Chapter Text
Leaves flutter in the gentle wind, their fragile spidery veins visible in the sunlight, green over green over grey. And there, the most minute movement against the summer breeze. He inches forward, rough tree bark scraping against his knees and shins, and it comes into sight. The Augurey, sooty feathers ruffled and glinting emerald in the summer sun, casting a mournful cerulean gaze at the endless blue sky. His hands move as if of their own accord, tight around the cool body of the camera, pointer finger pressing down on the shutter and—
A loud hoot sounds in Remus’s left ear and he jumps ten inches into the air. And lets out a little involuntary yelp as the Augurey swoops into the sky, a disappearing dark dot leaving with nothing more than a sorrowful cry.
The Sticking Charm that he’d applied to his trouser legs isn’t very strong because he’d wanted to still have enough mobility to clamber up and down the tree, so he nearly slips off the branch before he manages to cast a “Cohereo!”
Panting slightly, he pulls himself into a sitting position and repositions himself on the tree branch, as comfortably seated as possible. The intruder, a fluffy little charcoal grey owl, hoots happily next to him. Remus recognizes it immediately as Sirius’s owl Elvendork as the owl flutters over to perch on his arm, a letter in its beak.
“What is it that’s so important?” he mutters, taking the letter. It doesn’t look like one of Sirius’s usual scribbled missives, the envelope made of thick creamy paper that feels soft in Remus’s hands. When he turns it over, he sees that it has a red wax seal, the imprint of a dog’s paw on it.
“Diffindo,” Remus murmurs softly, directing the severing magic as gently as he can. He takes the seal into his hand, tucking it into his pocket, then slides the letter out. The parchment is lush against the calloused pads of his fingers and the black ink shines in the sunlight, looking as if it has just come off Sirius’s quill. Remus can nearly see him crouching over the parchment, setting the words down in his slanting script that still echoes his education in Pureblood calligraphy with the slightly thicker lines of the downstrokes and curling flair on the capitals of their names.
Moony,
Dinner tonight at half seven. Lupin Manor. Just the two of us.
Padfoot
Remus reads the letter twice over and then ruminates.
The letter itself seems innocuous despite its subtle extravagance, but something is going on here. When they go out for dinner, it’s usually in London or Godric’s Hollow where everyone else lives. Outings typically involve all four Marauders at minimum with Lily, Dorcas, Marlene, Benjy, or Mary coming along more often than not. Remus is the only one that doesn’t reside in the vicinity of London or Godric’s Hollow. As such, the trips out to Remus’s cottage in the Welsh countryside are only reserved for full moons, and that’s always limited to the Marauders.
Remus sighs, shaking his head and trying to dispel the speculation whirling round his head. Sirius will surely tell him what this is all about tonight. He’s never been much good at keeping secrets, after all.
“You don’t need a response, do you?” he says to Elvendork who hoots cheerily, hops off him, and flies away. Remus glances down at the watch on his wrist, the brass and leather timepiece that his father had gotten made specially for him. Three in the afternoon. Hopefully he’ll be able to make good use of that time and locate the Augurey again despite its prediction.
Remus trods up the dirt path to his cottage, pleasantly tired. It had rained as the Augurey’s cry had forewarned, but he’d dealt with it easily, casting a quick “Impervius!” on himself. He’d enjoyed the short break from searching, sitting under a tree and watching the downpour turn the land even more green and lush. Although the only photograph he had of the Augurey was an endless blur, he’d managed to get a few nice shots of the landscape. Tomorrow he’d develop the film and remove the enchantments from the pictures so that he could try to sell them to a Muggle photography magazine. As Remus crests the grassy hill, he sights Sirius’s form, dark against the white stone of his tiny cottage.
“Hello, Remus,” Sirius straightens up from where he’s been leaning against the cottage wall and Remus stops in his tracks.
Sirius looks incredible, to put it simply. And to elaborate, he’s wearing an ivory shirt under a black blazer, unbuttoned just so to reveal the tips of the runes tattooed on his chest. His hair is tied back neatly, and his fingernails have a perfect coat of black paint on them instead of the usual chipped polish. Remus feels even shabbier than usual in his worn grey tee and dirt-stained trousers, and it’s difficult not to wish that he’d thought to cast a cleaning charm on himself before coming up the hill.
“Alright, Padfoot?” Remus finally responds, not knowing how to properly deal with this man in front of him. He notices that Sirius has a bit of stubble, dark against his jaw, which somehow manages to make him even more fetching instead of the untidy way that an unshaven face usually makes Remus look. Remus realizes that he’s been staring at Sirius’s mouth for a bit too long and quickly jerks his gaze up.
“Yeah. Very alright,” Sirius nods, an odd note of hesitation to his features. Remus opens his arms for their usual Marauder hug of greeting, established by James and Sirius after a long separation (really only two and a half weeks) their first year after Hogwarts. Sirius inhales as if he’s bracing himself for something, but then he steps forward and pulls Remus into a warm embrace that’s comforting in its tightness. He smells quite nice, Remus thinks, a fresh pine sort of scent. It makes Remus remember nights spent in the Forbidden Forest a long time ago and he can’t help smiling into Sirius’s neck.
“You smell good,” Remus murmurs as Sirius pulls away (more hastily than usual, or was Remus imagining that?). Sirius’s eyes widen and Remus realizes that what he’s said could be construed as rather odd.
“Er, I mean, I quite like your cologne. Where did you get it?” Remus fumbles even though both of them know that cologne is the last thing Remus is spending his meager pay on.
“Somewhere,” Sirius says, thankfully not deeming that worthy of further examination. “So, are you hungry?”
“Starving,” Remus responds, following Sirius into the cottage.
“And the sky is blue and trolls are ugly,” Sirius chuckles and Remus is grateful to hear that short bark of laughter. The spiced aromas of dinner are already strong in the air and his mouth waters in anticipation.
Remus heads to his bedroom first, setting his camera and notebook down on the bedside table before changing into a clean red shirt. When he returns, Sirius is unpacking the contents of the styrofoam takeaway container he’s brought onto two blue plates.
“Mmm,” Remus says eloquently, staring at the folded fried triangles of samosas and fluffy round white idlis set on his plate, little plastic containers of mint coconut chutney and steaming orange sambar placed next to it. Sirius has also brought a few bottles of beer, a lager that’s one of Remus’s favorites. He recalls getting it the handful of times they’ve been to Muggle bars (mostly to satisfy James and Sirius’s endless fascination with Muggle culture) and feels flattered that Sirius remembered.
“I got masala dosa too, your favorite. It’s in the box,” Sirius tells him as he sits down across from Remus.
At least Remus knows exactly what to do with fantastic Indian food. He and Sirius both easily occupy themselves with eating, Sirius stealing half of one of Remus’s samosas and Remus taking a bhaji in revenge, contentedly chewing on the fried onion.
“This is nice, isn’t it?” Sirius says when they’re almost done.
“Mhm,” Remus responds through his mouthful of potatoes and dosa. He can’t help wishing that every night was like this. Coming home from a long day spent out in the fresh country air, rain and shine, to a pleasant dinner with one of his best friends.
“So what have you been up to, Moony?”
“I’ve been tracking an Augurey for my article this month. A few people in town have mentioned that they thought they heard someone, or something, crying just before we got rain, so I thought that was promising. And I actually found the Augurey perched up in a tree but your Elvendork scared it away before I could get a good photo of it. I nearly fell out of the tree myself,” Remus shakes his head ruefully. “Thankfully the cry of an Augurey doesn’t actually predict death. It heralds nothing more ominous than some rain.”
Instead of laughing at this or coming up with one of his typical quips, Sirius blanches, looking stricken. “I’m a wanker.”
“What?” Remus blinks, unused to Sirius expressing anything resembling an apology. The crease between his brows, the frown of his mouth, and the contrite set of his jaw all look odd on his handsome features. “You couldn’t have known…”
“I suppose,” Sirius mutters, picking at a thread of the tattered green tablecloth. “Still. Don’t want to be interfering with your livelihood.”
“It’s fine,” Remus shrugs, slightly bemused. “I have most of this article written out already and it’s only due at the end of the month. And now I’ve confirmed that there’s one around here. I’m sure I can track it down again before long.”
“I read your article last month,” Sirius says, perking up slightly. “The one on the Bowtruckles.”
“It wasn’t very interesting,” Remus shrugs.
“No, I liked the bit on how they attack people who try to climb up their trees or chop them down. Nearly took that bloke’s eyes right out before you intervened.”
“You would,” Remus chuckles, much more used to this version of Sirius. Remus had been searching for Bowtruckles in the forest when he’d run into a Muggle man in the midst of being attacked by said creatures. Luckily, Remus had been able to dispatch the Bowtruckles with a light stinging hex before healing the worst of the man’s wounds and Obliviating him so that he thought he’d run into nothing more unusual than a very aggressive squirrel. “I didn’t think you were a subscriber of Magical Creatures Monthly. ”
“Of course I am,” Sirius says softly, his grey eyes fixed on Remus’s face. “For you.”
Remus feels a flash of irritation, his brow creasing. He’s consistently refused Sirius and James’s constant offers of charity since they’d left school, but he thought that they’d finally given up on it especially now that Remus has regular writing work. But now Sirius is subscribing to magazines he doesn’t even care about for Remus?
“You’re a good writer, the best they have,” Sirius continues, oblivious to Remus’s annoyance. “That Lovegood bloke always goes on and on about strange theories that don’t make a shred of sense. Fun to read, but no good for anything more than lining Elvendork’s cage. And the Scamander woman spends too much time nattering about things that don’t matter to anyone else, like the mating habits of garden gnomes or variations in Hippogriff plumage. But everything you write is interesting, like you actually care about it all and want to share it with the masses. I could sit here and listen to you talk about Flobberworms all day because you, you just make everything so bloody amazing.”
Sirius abruptly clears his throat and straightens up from where he’s been leaning over the table towards Remus. With every word out of Sirius’s mouth, Remus’s consternation has ebbed away and now he’s just sitting here staring at Sirius, any words he’s prepared evaporating into thin air. His cheeks feel rather hot, almost like someone has cast a Warming Charm straight at his face. Thankfully, Sirius seems just as lost for words.
“I try to make the material accessible,” Remus finally says. “Although I don’t think that there’s such a shortage of magical creatures in Britain that I’ll have to resort to writing about Flobberworms any time soon.”
Sirius laughs, still looking strangely nervous. “Good, good.”
“Actually, I may not even be limited to Britain soon,” Remus continues after a few seconds of thought. He hadn’t wanted to prematurely share this news with anyone lest it end in disappointment yet again, but Sirius seems genuinely interested. And he wouldn’t mind basking in the anticipation with someone else. “My editor said that they’re looking into providing me with funding for a trip to the United States to write about the Jackalope population in Minnesota. They’ve already put me in contact with a researcher there.”
Sirius beams. It feels rather like staring straight into the sun, but Remus finds that he does not want to look away from Sirius, his magnetic gaze and brilliant smile. The brightest star in the sky, indeed. “That’s incredible. You’re amazing, Remus.”
“Yes, well,” Remus says, smiling. He still feels strangely flustered, but turning away from Sirius is an impossibility right now. It is as if the rest of the room has melted away, leaving just the two of them staring at each other. He dips a hand into his pocket, grasping for indented round softness, eyes still locked with Sirius. “I liked your seal.”
Sirius glances down at the table where he’s set down the red wax imprint of the paw and Remus almost wants to protest the loss of eye contact, but then he quickly looks back up at Remus, his eyes widening and his expression somehow getting even more adoring. The image of Padfoot begging for a treat comes to mind.
“You’re the only person I know who’d even bother to keep it in one piece, let alone save it,” Sirius says. Remus wonders if he’s imagining that tinge of red against Sirius’s light brown skin.
“Even if it hadn’t been Elvendork delivering it, I’d have known it came from you immediately,” Remus murmurs.
“I thought it was about time for me to get my own one instead of just using plain wax, and I wanted one that was the complete opposite of my family’s. They do a green serpent on black wax. Bloody creative lot, they are," Sirius explains. Although sealing letters with wax is something that half-bloods and Muggleborns rarely do as it's seen as old-fashioned, Remus appreciates Sirius's attempt at making Pureblood traditions his own.
“I like it. It suits you.”
“Ah, well, I, that is, I mean,” Sirius starts, looking as if each word is costing him a great deal of effort. Remus briefly wonders if Sirius is trying to make up for his past twenty-three years of not thinking before speaking with the amount of rumination that he seems to be going through for each syllable now. Does this man even know what moderation is, Remus thinks fondly.
“You mean what?”
“Nothing,” Sirius says dismissively, looking away and just like that, the proverbial spell is broken. Remus searches for something to keep the exchange going, grasping for the threads of conversation that have become well-worn paths taken nearly every time they’ve reunited in the five years since Hogwarts.
“How is work going?” Remus quickly pulls the reliable question, sure to keep conversation going especially if Sirius is working on something that’s making him use every last bit of his cleverness.
For the last year, Sirius has been working in the Research Department of the Ministry with a division dedicated to the experimentation and enchantment of Muggle objects like his motorbike. Amazingly, it hasn’t bored him yet unlike his past forays into Auror training, Curse Breaking, and tending the Leaky Cauldron’s bar. It’s hard not to envy Sirius and his ability to try out anything that he likes, discarding every unfavorable occupation like it’s a crumpled sweet wrapper without a second thought. Even though Remus has grown to enjoy his current job of photography and writing, it’s difficult not to wish that he had the plum pick of any opportunity he wanted rather than scrabbling for the meager dregs of employment allowed to a lycanthrope.
“Good,” Sirius smiles. “It wasn’t hard at all to make these Walkman things work with magic. I brought it into the middle of the Ministry the other day and not a spark or explosion from it, just Combat Rock, loud and clear! It sounds bloody daft when you think about it, strapping on those hearphone things and being able to carry music anywhere you go, but it’s brilliant.”
“Now the next step is figuring out how to enchant it?” Remus asks.
“That’s right,” Sirius says. “The trouble’s coming up with useful things although I think playing music’s enough. Marlene had the idea to enchant it to store books, but I reckon the only thing that’s useful for is having it read you Hogwarts, A History when you can’t sleep.”
Remus shakes his head thoughtfully. “No, I think it would be quite useful for people who have difficulty with reading for whatever reason. Like those who are partially sighted, or who have trouble comprehending the written word, or who just personally prefer it. It’s just another way to store knowledge, really. If you manage to enchant it to work that way, my editor would probably want to see if they can get Magical Creatures Monthly in it and increase our audience.”
Sirius nods, eyes rapt on Remus’s face again. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. That’s a good point. You always help me see things a bit differently, in ways I haven’t thought of.” Then, a little shyly as he glances down at the tabletop. “You make me better, Moony.”
Heat is rushing to Remus’s face and he’s briefly reminded of that time he went searching for salamanders. “All I’m saying is what’s on my mind.”
“It’s a good mind, Moony. Especially when you use it for the purposes of mischief,” Sirius grins at him, bringing forth more sensations evocative of crouching low over crackling flames with hopes of getting a glimpse of a fire lizard. “Cuppa? And then I’ll be off.”
“Ta,” Remus says and watches Sirius go over to the kitchenette to prepare it the Muggle way, how Remus likes it best. There’s something mesmerizing about Sirius’s tall, lean form bent over a stove and he has to force himself to look away and down at the remnants of their meal as he casts “Scourgify!”