Chapter Text
The street was flushed with cool sunlight, the clatter of coins on wood and shoes on stone, and a light shiver of magic. Remus pattered after his father, his bag of books periodically whacking his hip. He barely noticed, and not just because he had only needed to buy two books, the rest salvaged from his dad’s time at Hogwarts. Lyall Lupin parted the sea of shoppers with more purpose than Moses himself. His son scampered in his wake, more akin to an errant raindrop on a windowpane, until they reached their next destination.
Lyall hesitated by the slick Apothecary door.
“Wait outside,” he instructed. “All the smells, you won’t like it.”
“If I'm going to do Potions at Hogwarts, shouldn’t I get used to-”
“Remus, this day had been long enough already. You insisting on fainting in an apothecary is only going to make it worse. Understood?”
“Understood,” he muttered, gaze tipping down to his toes.
“Don’t go too far, I’ll be out in a sec.” The bell tittered in welcome.
Leaning against the wall, Remus felt the rough whisper of brick dust on wool. He contemplated the crowd – he doubted he’d seen this many people in one place for years. His gaze fell on a couple, all ironed clothes, who were examining a palmful of coins with eyes galleon wide. Muggles, he deduced. The girl with them, who Remus thought could be his age, was attempting to stuff an armful of glossy books into her bag. The real issue was born from the girl trying to read them at the same time. Her hair dangled in her face, dark red, but when it caught the sun, wisps blazed gold.
Her eyes danced upwards and met his. Unprepared for what to possibly do then, he was about to turn away. Then she smiled. Hers was pleasant, natural, and Remus feared his returning one was not quite right. More like if someone had tried to pin the corners of his mouth and his hairline together. But she smirked, in a companionable amusement, and he grinned in apology. Remus had never known people could converse in smiles, before her.
After the girl had been ushered into Madame Malkin's, Remus wandered down Diagon Alley, led by the elusive scent of chocolate. He ended up in a damp side alley, entranced by the open back window of A Charmer’s Cakes, a cushiony tearoom with waltzing gingerbread on the counter.
Remus became vaguely aware that his dad was calling his name, though quietly, not wanting to draw attention. He knew Remus would hear him. But at that moment, he rather preferred the alley to his father. It smelt of chocolate. And he could still feel the burn on his cheek from his dad’s slap that morning. He'd begged to go to Diagon with him, wanting to find his own school things, and his mum had agreed, he needed to learn to function more quickly in the days after the moon if he was going to school. Lyall had relented. But then they looked over the list and read the rules on pets.
“Shame I’m not allowed a dog. Would be nice to have someone to talk to.”
That was when his dad had hit him.
A decent part of Remus's mind seemed to hate him. It also seemed to adore ill-timed, inappropriate jokes. Mainly about werewolves. Which would result in horrified retaliation from his parents. He knew the rules. It remained a mystery why he so often broke them, to himself especially.
Remus sidled up the little alley, away from his dad’s voice. There was a dip in the wall, shaped like a square archway. As he approached it, he heard a hurried smatter of footsteps, and turned to see a boy whip past his alleyway, dark hair flying like water. Then the steps changed their mind, and the figure tumbled in. He stopped at the sight of Remus. The boy’s eyes were polished teaspoon-silver, and the dread swarming them was one Remus recognised. The one when, having given up on running, you are forced to turn to its less reliable counterpart. Even though you know hiding can only be temporary.
Remus jerked his head to the alcove, and without hesitation, the boy bounded over. They lined their backs to the hidden side of the wall, side by side like toy soldiers. The first thing Remus registered was that the other had much better posture. He surreptitiously shrugged his shoulders back. Noticing, the boy forced his spine taller. Remus stuck his chin in the air. The boy tried to force his knees into straight lines. Remus’s heels disregarded the floor. The boy rose onto his toes, elbowing Remus in the neck to do so. Remus shoved the boy. The boy shoved Remus. There was a wickedness in the boy’s eyes, and Remus met it.
Then all malice rushed away like a wave, and they shook with unspent laughter. A shrill bark escaped the boy, and its pitch and total unsuitability to the situation sent them, clinging to one another, to the ground with silent giggles. Remus’s sight was blotted with hot tears when a crack echoed down the alley.
“Master Sirius?” A voice croaked. “Master Sirius, where is you?” The voice scuttled away from them, painfully slowly, before halting at the opening of the street.
“What do we do?” mouthed the boy – Sirius, he concluded.
“We could...” Above him waited a window. He didn’t know what shop it belonged to, but it was blessedly open, for air, he guessed. Or two boys. “In there?”
“Isn’t that breaking and entering?” Sirius whispered.
“Oh. Well, only a little bit.”
“Ah well, never mind the law. It can’t be worse than my mother.” Sirius’s voice, even in hushed urgency, was bright and smooth as a marble. “Let’s do it,” he nodded eagerly.
Remus pushed Sirius up, heel in hand, as he scrambled for the window. Remus’s lips were pressed bloodless, trying to do this silently, so not to be spotted by the house elf down the alley. He’d never seen one before, but it was clear what was searching for Sirius. As Sirius successfully squeezed into the shop, dragging his leg with him, Remus felt a whisper of expensive fabric on his wrist. He handed up their bags, Sirius’s dragon-hide satchel, and his own canvas one, turning fluffy at the corners. Sirius reached down and grabbed Remus’s outstretched wrists, but just as he started to tug him up, the house elf turned.
Spotting Remus, their face switched from momentary triumph to confusion. He froze, half dragged up to a window. Then, inspired by the red-haired girl, he beamed at the elf. With Sirius’s help, he promptly clambered into the shop, leaving the elf’s bewildered face behind.
They landed, heaped, in a store cupboard.
“That was – that was great!” Sirius laughed. “Possible law breaking is great! Jail must be so fun if everyone is like this!”
“I think jails have murderers and stuff, not people who climb through windows.”
“Utter posh!” Sirius declared. Utter posh? Who the hell was this boy? “Jail would be cool. I’d get a tattoo.” He said it like a tattoo was a revered, mystical thing.
“They’re meant to hurt.”
His smile dashed away. “Oh,” he paused. “Anyhow,” his spark returned with full force, “what does this shop do?”
“Um...” Remus examined a shelved box, “Sell shoelaces?”
Sirius hopped to his feet, and helped Remus up, grabbing both their bags. “Let's go look around.” Sirius crept from the cupboard with feline stealth, beckoning him to follow. He looked very proud of his skills when they were both safely in the shop.
“Can I help you boys?” smiled a shop assistant.
“We’re looking for shoelaces,” blurted Sirius, “If you would be so kind as to help us.” He then smiled, gracious and charming.
The assistant blinked. “We might have some it the back,” she said, then backed away, bemused.
Remus raised his eyebrows at him. “What sort of child goes shopping for shoelaces?”
“A child... who has recently run out of shoelaces,” he smirked.
“Thats -you- that’s utter posh,” he teased, evilly.
Sirius gasped in mock offense, his eyes delightedly bright. Then he frowned. “Outside, there's a man. He’s really glaring at you. Like you swept up with his new broomstick.”
“Shit,” he exhaled, “that’s my dad.”
Remus met his gaze guiltily. He shot him a what the hell? look and waved him over.
“Bye,” he called to Sirius, as he hurried to the door.
“Goodbye,” he returned worriedly.
He approached his dad, chin in chest. “What was that about? I’ve been looking for you for well over five minutes, you know. I said don’t go far,” he berated. “What were you doing in there?”
“Browsing,” Remus answered, “For - for shoelaces.”
Lyall cuffed him around the head.
•••
Remus almost skipped out of Ollivander's, clutching the box that held his very own wand. Cypress and unicorn hair and lovely. No number of comments on just how much Remus was costing Lyall could dampen his joy because he had his own wand, and he would take it to Hogwarts and learn and live all the adventures he never believed he could. In that moment, it didn’t even matter that he was a monster. He reluctantly went to put his wand in his bag.
His bag. It wasn’t on his shoulder. He was suddenly, horribly sure that the last time he had seen it was in Sirius’s hand.
His throat felt slimy and tight, his breath suddenly very loud, shuddering in his mouth. The books were expensive, as far as books are concerned. As far as Lyall Lupin was concerned, they were worth more than Remus himself. He was going to be so angry. Remus was going to be in so much trouble, he was sure.
A loud clap rang through Diagon Alley. Remus glanced up. A woman with fitted black robes, a stingingly sharp face, and eyes like coal, was striding towards him, flanked by two boys. On her right, the younger, with thick lashes and a raised chin. On her left, Sirius. Her head whipped to him at the sound, but he merely looked startled, far too innocent for the boy Remus had met. When she faced forward, Sirius let Remus’s bag dangle at his side, and as they passed one another, he snatched it from him. Remus was buzzing with excitement at a job well done and turned to see Sirius.
They swapped a wink.