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A bead of sweat ran down Sirius’ nose and he swatted at it impatiently. It was far too hot out to be sitting at Fortescue’s waiting for Remus to show up. He tapped his foot unconsciously as he scanned the crowd looking for his friend, his trainers making a clap-slapping staccato.
There was a harried looking witch in summery yellow robes trying to forcefully remove two small redheaded children, who looked suspiciously like Weasley children, from in front of the sweet shop without much success. Every time she removed a pair of sticky hands from the glass display case another pair would take its place. Eventually, in her frustration, she cast a quick adhesion charm and plastered two small sets of arms firmly to their owners’ sides before grabbing two ears to propel them all down the street.
Further down the street a small boy with dark blond hair was tugging on his father’s arm and pointing in the direction of Fortescue’s. The man smiled and reached into his pocket, pulling out a few sickles before sending the boy on his way with a quick flip of his hands before disappearing into Flourish and Blots.
As he shifted in his seat Sirius realized that sweat had soaked through his denims and he was sticking to the hard plastic. “Should have gone with Peter and James to look at more bloody Quidditch supplies. At least there are cooling charms in there,” he grumbled to himself as he peeled his back away from the chair.
“But then you would have had to listen to James prattle on about how the latest broom will be the thing to win Lily’s heart for sure, and no one deserves that. Again.”
Sirius spun around and craned his neck up to see a crooked smile and crinkled up eyes. “Moony! You made it!”
“I said I’d be here, didn’t I?” Remus asked sinking into the chair across from Sirius. His light blue tee-shirt was sticking to him and he eyed the shop behind Sirius longingly. “Are we waiting for Prongs and Wormtail to get ice cream?”
“They’re the ones who put Quidditch above Peppermint Humbug Swirl, their loss.”
“Oh, thank Merlin. It’s too bloody hot out here for this.” Remus grimaced as he stuck to his seat and Sirius chuckled.
“Do you think they’d fall for it if we said we felt bad and got them some ice cream?” Sirius asked, smirking.
“That we’d liberally dosed with some of that voice modification powder that we’re all not supposed to know you have?” Remus arched an eyebrow at him and held out a hand to pull him to his feet. He pulled a bit too hard and Sirius stumbled knocking his hip on the table and rattling the striped umbrella that stuck out of the top of it. “Sorry,” Remus muttered, but he was still grinning, so Sirius knew he had done it on purpose.
The bell on the door chimed as he pulled it open and held it open for Remus. He had learned from experience to let Remus choose his ice cream first. Sirius always got the same flavor, and by the time Remus had decided what he wanted it was half melted.
Remus smirked at him. “You know, you don’t always have to wait for me to decide what I want before you order.”
His cheeks warming despite the blessedly cool interior of the shop, Sirius ducked his head. He hadn’t realized that Remus had figured out what he was doing. “Yes I do,” he muttered, staring at the scuffed toes of his trainers.
He heard Remus chuckle, and a hand came down on his shoulder. “You can put a preservation charm on it, now. You’re of age, remember?”
Sirius flipped him two fingers, but didn’t shrug the hand off his shoulder. The weight and warmth of it suddenly felt different than it did the thousands of times previously. Before he had the chance to think about that too hard he looked up and saw the little boy who had begged sickles off his father earlier still standing at the counter looking up at what appeared to be an uncharacteristically frustrated Florean Fortescue.
“I can’t give you any ice cream if you don’t tell me what you want,” Florean said gently looking down at the boy who seemed close to tears.
The little boy, who didn’t appear to be any older than six or seven, just stared at the case not acknowledging that he had been spoken to. He flapped his hands in the general direction of the multitude of varieties of ice cream then looked up at Florean, who shrugged. “Might as well order, boys, I can’t get this little lad to tell me what he wants.”
Remus made a small noise in the back of his throat and took a couple of steps closer to the counter, dropping down to a knee so he was at eye level with the boy. He did some sort of complicated hand maneuver that looked to Sirius like a wand movement gone terribly wrong, but the little boys face lit up with the biggest smile. Soon they were waving their hands back and forth at each other like a wandless duel and Sirius was completely enthralled watching the way that Remus’ hands shaped each movement precisely and deliberately. His fingers were long and graceful as they contorted every which way, and even the bumps of his knuckles and the bitten ends of his nails were fascinating. Every once in a while he slowed down very briefly and looked like he had to think very hard about which movement he wanted to make next.
Sirius was so captivated by Remus’ hands suddenly that he was actually startled to hear him speak.
“Dorian would like two scoops of Eflberry Ripple, please.”
“I’m sorry,” Florean said looking down at the boy. “We’re all out. We do have Fudge with Elfberry swirls, though.”
Remus turned back to the boy, Dorian apparently, making a motion with a loose fist over his heart and Sirius was captivated with the hills and valleys of his knuckles, and the thin vein that ran down the back of his hand streaking from his middle finger to his wrist bone. When his hand uncurled and kept moving Sirius couldn’t drag his eyes away.
“He’ll take one scoop of that and one of Shrieking Strawberry, please. And for that matter, I’ll take a scoop of Ginger Pumpkin and Sirius will have two scoops of Peppermint Humbug Swirl.”
Florean doled out cones of ice cream and even waved off any attempts at letting them pay. “It’s on the house for the help with the little one,” he declared once Dorian had skipped out the door to find his father, ice cream clutched in his hand and a huge smile for Remus.
They settled themselves at a seat to wait for their other two friends, and it was only when his Peppermint Humbug Swirl dripped down his fingers that Sirius realized he was still staring. The pink tinge that had worked its way up Remus’ ears was indication enough that he had been caught at it, too.
“What was that, Moony?” he asked, hoping to play it off as awe at his friend’s behavior and not his very sudden infatuation with the shape of his hands, and the unbidden images of them against his own skin. He really really didn’t want to delve into those thoughts right now, not even for long enough to discern where they had come from.
“Oh, Dad’s mum was deaf. I can sign a little, although she’s a muggle, so I definitely don’t have the vocabulary to explain half of these flavors. Had to resort to spelling them.”
Sirius frowned at him. “Sign?”
“Sign language,” Remus said, now frowning himself. “Wait, is this a strictly muggle thing? Aren’t there deaf wizards?”
“Possibly,” Sirius shrugged. “But I assume they all just have an Audible Amplification Auxiliary put in. Mum’s sister had to have them a few years ago, I assume from listening to Bella scream for that many years. So you’re saying that muggles can talk with their hands, and not just…” he frowned and took a huge bite of his ice cream to keep it from making any more of a mess than it already had. “… gesticulate.”
“Some muggles, probably not most, though.” Remus chuckled. “And I wasn’t even aware you knew the word gesticulate.”
Sirius showed him two fingers, but he was still frowning. “Teach me.”
After a long look in which Sirius felt his ears getting hot, Remus nodded.
“Wait, do my ears deceive me? Has Padfoot turned the swot? Tell me it’s not so!” Sirius spun around to find James and Peter walking into Fortescue’s, their arms laden with bags.
Peter grinned and fell dramatically against James’ side. “Alas, I fear that you heard correctly. Our dear Padfoot has been turned to the darkside, seduced to the ideas of – gasp – learning.”
“And what, pray tell, is so fascinating that it warrants asking Moony to teach you?” James asked, dropping into the seat next to Sirius and flinging has bags on the table. He handed a couple sickles to Peter who went to get them both ice cream.
“Sign language,” Sirius mumbled, refusing to look at Remus and his damnably seductive hands.
“Moony, Moony, Moony. You haven’t learned. Padfoot does not need the ability to speak in any more languages. We can’t get him to shut up as it is.”
Sirius huffed, but didn’t say anything. Remus just smiled. “But think,” he said, grinning at Sirius, “This way you won’t have to actually hear it.”
“Oh, I see how this goes. Pick on poor Padfoot. It’s all right, I can take it.”
Peter handed James a cone of Raspberry Rum and they all trekked back out into the heat, James and Peter leading the way, still laughing.
“Are you sure you want me to teach you,” Remus asked quietly, glancing up ahead of them to where James was chuckling, and flipping a knut to catch over and over.
“Absolutely, Moony,” Sirius smiled, bumping hands with Remus, and trying to ignore the way that suddenly made his stomach dance. “I had no idea your hands were so talented.” He immediately bit his tongue, not quite sure how he let that slip out.
Remus turned a wonderful shade of pink and met his eyes with a determined look. “That’s not all they’re talented at.”
Sirius tripped over his own feet at that comment, but as he righted himself he linked his little finger around Remus’ and tugged very slightly. “Maybe you’ll teach me that, too.”