Title: All Moonlight, Return Today, Borrowed
Author: Chaos
Beta: None, tragically.
Pairings: Sirius/Remus
Warnings: I don't think so...
Ratings: PG probably.
Spoiler Warnings: Remus's...little fluffy problem. And Sirius's accommodations after his sixth year.
Disclaimer: They might own me, but I certainly don't own anything about them. The title/cut lyircs are from the Corrs, so still not mine.
Summary: Sirius goes to visit Remus during the summer holidays.
Author's Note: Um. Not beta'ed. If anyone is willing to look over it for me I would be indebted to you.
I don't even know where this came from, it was a long time ago. I'll just go hide now.
Sirius knocked on the door and waited, shifting impatiently from foot to foot.
(He'd brought a present, because Mrs Potter had said it was inappropriate to show up without one.
He smiled at the memory. James had crumbled as she hunted through the cupboards for something he could take, complaining that his own mother loved hi best friend more than she loved him.
Mrs Potter had pulled her head out of the cupboard and given him a stern look that clearly said: you know I love you and Sirius has no one to look after him. Behave.
James had just punched Sirius lightly on the arm and rolled his eyes. Sirius had simply smiled. He didn't mind being fussed over so much. It just served to remind him how different the Potters warm, comforting home was from his own dark, icy household.)
He looked around the street while he waited.
It was a peaceful, ordinary neighbourhood, but everything about the muggle world continued to quietly astonish him.
There were small children riding odd wheeled contraptions instead of the wizarding broomsticks. The muggle men were out with strange, elongated tubes that seemed to be permanently set to the augmenti charm, spraying water all over the little boxes on wheels that muggles used to get around.
It was all deeply bizarre.
He jumped a little when the door opened behind him.
Pouring over the threshold he could hear the familiar crackle of a burning fire and hear the strains of an old waltz being played on the Wireless. He turned back to the house and smiled his best charming smile at Mrs Lupin.
"Sirius." She greeted him warmly. "Come in dear." He followed her into the house, as fascinated as always by the strange blend of muggle and magical that made up Remus's life.
It was odd, but in a comfortable way. Somehow it suited Remus's dual nature. Part of him striving for normalcy and the rest of him hidden.
He had laughed when Sirius explained this metaphor late one night while slightly drunk.
"You do wax poetical at times." He'd told him and Sirius, not caring for the conversation any longer, had leant up to catch the werewolf's lips with his own, sharing the flavour of the wine and Remus's laughter.
Slipping out of his memory and back into reality, he followed Mrs Lupin into the kitchen as she retrieved a large, cast iron kettle from the stove. The magical creation was whistling the same waltz the radio had been playing as it sat atop the muggle gas stove.
She smiled at him and he remembered the shortbread and flowers he had brought, thrusting them out uncertainly. She smiled, graciously accepting them.
"If you'll wait a moment you can take some of your biscuits and some tea up to Remus. He's still stuck in bed of course." Sirius nodded, settling his long limbs at the kitchen table. He had only just begun to grow into his height, as Mrs Potter put it, but he rarely knocked anything over anymore.
Mrs Lupin chatted intermittently as she prepared a tray and Sirius let it all wash over him.
He loved staying with the Potters, he truly did, but they were a noisome and boisterous family. Having been raised in a family where every a loudly spoken word was considered an affront, Sirius sometimes found it overwhelming. That was when he tended to escape, to his tent in the backyard, to the woods that covered half of the Potter's modest estate, or to the Lupin's house, where it was always cosy and peaceful.
When the tray was done Mrs Lupin saw Sirius to the bottom of the stairs, leading the way through the small, carpeted rooms, filled with the possessions of a life well spent.
As always, Sirius glanced at the still pictures of Remus's father on the mantle. It was clear that the teenage werewolf got his looks from the man in the photos, looking very smart in his military uniform.
Mrs Lupin had once assured Sirius that Remus's temperament came directly from his father, though the Black heir had never had a chance to meet the man.
At the bottom of the staircase she stood aside with another of her soft smiles. Everything about her, from the wrinkles that framed her eyes and mouth when she smiled, to the gentle lines on her hands, seemed to be a part of this time and place.
With his own boisterous grin feeling a little over the top Sirius turned and bounded up the stairs, long legs eating them up two at a time.
Remus's bedroom was in the tiny attic of the house and Sirius had to duck his head to get inside.
The lump in the bed (that could only be Remus) stirred as he knocked on the frame of the open door, balancing the tray on one hand.
"Tea service." He announced as he stepped across the threshold.
Moony turned at his words, propping himself on his elbows with a wince.
Sirius tried not to frown at the bruises and cuts marring his skin as he set the tray down on Remus's lap and settled on the ground beside the mattress, reaching up to run his thumb across a particularly bad gouge beneath one brown eye.
"Oh love." He sighed.