Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling.
A/N: It's been 3 years since I've written anything, and nearly 5 years since I've written any R/S. Let's see if I remember how to do this…
Try
By Sinnamon Spider
The shouts and curses of the Death Eaters disappeared as quickly as they'd started, a series of loud cracks of Disapparation echoing down the alley where the Marauders and Lily Evans crouched, hidden in the shadows, hardly daring to breathe. They had barely outrun the gang of Voldemort's cronies, a gang that had outnumbered them three to one.
It hadn't been much of a fight at all; more like a desperate escape attempt. They had thrown a handful of spells at the Death Eaters before running as fast as they could, streaking through dusky London into the refuge of the darkness and the narrow alley where they now straightened and took inventory of themselves, free from the pursuit of their enemies.
His chest heaving from the exertion of their flight, Remus began to laugh.
The others exchanged wary glances as they collapsed against walls and dustbins. The only Marauder prone to dark, sarcastic laughter was Sirius, when in one of his Black moods. But not Remus. Never Remus.
James, ever the brave one, ventured first. "Uh…Remus?"
"God, we are all so stupid."
Still chuckling morbidly, Remus turned to address them. "We are all so, so stupid. Even me. Especially me."
"Wh-what do you mean?" Peter stammered, watching the laughing werewolf.
But Remus just shook his head, his twisted amusement finally fading. He would not be the one to lay bare the bones of how truly idiotic the whole lot of them were. Not now, at least.
Lily raised concerned eyebrows at James, who turned and shot a similar look at Sirius, who was still watching Remus with confusion written on his handsome face.
"Well, we're alive," said James briskly, taking control. "That's the important thing. We need to check in at headquarters, tell them what happened. And then we'll just go home, and try again tomorrow…"
His words faded away as he listened to how trite and useless they sounded. Shaking his head, he heaved himself up from the wall, and led the way out of the dark alley.
The front door of their flat slammed open, the handle on the inside leaving a gouge in the wall. Remus stormed through, heading straight for the bathroom and slamming that door shut. After a few silent minutes, the shower started to run.
Sirius hovered in the open doorway, unsure of his next move. He came inside, shutting the door quietly behind him, and quickly examining the dent in the wall. It was easily repairable, but he left it for the time being.
He, too, wanted to strip off the bloody, dusty, sweaty robes and take a shower, wash away the day's failure beneath steaming water. But with Remus' odd mood, he wasn't going to take any chances. He moved into the kitchen instead, pulling open the fridge and looking inside.
The other half of the sandwich he'd abandoned when they 'd gotten the Patronus sat on a plate in the fridge. He hadn't put it there; no doubt Remus had done it, knowing Sirius' love of a well-made sandwich. Sirius took the plate, sitting at the kitchen table and slowly eating the remaining half, listening all the while for the shower to stop running.
When it did, he stood and retrieved two beers from the fridge, cracking them open with a flick of his wand and setting them on the table.
Remus emerged from the bathroom, a cloud of steam following him, wet hair hanging down to his shoulders and a towel wrapped firmly around his waist. In normal circumstances, Sirius would have made a lewd comment and pounced on the other man. But even Sirius could recognize that this was no time for such things.
Remus' face was no longer tense with anger and derision, but haggard and grey. The shower had drained him of his rage, leaving him limp and exhausted with fear. He looked as though the full moon had been the night before.
Sirius didn't speak; he indicated the open beer on the table. Remus collapsed into the chair, his hands straying to the bottle, but not lifting it to his lips. His delicate fingers picked idly at the label.
Sirius sat down opposite him, watching carefully. Eventually, he realized that he would have to make the first move. "Remus, what's wro –"
"We're idiots, Sirius, complete idiots!" The words burst forth, as Sirius had known they would. "We're idiots and we're only alive because we're lucky idiots."
"What do you –"
"We thought we were ready," Remus said bitterly, that dark laughter returning to his eyes, but not his mouth. "We thought we were brilliant. Graduated top of our classes, so smart without even trying – well, except Peter. How brilliant we were. How brave, to fight for our cause."
He looked up at Sirius, amber eyes burning. "How many of those spells did you know, Sirius?"
"I don't –"
"Half of them were non-verbal, I've no idea what they were. And half of the ones we could hear, I didn't even recognize. Have you ever come across spells like that? Have you, or I, or James ever even stopped to consider that there might be something we didn't know?"
Sirius did not try this time.
"We are so unprepared. We know nothing about fighting, nothing about spells and curses like that. Are we even ready to know? Are any of us? D'you think Lily could ever use an Unforgivable? D'you think Peter could? I don't think I could. We thought this was going to be like battling the Slytherins, a few hexes here and there and we walk away, victorious. We thought we were ready, but we are so not ready it's painful to even contemplate. We are idiots, idiots for ever thinking we could have been ready for this."
The rush of anger left him pale and shaking and the beer bottle slipped from his fingers to smash on the floor.
Sirius said nothing, staring down at the table. He was lost for words; one of the few times in his life he had found himself so. He didn't know what to say – a loud voice in his head screamed for him to rebuff Remus, tell him he was paranoid, tell him not to worry, that they were the Marauders, that they could and would face anything and everything and come out glorious, like they always had. But a softer, quieter voice – and all the more pervasive for its gentleness – insisted that Remus was right. That they were stupid and unprepared, too high on the glory of their school years to realize that the world outside Hogwarts was far more cruel and unforgiving than they had ever imagined.
His silence rang through the tiny kitchen, until Remus growled "Exactly. You know I'm right." He picked up Sirius' wand and jabbed it at the mess of broken glass and beer on the floor, causing the beer to disappear and the glass to dump itself in the rubbish bin.
Sirius looked up at Remus' pale face and tense lips. He stretched a hand across the table, both looking for comfort and seeking to provide it. His hand settled on Remus' clenched fist, resting on the table, and soothed over the tightly coiled fingers, caressing gently, trying to convey peace and reassurance that he didn't feel inside.
"We'll try, Remus," he said finally. "All we can do is try."
At his touch, at his words, Remus crumbled; his fear overtaking his anger, his desire to be comforted and told that everything was fine outweighing his disgust and dismay at their woeful lack of understanding. He slumped forward, head dropping to thud gently on the table, his shoulders quivering as he tried to control himself.
But he always lost control at Sirius' touch. Sirius, so full of emotion that it leaked through his very skin, could always ensure that Remus lost his ironclad grip on himself with the gentlest brush of Sirius' fingers, whether with lust or anguish, or anything in between.
Sirius could feel the tremors shake the table, and he removed his hand, standing and walking around the table. The kitchen chair was too small for two of them, so he grabbed his wand and Vanished it from underneath Remus, catching him as he fell and cradling him on the floor.
He wrapped himself around Remus as tightly as he could, rewarded when Remus fisted a hand in his soiled robes and held on tighter, his body quaking. Sirius rocked gently, back and forth, burying his face in the wet hair and muttering nonsense under his breath.
He didn't know how long they sat there, curled together like frightened puppies.
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