Something's up with Sirius, and he needs his friends. All of them. Especially you.
Especially you, especially you, especially you.
James' words. Two words wrapped in meaning and discomfort and spinning through Remus' head as he stepped into the warm breath of emerald flames.
"Potter Manor," he managed to cry aloud once within the fireplace, clasping his hands to his ears, his elbows against his chest as he tried to concentrate. Nausea clawed and spat within his belly as he travelled, yet never came to focus above the two words resounding within his skull.
Finally, eyes squeezed tightly closed, Remus burst out from the fireplace and stumbled blindly into what felt awfully like a human body. He fell to the ground, hands grabbing wildly at the person who had been standing in the way.
A familiar voice swore loudly as someone else began to cackle, and Remus, sooty face pressed against lush carpet, felt the overwhelming urge to die immediately of embarrassment. It was suddenly all too easy to remember why he disliked floo powder so very violently.
"Nice of you to pop in, Moony," said James jovially; he had finally ceased his cackling and his voice was now rather close to Remus' ear. As he cracked his eyes open, wearily accepting the necessity of performing certain social niceties (such as removing his dirty face from the white carpet) he saw that a hand was hovering impatiently beside his head.
"Thanks," he muttered, grabbing the hand. Remus almost fell back down when he realised that those cool fingers did not, in fact, belong to James, but to another dark-haired boy.
It seemed that Remus, despite his initial assumptions, had the capacity to feel even more awkward than he had felt landing face-first on the floor of James' manor.
"Oh, er," he began uselessly, fumbling backwards out of Sirius' grasp and tripping slightly on the thick rug underfoot. "Er-"
"Hello to you, too," interrupted Sirius shortly, grinning briefly before ducking his chin. A dark curtain fluttered promptly shut, and Remus was left staring blankly at the thin line of Sirius' mouth.
"So," James said pointedly, interrupting the silence. As he grabbed Remus' shoulder, directing him and his trunk to James' bedroom, an odd frown creased his forehead above his glasses. "Haven't seen you for a while, Moony. Didn't feel inclined to reply to the letters, then?"
"I'm here, aren't I?" muttered Remus, knowing full well that he was behaving rather oddly. He cleared his throat, willing himself to imbue a touch of lightness into the conversation. "Too busy forgetting how to fall out of fireplaces with your style and grace, Prongs."
James chuckled, and his grasp on Remus' shoulder seemed to lessen slightly. "Not many are blessed with my style, that is true."
"For which I personally give my silent thanks," called Sirius from behind them, a clear note of mocking in his voice. "Now, when I fall out of a fireplace-"
"Hold on," Remus said abruptly, stopping short in the corridor and nearly causing another collision as the other two boys stumbled around him. His pulse had slowed a little, and his nausea had faded into background noise, and his newly cleared head was demanding immediate answers. He had come expecting some terrible circumstance that required his urgent help. "Sirius needs me. Especially me."
Sirius produced a bark of shocked laughter while James turned to look at Remus properly, eyes widened a tad in confusion. Remus shook his head, scowling as he felt the heat of embarrassment roar across his cheeks.
"That's what you said in your letter, James, and I was really quite worried. What's going on?"
Remus was hoping for a rather fine explanation at this point. He needed James to have told the truth in that letter so that his anxiety, nerves and embarrassment had been worth something. He had locked himself away from communication with his friends these holidays for a reason. He had been trying to sort himself out, figure out what he was doing and why he was doing it, and now, here he was, trapped in the company of Sirius and James, and it felt like nothing had changed at all.
Scowling at the floor, Remus felt his fears rear up suddenly through his stomach. He clenched his fists and felt his momentary panic ease into more controllable tension.
As James and Sirius exchanged a look (this slight movement was so predictable that Remus didn't actually need to see it) Remus decided that his original instinct – to act all cheery like his friends expected – was perhaps the correct one. It just seemed a little late now, that was all.
"Subtle much?" James said lightly, slipping his hand away from Remus' shoulder entirely after a friendly squeeze. "That letter was confidential, mate, eh? Besides, I just really wanted to know that you were okay, too, you know."
Remus grimaced, but lifted his head to look James in the eyes. It wouldn't do to act petulantly. James would undoubtedly start making jokes about the lycanthrope having finally reached puberty, and Sirius – well, he didn't want to know what Sirius would think.
"Sorry. I was just worried. And it's really good to see both of you, really." He exchanged an oddly nervous smile with James, and then turned to Sirius. His smile slipped away as he was confronted by a steely glare. Remus froze for a moment before realising that Sirius' sudden anger didn't seem to be directed towards him. The clenched jaw shifted as Sirius began to speak, his voice low and strangely hoarse.
"I moved out. Left home – or left my parents, you know. Hogwarts has always seemed more like home to me. Hell, this house seems more like home to me, even if I'm forced to shack up with Prongs."
Sirius smiled tightly, and Remus could tell that the humour in his words was forced, tainted with bitterness.
Thrown off balance by the abruptness of this explanation, Remus rocked back on his feet slightly. Words evaded him as Sirius' smile faded with the renewed strength of his tensed jaw line.
James, too, appeared startled by the short nature of Sirius' announcement. Remus watched numbly as James slung a comforting arm around Sirius' shoulder, and received his disgruntled look without response. Clearly, this was an issue that James had intended to treat with caution and subtlety. Clearly, Remus wasn't conforming to James' intention.
"Gerroff, you berk," Sirius mumbled, shoving half-heartedly at James' gesture of supportive affection. "I may be sleeping in your room, but that doesn't mean you get to hold me."
"Erm," Remus offered in the ensuing silence, which seemed to the lycanthrope to be imbued with unwanted implication. He shook himself as both Sirius and James stared at him inquisitively, frowns lining both of their foreheads. "I'm really sorry, Padfoot, about your family and all."
Remus grimaced. Not good enough. Sirius' decision would have repercussions throughout the rest of his life. He thought that he was finally beginning to understand the note of urgency in James' letter. Deliberately, he cleared his throat softly and continued, his eyes sweeping the carpet beneath their feet.
"That must have been a terrible decision to make, Sirius, but – but I'm really happy for you, too. I mean, they've been giving you hell for years." Remus blinked, a flurry of questions suddenly rising to the surface of his mind. The most important query slid out first. "Are you going to live here during holidays, then?"
Sirius' gaze fell to the floor, and James coughed slightly. "Well, yeah. My parents would be well upset if he didn't. He's caused so much trouble over here in the past years that they already feel responsible for him."
"Right," said Remus, feeling rather foolish. "Erm, you – you know I'll always be here for you, Sirius, er, in case you need something. Or feel bad. Or –"
"Yeah, I know," Sirius interrupted, eyes still stuck to the white threads of the carpet.
"Right," Remus repeated, glancing desperately at James.
"Right," James said breezily, ignoring the sudden tension. "Well, come on, better get your stuff to my room before the end of the holidays."
Although still shocked by the news of Sirius' newfound autonomy, and greatly curious as to the circumstances that had led to this final decision, Remus was grateful to be distracted by James' casual conversation as he unpacked his things. This gratefulness faded slightly later when James received an owl from Peter and decided that he had to leave immediately for Hogsmeade – alone.
"Wormtail says that Evans just entered the Leaky Cauldron!" he cried, eyes flashing with excitement behind his glasses. Remus wondered if James realised that stalking was a criminal offence, and attempted to explain as much, but was completely ignored.
"So shouldn't we go to Diagon Alley with you?" Sirius asked dryly. "We could keep you out of legal danger, restrict your stalking and such."
"Nobody is going to restrict my anything," replied James grimly, grabbing at a handful of floo powder and setting off promptly by himself.
A day alone with Sirius had not been strictly within Remus' contemplation when he'd flooed off from home that morning, having finally convinced his mother to let him go to James'. Indeed, such an opportunity for heartfelt conversation was not received with great optimism by the lycanthrope, who settled himself across from Sirius on James' large bed with a small grimace.
However, it seemed that Sirius felt differently. Lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, he kicked his shoes off into mysterious corners of the room and started talking.
"You know, Moony, I made a vow to myself every day while I was locked in my bedroom on my mother's orders. I promised myself that I would never let fear get in the way of – of the stuff that I needed to do." He paused, evidently steadying the slight tremor that had crept into his voice. "Like – like leave home."
Remus was frozen on the side of the bed, his eyes locked on Sirius' face. Something tightened deep within his stomach. He could tell that this conversation was far from safe – and yet he couldn't move. And he didn't really want to move. He needed to listen, and face the old fears. Wasn't that what Sirius was saying?
"And I did, Moony, I got up and packed my trunk and got the hell out of my parents' filthy house. It took sixteen years to work up the courage, but now it's done."
Pride vibrated through Sirius' low voice, pride mixed with the remnant traces of some wild exhilaration – the type of adrenaline rush produced in the wake of fear and self-doubt. Admiration flooded into Remus' thoughts as he stared into Sirius' eyes, which appeared hard as slate in their triumph. This pride was earned.
A loose, unidentified shame settled about Remus' stomach as he tried not to compare his own recent actions with the self-won emancipation of his friend. Avoidance was never a great strategy, was it? He knew this, and he had always known it, yet this knowledge had never stopped him before.
Although he had responded to James' summons, hadn't he? Did that count for something, at least?
The answer was clearly in the resounding and negative cramp in his belly. Remus hadn't faced up to anything yet. What was maturity again? Something about facing up to your fears? He had always considered Sirius to embody a certain picture of immaturity. Funny, that.
Narcissism, meet irony.
Sitting there on the bed, Remus gazed at this new Sirius, who seemed to have shed the skin of the hell-raising Fifth Year from the previous month. He realised that his mouth had slid open with slight awe, and clamped his lips together, embarrassed.
"So I'm not going to let things stay this way between us, Moony," Sirius said decisively, his eyebrows drawn in determination. "You can't keep being afraid to speak to me, and I think we've both had enough of the guilt."
Remus nodded dumbly, his chest clenching painfully. More than anything, he wanted things to go back to the way they used to have been between the two boys. He wanted the old jokes, he wanted the old sarcasm and teasing. He wanted to be able to string words together in a coherent sentence without stuttering.
"I'm going to ask you something, right now, Moony, and I want you to be entirely honest and truthful with me."
Ducking his chin against his chest, taking refuge against the confrontational promise of Sirius' words, Remus focussed for a moment on remembering how to breathe. Face the fear. Face those grey eyes. Nod, and say yes. He peered up through his lashes and drank in the melange of exhilaration and nerves tinting Sirius' eyes.
"Yes."
A moment of silence. Remus inhaled. Exhaled. Prepared to repeat his answer, cheeks flushing.
"Can I hold your hand?"
Remus' head shot up, and he felt his face become even hotter. "What, now?"
"Yeah."
Without consciously deciding on an answer, Remus felt his head nod the affirmative. Panicking, he swept his eyes up to Sirius', which had gained a familiar edge of mocking humour. This familiarity only fuelled Remus' muddle of desperation, and, giving up entirely on mental vacillation, he slowly stretched his hand towards Sirius.
"No need to be a girl about it," Sirius grinned broadly, grabbing at Remus' outstretched fingers, which had begun to tremble rather violently. After a brief moment in which Remus felt himself overwhelmed by something akin to shock, his entire body surging in a heat which flooded from his fingertips, his brain responded automatically to the insult.
"Hey!"
Remus burst into slightly hysterical laughter, having thwacked Sirius on the side of the head with his spare hand.
"You hit like a girl, too," Sirius grumbled, distracting Remus from his laughter as he entwined his fingers with the lycanthropes'. He felt his pulse quicken, and met Sirius' wounded glare with wide eyes and a smile.
"Tell me that next full moon."
As Sirius gasped in mock horror, throwing his unoccupied hand across his face in a parody of surrender, Remus felt his cheeks begin to ache, beaming unashamedly across the bed. He was joking with Sirius. They were teasing each other like they hadn't been able to for months and months, and they were holding hands, and Remus didn't feel uncomfortable.
To tell the truth, he could do this forever.
A/N: Holding hands is adorable.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter! I listened to the requests for more Sirius, and I even inserted some humour. :) It must be all the Douglas Adams I'm reading – though that wouldn't explain the shameless fluff.
Could the story finally be reaching something of an end to the dragging angst?
REVIEW!
Thanks as always for the comments and the critique. They're much appreciated.
xx Froody