Title: Some Dream By Day
Author: remuslives23
Rating: Hard R/Low NC17
Contains: Sexual Content, Strong Language (including derogatory terms), Infidelity, Physical and Emotional Abuse, Discussion of Addictions, Smoking
Word Count: 10696
Summary: "Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act out their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible." - TE Lawrence.
Notes: Non-magic AU written for the rs_games. Thank you to dogsunderfoot for her sharp eye and encouragement. I chose to look to the entire song for inspiration rather than just the chorus. You can find the full lyrics here.
Prompt: 23) Oh, take this longing from my tongue, Whatever useless things these hands have done, Let me see your beauty broken down, Like you would do for one you love

Fingers scrabbled against the wall, nails scratching lines in the already flaking paint, and tiny chips flecking the stained, smelly carpet like dandruff. Noise from the street trickled into the room through the loose window that rattled with even the lightest breeze, underscoring the dull repetitive thud as flesh slapped against flesh in an unmistakable beat. Low moans of illicit pleasure and raspy respiration mingled to create the rhythm for the men's encounter, the duet of bit back cries and drawn out groans signaling the crescendo before they stuttered into silence.

Hitching breaths gradually evened out then came the susurrus sound of fabric sliding over skin as clothing that had been hastily shoved aside was tugged back into place. Hair was smoothed, skin examined for tell tale marks, clothes checked for stains that could give them away. Then, with the quick, awkward farewell of two strangers who aren't quite sure how they found themselves in this situation, they parted, with no intention of ever seeing each other again.

o0o

"What do you think of the dress, darling?"

Sirius Black looked up from his newspaper, surprised by the unusual endearment, and, with a great effort, smiled. "That is... just lovely," he told his bride-to-be, swallowing back his immediate horror at her armful of frilly, flouncy fabric. "You'll look beautiful."

"It's not for me," she chided, stroking a hand over the lurid pink material. "It's for the bridesmaids."

"Well, they'll look beautiful then," he said, giving the fabric a final disbelieving glance before he met the vexed green eyes of his fiancée.

"But will they look better than me?" she fretted, clearly waiting for Sirius to offer reassurance.

Sirius sighed and obediently gave her another wide smile. "No one will look better than you," he told her. "You're the bride – no one is allowed to look more beautiful than the bride."

"You're supposed to say that it's not possible for anyone to look more beautiful than your bride," a hard voice admonished.

Sirius looked at the dark-haired woman at the other end of the dining table then turned back to his fiancée and said robotically, "It is not possible for anyone to look more beautiful than you, Amy."

Amy raised an eyebrow and gave him a sly smile before planting a dutiful kiss on his cheek. As she hurried from the room, Sirius wiped his cheek and grimaced at the spit and lipstick smeared across his hand before glaring at his mother.

"Your manners need polishing, Sirius," she said, eyes on the social pages of the paper as she sipped at the tea in her bone-china cup.

Sirius ignored her, folding his newspaper and pushing himself to his feet. As he turned to leave the room, his mother said in a deceptively calm voice, "Where were you last night?"

Sirius froze, ensuring his face was perfectly blank before he spun on his heel to face her. "I told you I was going out," he said blandly.

"Amy's father told me you'd turned down their invitation to dinner," Walburga Black said, her cold grey eyes immobilising her son as effectively as a steel trap. "What exactly did you need to do that was more important than forging a personal relationship with the parents of your fiancée?"

Sirius' lips curled a little in disgust. "Just about anything else would have been more palatable than spending the evening with Amy and her parents," he retorted, raising his chin defiantly. "This marriage doesn't require any personal involvement beyond me looking good on Amy's arm at the next dinner party, and us providing the requisite heir and spare for our social-climbing, money-hungry families."

The very expensive tea cup clattered onto the saucer hard enough to crack the fine china, and his mother stood stiffly. "You will apologise to Mr and Mrs Rockinghurst for your rudeness," she demanded, holding her head high as she moved towards him, "and you will arrange to have dinner with them another evening."

"I won't apologise for not wanting to be bored to death by people who talk simply to hear their own voices," Sirius said petulantly. "It would be different if what they were saying was remotely intelligent..."

Her hand shot out so quickly Sirius didn't register seeing it until his head snapped to the side and he felt the sting across his cheek. He tasted the metallic tang of blood on his tongue and swallowed before he turned back to face his mother's wrath.

"You will keep your ignorant opinions to yourself if you value your place in this family," Walburga hissed, her eyes – so much like Sirius' own – flashing in anger. "Thanks to your father's weakness, we need this match. You will fulfill your duty as a Black heir, and you will ensure the continuing financial and social security of this family. You will be charming and polite with the Rockinghursts at all times, and you will graciously do what is expected of you in order to bring our families together."

"For the good of everyone?" Sirius said hoarsely, his jaw clenched tight with resentment and anger.

"Yes," his mother said, and Sirius let out a sharp bark of laughter.

"And what about me?" he snapped, furious at the increasingly familiar feeling of hopelessness that welled inside him. "What about what's good for me?"

"Most young men would be grateful for lifelong financial security, flawless social standing, and a beautiful wife," Walburga retorted, staring at him with ill-disguised disgust. "What more could you possibly want, Sirius?"

She brushed past him with a sweep of expensive fabric, and Sirius sank into his chair. "Yeah," he muttered to himself. "What more could I want?"

o0o

Neither was sure if their second meeting outside the tube was fate's intervention or whether one or both of them had willed it to happen, but neither cared to question it as they tumbled onto a bed in the nearest hotel. Sirius tongued a pink nipple as his fingers slid inside an eager body, muscles flexing and squeezing, and when he buried himself in that slick heat, his mind whited out with the intense pleasure of touching-tasting-smelling maleall around him. Throaty moans and low masculine growls urged him on and, as he came with a force that ripped the breath from his lungs, he howled in rarely felt exhilaration.

Afterwards, they shared a cigarette on the way back to the subway, and Sirius watched him leave – guitar case in hand - after casually mentioning his intention to catch the train around the same time the next day.

o0o

Remus Lupin plucked a chord on his guitar then nodded before he picked up a pencil and scribbled down the next notes in the melody he'd been working on. Throwing the pencil back down on the paper-strewn bed, he strummed the first few completed bars of the song, and smiled.

'"That's the one," he murmured, repositioning his fingers to begin again.

"I wish you'd spend as much time looking for work as you do mucking about on that thing," came a disapproving voice.

Remus sighed quietly and forced a smile onto his face. "Hi, Joe," he said, shifting his guitar off his lap. "I didn't hear you come home."

"Your mother was calling you for dinner," Joe Curry said, his gaze roaming around Remus' shabby bedroom. 'Did you go out at all today?"

"I did," Remus said wearily, pushing himself to his feet and rummaging through his coat pocket. He pulled out a handful of rumpled bank notes and held them out to his stepfather. "I did some busking. This should cover my share of the rent this week."

Joe took the cash and shoved it into his trouser pocket after a careful count. "Busking?" he sneered, shaking his head. "You're twenty-one years old. Isn't it about time you got a real job?"

"I'm paying my way," Remus objected, irritated by the old argument. "Why do you care where the money comes from?"

Joe snorted and glared at him, but Remus was unaffected; his step-father's approval something he had long since given up on. "Tell mum I'll be down after I wash up," he said, turning his back on the other man. "And I told her I'd be giving you money for board tonight so see that she gets it rather than it going to the slapper on the corner, yeah?"

Joe scowled, but didn't bother to deny the accusation, watching as Remus carefully moved his guitar to its case. "You know, you'll never get a bird if you keep up with this fairy folk singer rubbish."

"Women like musicians, don't they?"

"They like a man who can put food on the table more."

Remus peered over his shoulder and looked the other man up and down, taking in the shabby clothes, the too-long hair, and the eau du whiskey cologne. "They like youwell enough."

Joe's lip curled. "You're a little shit, Remus," he spat. "I'm only letting you stay on because your mum can't see what a bastard you are. The second you miss paying your weekly board, you're out of here."

"Yeah," Remus muttered, breathing a resigned sigh as Joe left him alone. "And I can't wait."

o0o

Remus sank to his knees, sliding his hands along the strong, quivering thighs before him before leaning in and lashing his tongue over the hot skin. A groan and a not-subtle tilt of hips made Remus' cock throb, and he wasted no time, trailing his tongue along skin peppered with fine hair until he reached a thick thatch of wiry curls. He buried his face in the nest, silky skin wrapped around steel stroking his cheek as he breathed in deep. The scent of musk and salt tickled his nostrils, and his tongue snuck out to taste the tantalising perfume that was overwhelming his every sense.

"Please," came the hoarse whisper from above, and Remus smiled before he took the thick erection deep into the wet warmth of his mouth.

He was surprised by the goodbye kiss – their first – as he opened the door of his friend's borrowed bedsit, but sank into it, tasting smoke and come and the salt from his own skin. They left with a tentative time and date for their fourth meeting, and a little voice inside each of their heads screaming, 'What the hell are you doing?"

o0o

"And this?"

Sirius stifled his sigh and took the antique pocket watch from his father's hands. He'd grown up in this store, spent his life learning everything there was to know about the business he couldn't wait to take over; a business that might be snatched out from under him.

"John Arnold timepiece, circa late 1700's," he answered, sliding the pad of his thumb over the curve of the watch that had been passed down through the Black family, that had been willed to the eldest son of each generation on the occasion of his wedding. It was beautiful and had been a constant throughout Black history. When he was younger and less jaded, Sirius imagined that, by just holding it, the love and happiness it had absorbed in the past would be transferred to him.

It had been a lovely fantasy.

"Good." Orion Black nodded in approval and retrieved the watch. He stared at it for a few seconds then returned it to it's velvet covered box with trembling hands that were a sure sign that his morning tipple of scotch was overdue. Sirius clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to rail and rant at the other man for his weaknesses, for allowing his addictions to fast money and booze to ruin what had been one of the most respected names in the antique business.

Not to mention forcing Sirius into a joyless sham of a marriage.

"How... how are the wedding plans coming along?" Orion asked, stumbling over his words as a thin sheen of sweat beaded on his brow. "You're making a fine match there."

Sirius shook his head. "You know I don't want this," he said resentfully, not bothering with any pretense. "You know I don't love her."

Orion let out a sharp bark of laughter, turning away to place the pocket watch in the wall safe. "Love," he said scornfully, "is a ridiculous notion poets and musicians utilise to sell their work to similarly minded fools. You've no need for love when you have power and status, Sirius."

He looked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at his son. "And the Rockinghursts have power and status. You will not ruin your mother's accomplishment in securing this match by sprouting fanciful nonsense about love."

Sirius bit his lip then blurted out, "I don't likewomen."

His father stilled for a long moment then closed the safe, replacing the painting in front of it before he turned back to Sirius. "Then be discreet when you take your lovers," he said, voice like steel as his eyes burned into Sirius. "This is not a game, Sirius. You hold the future of your family, your children's future, in your hands. I don't care what you need to do, what you need to imagine, in order to perform your duties as a husband, but you will do it because the Black legacy must continue. You will marry the Rockinghurst girl, you will do whatever you need to do in order to provide an heir, and you will be very, very careful about anyone else you allow into your bed. Have I made myself clear?"

Sirius didn't know why he'd expected anything less. "Crystal," he ground out before turning on his heel and stalking from the room.

o0o

Remus' fingers clenched in the sheets as, with a final brutal thrust, he came with enough force to wrench a cry from his tightly closed lips. He collapsed onto the hot, sweaty body below him, panting hard as shuddering aftershocks juddered through him. The ring of muscles surrounding his spent cock contracted and rippled around him until he couldn't take the tiny jags of pleasure-pain any longer. He let himself slide from its embrace as his parted lips dragged over damp skin, tongue tracing the protruding curve of a shoulder blade, teeth closing gently over the knob of vertebrae at the nape, tongue lapping over lust-flushed flesh.

This was their fourth meeting. This time, they'd had longer in which to make new discoveries – a ticklish spot on an inside thigh, a hiss and gasp as teeth scraped over a clavicle – as well as revisiting familiar spots that had already been thoroughly explored.

They lay together now, naked and soaked with sweat and saliva and come, and stared at the smoke-stained ceiling of the cheap, rent-by-the-hour hotel room.

"One offs aren't supposed to happen more than once, right?" Remus asked, his voice still hoarse from the earlier begging and pleading as his body was worshiped by a talented tongue.

"Yeah."

Remus swallowed hard to coat his raw throat. "So... what's this then?"

Long fingers tangled with his own, curling around his hand and squeezing lightly. Sirius met Remus' gaze and held it as he rolled onto his side and pressed their lips together. "An affair," he whispered before dragging his lips over Remus' throat. "A cheap and tawdry affair."

Remus tilted his head back, sighed softly when Sirius lapped at the hollow at the base of his throat. "Should we stop? Not see each other again? Can't imagine your fiancéewould be best pleased about this."

Sirius' hand trailed lazily along Remus' thigh as his breath teased a nipple. "Yes," he answered on an exhale before taking the hardening bud between his lips. "We should stop."

Remus lost track of the conversation for a moment as spikes of renewed want streaked through him then, when Sirius let his nipple slide out of his mouth, he gasped out, "Will we?"

With an abrupt twist of his body, Sirius moved to straddle Remus. Bracing his hands on Remus' chest, he sat up and rocked his hips. Remus groaned as their sticky cocks rubbed together, the coarse friction sending a jolt of electricity up his spine.

"No," Sirius said, softly, but firmly, his grey eyes staring at Remus, intoRemus. "No, we aren't going to stop."

He leaned over and kissed any forming objections from Remus' lips. "Play for me?" he whispered into Remus' mouth. He pulled back and leaned over the edge of the bed to grasp the neck of the guitar Remus was never without. "Something you wrote yourself."

"How do you know I write?"

Sirius smiled. "I can see it in your eyes," he said, holding out the instrument. "You look like all your dreams have come true when you play and I know you'd want to share them, to share how happy you are, with the world." His smile waned. "I don't think I have that. Something I'm so passionate about that I want to shout it from the rooftops. I envy you that feeling."

Remus smiled up at him. "I've heard the way you talk about your family business," he argued. "You love all that old stuff."

"Antiques," Sirius stressed, looking pained by Remus' off-hand description. "Beautifully preserved relics of the past, infused with memories of love and laughter."

Remus considered Sirius for a moment then sat up and pulled the guitar into his lap to rest on the tops of Sirius' thighs. "One day, we'll run away together. I'll write you a song," he whispered, almost to himself, "and we can make some of those happy memories together."

Sirius smiled crookedly and pressed his lips against Remus' damp hair. "I'd really like that."

o0o

Remus crouched beside his open guitar case, scooping the coins within into a calico bag as his guitar bumped against his back. "Not bad," he said under his breath. He folded the few notes he'd earned and shoved them straight into his jacket pocket before he straightened and swung his guitar around to rest against his hip, slipping the pick out from under the strings. Another train would be coming into the station soon, and he hoped the rush hour crowd was feeling generous on this Friday evening.

He plucked experimentally at the strings, the low twang bringing a flash of memory that made him smile: playing naked in bed, watching Sirius lazily stroking himself back to hardness as he hummed along with Remus' random rhythm. A frown of concentration furrowed Remus' brow as he spontaneously tried out a new combination of chords, a song of want and need and love coming together almost effortlessly as the six-ten train pulled in and the passengers disembarked. Coins jangled into the guitar case, but Remus didn't notice, lost inside the song of Sirius until he felt the prickle of awareness that had drawn him to the other man on that very first day in this same exact spot.

Remus looked up and saw the stationary man in the sea of movement. He smiled.

o0o

"I love your hands." Sirius traced the curve of the life line that streaked across Remus' palm then rubbed at a callous before threading their fingers together. "Strong, and not soft. And your fingers are so long, so good for probing..."

Remus snorted out his amusement and indolently smacked Sirius over the head with his free hand. "Musician's hands," he said, staring at their joined hands. "Useless, my step-father says. Not good enough to earn a 'proper, manly living'."

Sirius laughed at the nasal Cockney twang Remus adopted for his quoted words and raised their hands to his mouth. "I love them," he mumbled, brushing a kiss over a healing cut on Remus' knuckle. "Don't listen to him."

Remus cast a pointed look at Sirius, who rolled his eyes as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the rumpled bed. "Go on then," he said with a sigh. "Say it."

"Say what?"

"That I'm a dirty great hypocrite for telling you not to listen to your stepfather when I'm doing exactly what my mummy and daddy tell me and signing my life away to that harpy so they can get better seats at the opera?"

"You don't think you're being a little over-dramatic?"

Sirius glared indignantly at Remus. "They expect me to marry that daft blonde twit and, not content with me simply pretending to be enraptured by my new wife, they expect me to actually fuck her and produce offspring. I don't think I'm being overly dramatic at all!"

"No," Remus murmured. "Not at all." He stretched, watching Sirius' arse as he bent over to pick up his pants. "So don't marry her."

"I have to."

"Why?"

"It's complicated..." Sirius pulled up his trousers. "I... You wouldn't understand."

Remus sat up, the sheets pooling around his hips. "You're right," he said darkly. "I don't understand how you can allow your family to push you around when you're so opposed to this, how you can let them make decisions about your future and you just accept it."

Sirius twisted around to glare at Remus. "You don't get it," he snapped, yanking his shirt over his head. "Without this marriage, my family will lose everything. The business, my inheritance, my mother's precious social standing which, to be honest, I couldn't give a crap about..."

"So, you're selling your happiness, your heart, for cold, hard cash?" Remus asked, adding acerbically, "What does a soul go for these days?"

Sirius clenched his jaw tight, his eyes flashing hot and furious. "You don't have a clue what you are talking about. Who are you to criticise, anyway? You want to sing, to write, to be someone, but you're still singing on an underground train platform that smells like piss and vomit."

He snatched up his shoes and socks, and grabbed his jacket. With one last hard glare at a livid Remus, he ground out, "When you're done judging me, give me a call."

"I would," Remus called after him angrily, "but you've never bothered to give this dirty little secret your phone number!"

The only response was the slamming of the door.

o0o

"That is unacceptable," Rufus Rockinghurst boomed, stabbing a sausage-like finger at Walburga Black. "Amy's inheritance and trust funds will remain her own, separate to the joint marital assets."

"We are willing to provide for Amy and any children out of Sirius' trust fund..." Walburga countered coolly, colour rising in her cheeks when Rufus laughed scornfully.

"From what I hear, if we refuse to allow this marriage, Sirius' trust fund will soon be nothing more than empty liquor bottles and betting slips," he said with a self-satisfied smirk,

Sirius tried to hide his wince, but realised he hadn't been successful when his mother glared daggers at him before forcing a smile at the pompous Rufus. "You know better than to listen to rumour, Rufus," she said disdainfully, waving a pale, crimson-nailed hand at the financial documents littering the desk. "The business is going through a slow turn right now, but Sirius has some marvelous marketing plans ready to put into place once he takes over."

"The only reason I've allowed this arrangement is because Orion's father was friends with mine, and his good name deserves a chance to regain its former standing," Rufus said cuttingly. "Siriushad damn well better know what he's doing."

"I do," Sirius snapped then flinched as his mother's pointed heel came down on his foot under the table.

"Sirius learned the business at his father's knee,' Walburga said, but Rufus snorted and reached for a cigar.

"That's not exactly a shining reference," he said before striking a match. "I'd like to install a manager to keep an eye on him. Someone I trust to know what they are doing."

Sirius felt his chest constrict, lungs working harder and harder with each inhalation. As his mother and future father-in-law argued over his future, Sirius felt the little control he had over his life slipping away.

It's always going to be like this. I'm constantly going to have to prove myself. Remus was right – how can I allow this?

His hand shook as he reached for his glass of red wine, downing the contents in one gulp before reaching for the bottle. He missed Remus. It had been almost two weeks since they'd parted so acrimoniously, and Sirius had missed him every minute. It was a lonely ache that pervaded every part of him, and he longed to see Remus' smile, to touch his skin, to taste him and feel him inside of him. He couldn't do this without Remus.

"Sirius!"

He jolted back to awareness, his wine spilling like blood over his hand. "Pardon?" he asked, remembering his manners just in time to avoid further angering his mother.

"That is your third glass," she said, through obviously gritted teeth. "I think you have had enough, don't you?"

Before he could agree or disagree, Rufus added, "Someone with your family history should abstain from alcohol altogether." He smiled condescendingly. "Your name doesn't need for any more mud to stick, does it?"

Sirius stared at him for a long moment then stood abruptly. "I have to go."

"Sirius..."

"Where do you think...?"

"Out!" Sirius shouted as he almost ran from the room.

He couldn't recall how he'd gotten to the Tube, but felt the tension drain from his body the moment he heard Remus' Manchester lilt caressing the beautifully crafted lyrics of an original piece he'd once played for Sirius. He stood back and listened, letting the words wash soothingly over his jangling nerves, then waited until the gathered crowd dispersed before approaching Remus uncertainly. Remus was bent over his guitar case, but looked up at the sound of Sirius' footsteps. His half-formed smile faded into a look of wary expectation, as he straightened.

"Hello, Sirius," he said gruffly, and Sirius's breath juddered from between his lips at the sound of his name falling from those lips.

"Remus... God," he whispered, a spark of hope flaring when he saw the concern that flickered across Remus' face. "I need you. I..." His courage was failing, and he wasn't ashamed to beg. "Please?"

Remus eyed him cautiously then quickly packed up his guitar, snapping the case shut. He jerked his head towards the exit. "Come on then," he said grudgingly, letting Sirius chase him as he strode away from the platform.

o0o

The door had barely shut behind them when Sirius slammed Remus into the wall, hands frantic and lips needy. His teeth closed around Remus' lower lip, the sharp tang of blood coating his taste buds before Remus fought back, shoving Sirius roughly up against the door.

"Fucker," he hissed, hands making short work of Sirius' fly. His fingers pushed inside Sirius' underwear, jerking his already hard cock roughly. Sirius' head fell back, cracking painfully against the wood. His knees weakened, but Remus pinned him to the door with a hand on his chest as he bit his mark into Sirius' neck.

"Two weeks," he growled into Sirius' skin as he rutted furiously against Sirius' hip. "You stayed away for two fucking weeks."

"I'm sorry," Sirius gasped out, clutching at Remus' jacket and twisting the fabric in his fist as his orgasm began to unfurl at the base of his spine. "Missed you so much."

Remus dove in and kissed him, an angry clash of teeth and vicious tongue thrusts, and Sirius shouted out his almost painfully intense release, letting himself drown in all he'd been craving so desperately. Remus cried out a moment later, his hand squeezing tight around Sirius' still-pulsing shaft as he rocked through his orgasm.

They slumped together, breath hot and moist on each other's skin. Sirius turned his head, brushing his lips tentatively over the sensitive spot behind Remus' ear. Remus' breathing hitched, and Sirius smiled, the feeling of hopelessness that had plagued him since leaving his house lifting.

"Missed you too," Remus muttered, and Sirius tightened his grip on the other man.

"I wish I was brave enough to just walk away," he whispered, combing his fingers through the curling ends of Remus' hair. "I wish I could be brave and just leave like you talk about doing."

Remus sighed and lifted his head. "A man with nothing has nothing to lose, Sirius," he said soberly, cupping Sirius' face with his clean hand. "I have no right to tell you how to live your life."

"You do," Sirius protested. "You have..."

Remus shook his head, sliding his sticky hand from Sirius' pants. "I'm the bit on the side, Sirius," he said, self-mockingly. "I don't get any rights."

"That's not what you are," Sirius insisted fervently, grabbing the front of Remus' shirt and dragging him against his chest. "You are everythingto me."

Remus gave Sirius a heartbreakingly tender kiss then extricated himself gently. "No, I'm not," he said regretfully. 'If I was, you wouldn't have had anything to apologise for."

o0o

"He just wants the best for you, Remus," Ellen Lupin sighed, pleading with her weary blue eyes for Remus to understand. "He gets... frustrated when you talk back to him like you did."

Remus let the packet of frozen peas fall from his face, taking a perverse pleasure in watching his mother's face crumple with guilt and despair. "He's a prick," he said dully, tossing the peas into the sink then turning to grab his coat from the back of the kitchen chair. "He's a prick and a drunk and I'm sick of you making excuses for him."

"Don't talk about your father like that!"

"He's not my father!" Remus yelled, anger surging and burning through his body like fire. "Don't you dare call that bastard my father. My father would never spend the food money on booze, he would never be late for your birthday dinner because he was having it off with the whore down the street, and he would never, everlay a hand on me."

She was sobbing now, streams of tears and snot wetting her face as she clutched desperately at his shirt. Remus looked down at her and wondered when she became so small, so pathetic. "He's worried about you," she insisted, sniffing loudly and staring imploringly up at him. "He thinks you're throwing your life away. He just doesn't know how to express his concern."

"Oh, I think he got his point across," Remus snarled, tilting his head so she couldn't miss the bruise that was swelling his cheek and blackening his eye. "He's not worried about me, mum. He's pissed off because I didn't make enough money to cover board this week."

"Remus, you need to find a proper job," she said, her hands fluttering nervously between his cheek and his hair. "You need to give up on this dream of earning money playing music and find some real work. Everything will be alright if you..."

He scowled and grabbed her wrists, pulling her hands away from him. "Dad used to tell me to follow my dreams," he snapped, brushing roughly past her as he headed for the door.

"Dreams are for the wealthy, Remus," she said from the doorway, watching him hesitate on the front stoop. "We ordinary folk can't afford to have them."

The last threads of respect he held for her snapped as she cast the final vestiges of his father's kind-hearted optimism to the wind. He glared balefully at her over his shoulder then slammed the front door behind him.

TBC