This is a sequel to another Prompt, "Purple".
Morning is cold at Hogwarts in the winter; picaresque. Beautiful as ice. Remus once heard the ghosts talking about Hogwarts as a 'she', and 'she' certainly seems it like this. A frozen goddess, a monolith, spread over so much land, holding so many secrets. Deathly, and beautiful, and old.
But then maybe Remus reads too much into it.
He didn't sleep the night before; there were always reasons to stay awake, and he can never find a moment's peace before the others go to sleep. He woke at three in the morning and has been pacing and fretting ever since, twiddling his thumbs and pretending to sleep with his bed-curtains drawn, reading by squinting through dawn half-light.
Things have been fine. Normal. He has nothing to worry about.
Remus turns another page in his book and lets his head fall forward into it.
Xxx
Entering the Three Broomsticks, Remus is wildly almost sure that Sirius won't be here. Maybe this is an elaborate joke, a punishment. Maybe he imagined what happened at James' party and nothing is happening between them and he should just go back- but Sirius is waving him from the corner, looking overly excited, and Remus has to shake the snow from his shoulders and hair and trip self-consciously to meet him. Sirius stands when he gets there. Remus feels like a girl.
"Alright?" Hands in pockets, Sirius eyes him, not meeting his gaze. "You want a drink, or …?"
"What?"
Sirius shrugs. "D'you want a drink, or we could wander around, or …I don't know. What do we …do?" He asks desperately. Remus has never felt more teenage, shrugging back.
"I don't know. Do you want a drink?"
"I don't know." Silence. Neither boy looks at the other. Sirius laughs. "This is stupid. We're mates. We've known eachother for seven years. This can't be awkward." He nods to the door. "Let's walk." Remus, thankful for direction, just nods and follows him out, sidestepping to allow him out of the booth. He smiles queasily at Rosmerta, the young barmaid, who nods in response and waggles her fingers at Sirius on his way out. They burst from the warmth of the pub into the snow, and Sirius looks at him. "You're being really quiet." He says bluntly. Remus shrugs again.
"Sorry. I don't really know how I'm supposed to behave."
"Well don't act like I've done this before, either. We're in the same boat, Moons." Sirius scuffs the snow with his foot, digging.
"Have you not?" Remus asks, surprised. He starts walking. Sirius follows suit.
"Have you ever, ever known me to go out with anyone?"
"Well, no, but I don't watch you every minute. I thought you might have."
"No. Never."
"Oh."
Sirius nods, trying to pass it off as casual. His nervousness is strangely endearing, or at least funny, and Remus wishes he could say something about it but he is so fucking nervous that he can barely form sentences at all. Drunk, at the party, it was easy. Agreeing to this was easy; maybe because he thought it would never actually happen. Yet, lo and behold, here he is, with nothing to say to one of his best friends. It is almost as if, in getting closer, they have built a barrier between them at the same time. Sirius looks at him.
"Snow's nice."
"Yeah. It's strange for it to be like this, it being April, and all."
"mm." Sirius, walking initially with a good foot between them, moves closer so their arms touch as they walk. Remus laughs at the ridiculousness of it all. "Hey, Moons, why did you agree to this?" His voice gets quieter as he asks, so 'this' comes out just above a whisper. They pass Madame Puddifoot's, the windows steamed from the heat inside. Remus peers in, looking for James and Lily, hoping they are having just as awkward a time as he is, if only to convince him that this is how it's supposed to go.
"I don't know." He watches Sirius' face fall. "I was really confused, after James'."
"I know."
"I suppose I was tired of telling myself this would never work." He says, honestly. He tilts his head at Sirius. "Why?"
"I was just hoping I hadn't coerced you into anything you – didn't want. You're still allowed to leave. If you want to."
"No, I –" Remus sighs, shaking his head. "It's fine. I want-" He trails off. Sirius nods.
"Good. Okay."
"I just want to feel this out. See where we are."
"Okay." He smiles. "Hey, do you want to go scare the other kids, up by the shack?"
"I don't see why not."
XxX
Remus sits on the ground, leaning on the lower supports of the fence that separates the cliff above the Shrieking Shack from the Shack itself. Sirius sits beside him, forearms out over the drop.
"Well, he asked her if she loved him, and she said no – obviously."
"Right."
"and then she said he was all talk these days, and he got all offended and started a speech and then, sortof, trailed off into nowhere."
"And she agreed to go out with him after that?"
"No, she agreed to go out with him to get him to shut up. Looked pretty nervous this morning, though."
Remus smiles. "Bless. If she can stand him for this afternoon, who knows? Maybe James will marry her, like he says."
Sirius scoffs. "Not likely." He squirms. "My arse is freezing cold. Are you alright?"
"Yeah. Fine." From here he can see the castle, the shack, the grounds. The forest carpets the grounds, a great green haze lying innocent, pointing to the castle with its tail-end, like a great, long comma. The lake has frozen over and again Hogwarts seems like that sleeping woman, that great bitch-goddess which has brought Remus everything he wished for as a boy, everything which, in two short months, will again be gone. He mutters a heating charm over his own hands, and feeling terribly silly and sentimental, puts them over Sirius'.
"Cheers." Sirius laughs, but he brings his hands closer, all the same. They are silent for a moment before Sirius blurts, "What are you going to do when we leave?"
"I don't know. Look for a job. Start training to be a professor, I expect. What about you?"
"I want to be a cursebreaker. I think. Given the choice, I don't think I want to be anything at all, but – you know."
He does. "You'd make a good cursebreaker."
"Thanks." He grins at Remus. "I can imagine you as a professor. All tweed jackets and ties. It'd suit you."
"Thanks. I think." Remus pulls a face. He sits for a moment or two more, just looking at Sirius, who is staring out over the grounds, Remus' hands covering the other boy's. His trousers are soaked through, and his nose is freezing cold. In fact, the only part of his anatomy that isn't cold is his hands. But for some reason, the moment just seems – perfect.
Uncomplicated.
He thinks, if this is all there is – if the end of my schooldays is sitting out here in the sunlight – maybe, for the time-being, at least, we'll all be okay.
And Remus, usually so pessimistic, so neurotic, so troubled, kisses Sirius purely out of joy, catching him by surprise. Sirius kisses him back, laughing. What was so difficult becomes funny, ridiculous. They can do this; they have been doing it, Remus realises, almost all along. Love, even love not here yet, love waiting in the wings, can be easy if you let it.
So he lets it. Easily. Like it is nothing at all.