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One rather plain and rainy Wednesday, a particularly restless specimen of magical flora - a two-feet tall monkshood - decided to, completely unprompted, shake its dewy leaves, as if struck by some mysterious seizure, sending thick drops of water right into one Remus Lupin's glasses, who sighed in annoyance and cursed under his breath, in several different languages. This would be an entirely irrelevant point in the all-around scope of Things That Could Happen when one owns a shop filled to the brim with all sorts of things mystical and magical - as Remus Lupin does - if it were not for the passerby who just then happened to strut across the street.
The passerby in question was a certain Sirius Black, who didn't much fancy his last name, and had a tendency to instead introduce himself with the most outlandish one he could think of at the moment. At that moment, he thought he heard some exquisitely colorful cursing (which he did, because even though Remus Lupin thought he'd cursed under his breath, it came out more as a half-shout), and decided that whoever curses so wonderfully, he should meet, immediately and without a moment's hesitation.
Remus Lupin knew none of this, and was entirely oblivious to the wizard determinedly pacing towards his front door. They were, as it were, entirely engrossed in the book he held in one (sparkly pink) polished hand - some rather ridiculous play about fairies - and registered nothing of the outside world.
Sirius opened the door to the shop, a rather curious locale, for a muggle village, at least - Moony's Books & Trinkets. As he swung open the teal-coloured door, he realized he'd hit the set of chimes positioned right above, which to his surprise rang in tune, and he even thought he might recognize the melody. After that, he only grew more surprised. Walls upon walls were filled with books old and new, muggle and magical, there was a fish tank on a table (or, more accurately, a fountain with a thin piece of wood on top), several mirrors were placed strategically in the oddest places, creating an illusion of nonsensical lighting. A record was playing Faun in the distance, and there was an honest-to-god greek pillar in the middle of the room.
It was then Sirius got overwhelmed with the sheer magnitude of strangeness the place possesed, and couldn't even process the small curiosities littering the place anymore. And, he was soon double-distracted by the shopkeep, whom he's only just noticed. They were sitting in a lighter corner of the room, aquiline nose buried deep in an ancient-looking copy of A Midsummer Night's Dream, wand tucked behind their ear, spectacles tangled in light hair, on the top of his tead, and a golden moon drawn in the corner of their eye. As they looked up and started walking towards Sirius with a smile, he noticed they also wore a deep, wine-red shirt loosely tucked into wide-leg cream pants, as all but the top of their head had previously been completely obscured by plants.
“Hello,” the stranger began, “is there any way I could help you?” They had a pleasant welsh lilt to their voice, mixed with a pinch of something Sirius struggled to identify.
Sirius couldn't help himself. "How now, spirit! Whither wander you?". In the history of all the awkward and terrible ways to strike up a conversation, quoting Shakespeare ran high to the top, and Sirius was aware.
The shopkeep smiled, to Sirius' great and joyous surprise, their brown eyes crinkling. "Over hill, over dale / thorough bush, thorough brier, / Over park, over pale, / Thorough flood, thorough fire, / I do wander every where, / Swifter than the Moon's sphere;"
Sirius was positively delighted. "Finally, I met someone cultured. I think I'd have run off with my tail between my legs if you didn't reply, I'd feel rather stupid."
"Fear not, I was quite a lonely child, and had spent my time memorizing lines from muggle plays for fun. I think that tells you all you need to know about me. I'm Remus." Remus laughed, widely.
“Sirius.” He contemplated shaking hands, but decided against it.
“Pleased to meet you, Sirius. Tea? Or should I leave you to shuffle around in peace?” There was humour in his eyes, but the offer seemed genuine.
“Likewise, and yes, tea would be lovely, thank you.”
“Follow me, then.” Remus gestured to what Sirius assumed was a back room - it was hidden behind a makeshift door made of strung beads. He didn't assume he would be invited to properly sit down, but alas, stranger things have happened.
After winding around the stacks of Remus' everything-but-organised shop for a little while, and nearly crashing a jar of some dried flowers on his head, they'd made it to the beaded panel, and finally found themselves in a room that followed the general theme of the shop, when it came to decor. There were wide, open windows on the east and west side of the room, and next to one of them a small set of mismatched chairs and a table. Sirius rushed to pull a chair out for Remus (purple, with small white flowers), then sat down himself (fractal pattern, lord rest his poor eyes). Remus waved his hand, not even touching his wand, and after several elegant swishes, there was a ceramic teapot on their table, along with two cups.
“How do you take it?” Remus had already poured himself a cup's worth of a gold-coloured liquid which smelled strongly of lemongrass, into a large white cup, adorned with a quote by Arthur Rimbaud. Sirius thought it slightly cheesy, but also softly endearing.
“Uh, earl grey, usually. Splash of milk, no sugar. But I'll take anything, don't bother with it.” Sirius said, momentarily confused.
“No need.” Remus grinned, and twisted his fingers in a quick gesture above the teapot and poured Sirius an appropriate amount of black tea, with a splash of milk. Then, he noticed Sirius eyeing him suspiciously. “It's charmed. You can pour out whatever you want at that moment, with only a small spell.”
Sirius paused, curious. “But wouldn't that break -”
“Gamp's law of elemental transfiguration? No. It's awfully simple, really. I've small amounts of most common tea blends somewhere in storage, the spell multiplies whatever I want done, and it's momentarily brewed in the pot.”
“But - the gesture you did, it's such a small thing, and I'd assume the process you described takes at least three, or four separate spells.” Sirius had a guess on how it was done, but he decided to play oblivious for several more moments.
“Yes, I've strung them together - the gesture technically triggers four spells, but they act as one. It's a common practice in household magic.” Remus looked pleased that he's being asked about it.
“Ah, I guessed something similar. I've strung spells together before, but for nothing so practical.” Sirius sipped his tea, and it was just as good as traditionally brewed, perhaps even better.
Remus leaned forward, wandlessly stirring his tea. “Care to enlighten me?”
“Uh, I might've patched together a whole set of dozen and more spells, because I wanted my motorcycle to self-navigate in flight.” Sirius did his best sheepish look, but it didn't seem to work.
“You're mad.”
“Good mad, I hope.”
“Oh, certainly.”
Remus finally sipped his tea, and Sirius only now realized that he was drinking tea with a magician he'd never met before, in their shop, and did he have anything to do? Not anymore.
“Is inviting strangers for tea a thing you do often?”
“Yes.” Remus smiled, not offering any further explanation. “Is walking into people's shops and quoting Shakespeare at them a thing you do often?”
“Yes,” Sirius grinned. “especially when I'd already been assured of their prowess in Shakespearean."
Remus tilted his head in confusion, Sirius continued. “I'm pretty sure I've neer heard anyone curse in three languages, and Shakespeare on top.
Remus sputtered, nearly spilling his tea. “Oh Merlin, you heard that?”
“Was a bit hard not to.”
“I thought I was being very quiet.”
Sirius raised his eyebrows incredulously, but didn't comment further.
They drank in silence for a little while, and Sirius busied himself with letting his eyes wander around the room and inspect everything on display. Remus was completely at ease, lounging in their chair. Sirius was exactly the opposite, and was absolutely itching to ask as many questions as possible. He was treading on unfamiliar ground, and didn't like it.
"So, how come I'm here? Not worried I'm going to stun you and bolt with your… um," he eyed the room once again, "old books and candelabras?"
This time, Remus seemed more understanding, and not so interested in maintaining a veneer of mystery. "We're a pretty tight-knit community here. I figured that if you hadn't been chased away yet, you're probably the good sort, and hence I should get to know you."
"Chased away? Please elaborate." Sirius inquired.
Remus laughed dryly. "We had a self-proclaimed 'blood-realist' wandering about some months ago. Didn't take long for everyone to catch up, and he left not long after, realizing he won't find any friends here."
"Ah, makes sense." Sirius was picking at his next question in his mind. "How did you know I'm a wizard?"
"Perhaps the better question is how could anyone not? " Remus retorted, one eyebrow raised. "You know how magic always leaves a trace? Well, you've got it dragging behind yourself so much, it feels like walking into a lightning storm."
Sirius' eyes widened. "Oh. Never thought about that much. I guess I always feel it, somewhere behind, but not actively. You seem to be a fine wizard yourself, for someone I've never seen in Hogwarts."
Sirius was motivated to make that particular comment, after a book flew out of a shelf above their heads, and landed in Remus's open palm, without them having to move a muscle. The book in question bore the simple title of Folkloric magic .
Remus offered him the book. "I was homeschooled, and I learnt magic a little differently. You see, my dad didn't manage to get me a legal wand until I was fifteen, due to bureaucratic complications, so we had to make do. Turns out that on my mum's side, I come from a long line of hereditary muggle folk practitioners - that helped significantly. There's a lot to talk about here, honestly, but let's just say your typical Ministry way of taking magic as a definable and strict science is a bit of a bougie concoction, and a rather ridiculous one, albeir effective at what it's meant to do."
Sirius noted, and filed away for later, how Remus seemed pleased and slightly embarrassed at the same time, and was also obviously hiding something. He thought about asking, but decided against it. "Who's mad now?"
Remus perked up, slightly, nervously picking at their shirt cuffs. “Sorry about that.” He laughed nervously. “I'm quite passionate about the subject, and tend to get swayed by it.”
“No, I don't mind!” Sirius supplied, quickly. “I love hearing people talk about… things… interests, passions. Especially if it's magic theory. Don't feel bad.”
Sirius sincerely hoped his point of 'ohmyfuckinggod could you be any cleverer' got across. Based on how Remus smiled, it seemed to. Sirius politely smiled in return, and accepted the book from Remus' hand, promising to return it as soon as he's done with it, which, knowing him, would probably be the next day. While grasping the book, his fingers lightly brushed Remus', and in that moment he understood everything about the feel of magic.
In one sharp intake of breath, he once again rushed back into reality, realizing that he'd promised James he'd bring over diapers for Harry, and that he instead drank tea with a complete stranger in the backroom of his bookshop.
“Oh Merlin, sorry, I've completely forgotten I've an errand to run, 'fraid I need to bolt.”
“Ah, no need to apologise, I did mess up your schedule - an unplanned cup of tea can cause all sorts of trouble.” Remus smiled, and with another barely-there wave of his hand, the tea set was cleaned and placed on a wooden shelf on a lilac wall.
“True that, but I've no schedule, never do.” Sirius murmured, while putting on his jacket and following Remus back to the front of the shop.
“Yes, I suppose that seems right.”
“Hey!”
Remus didn't dignify that with a response.
Instead, he found himself face-to-face with Remus, fully prepared to make a hasty exit and hope James didn't need the diapers urgently, yet as he thought of it, he felt as if he'd be leaving something in the shop. What exactly, he didn't know.
“You know,” he began, “I think I'll be done with this book in a few days.” He gestured to where he'd placed the green tome, in an enchanted pocket of his terracotta-coloured leather jacket, that reached nearly to his knees. “Perhaps you'd like to join me for a proper cuppa? To discuss the book, obviously.”
Sirius Black did not fear his knees would give out. He was just a little dazed, that's all - it was the magic in the room.
Remus smiled, and by Merlin did he do that a lot, they should never stop. “I'd love to. Because of the book, obviously.” He grinned, and waved lazily, as Sirius rushed out of the shop, into the brisk, autumn wind. He'd spent a while (10 minutes, an hour, a lifetime) wandering around the little village, letting the flow of air splash his face with gusts of the cold, clearing his mind. It did not work. He still felt as if he'd stepped into the wrong faerie circle, or took a dive deep underwater, watching the sunlight crinkling from above, buried deep in the belly of the sea. He'd found his way back in the end, but with a rather long detour.
Back in his shop, Remus poured fresh water into the marigold-coloured pot which held his only monkshood. Then he poured some more, thinking he'd feed the plant raw meat if it meant they got to meet handsome strangers who are incidentally great conversationalists more often. Then just a little more, thinking - thank you, thank you, thank you .
_____
It was late, when Sirius stumbled back into James' flat. Late, not temporally, because fall was divided into “morning” and “late” only, but late as in, his knees were buckling and rain had made a home on his brow. He stormed in, tossed a wide-eyed James the diapers, who muttered something about Harry being asleep for an hour already, and pulled out the book Remus had lent him. It was dry, luckily and his knuckles had grown white from clutching it. His docs were covered in mud, obscuring the “soyez réalistes, demandez l'impossible” scribbled on the outsoles.
“Care to tell me where the hell you've been?” James asked, eyeing him with concern.
Sirius stumbled to their dining table, procuring a cup of tea from the kitchen. The cupboards rattled, rightfully miffed about the pestering - and so late in the evening, such bad manners. “Well, I'd originally planned to just get the diapers for Harry, and I needed coffee, but I saw this bookshop,” Sirius stared James down, trying to convey the importance of the shop in question.
“I went in, and I ended up having tea with the owner.” Sirius' leg was bouncing. “James, he's a wizard, which is curious enough, I thought this was a muggle town, and in plain sight - honestly, what even - but anyway, we talked, and you need to hear what he has to say about magic, Merlin. And the way they do it, it's…” he trailed, the words in his mouth had turned to black threads around his throat. “Like when we ran through the woods for the first time.” He said, conviction dripping from every syllable. “You know how I am about these things. Pretty people and magic theory, to be precise.”
James laughed, ignoring Sirius' not-amused gaze. He moved from their soft, occasionally-prone-to-man-eating sofa, around a half-dissolved cauldron and finally sat next to Sirius. “Well, then, tell me about it, will you?”
And Sirius did so, letting the words flow from his lips. He talked long and hard, dismantling words like toys, stopping to describe a particular pattern of shredding paint on Remus' chairs, or some particularly witty remark they said, in relation to some magical concept or the other.
_____
The following morning, and a morning it sure was, when Sirius awoke, he found he barely got any sleep, but was still oddly refreshed. He had, against James' best suggestions, spent half the night devouring Remus's book, wondering if there was a spell or a potion that would carve the knowledge into his brain, as he feared forgetfulness more than any evil, and had gotten nearly to the very end. Then, he brewed himself a cup of coffee, nearly spilling the milk from excitement, and returned to reading once more.
Lily found him, some time later, looking ragged and frozen in place. He'd finished it, read the final sentence mid-sip, and couldn't bring himself to tear away from it, held captive by that distinct feeling of finishing something gravely important early in the day. She rolled her eyes at him, having already been thoroughly briefed on the details of what seemed to be Sirius's latest romantic thirst, or, something her and James would find amusing to observe from the sides, not impolitely. Sirius, of course, noticed, seeming to finally snap out of his stupor.
"Roll your eyes all you want, Lily-flower, but I know your magical-theory synapses are thirsting for the contents of this book," he waved the olive-green bound book before her eyes. "And you will have to play it nice if you want to borrow!" He winked at her, and he was right, of course he was, she had been yearning to steal a glance since James had described it, eager for the unknown theory.
Sirius opened the book, the thick covers already familiar beneath his fingertips, and thought of his plans of coffee with Remus. It felt uncanny, how he already knew he was in for something brilliant.