First of all, thank you so much for your reviews on the last chapter. Seriously, I'm just as relieved as you are to be publishing this part of the story! I'm excited to hear what you think about part 2 of the reunion, chronicled below. I did edit this a little quicker than usual, so PM or review if you catch mistakes. I'm never fully satisfied with things I post, but I can only hold onto them for so long...
On that note, I'm posting earlier than I had planned because well... life's a little weird right now, as you are aware. If you are reading from quarantine or isolation, you aren't alone :) I know people who are really anxious about the situation and people who think the world is overreacting. Either way, my heart goes out to healthcare workers and those suffering from this disease. I hope everyone is doing okay out there, especially those of you in countries that have been hit really hard.
-Cat
Chapter 25
Doubt/Faith
The First Moon
There was no plan. At least, not one that ended with survival. Remus could see it in Liam's dead eyes glistening in the gloom. The man had no weapon, no way of escape that Remus could see. There had to be something.
"C-Carmichael-"
"My b-boy, my sweet Danny," whimpered Liam. "I'll see him soon. Pyrites will convince the mad auror you killed me, that this was your crime… if you ever got out..." He swallowed wetly. The serenity he had earlier was leaking away like water. He seemed more like the unstable man Remus met that December night. It felt like eons before. "But it w-won't be. I have to…I have to make amends… I was trapped for months and months; he told me everything. He made me promise… promise not to tell. Forced me.… "
The moon was so close, nearly on the brink. Remus was beyond panic now, imagining it rising on the horizon like a blister. He couldn't even feel his frantic heart that was racing like it was desperate to escape his ribcage before… before. He watched the victim in front of him, pushing his head harder and harder against the wall.
He would have to do it soon.
After
The wolf went too far the moon after Pyrites showed him the Mirror. Time passed in a haze of pain and blood. The cellar faded in and out, a storm of purples and greens and Pyrites' murmured magic.
Later, when the swelling went down, he was relieved to find that his eye was still there. There was no way to see his reflection except in the Mirror upstairs, so he delicately explored the new scar with his fingers. He started at the bridge of his nose, travelled sideways and then down to his jaw. A thin line traced a place only centimeters from his carotid. He let the pads of his fingers rest on the pulse.
Still alive.
And the moons continued. Cycles. Stasis.
He did not know when he accepted it. That he would die here. His being was wrapped in the glassy mirror-world so completely, he doubted the other world had ever truly existed. If it did… he did not think he ever belonged there.
Echoes of memory became just that. Echoes.
Until one day his captor made the mistake of making the echoes memories once more.
He should never have spoken of once-loved things in the lingering pain of the wolf's aftermath.
"Do you remember your mother?"
Slowly, she surfaced from deep inside himself in lilac and turpentine. The sound of ceaseless waves contained in intricate calcium exoskeletons. Ebb and flow, tides pulled by the same moon that pushed and pulled his very nature.
Even here.
"I don't remember mine," mused Pyrites. He had been upstairs for a very long time before descending with a strange light in his eyes. "She died in childbirth. Rare these days, but it still happens. Father blamed me, of course. Never said it out right, but… have you ever lived in the same house as someone you just didn't know?"
He shouldn't be asking these questions, thought Remus. He'd avoided probing Remus' memory thus far. Afraid of what could rise again. Remus sucked in a breath.
Someone you just didn't know… a brother. A traitor. Starry mornings and storm blue and neon nights. Dark fur, loud music, louder silence. A song that left you hanging, left you swinging. What have you done?
I can't have the kind of life you want for me, Sirius.
"But we were speaking of mothers. I'm interested in one in particular. Lily Potter. She was fierce, wasn't she? And clever."
She was those things. But mostly, she was so small in death. Nothing like the fire she was in life. Wasn't that version of Lily still living in the landscape of Remus' subconsciousness?
"You can speak, if you want. In fact I would prefer it. I think… I need to understand. You knew her."
Once. But he was spinning away.
"You want to know what I didn't understand before?"
No.
"I didn't understand how a child defeated the greatest wizard of all time. Now I see. She had something to do with it."
A child… Harry.
"But love cannot stop death," said Pyrites, so softly it was like he was speaking to himself. "Not forever."
Remus did not hear anything else.
Harry.
A knife smoothly split his sternum and bared light on his cooling heart. He was not sinking anymore. For an instant, Harry-the real, living, breathing Harry-eclipsed everything, every false reality he'd built and cherished. All the lies shattered to pieces like he'd walked off the edge of a cliff.
Remus Lupin was waking up.
June 23, 1986
They arrived by side-along in the front lawn of Sirius and Harry's cottage. Remus released his stiff grip quickly once he'd found his balance and stared around. Sirius wondered what he was thinking. This place was so far removed from their metropolitan life post-Hogwarts. The stars were very bright overhead compared to London, even with the wide face of the moon among them. Insects hummed rhythmically from the field and an owl hooted somewhere. The nearest people were the Weasleys, miles away.
In the aftermath of Borgin's death, Pyrites, Remus-had the twins really blown up his pancake batter this morning?-the peace of his countryside cottage was a bit shocking.
An update would be expected at the office, so Sirius stepped away to send a patronus to Mad-Eye. The bright, silvery dog pranced away into the darkness with fluid ease. Remus watched it disappear, looking wary.
"I just told Mad-Eye to go to Borgin and Burke's," Sirius explained. "We had a watch on it for a reason, and as you stupefied the aurors, he'll need to send replacements. I just said I found it that way and was following up on a lead. I didn't say anything else."
Remus nodded briefly. But he remained on edge as they entered the cottage. The lights came on with a rosy glow on the kitchen surfaces. "Incendio," Sirius muttered to start a fire under the copper kettle. He pulled down two chipped tea cups and a tin of black tea from one of the cupboards. Remus stood in the doorway, taking in his surroundings silently. Sirius leaned against the counter and took in Remus.
In the kinder lighting of the kitchen, he appeared less wild than he had in Borgin and Burkes. Just… worn down. His eyes were not quite glass anymore. They were inscrutable shadows of amber. And the rest of him… what did the jumper hide that the damaged leg spoke like cannonfire? It could not hide the hard angles of his shoulders. The twisted scar on his face, the half-healed ones on his hands. Questions like a tidal wave assaulted Sirius' brain, but he forced them away for the moment and asked a more pressing one.
"When was the moon?"
"Two nights ago."
"Bad?"
Remus nodded shortly. The hollows of his eyes were dark.
"Not to be pushy, but I'm going to need more information than that."
"Nothing you can help now."
Sirius narrowed his gaze, but there was no indication of injury in the way Remus held himself, besides his leg. He let it go. For now.
"When did you last eat?" He did not wait for an answer before taking out a tin of Molly's biscuits from the cupboard and placed them on the table.
This finally moved Remus further inside. Sirius frowned at the way his hand shook when he popped two of Molly's ginger newts into his mouth. No refusals or insisting to wait for the tea. He must be starving. The kettle whistled and Sirius made to move it from the heat.
"Let me," Remus said softly. He limped to the stove and turned off the flames manually. Preparing tea always seemed to calm the werewolf, so Sirius waited at the table.
"You mentioned Mad-Eye," Remus observed as he methodically arranged the cups and strainer.
"Yeah, he led the primary investigation when you vanished."
"Right. Of course he did."
"We figured out where… we know about the Mirror. There was a disturbance last year around Halloween..."
"Me. It's been almost eight months." Pause. "You said you were released from Azkaban a few months ago."
Sirius raised a brow. Remus was an expert at avoidance, but Sirius could play this game too. "March. I thought you would have been at the trial. I only learned later that no one had heard from you in years." He did not elaborate further. "Why, Remus?"
Remus' hand jerked, spilling dried tea leaves on the countertop. He cursed and swept them into his palm and carefully let them spill back into the tin. Sirius stayed back, sensing a perimeter crackling around him.
"Why what?" Remus asked, his words clipped.
"Why didn't you come back before?"
The amber eyes flashed around the kitchen as if he were thinking. Buying time. His hands worked of their own accord, measuring tea into the kettle, readying the strainer.
"At first it was because I wasn't… right?"
"Explain."
Remus cleared his throat irritably. "I needed some time. Found a safe place to…" His words seemed to stick in his throat, so he waved his hand vaguely. "Think," he settled on, but frowned as he said it. He stared at a patch of wallpaper through the steam coming from the kettle's spout for so long, Sirius eventually called his name.
Remus sucked in a breath. "Anyway," he continued as if he had not stopped. "I had to leave Britain. Leave everything. Greyback was on my tail, so I just… went away for a while. Finally lost him in late March."
"Where did you go?"
"Anywhere. Chasing shadows in eastern Europe. There were things I needed to..." Remus was quiet for a moment before saying, "I always planned to come back, if I could."
Sirius looked up at him, trying to read his expression. "Harry," he concluded.
"Yeah," Remus sighed.
"Why now?"
Remus threw him a significant look before pouring the steeped tea into the cups through the strainer. He limped over with a single cup of tea and gave it to Sirius. Then he went back for his. Sirius waited, watching his stilted progress to the table. It struck Sirius as strange as Remus lowered himself into a chair and leaned his cane against the wooden back. Not once did he use magic to make things easier for himself.
"Where did you get a wand?" he asked suddenly. Remus looked up sharply.
"What makes you ask that?"
"You could have used magic to do that," Sirius pointed out. He nodded in the direction of Remus' leg. "Make things easier. You have one, you drew on me. But other than when you thought I was attacking you… you haven't used any magic."
Remus gave him an appraising look. "No," he agreed slowly. "I acquired a wand. I don't use it often. You surprised me in the shop."
"Suppressing magic can be dangerous," Sirius stated, alarmed.
"I'm not suppressing my magic, I have enough problems as a lycanthrope," Remus sighed in the long-suffering way he used to when Sirius said something especially ridiculous. "I use wandless magic when I can. For small things. I don't really do much that requires a wand besides securing a place for transformation or healing spells. I just… the wand. I can't…"
And instead of explaining, Remus drew out the wand he had been using, a slender thing in his hands, and passed it to Sirius with solemn reverence. Sirius took it and felt a jolt of recognition. The wood was golden-colored and felt light and warm. The pattern of willow-leaves on the handle was all too familiar.
"It was in her hands at the funeral. Along with a single white lily," Remus whispered, his eyes veiled. "But Pyrites had it." He swallowed heavily with disgust. "He took it, I don't know when. There was never a report of their grave being disturbed. It would have been before I… sometime in '82. For a time he thought the wands might be the key to finding the Dark Lord."
Sirius could not speak, feeling the smooth, polished wood under his fingers. It was a tiny glimpse of Lily, a piece that was still on this earth. Like Harry's eyes. He returned the wand, which Remus took and gently placed on the table between them.
"You came here for Pyrites, didn't you?" Sirius asked with his eyes still on the wand. "He was out of the country for a while. Did you follow him back?"
"I did," Remus confirmed. "We… crossed paths in Albania."
"He would have killed you."
"Perhaps."
"Remus."
"It wouldn't have mattered. There's already a gravestone with my name on it."
Sirius' hands spasmed under the table, so he intertwined them tightly together. Remus had been hiding for months, without contact, without even getting the damn paper it seemed. Allowing everyone in his previous life to believe he was dead. Coupled with his lack of feeling, it was almost too much to hold in.
"Yeah," he said through clenched molars.
Remus blinked. "That wasn't… I shouldn't have said it like that."
Sirius willed the molten blood in his veins to cool. Losing his temper was not going to help things.
"No. It's fine."
A tense silence followed. Sirius caught Remus watching him closely.
"What?"
"Why did you look for me?" the werewolf asked.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"I was dead."
"I didn't think so."
"What if I was really dead? What would you have done?"
"I don't really have to worry about that now, do I? Besides, I have an even better question." He could not help the tightness in his jaw as he demanded, "Why did you stay dead? You could have at least sent a note."
"To whom?" Remus asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Your dad," Sirius snapped unapologetically. Remus winced and looked away. "And I'm sure Mad-Eye or Dumbledore would have liked to know. McGonagall too."
Remus said nothing, so Sirius asked again. "Why stay dead?"
"I thought that would have been obvious," Remus muttered, taking another sip of his tea.
"It's not."
Remus stared at him, as if he was struggling to discern if Sirius was being truthful or just dense. It was an old, familiar expression. Sirius stared right back, knowing he could wear him down. Slowly, Remus leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, coming to accept he would have to say it out loud. Shutters closed behind his irises, turning them dull brown and impenetrable.
"Liam Carmichael," he said at last. "I'm not stupid enough to come back from the dead just to be exterminated for killing a man."
Sirius' jaw loosened with shock. He'd never seriously considered the possibility that Burke was right. That Remus… "It was you… You killed him?"
"You seem surprised." Remus was perfectly composed. "Didn't they tell you?" The only thing that seemed to bother him was Sirius' astonishment. He tilted his head to the side, considering. "His body was found, right? Pyrites said the body was found."
"Yes, in Knockturn Alley. But…the killer was never positively identified."
Remus was silent for several seconds, processing this information. Then, he finally opened his mouth and asked, "How did that happen?"
"Mad-Eye sat on the evidence. Eventually he was ordered to close the investigation, so there was no public confirmation… Merlin, Remus."
Remus rolled his shoulders and looked out the obsidian glass of the window. He breathed steadily through his nose, but Sirius could tell he was thinking hard. Meanwhile, his own panicked thoughts chased themselves in circles in his brain, but only one managed to make it to his tongue.
"Are you okay?"
A faint muscle moved at the corner of Remus' mouth.
"Only you could ever ask that, Padfoot," he murmured wistfully. He stopped his contemplation of the night, moved his focus to the woodgrain of the table. "I remember the smell of his blood when I woke up. I remember the feeling of it under my fingernails. Between… between my teeth."
Sirius suppressed a shiver up his spine at Remus' numb words. Knowing his worst fear, knowing how close he came in school and it had been Sirius' fault. "I hate you!" It had nearly torn him-them-to pieces. How was he not in pieces now?
"It was just in our natures to become monsters."
Maybe he was.
"Moony," he whispered.
"It's my fault he's dead," Remus said suddenly. His gaze snapped up, unwavering. "That his body was… mutilated. But I didn't kill him. I just thought… I thought everyone believed that I had."
"You… you didn't? But then-"
Before Sirius could say anything more, there was a cough from his coat pocket and a familiar voice called out, "Sirius? Sirius? Hello? Hmm… it's all dark... Bill, you sure that's how this works?"
Remus froze, eyes widening. Sirius shot him a reassuring look. He reached into his pocket where he felt the frame of his old two-way mirror.
"Yes, hold on!"
"Sirius," Remus whispered.
"It's just a friend. Arthur Weasley," he whispered back. "I won't tell him you're here."
He stood, aware of Remus' gaze following him out of the kitchen. Sirius hurried into the hallway and pulled the mirror out of his pocket. Arthur's intrigued face was reflected back at him.
"Hey."
"There you are," said Arthur genially. "This is much easier than checking through the floo every hour."
"Yeah, sorry, I forgot I had these." This was not, strictly speaking, true. He had found them in the Standard Book of Spells Grade Six that Remus had kept. But back then, straight out of Azkaban, seeing the mirrors he and James used to speak through had been physically painful. How many times had he picked up his mirror and spoken his friend's name and seen his face? How could he have taken that for granted? So he gingerly put them back in the hidden compartment and pushed them from his mind.
Until, of course, he had faced the Mirror of Iunne.
"They're pretty convenient," said Arthur.
"Hi Sirius!" shouted Bill in the background.
"Shhh! Ron and Ginny are in bed, buddy," said Arthur.
"Is Harry still awake?"
Arthur chuckled and looked back to Sirius.
"He likes to try waiting up for you. He can usually make it to ten o'clock before nodding off. He had a bit of a headache earlier, though." Arthur surveyed his face. "Everything okay?"
Sirius blinked, realizing that he probably looked a mess. It was strange, looking in a mirror and not seeing his own reflection. The robes he was wearing were covered with dust and stained from the rain. Arthur probably didn't even notice the permanent bags under his eyes at the point. But the older man had become uncomfortably good at piercing beyond Sirius' mask. Could he see the storm of emotions he was hiding?
"Yeah." He forced a smile. "Yeah, everything's fine. A headache?"
"Just a little one. Molly fixed it up quickly. He's fine now."
Sirius nodded, concern bubbling up. Harry had never complained of head pain before. But Madame Pomfrey had told him to watch for it in case Harry needed glasses like James. He made a mental note to write a letter to the school nurse. "Think he can stay awake for ten more minutes? I'm home, but I need to finish something up here."
"Sure."
Grateful for Arthur's lack of questioning, Sirius said goodbye and waited for the mirror to reflect his face again before returning to the kitchen. Remus did not notice him right away. His eyes were glazed, fixed outside the dark window again, reminding Sirius of the many nights he'd spent doing the same thing.
"Sorry about that," he said quietly so he didn't startle him.
"Arthur Weasley?"
"Yeah. Arthur and Molly. Harry's with them."
Remus' expression shifted to alertness at the mention of Harry, though he covered by asking, "Gideon and Fabian's sister?"
"The very same. They live nearby. The Burrow," he said with a faint smile.
"You like them," Remus observed.
"They've been…" How to describe the Weasleys? "I couldn't have gotten this far without them. And Harry's friends with their kids. They have seven. One's his age, Ron."
"Seven kids," Remus said in awe.
"They didn't mind adding a couple of strays to the mix," Sirius joked quietly. "They're good, Moony. You'll love them."
Remus' expression closed and he glanced at the cooling mug between his weathered hands.
"I don't know if… I don't think that's such a good idea."
"We'll figure it out."
"We've had this conversation before. What you're imagining isn't realistic-"
"We have to try-"
"They wouldn't even let me see him," Remus snapped. "Because of what I am. And now? That investigation won't stay closed forever."
"I can stop it," Sirius argued, already coming up with different ways to sabotage Burke's work. He didn't mention that the investigation had already been reopened. "Besides, you said-"
"All the evidence will point to me," Remus stated mechanically. "The marks on his body will match, any fur samples collected. Every registered werewolf has those things on record. There's nothing I can do, no defense I can make that anyone will listen to. I will be convicted."
"And I said I can stop it." When Remus' doubt did not diminish, Sirius added softly, "Trust me."
Remus did not say it, but Sirius knew immediately what he was thinking. It was trust that had gotten them here. Too much and too little, given to the wrong people. He was suddenly seized by an overwhelming fear that Remus would disappear again, fade away without a word.
"I want you here, Moony. Why else would I keep looking?"
Remus sighed out a breath. "Things… things have changed. Things that can't be undone."
"Remus…"
"You were innocent," Remus whispered, almost to himself. "Peter was the secret keeper."
They were silent for nearly a minute, each slipping backwards into darker memories. All Sirius could think were those two damning words. Trust me.
"We should-"
"Not tonight, Sirius," Remus interrupted, reading his thoughts. "I need to sleep. I can't do this part tonight."
Sirius stared at him.
"We're going to have to have that talk eventually."
"I know just…not tonight."
Remus was retreating deep into an impenetrable shell. Once, Sirius had been one of the only people in the world that could crack it. Not anymore. Even if he could… he was afraid of what he'd find.
"Can you stay up a little longer?"
"Sirius."
"Not what you think. You're right, we can't keep this up tonight. But I told Arthur I'd come and get Harry. He's too young to floo by himself."
Remus' fingers stiffened on his empty mug. He looked at Sirius with an expression from so long ago when they were innocent. Wonder. The tense knot between Sirius' shoulderblades loosened and he quirked a small smile.
"I won't be long."
So it was, that Remus was left alone in the humble cottage of Sirius Black, waiting to meet a child he had loved for years without seeing.
He honestly could not be sure that this wasn't a dream. That happened sometimes… he would slip backwards into old fantasies from when… He had to be dreaming. Except the myriads of little broken things in this place grated like reality would have.
He examined the chipped mug in his hands, plain white with a painted floral design around the rim. The decoration in the kitchen was sparse. Once, Sirius had plastered the walls of his space with his personality. An ache grew in his throat, something that reminded him of grief. So many years believing lies... so many years trying to forget this man... his brother. And now seeing him… he wasn't the same. Something had deadened those eyes that were like an ocean. Never quite gray or blue, but somewhere in the middle.
"I solemnly swear, I never betrayed you."
Hot shame stung his eyes. He'd failed in Albania. He had failed Sirius.
Sirius was innocent.
Sirius had always been innocent.
And Pyrites had played Remus, had returned to England… only this time… this time…
Remus swallowed convulsively. He would need to tell Sirius, but the events of the last few days had unfolded so rapidly Remus was still reeling. Even now, he was dizzy with it.
He levered himself painfully to his feet with shaking arms. Exhaustion turned his bones into loosely packed powder. It was only yesterday that he'd awakened in a puddle of his own blood in a dark cave, fixed what he could, then started a desperate cross-continental journey to London. He could still feel the effects of too much apparating, a few unauthorized portkeys, and passing out near some back-alley dumpster.
The various scraps and cuts from the full moon were burning. Agony, razor sharp, lanced through his leg even when he had been sitting. His newly healed ribs complained with every breath. Had he re-fractured them when apparating? He couldn't tell and was too spent to perform anymore healing magic anyway. There was a place near his hip that throbbed too, where the wolf clawed to his pelvis and liver, making walking all the more difficult. Luckily, his bad leg covered how much he was favoring that side. He would have to check the bandage later.
It was reassuring, at least. The pain meant that perhaps he was not dreaming. Still, he could not quite believe it yet.
He hooked his finger through the handles of his and Sirius' mugs and deposited them in the sink. Then he limped heavily through the foyer, taking in the living room ahead and the hallway to his right. Three simple pieces of art hung there, flowers. Almost instinctively, he went two steps down the hall, to the door that was ajar, and flicked on the light.
It was immediately apparent that this was where all of Sirius' old energy was now focused. This was Harry's bedroom. Soft shadows of value on the forest green walls coalesced into trees and the figures of a noble stag, a dog, a wolf. These were pasted over at child-height with drawings and doodles, clumsily signed, some enchanted to move. His bed was draped in a red and blue quilt, patterned with trumpeted lilies. A lopsided stuffed dragon sat against the pillow. Remus tilted his head back and almost smiled when he saw the carnival of galaxies swirling dreamily across the ceiling.
Drawn by what was hung over the dresser, he stepped tentatively inside. A hard lump formed in his throat when he recognized the photograph. James and Lily danced in the November gray of leaves and cold, a dry fountain in the background. And next to the photograph, a plaque. James' old auror badge, mounted next to his name. Remus brushed the pitted metal with a trembling thumb.
At that moment, the floo whooshed. He snatched his hand back, his knees turning to jelly. He left Harry's room, flicking off the light, and paused at the end of the hall. His heart fluttered with uncertainty. The light conversation emanating from the living room was so, so real.
"And then we heard screaming and looked outside and the twins came running out of the coop and Mrs. Weasley started screaming too because guess what?"
"What?"
"They were being chased by dinosaurs! Well, little ones. Charlie says they're like velo-velosopho-"
"Velociraptors."
"Yeah. Ron and me counted, and we think that they are the chickens. But with scales. And bigger."
Sirius' bark-like laughter made Remus' heart skip. This was nothing like the lies he had told himself in the dark. It was too bittersweet.
"Was it you?"
"Served them right, meddling with perfectly good pancakes."
"I knew it!"
"Hey, Prongslet, listen. I couldn't say this at the Burrow, but we have a visitor."
Something went wrong with Remus' hearing. Or his brain. He could hear the words, but it was like listening to a foreign language.
"Remus?"
He blinked. Sirius was standing in front of him.
"Don't worry. Apparently it's supposed to feel like that," he said with a knowing grimace. Tentatively, he put a hand on Remus' arm. When Remus did not move away, Sirius grinned and steered him into the living room.
Harry was waiting by the couch, an expression of polite curiosity on his face. A face that was so much like James. Emerald green eyes stared at him from beneath a lightning-shaped scar he never had as a baby. Merlin, he had grown too fast. His messy hair was about level with the couch back and he was wearing grass-stained jeans with a sky blue t-shirt.
Remus opened his mouth but found that his voice had fled.
"This is my friend Remus, Harry."
And, to Remus' complete surprise, Harry's face lit up with recognition. "You made it snow in Hogwarts!"
"I did," he recalled hoarsely. The grip on his arm squeezed, then released.
"You knew my mum and dad too!"
"Yes, I-I did. We were all very good friends."
"Sirius said you got lost. He found you?"
Remus glanced at Sirius, who shrugged one shoulder.
"That's right." He did not seem capable of speaking any louder than a whisper. Before he was prepared, Harry left his position by the couch and approached him, albeit shyly. Remus used his cane to lower himself carefully to Harry's height. The boy examined him thoughtfully. Almost as if he knew more than what Sirius had told him.
"What happened to your leg?" he asked at last.
"I broke it," Remus explained simply. He sensed Sirius' probing gaze and added, "Sometimes when you break a bone it doesn't go back together the same way."
"Maybe Madame Pomfrey could fix it," Harry suggested. "She's very good at fixing things. Bill says that one time he fell off his broom and hurt his shoulder, but she made it better."
Remus let out a raspy chuckle. He did not know who Bill was, but it didn't matter. The smile stretched muscles that he had not used in… in years. "She's fixed me up plenty of times."
Harry bit his lip, doing another quiet scan. Remus wondered what he saw. If the scars were frightening or fascinating. If he could see deep beneath his skin, know the blood that stained his hands. Suddenly, he felt like he was much too close to this innocent creature. But now that his knees were bent, it was beyond his exhausted muscles to stand again, to move away.
So when Harry stretched out faltering fingers, he stayed perfectly still. They brushed against his left cheek like feathers, where the numb knot of scar tissue twisted down from his nose to his jaw.
"I think she could maybe help this one too," said Harry softly. The coolness of his fingertips dissipated.
The lump in Remus' throat was too painful to tell him otherwise.
"Are you going to stay here now?" Harry asked, his voice becoming light and cheerful. "You could stay here. I think… I think my mum and dad would like that. Right, Sirius?"
"They certainly would, Prongslet." Sirius' words hitched. When Remus chanced a peek at him, his eyes were suspiciously bright.
Harry gave Remus an encouraging smile. "See?"
"That's… that's very good of you to offer, Harry. Thank you."
Bashfulness overcame Harry and his eyes dropped to his shuffling feet. Jet black hair flopped over his face. Then he yawned.
"Bedtime," said Sirius promptly. "You had a bath already?"
"Mm-hm," Harry nodded. "Where's Remus going to sleep?"
Remus glanced at Sirius, who quirked the corner of his mouth as if to say, "Obviously I'm not throwing you out, you dunderhead."
"Couch," said Remus.
"I'll get you some blankets. Come on then, Hare, get your pajamas on. I'll be in in just a sec."
"Goodnight, Remus!"
"Goodnight, Harry."
Harry pattered off to his bedroom with the forested walls and starry ceiling, leaving the adults alone in the living room. Remus tried to stand again. But his body gave out and he had to brace himself with one shaking hand splayed on the floor. Footsteps crossed to him quickly and strong hands hauled him to his feet. He swayed.
"Are you okay?"
"Just tired," Remus dismissed. "He's…"
"Yeah," concluded Sirius.
Remus could still feel the soft touch on the side of his face. A tenderness he had not known in… He resisted the urge to put his hand there. It was an undeserved mercy. He forced himself to speak.
"Sirius, I can't-"
Sirius' expression immediately darkened.
"You can. Accio blankets."
He directed his wand towards the hallway. Something crashed to the ground, then a pile of messily folded blankets came zooming into his arms.
"I mean after tonight," Remus tried as the blankets were shoved into his chest. Sirius ignored him, taking in his patched wardrobe. "I'm not-"
"You should have something to sleep in too. Accio whatever clean clothes are laying around."
A bundle of knotted laundry followed the blankets. Sirius managed to catch most of the articles of clothing, the rest scattered themselves around the living room.
"Take your pick," he said succinctly, dropping the clothes unceremoniously to the ground and selecting a white t-shirt and plaid bottoms for himself.
"Sirius-"
"I know things have changed," Sirius hissed suddenly. "You think I don't know that? That I haven't noticed Azkaban dogging my steps every damn second of trying to be everything that boy needs right now-" He took a calming breath through his nose, eyes flicking towards the wall between them and Harry's bedroom. "You're right, we can't do this tonight. Just… please stay."
Remus exhaled, all excuses decimated by that single plea. But he couldn't respond to it, knowing how uncertain the future would be. He could hardly comprehend Sirius' alien desperation. His brain was depleted and fuzzy. Soon his words would start slurring together…
There was a low sigh.
"Goodnight, Remus."
Sirius moved suddenly out of his line of sight. He blinked rapidly.
"Padfoot?"
His shape paused in the hallway entrance.
"Thank you. It is good to see you again. I never thought I would."
Then Sirius smiled his trademark grin. Less bright. More haunted. Real. "Me too."
Once he was gone, Remus changed clumsily into the oldest t-shirt and pants he could find and collapsed onto the couch. He was unconscious in seconds.
A/N: Until next time! Like I said in the last chapter, I would love to hear your feedback on this part too. Take care!
