy.
“I’m scared of seeing him again, James.” Another time Remus might have grimaced at the sound
of his own shaky voice. Now he has no such thoughts to spare.
“Maybe he’s scared of seeing you as well.”
It isn’t James answering. Lily is back, standing in the doorway, having walked in unnoticed. Her
voice is calm, her expression concerned. And she isn’t alone.
Sirius pushes himself off the entrance door, slowly walking towards them, stopping mechanically
by Lily.
He meets Remus’ eyes without flinching.
On the surface his eyes are as intense as ever, their gaze is steady. Just behind the silvery grey,
though, they are dull. Like shallow waters someone’s stepped in, making sand and mud whirl up.
Oh Sirius. What have they done to you? What have I done to you?
His hair is shorter, his body is thinner, his jeans and polo shirt are neat and way too warm for
June.
“Hello Sirius.”
“Remus.”
“It’s really... it’s good seeing you.”
There’s no answer. Sirius still looks calm, his expression is blank. His tightly clenched fingers are
the only sign of emotion Remus is able to find. It’s quite disturbing.
“Sirius, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah.”
Another pause. Lily’s voice breaks in before the tension becomes too painful.
“Dinner’s ready, guys.”
*** ***
He’s dreamt of this moment.
When he gets the news, when being freed no longer is unobtainable, is no longer wishful thinking,
but has become actual reality, the elated ecstasy he expected to feel, just isn’t there. Relief, yes.
Bitterness, admittedly. But dominating over everything else is numbness. Emptiness. Exhaustion.
Singing “Sweet Dreams are Made of This” in the shower and “Mad World” when he goes to
sleep (he has, after all, had quite a lot of time to listen to music).
Thoughts about Remus aren’t at the top of the list. His brain doesn’t seem capable of dealing with
his ex-lover-and-partner-and-soul-mate right away.
But today there hasn’t been anything but Remus on his mind. Memories of Remus. What he used
to say. How he used to smell. The sound of his voice. The expression on his face when he
laughed or he just woke up or he was pondering a serious matter or they were making love. The
steeliness in his eyes when he ended their relationship.
And now Remus is here, sitting on the other side of James’ and Lily’s dining table. The flickering
candles Lily insisted on lighting, despite the brightness of the June evening, throw soft shadows
onto his face.
The hosts are doing their best to keep conversation going. Sirius answers whenever James speaks
directly to him, otherwise he stays quiet. What is there to say? Okay, that may not be the most
intelligent question he’s ever asked himself. Rephrase – how does he start?
He doesn’t.
The clinking of the cutlery is eventually the only thing breaking the silence. Remus croaks out that
the roast is lovely even if his plate tells everyone he’s hardly touched it.
James and Lily busy themselves clearing the table, carrying everything to the kitchen. Lily says
something to Remus, she nudges him gently, before silently disappearing with her husband.
Remus turns towards him. It’s difficult to read the expression on his face. The face that used to
hold no secrets to Sirius. Now he sees imploring eyes and sharp lines around the mouth, but he
can’t tell what lies behind them.
“Talk to me, Sirius. Say something. Please.”
Sirius blurts out the only thing that enters his mind.
“I would like to know what you are thinking.”
“Honestly?” A shadow of a smile passes Remus’ face. “I’m thinking of your beautiful hands, how
immensely perfect they are. I’m thinking of what it used to do to me when they met mine. I’m
thinking of how utterly lost I’ve been without you. Sirius – I am so, so sorry.”
It shouldn’t mean anything to hear those words. But it does. The dam breaks, and three seconds
later Sirius finds himself tentatively wrapping his arms around Remus, trying to stop his lips from
quivering. He sniffs into Remus’ shoulder. The brown curls are longer. He smells the same. A part
of Sirius wants to scream, yell as loudly as he can that he’s waited so long he’s thought he’d go
insane. But he doesn’t. He looks at the slender body in his arms. Somehow there may still be life
left to live.
“Dance with me?”
Sirius nods. “Let’s dance.”
Music flows from the corner and fills the room.
Because my love for you would break my heart in two.
Remus pulls Sirius with him in one smooth movement. They keep the tempo slow and start
dancing, holding each other in a loose embrace, feeling warmth from the one person that’s ever
been able to make them feel whole, loved, cherished. Something breaks free inside Sirius’ chest.
It’s not quite joy, it’s not even contentment, it’s not forgiveness or a wish to be forgiven. But at
least it’s something.
“Are you okay?” Remus whispers the words as if frightened he’ll disturb the music.
Sirius shakes his head. “No. Not yet. But I hope I will be.”
Outside of the windows they can see that the persistent midsummer sun has finally caved and
disappeared behind the city skyline. The burning colours it leaves on the sky promise them that it
will be back.
Maybe it will bring them a new dawn. Maybe they can still have tomorrow.
They keep dancing. Slowly and softly. Sirius inhales deeply. Blinks and finds a smile. “I think I
might be.”
*** ***
A/N: All chapter titles are borrowed from song titles:
“Boys Don’t Cry” – The Cure
“Have You Ever Fallen in Love with Someone You Shouldn’t’ve” – The Buzzcocks
“Love Song” – The Damned
“Anarchy in the UK” – Sex Pistols
“Let’s Dance” – David Bowie
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Document Outline
- The Night Is a Bridge Between Yesterday and Tomorrow
- Party number one: Boys don’t cry. December 1978
- Party number two: Have you ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn’t’ve? March 1980
- The music festival: Just for you, here’s a love song. August 1980
- Party number three: Anarchy in the UK. October 1981
- Party number 4: Let’s dance (put on your red shoes and dance the blues). June 1983
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