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Lily had tried several spells over the course of the afternoon to try to turn her pink nail polish black, like Sirius had requested. Black nail polish was punk rock, Marlene had agreed.
However, the best she'd been able to do was turn the pink into a dark red. She had carefully painted their nails, sitting on the banks of the Black Lake, watching Peter, James and Dorcas dare each other to hold their breath, swim further out into the water, or jump off their brooms at ever-increasing heights.
The polish had still been glossy and whole the next afternoon when Remus held their hand as they walked out of platform 9 ¾ into the muggle part of King's Cross, when they said goodbye to their friends at The Leaky Cauldron, and left to join Regulus to Floo home to the Black Family mansion.
It was cracked and flaking off now. The first thing Sirius saw when they opened their eyes was the dark red staining their fingertips, the light from the fireplace in Orion's study dancing in the glossy finish.
At first they thought it must be blood. It felt like there should be blood… But the cruciatus curse does not leave marks like that. The Black family do not leave a mess like that.
Walburga had noticed the nail polish at dinner. But Regulus had noticed the dress earlier that afternoon when he decided to barge in on Sirius unpacking, just to accuse them of hiding his school tie, which, obviously, they had done. But Regulus didn't find his school tie, he found his older sibling hanging one of Mary McDonald's black strappy dresses, with big red roses on, into their wardrobe.
Dinner, when their parents' eyes were flashing with carefully contained rage, seemed to the youngest of the Black children, the perfect time and place to bring this up.
There's no way of explaining to your parents, without any warning or preparation, that you're not, in fact, a boy. Not when you're the "first born son" of Orion and Walburga Black, and not when they have just, in unison, pushed off the table and are stood towering over you, eyes black with hatred, throwing accusations like punches.
With a sharp ringing in their ears, Sirius carefully lifts their head off the floor, trying to gauge where Orion's raging voice is coming from, but it sounds too far away.
Long dark hair is plastered to their face with something wet and warm. That has to be blood.
But as the room comes into view, as it stops spinning, Sirius realises that they're crying, hard. Every tremor feels like knives. It really feels like there should be blood, but there's just pain, and tears.
Then Walburga is there, talking, no, screeching, to Orion, and Sirius wonders for an instant if Regulus have told her about Remus. Does he know? He has to know. He has a way of finding things out.
A stunning-spell hits them hard and flips them over onto their back. There's no more time to wonder or hesitate, as Walburga aims her wand again.
Without thinking, Sirius reaches out for a fistful of Floo powder from the ornate bowl on the heath. Throwing the powder behind their back, they scramble backwards into the green flames.
"The Potter's!"
And is gone before the spell hits its target.
***
James Potter set his mug of strong milky tea down on the little nesting table next to an armchair in the large front room of the Potter estate. Kicking his sandals off and swinging his long legs over the armrest he opened up the book Lily had lent him, determined to be able to discuss it with her at length. He had just picked up his mug to take a sip of the sweet drink, when flames erupted from the fireplace, and, along with soot and smoke, spit out the limp form of Sirius Black, onto the hardwood floor.
"Merlin's knackers! Sirius!?"
The sudden arrival had startled him, spilling the tea over his t-shirt and joggers. But now James leapt to his feet, letting both tea mug and book fall onto the rug beneath. In the blink of an eye he was by his friend's side, arms around their shoulders, helping them to sit up while brushing soot off of their tailored clothes.
"Mom! Come quick!"
Still shaking, clutching at their friend's shirt, Sirius finally looks up to meet his eyes.
"Mary's dress..!"
Is all they can manage before the door to the front room is flung open, and both Euphemia and Fleamont Potter crash through it.
"He bhagavaan! James, what happened here?"
Euphemia isn't waiting for an answer, she rushes over to youngsters on the floor and scoops Sirius into her arms. "Bechaara ladaka! What did they do to you?"
She holds their face in her hands, gently stroking her thumbs over their wet cheeks.
The two Potter men hover nervously over the pair on the floor.
The ache of the torturing curse is slowly waning as Sirius starts to relax in Euphemia's arms.
"They used an Unforgivable. They found a dress… I can't go back there, please!"
It takes her a beat to put the pieces together with the fragmented information her son's friends has given her, but soon it clicks.
"Of course, asahaay bachcha, I'm so sorry, I called you a boy, I forget myself. Forgive an old woman. Come darling!"
As she helps Sirius to stand she's giving instructions to the two men; "Fleamont darling, run a bath please! James, put the kettle on, and clean up your mess!"
To Sirius she says "Come darling, let me see that you're not hurt" as she leads them, legs still shaking, to the kitchen at the back of the house.
***
Sirius moves like an inferi through the rest of the evening. Their mind is racing, thoughts bouncing off each other at a million miles per hour, everything, even the Potters, feel far away, still, and nothing really feels.. solid.
Fleamont draws a bath, lays out towels, makes up a spare room, then sends an owl to Alastor Moody informing him of the Blacks' transgressions.
James makes tea and toast, and obediently scourgifies the spilled tea in the front room.
Euphemia gives them a potion to dull the remnants of the pain and lays out night clothes. "Do you want a pair of James' pyjamas, or one of my night gowns? Fleamont's will be too big for you, long and lanky as he is, that's where James gets it from".
They don't say much, until they're all sat around the kitchen table, mugs of tea, slices of toast with peach jam and honey, and a tin of biscuits in front of them.
"Mom saw my fingernails. I should have taken it off, but I forgot. And Reggie found Mary's dress. I'm gonna have to replace it, I'm sure they will have destroyed it, if they can break the wards on my door. Anyway I'm not going back for it, I'll have to replace it. Mary's gonna kill me!"
"She won't, mate, I promise. She'll have to go through me first."
Fleamont shoots James a look, and James holds his hands up defensively; "Dad, I'm kidding! She won't though" he turns to Sirius, "she really won't."
Sirius gives him an appreciative smile in return. The first, since King's Cross that morning, which already feels like a lifetime ago. They continue:
"Reggie told them about the dress, of course. That's when dad hauled me off to his study. They were shouting at me, calling me names, mom hexed my picture off the family tapestry, they didn't even let me defend myself, they just cursed me, I'm sure Reggie told them about Remus, too, I'm sure he must have found out, the little rat!"
"Hey, that's an insult to Pete!" James interjects, in a mis-timed attempt to be amusing, and his parents shoot him a look again.
But to their own surprise it makes Sirius chuckle.
"Remus," Fleamont starts, "your school friend, he's your…" he looks from his wife to his son, as if hoping they'll telepathically supply him with the right term, but eventually plunges for "...paramour?"
James snorts at the old-fashioned word, and Sirius, through an equally amused smile, nods.
"Yes, sir, Remus is my boyfriend."
Clearing his throat, Fleamont continues to ask about the cruciatus curse, saying that Auror Moody will need to know who used it, and if they used it more than once, what other curses they used, so that he can file a case against them. And Sirius tells him, but insists that they do not want to go to court against their parents, they don't want to see them at all, ever again.
Despite looking disappointed for an instant, Fleamont is understanding, and assures the young Black that the aurors can bring a civil case regardless, for the use of an Unforgivable curse, without Sirius having to witness.
"Al just needs to know roughly who did what and when, they already have enough dirt on Orion to subpoena his wand."
***
Once the tea is drank, the Potters send James and Sirius to bed, waving off their offers to help clear the table.
"You bo… kids have had a long day as it is, go to bed, we've got this. Achchhe se so, my darlings."
James leads Sirius straight to his own bedroom, ignoring the spare room his dad made up.
"You'll sleep with me. We've done that a hundred times before" he says, as he hands Sirius a spare toothbrush. Then, "You look fab in mom's nighty. You're about the same height, aren't you? I'm sure she'd let you wear one of her saris if you wanted."
Sirius chuckles around their toothbrush.
"It's fine, I'll borrow something of yours."
"My t-shirts will be like dresses on you anyway. Short-arse. Ouch!" James flinches comically and giggles as Sirius swatts dramatically at him.
They're just about to climb into bed when Sirius stops dead and gasps "Prongs! I need to owl Moony, I need to tell him I'm here and that I'm OK."
But James just chuckles, "no need, Pads, I broomed into the village while you were in the bath and called him from the muggle telly fone hut" Sirius' incredulous face makes him laugh out loud, then, "What? I had some change left from last time we went to muggle London! Anyway, he's taking the muggle train tomorrow, we're meeting him in the next town over. Wear sensible shoes."
Sirius is stunned silent for a moment while this new information sinks in.
Remus is coming. And so soon. They only said goodbye that morning. That still feels impossible. Impossibly long ago. No day has ever felt as long as this, and Sirius is sure that no teenager has ever been so desperate to hold their beloved, despite what it says in Lily's books or what they sing on Marlene's records.
With a delighted shriek they throw their arms around James' neck, tackling the lanky boy into bed with a surprised "oof!"
Still with the smaller teen clinging to him, James shuffles the bedding out from underneath them, then, rolls the giggling Sirius over himself and flops them down onto the bed beside him, sputtering long black hair along the way.
Sirius pushes their hair out of their face, which, simultaneously, clears James' face of the fly-away strands. They lay there, just chuckling to themselves, for a few moments, looking up at the starry canopy over James' bed.
"Cheers mate" Sirius says, finally. "I didn't know where else to go. I guess I could have gone to Moony's, but your parents, you know, they know… about me, and…"
"I owled Pete and the girls, too, by the way. I figured Remus was more urgent, but I've already had an owl back from Marlene and Dorcas, they're both staying at Marls' parents for the week, but they've already offered to adopt you."
Sirius burst out laughing. "We're the same age!"
"There's more!" James continues impatiently, "Mary just wrote, and I quote 'that was a Laura Ashley dress, you prick!' followed by like a thousand glittery muggle stickers.. I'll show you tomorrow, it's downstairs."
"And Pete?" Sirius smiled at themselves. Mary really had the best sense of dark, dark humour.
"Pete's not coming. He wanted to, but he's stuck dog-sitting for his Nan. Lily's not got back to me yet..."
"Hey!" Sirius hit James hard in the face with a pillow, "if you're gonna think about Evans in bed, at least face the other way!"
His dark cheeks blushing a deep red, James retorted by feigning to smother his friend with the very same pillow.
All-out pillow war was, of course, inevitable.
***
Sensible shoes proved more problematic than previously expected, they noticed when getting ready the next morning.
When Sirius suddenly appeared the night before, they were still wearing their dress shoes from dinner. But luckily, a pair of James' trainers from last summer were still tucked away in the boathouse, and with a quick scourgify they turned out to be perfectly wearable.
Armed with their new trainers, a pair of James' cut-off denim shorts and a t-shirt, which, indeed, was far too big, tied in a knot over their belly button, Sirius was bouncing on the balls of their feet on the Potters' front step.
"Really?" James sighs exasperatedly at the knot in his t-shirt as he arrives, finally, with two quidditch brooms. "You're going to stretch it out."
Sirius eagerly snatches the spare broom out of their friend's hands.
"Shut up, Prongs, just spell it back into shape then! C'mon, let's go already!"
***
They can fly into the village without being spotted, as the Potter estate lay out in the country proper, but from there they have to walk.
Muggle teenagers would surely have cycled, or had a moped to get them into Woking during the summer, when school busses weren't running, but the two wizarding teens have only the four feet between them. So they walk.
Sirius ties their dark hair up in a bun, to get it off their neck.
James keeps casting aguamenti when he thinks no-one can see, just to splash his face and arms. It's going to be a hot summer.
They get ice lollies at the kiosk in the train station, then throw rocks at the overflowing bin on the platform, until the tinny voice on the speaker system announces the arrival of the 11:15 train from Waterloo Station.
Remus Lupin steps off it, with a small group of muggle travellers, battered suitcase in hand, threadbare jeans, despite the unusually hot British summer, tall and tired-looking.
He spots them immediately, and, correctly anticipating his beloved's actions, drop his suitcase and braces for impact, and catches Sirius, who's taken a running start and leapt, in his arms, swinging them around himself in a wide circle.
"Cariad, are you OK, you're not hurt, are you?"
"You look tired."
"I've taken four trains and the tube to get here, I've been up since five o'clock! Hi Jamie."
James, approaching down the platform, grins and waves to the werewolf over Sirius' shoulder.
"Let's get off this platform, I want to kiss you" Sirius drops their voice into a whisper, "and I can't do that here, hurry."
Raising their voice again they turn to James and snap their fingers:
"Garçon, take my man's bag, be a deer, and let's go."
Huffing indignantly, but smiling at the excellent pun, James grabs the ratty old suitcase and leads the way off the platform and back through the station the way they came.
On the walk back from town the two raven-haired teens fill Remus in on the events of the evening prior.
James hangs the suitcase off his broom in the village, and Remus and Sirius share the spare.
It's well past lunchtime when the three worn out youngsters finally walk through the open front door of the Potter estate.
Euphemia and Fleamont are nowhere to be seen, so, while Remus puts his bag away and washes up, James and Sirius make up a pitcher of ice tea and brings it, along with the tin of biscuits, out onto the back patio.
"Biscuits for lunch?" Remus grins as he appear in the patio doors. He shrugs, "don't mind if I do."
He gives Sirius a quick kiss, just in the corner of their mouth, as he takes a seat on the wicker furniture, and promptly stuffs a chocolate Hobnob in his mouth.
Smiling widely, Sirius gives his knee a squeeze.
"I've missed you."
"You saw me yesterday!" Remus chuckles, spitting biscuit crumbs. Before Sirius can protest, he continues; "Oh! That reminds me!"
He leaves the table, still chewing, and comes back a moment later with a small brown parcel, which he places on the table in front of Sirius.
They look up at him questioningly.
"I phoned Lily as soon as I got off the phone with Prongs yesterday," he looks over at James now, "she thought it was very sweet of you to owl her, by the way, but I don't think she wants you to know that, so I never said a word, you hear me?" To Sirius; "she sent this with an owl straight away, said she thought you'd like it."
"It's for me from Evans?" Sirius recaps, and Remus nods.
Tearing open the parcel, first they find a small bottle of inky black nail polish, then a note, written in blue ballpoint pen on muggle stationary with wild flowers on it, saying:
"It's less Laura Ashley and more Flea Market , but it'll do.
XOXO Lily".
At the bottom of the parcel is a large rectangular piece of thin, slinky fabric, with ties in two of its corners - a sarong - dark blue with red and white peonies covering it from top to bottom.
Awestruck, Sirius stands up and wraps the skirt around their hips, on top of the denim shorts, twisting and turning around to see it from different angles.
"This is Evans'?"
"I think it's yours, now." Remus grins. "It looks great on you."
"It's mine now? My own? My own skirt-thingy?"
Sirius is smiling from ear to ear and awkwardly shimmying the shorts down over their hips under the sarong, getting them stuck on their trainers and nearly falling over, but Remus catches them by the elbow to steady them as they kick the shorts off across the stone floor.
Turning the grip on their elbow into a spin manoeuvre, Remus twirls Sirius around under his raised arm a couple of laps and catches them in an embrace, then stoops to capture his beloved's lips in a slow, sweet kiss.
James' deliberate clinking of his glass against the patio table wakes them up to his presence. Blushing, suddenly shy and smiling, the lovestruck teens sit back down, hands still intertwined.
"So Moony… Evans said I was sweet?"