Chapter Text
The chocolate in mantles pockets, laundry detergent, new books in leather binding and parents’ salty tears.
The Platform Nine and Three-Quarters had a special flavour of nostalgia.
Having overcome the magic barrier, Remus allowed himself to enjoy a mixture of exciting notes for a moment before opening his eyes. He was overwhelmed by the already familiar delight and contagious pulsating excitement of meetings of students after a long separation. Yes, two months doesn’t seem like such a long time, but when you spend all of the year side by side with the same people, they become a part of you. Sewn with strong threads of joint trials, experience, happy moments, friendship.
Remus’s mind was just a little blurry from all these hypertrophied and imperceptible for people smells, having climb in nostrils, as the nape was tickled by a dangerous premonition. He opened his eyes and stepped aside. On the left, right in the place where he had just stood, appeared a disheveled blonde man lower than him on a head and in muggle clothes. Remus didn’t remember his name, but thought he was Ravenclaw from senior year. He didn’t pay any attention to Remus, glanced at the watch shining on his wrist and went to impatiently puffing train.
Exactly, he should be speeding up and not dreamily standing on the “aisle”, waiting for the next hand trolley to kick him in the ass. There are not many people left on the platform. Most adults either had to intensively wave their hands for the windows that have been covered by their children’s faces, or tightly hug their breaking out children.
Their appearance caused an unpleasant feeling in the stomach. He was seen off like that only once. It means, he was seen off like that once in general. For his freshman year.
Remus blinked at the memory, which climbing under his eyelids, shook his head and, looking under his feet, dragged his suitcase and himself to the end of the train.
Delight dissolved with each step. Shaky wheels rattled against the brickwork, got stuck in the cracks and took turns across. As a result, Remus stopped it, pushed the handle and picked up the suitcase. It wasn't difficult for him, there was much more strength in him than it seems, but still because of his chronically clumsy [and without unnecessary ballast] gait, the frame of the suitcase sensitively hit the shin, causing him wrinkling unpleasantly. The moon began to decrease just a couple of days ago, and his bones and joints were still whining after the transformation.
“Moony! Moony, faster!”
Remus raised his eyes out of platform to meet the familiar four-eyed physiognomy sticking out of the car. It was needlessly to fight with an automatic-mirrored smile that climbed on his face.
“I shall help you,” friend went towards his suitcase as soon as Remus put his foot on the first step.
“Leave your knightly hubris for Lily, Prongs,” Remus waved it off in a kindly way.
James grinned behind him and Remus was sure, shook his head. Lupin never liked to be cared for. But Potter never missed an opportunity to offer his help.
They squealed through the narrow passage fulled of students of all ages and fell into the compartment occupied by them since their first year, over which a sigh could have long been nailed.
Remus decided that the manoeuvre to throw the suitcase upstairs could be returned by dislocation of an unstable shoulder, and simply stuffed it under the seat. And only then did he turn to James, who was tactfully watching him.
“Finally,” both exhaled and hugged.
James squeezed him a little harder than he should and slapped him twice on the back. Potter smelled of anxiety mixed with relief. They’re on the train again. They’re going to Hogwarts again. ‘But not everything’ was in the air.
There is no trace of nostalgic delight left. There was a messing sound from the window.
“Hi, Wormtail,” Remus turned around, and a joyance flashed in Peter’s permanently wet eyes.
“Hi, Moony!” Peter’s body uncertain twitched in an urge to get up, but Remus had already collapsed into his place near the window opposite. James sat down next to Pettigrew, pinching his lips.
There was a haunting silence that their compartment had never seen before. Even empty, it would be more alive. And if it had eyes, it would give perplexed, interrogative glances at the not fully staffed Marauders who still silenced. Basically, this role was taken on by Peter, stealthily looking at one or the one and chewing the inside of his cheeks. Remus clearly heard this chomping sound, raising a wave of irritation in him. But Wormtail had nothing to do with it, and Remus did not want to burden James with the role of a diplomat, which he would take if one of his friends lost his temper.
The view outside the window was changed by unfairly light green plains. It can be better if it was rainy, it will be like specific nature support. But it wasn’t, autumn celebrated the entry into its own rights with the sun burning the earth. Remus really craved a cigarette. Take out a cigarette from the alluring pack in his back pocket and let the nicotine take away at least part of his tension. He overslept all the alarms. Or rather be, in the morning he found a pile of plastic and gears on his bedside table. His animal liked to sleep longer after the full moon. Remus had to rush to the station as fast as he could. So now he was sitting hungry, dissatisfied and ready to kill someone for a puff.
However, James will kill him for the stinking smoke himself, so he’ll have to wait for the evening to slip out of the bedroom.
A door moved to the side with a cutting creach, and the compartment became a little more pleasant. Remus recognised Lily even before he opened his eyes. She smelt flowers and tea with milk. During the summer she grew by a couple of inches, while he etiolated as much as five, and her forehead leaned in a groove next to his bony shoulder. The light fluff on the top of head teased the chin, and Remus loved this fluff. Her hugs were so familiar, although before he could not have thought that he could stand relaxed, clinging to the girl. Remus caught James’s mirth look and back it.
“Evans, are you trying to make me jealous?”
“Yes, it’s my devious plan, Potter. I’ve been taking it all summer.”
“Oh, so you’ve been thinking about me all summer?”
Lily gave him a stern look that had no effect on James, who was a little amused, but apparently realising that she had spilled the beans, she ignored him and turned back to Remus.
“How are you?”
A million-galleon question, of course. Lousy, crappy, bad. And lying to Lily is a completely dead end. Therefore:
“Tolerable.”
She seemed to scan him through, and the rest sitting people, staying a little longer on James.
“We need to go to a prefect’s compartment. Let’s go.”
Remus nodded. He absolutely didn’t care abouts these meetings, but now giving all the attention to duties seemed like a good way to distract himself. He was already going out after his friend, as McKinnon, who had come on time, blocked the way. Neat blonde square, new ironed mantle, latte-coloured skin sprinkled with freckled cinnamon and shiny huge brown eyes.
“Remus!”
“Marlene,” Remus hoped to get away with a polite nod, but she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed too hard. He had to answer the same. Why does everyone need to hug him when the ribs threaten to crack and stick sharp chips into the flesh?
“James, Peter, hello!”, she flew in. Remus began to suspect her. He turned to Lily, and she shook her head regretfully. Remus almost howled, it was necessary to rush to this meeting, until…
“Where Sirius?”
Well, fucking Merlin…
He can’t stand it.
Remus bypassed Lily and headed to the exit of the car, was trying to focus on dimensional tapping of the train and pushed heavy sighs of friends away to the background.
The feast in honour of the beginning of the year dragged on with an anxious low note, despite a very fast distribution procedure. Compared to previous years, the freshmans received much less, and therefore it became more drearly. Those who had the honour to study at Slytherin, hesitantly, cautiously looked around those attendees before going to the rearmost table. Well, no all, of course. There were also those who, after the announced verdict, changed beyond recognition, instantly pulling up their noses and putting on an arrogant expression.
The tense and stuffy atmosphere, cross-wary glances during Dumbledore’s speech, and even the food had a strange metallic taste.
Remus mostly kept silent and punctured peas on a fork. The whole circle of The Marauders and, it seems, the whole hall too knew tha Sirius didn’t arrive at Hogwarts. Remus could feel the eyes towards them, the mixed whispers hung over him with a white noise. Sirius-Sirius-Sirius. Only at one table, at which this name was tabooed, conversation revolved around completely different themes — probably even less pleasant.
“But Regulus is here, maybe, ask him?” McKinnon wouldn’t let up.
“He’ll tell us everything, yeah,” Mary looked evilly behind Remus’s back.
“Even if we can break through the tangle of bodyguards wrapping him, I doubt we’ll get any answer from him,” the depressed voice of a friend broke Remus. It was unbearable to see James in such a state.
“He’s using our anxiety against us,” Peter waver.
Remus, unable to stand it, turned one hundred and eighty degrees when everyone was watched for their almost full plates. And to his own surprise, he encountered Black Jr.'s icy eyes. He looked as if he heard their every word, his sharp chin moved up contemptuously. He squinted slightly, and several small wrinkles gathered on the thin bridge of his nose. One-on-one like Sirius when he squinted. Or laughed.
Remus’s throat was dry. But there was something that Regulus didn’t look away. Something dormant, patient… Remus repeated his gesture — barely noticeably pulled his chin, but without neglect. Everyone around Slytherin was absorbed by some kind of vigorous discussion. Regulus briefly looked out over them, and then, returning the eye contact, blinked slowly and eloquently. And Remus felt better overnight, he grabbed the air, as if he had swam out for a moment from under the water column.
Sirius is all right.
They haven’t seen each other since mid-summer. They didn’t communicate. Sirius wrote only one letter [of course, to James], consisting of two lines in addition to the signature.
I won’t disappear.
See you at Hogwarts.
Self-confident Sirius Black, who doesn’t acknowledge that he’s in shit, even if he’s waist-deep in it. Remus very successfully chased away all thoughts about their last evening. He occupied himself with books, textbooks on the program of the next academic year and outside of it, wrote essays for the drawer. He nor skimped his brain in tons of information, only to fall exhausted on the bed and fall asleep right away. Remus knew that he would have time to torture himself as soon as he crossed the threshold of the Hogwarts Express compartment. But the closer he got, the clearler he realised that he didn’t feel Sirius. To some extent very deep inside he was happy. And he hated himself for it even more.
None of the Marauders has communicated with Sirius since that evening. But Remus didn’t communicate with him, so to speak, in a square. One reason is clear: Sirius’s mother would kill any owl that brought news from his “vile unworthy” friends. Another… another… Remus didn’t even want to remember. It was terrible. This reason included such contradictory conflicts accrued over the long time of their friendship that they cannot be explained so easily. Remus didn’t know what’s gotten into himself.
When the prefect’s duty was fulfilled — all freshmen sleep in their beds, and the bypass was over, Remus finally entered their room. Peter was already pedantically laying out his clothes on the shelves in his pyjamas, apparently leaving attempts to help himself with magic. James enthusiastically stared at the half-filled Quidditch training schedule. After that McGonagall [who was now nothing but a saint for James] took them aside and reported comforting news, the mood of all three improved significantly. Orion Black sent her a letter — Sirius will appear tomorrow or day after tomorrow, as soon as he gets better. He got sick.
Of course, it sounds like a complete lie, but at least clarity is better than lack of enlightenment.
Remus didn’t take clothes and other things, having prepared only textbooks and feathers for tomorrow, and, having borrowed the Cloak of Invisibility, went to the Astronomical Tower. James didn't mind, but offered his company if Remus waited until he was done with the schedule and wouldn't smoke on him.
“I won’t be long, Prongs. I’ll be back, you won’t have time to finish.”
Probably, James should have already had the tenth dream. Remus smoked the tenth cigarette. that’s right, he’s almost disabled anyway, he has to kill his lungs to hell.
In fact, Remus didn’t even drag on the cigarette anymore. He just held a smouldering cigarette in his teeth, leaning on a pleasantly cool wall, and stared where the horizon should have been. Not a single star flickered in the sky [very symbolic], and the land merged with the sky in continuous impenetrable darkness. Questions against his will fought against each other in the skull and at the collision seemed to multiply in geometric progression.
What will he say to Sirius? Will Sirius talk to him? Maybe he won’t look at him at all now? Or what if he didn’t understand anything then? And if he realised it, would he tell the others? And if he realised, why did he react so sharply? So rude?
Yes, they were constantly fighting like dogs [very ironically] with each other. It means, they're two. James always acted between them as a buffer, an airbag. Peter tried not to shine. But these were such trifles, compared to everything that connected them.
Although, obviously, the best friend for Sirius was James and vice versa. “Best friend” doesn’t even really reflect the whole picture, rather they were relatives, brothers not by birth, twins. They had this inexplicable mental connection with which they could communicate without words. He and Peter were always as if nearby, but one small step behind. And yet it seemed to Remus that Sirius was not closer to any of the Marauders than to him. And vice versa.
They had something only their personal, secret. In conversations in the same place in the Astronomical Tower, when they divided one cigarette into two. Sirius always saw through him, broke through the defence, pulling out his fears, doubts, and destroyed them with several phrases that hit the target. Only Sirius could calm his panic attacks, open the chains in which Remus chained himself.
“You’re not a monster, Moony. You are the brightest and most sympathetic person I know.”
Sirius was the first to guess about his illness. And immediately completely forbade calling this “feature” a disease. Convinced him to trust James and Peter. He came up with the idea of becoming Animagi to make it easier to endure the full moon, not to be alone. Sirius by his mere presence gave Remus a sense of integrity, support. His eyes always said “I’m near” and “You can handle it”.
Maybe there were simply no other miserable people around that Sirius could take care of. But it seems that the Hero Complex is on the part of James. Probably, Remus foolishly believed that he meant something to Sirius. He invented it himself — he offended himself, it’s called.
Because that’s when the end began. When Remus began to look for something more in those unimaginably deep gray eyes.
Sirius made several habits that have become vital for Remus. For example, to say "This is our Moony" and run your fucking aristocratic fingers through his tangled hair. Or put your hand on his shoulder and walk along the corridors like that. Allow himself to wipe the sauce left in the corner of his lips with his thumb, right in front of everyone in the Great Hall. Stroke the bare skin along the fresh wounds that appear in the morning in the Shrieking Shack. "I'm so sorry," says Sirius. And he's the only person who wasn't hit in the face by Rimus for such a thing. Is it worth mentioning that in the end Remus earned an arrhythmia that worsens at such moments? But the most ‘knocking ground out from under your feet’ deviation from the list is when they are alone and satisfied Sirius stretches in his incomparable pearly smile. When "This is our Moony" is not relevant. That's when it's born:
“This is my Moony.”
It's just not fair to say such a thing and not take any proper responsibility. Remus has never heard "This is our Wormtail" or "This is our Prongs". So what the hell, Sirius?! And what the hell you aren't in Hogwarts?..
No matter how much he was afraid of the meeting, Remus would prefer Sirius to be here. Would yell, and Remus would yell at him in response. So that they can understand, as always, all the misunderstandings. Maybe, they even had a real fight. They would release all the accumulated steam, split a cigarette and go to bed. As usual. But something told him that, as usual, it wouldn't happen anymore.
They had a good holiday with the Potters. Their joint July is already in full force. Quidditch in the backyard, unspoken absorption of Mrs. Potter's pies, board games, drinking a bottle of mead "borrowed" from Mr. Potter's office until midnight, exploring the neighbourhood in a circle, thinking over plans for the year.
Yes, this summer everything was darkened by thickening clouds over the magical community — it was impossible not to feel it. It permeated conversations in the kitchen behind a closed door, when the most different guests came to the Potters — the appearance of some people literally made them shiver more than the news they brought. In the headlines of the "Daily Prophet". As a precaution, with which they were released from the house. But they are Marauders, and when they are together, they can handle everything. And universal evil, and a mountain of pies.
And everything was relatively carefree until that evening, when a huge tawny owl landed on the window and interrupted their dinner with a deafening thunderous knock. Everyone knew who this owl belonged to. She terrified Remus, Sirius quite carelessly got up from the table and took the envelope, like the notorious subscription magazine, which you forget to cancel all the time. Everyone watched him open the letter, waiting for comments like "She is unhappy again, the threat of deprivation of inheritance, disappointment, threat of exile, accusation... yeah! Another threat!". But this time Sirius silently ran his eyes over a few lines. Remus's insides were confined every time he reached the end and began to read again with a more and more gloomy look. Sirius seemed to shrink, become more transparent. Everyone began to look at each other, but Remus looked only at him, at how Sirius began to shake.
“Sorry, I have to leave. Right now,” Remus has never heard his voice so cast with steel.
“Honey, what’s happened?” Euphemia asked annoy, with face no less pale than Sirius’s
Sirius just shook his head and with his eyes lowered rushed past them to the stairs to the second floor. For a moment, Remus saw the moisture in his eyes. Naturally, James was the first to go up after. The abandoned devices rang on the plate, but no one told him anything. Remus could also get up, overhear their conversation under the door or knock, all the insides demanded answers, wanted to know, wanted to help Sirius. But it was a common occurrence in their company: some things do not concern them and Peter. If Sirius needs someone now, it's James. Otherwise he would have called him, right? Yes, he needs an invitation, James doesn't. Peter completely sank, but looked at the uneaten cutlet, as if solving the problem in his head, whether it would be appropriate to continue eating in this situation.
Remus honestly kept himself in place, then went outside, moved away, because the window of Sirius's bedroom was on the same side, and smoked. But when he came back — on a platoon and for some reason now boiling with anger — he confidently went upstairs. From the bedroom there was only a rumble accompanying the collection of things scattered all over the room, and two steps away from the door, how it opened, letting the absolutely lost James out.
“He has to return home immediately,” James whispered aloof.
“I already understood that. Why?” he almost roared when James looked up at him helplessly, saying he had no right to tell or didn’t really understand himself, “Fuck you.”
And Remus, without knocking, broke into the bedroom, ignoring Potter's warnings. Sirius was running from corner to corner, picking up clothes. His out-of-control magic threw things past the suitcase or sent them on a journey around the room, and they rushed over it like blagers. Sirius didn't look at him, trying to get rid of the chaos. But he knew that Remus was here. Remus hoped that he just decided to take a break, so he stopped with his back to him, leaning one palm against the wall and the other tiredly dury into his long black hair. Not because he's going to get him out of here.
“Sirius, what’s going on? If you say again that you need to leave, I won’t be held responsible for myself.”
Sirius didn’t answer, pushed away from the wall and continued to catch flying clothes. It pissed the beast off even more.
“Padfoot,” he grabbed Black by the sleeve of his unbuttoned shirt, forcing him to look at him, “I won’t let you go. Explain to me.”
Sirius turned to him. With such a favour and a rare, but characteristic caustic grin, not foreshadowing anything good, as if he was waiting for this reason to pour out overwhelming emotions.
“Why do you need to stick your nose into not your business? I understand, manners are not your thing, but you could have already taken over a couple of chips.”
Remus wasn’t even surprised.
“Not my business? You know, fuck you.”
“Fuck you.”
“You’re my business, Sirius!”
Stop, what did he just say? It could have sounded differently, in a friendly way. But it didn't sound like that. Remus looked madly at Sirius's naked torso — the most inopportune moment! Black frantically threw off his hand.
“Isn't It? The fact that I'm babysitting your shit doesn't mean I have to report mine to you. For so many years, you should have understood this.”
Sirius returned to the suitcase, starting to desperately close it with what was there. Apparently, thus showing that the conversation is over with his last word. But Remus couldn't stop anymore.
“Babysitting?! Oh, yes, how could I forget! Sirius Black enjoys twisting other people's souls, but let him into his own? No! We are so fucking noble and thoroughbred! I never asked for help. It was your initiative.”
“So it was a mistake!” Sirius shouted at him with a tear, and turned away again... “Who knew that a wolf could become attached.”
Remus was familiar with the pain. I was with her on "you". It became his fellow traveller from early childhood. But now he couldn't remember that he had ever been so hurt, except... no, not now. As if a whole hole of an ordinary gun was discharged into his chest. Because wounds from words sometimes cause more harm than magic. He couldn't speak anymore because of a sickening iron-flavoured lump approaching his throat. Sirius exhaled noisily and dropped his head in his palm.
“Leave me alone,” in a devastated tone — the last thing Black told him before Remus flew out the door.