Chapter Text
Ich liebe meines Wesens Dunkelstunden
I love the dark hours of my being.
My mind deepens into them.
There I can find, as in old letters,
the days of my life, already lived,
and held like a legend, and understood.
Then the knowing comes: I can open
to another life that’s wide and timeless.
Rilke
-*-
Remus is up a stepladder re-shelving a collection of first-editions the afternoon he meets Sirius.
They keep these particular books out of reach from customer’s grubby hands by locking them in the glass cabinets sat snugly atop the seven-foot bookshelves lining the walls. Remus is admittedly not the biggest fan of heights, but it is kind of worth taking the task for that whiff of musty old-paper smell while he’s leaning in.
Some people might think this makes him weird, but they aren’t to know that there are in fact far weirder things about Remus Lupin.
Thus, his head is almost entirely shoved inside cabinet 12 - back of the shop, but with a clean view of the front door - when he hears Ben, his co-worker, approaching across the shop floor with a customer in tow.
Ben is a short, smug-looking prick who wears grotesque turtle-neck jumpers every day of the working week, making Remus’ job ten times harder simply by forcing him to bear witness. He struggles through every conversation trying to keep the revulsion clear from his face. Ben is also twenty-one years old and believes that this qualifies him to act as some sort of personal mentor to Remus - he follows him around the shop on shifts imparting unsolicited words of wisdom from his apparent two year advantage on life.
Ben had walked into work at 8am in a mustard-yellow number, prompting Remus to opt for stocking shelves rather than working the shop floor alongside that fucking eyesore. He’s one pair of horn-rimmed glasses and a corduroy skirt away from a Velma costume, which would be kind of funny if Remus wasn’t busy being horrified by the universe’s sick sense of humour in guiding his hand to pick out a green t-shirt for work that morning.
This is precisely why Remus refuses to even glance toward Ben as he approaches from across the shop, loudly attempting to push a customer off onto Remus by claiming he is the best adviser in-store. A red flag goes up in Remus’ mind at this because Ben never compliments Remus unless he wants something, so it can only be assumed that the customer has interrupted Ben’s working lunch on the front desk.
“This is the man you’re looking for,” Ben says, the smugness carrying over to Remus clear and pointed despite seeing from the corner of his eye that both Ben and the customer are still three display tables away. It gives Remus time to roll his eyes, slide home the last four books and lock the cabinet. He’s climbing down the ladder just as Ben strolls up.
“This guy knows the stock in here like no-one else. He’ll find anything you’re after, or order it into the store if it’s not on the shelves. And don’t worry about being vague with the details, either; he loves the challenge.”
“Thanks, Ben,” Remus deadpans, coming down the ladder carefully. Once he’s wiped his dusty hands down on his thighs and snapped the stepladder shut, he leans it tidily out of the way against the bookcase and turns to the customer. He’d run out of books to shelve anyway, and he does actually kind of like the challenge, so he gives an honest smile.
Stood to Ben’s left, seemingly entirely unaffected by the trash-fire of a fashion sense beside him, is a tall, dark, handsome stranger, staring unabashedly at Remus with a look of such awe and delight that Remus is unsettled to the point of glancing back to Ben - of all people - for help.
“Um, so,” Remus begins hesitantly when nobody has spoken for an awkward beat. He holds out the cabinet key to Ben to return to the safe. “What are you looking for?”
The stranger immediately barks a laugh as though this question is beyond hilarious. It’s loud and Remus jolts slightly at the sudden noise, but it’s not an unkind laugh, so Remus finds himself almost smirking back after a moment, albeit in confusion, as he asks self-consciously, “ What? ”
“What am I looking for?” the customer repeats, as though in awe of the question, in awe of Remus himself. His gaze flits across Remus’ face like he’s looking for something, and then breathes quietly to himself, “I can’t believe it’s you.”
Remus frowns. “Sorry?”
The stranger seems to shake himself. “We’ve-- Shit. I mean, I’ve met you before,” he says, and then after side-eyeing Ben, adds pointedly, “ in the past. ”
Remus’ stomach lurches. He puts a hand out to lean a little on the stepladder and keep his vision in focus as he begins to see his absolute nightmare situation begin to play out in front of his eyes. He’s conscious of Ben, who has refused to return to his lunch and the probable queue of customers at the front desk for the thrill of watching this odd interaction play out. One glance at his wide eyes and Remus knows the laundry-list of questions he’s compiling to throw at Remus later in the break room.
In some attempt to make the situation less weird Remus begins to nod in agreement, like he remembers.
“Sirius,” the guys offers, beaming, and he still hasn’t taken his eyes off Remus’ face, as though searching for a sliver of recognition despite the obviousness that this current version of Remus has had no prior fucking clue of his existence.
It’s kind of irritating, Remus thinks, that Sirius implies he knows him, but can’t seem to understand what a wildly difficult situation he's put Remus in, and then Sirius holds out his hand awkwardly and it becomes abundantly clear that this level of intimacy is several steps removed from what he’s used to with Remus.
“Right, Sirius. Hi.” Remus gives two perfunctory shakes of his hand and then drops it as he says his own name.
“No, I-- I know. Obviously. I mean-- shit, man, I’m so sorry. This is really weird.” Sirius huffs out another laugh and shakes his head at himself. He pushes his long black hair out of his face and stares at Remus indecisively.
Finally, he glances at Ben, still watching the exchange intensely as though standing guard, and then smiles imploringly at Remus. “Look, I know this has got to be weird, but would you meet me later? To talk, after your shift ends? When does your shift end?”
Remus is distracted by the easy question and looks down at his watch. “Uh, it-” He has an hour and fifty minutes left. “Six.”
“So… yeah? You will?” Sirius asks hopefully, grey eyes bright, and as he tips his head Remus is a little stunned by the sharp handsomeness of his face. Remus nods mutely. Of course he fucking will.
“Brilliant! I’ll meet you outside at six o’clock then, okay?” Sirius smiles widely when Remus nods again, and Remus finds himself smiling back like he hasn’t just been absolutely blind-sided by the entire occurrence of Sirius, who even turns his beam on Ben. Ben returns the look with a polite but wary smile.
“Shit. Sorry. This is just-- this is great.” He turns in a sort of fluster, almost colliding with a display table directly behind him, and begins to leave. He glances over his shoulder as he goes, to take Remus in one last time, and as Remus considers him against the backdrop of the bookshop he remembers what Sirius was here for in the first place.
He immediately crosses the floor after him. “Wait!”
Sirius turns, his expression open and expectant of something Remus can’t begin to fathom, and Remus is struck again by his clear and youthful face. This has undoubtedly been a detriment to whatever relationship exists between Sirius and the version of Remus he knows.
“We didn’t look for the book you were after,” Remus explains, and Sirius’ face brightens with mirth at the situation as he holds up a scrap of paper that he had been clutching in his hand the entire time.
“Ah, well, now this is embarrassing.” He seems to hesitate over handing Remus the slip, but smirks to himself and obviously comes to the decision that whatever is between them can withstand this.
Remus has to squint to read the spidery black scrawl when Sirius puts it in his hand, but he thinks it says Time Magic: The Most Comprehensive Study To Date, by Heloise Shingley-Babinhaus.
He flicks his eyes back up to consider Sirius, and a mixture of relief and apprehension stirs in him at the gentle gaze Sirius is watching him with.
“That’s quite a name,” he says, for lack of a better response, and hands back the slip. Sirius rereads it and gives a shrug tinged with disappointment at the non-response he’s been given, so Remus throws a line out for him. “I can have a look for this and bring it with me later if we have it?”
Sirius nods, seems somewhat appeased, but has returned to searching Remus’ face intently for something. Remus has to look pointedly over his shoulder toward the door to remind him that he was leaving, and then Sirius finally tears his gaze away and exits.
Remus watches him decide which way to turn down the street and then walk dazedly in that direction. Ben sidles up behind him and whistles a note of incredulity.
“What was that all about?”
Remus, still gaping after Sirius’ figure receding down the road, shakes his head slowly. “I have no idea,” he lies.