A/N: Long chapter for you wonderful people. This chapter refused to come easily; it wanted to wrestle with me and I had to beat it into submission. It took a turn in the middle that I wasn't expecting it to take. Remus has more dreams, Harry and Hermione have some Serious Discussions (pun intended), and we also have a little reference to the title (because I couldn't quite resist)... but enough from me, onwards we go!
They were lying together in Remus's bed in their dorm, sixth year. Sirius was pressing light butterfly kisses down Remus's arm. Remus turned and laid a hand on top of his for a moment.
"What are we going to tell the others?" He asked softly.
Sirius stilled. In the darkness, Remus could just make out the glint of his eyes. He reached for his wand and mutters, "Lumos."
Sirius moved away from him and stretches out on the pillow. Remus could see the uncertainty and hesitancy in his eyes. He moved closer and draped an arm across his stomach. "We don't have to say anything yet if you don't want to."
"It's just—" Sirius turned and faced him. "I don't know how Prongs'll take it. What if…" He let the sentence drift, unfinished, the unspoken consequences floating between them.
"He won't. He's your best friend. He'll be happy for us."
"You're my best friend too."
"Oh?" Remus raised an eyebrow, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Is that all I am?"
Sirius laughed, a wicked look in his eyes, and suddenly Remus found himself flipped onto his back with Sirius leaning over him. "You are so much more, Mister Moony…" And his hands were everywhere, searching, exploring, seducing…
Remus jolted awake for the fifth night in a row and realized he was sweating. He glanced outside and saw the first rays of the sun beginning to peek in through the curtains. The clock read 5.40AM. He'd only gotten three hours of sleep. Recently, he had taken to lying in bed with a book and his wand (reminding him wistfully of Hogwarts days), reading until his eyelids drooped and he couldn't avoid sleep any longer.
It wasn't only that the dreams were a terrifying reminder of past ghosts and memories that scared him, it was that the dreams were exhilarating and exciting as well. It made him yearn for things he could not have while enlarging the gaping hole inside of him that he had thought long healed since Sirius's death – but turned out not to be. It was confusing.
He looked down and saw the bulge at the front of his pants. Flashes of the dream came back to him hauntingly, playing in front of him like a black and white film.
Gritting his teeth, he swung himself out of bed, ignoring Tonks's sleepy mumble, and headed off to the bathroom. It was going to be another long day.
###
"Checkmate."
"Damn it."
Ron chuckled as Sirius reluctantly poked his resentful-looking chess king so that it toppled over. "Better luck next time."
"Luck wouldn't win against you," Sirius grumbled. "I believe your chess players are actually helping you with your tactics."
Ron shrugged, grinning.
Harry, reclined in one of the comfy blue armchairs by the fireplace, watched this scene with an amused smile. The chess game, as usual, had been Hermione's idea – but it had worked in its purpose: distracting Sirius.
He had noticed that his godfather seemed to be getting more and more secluded within himself, emerging from his room less and less. Harry had no idea what he was doing in there. What can a man who has just apparently come back to life be so busy doing anyway? He thought, and immediately felt a sharp pang of guilt for it.
Hermione, who was curled up in the armchair next to him with a book on her lap, motioned for him to lean in. "I've been thinking," she whispered, keeping a careful eye on the two men who were now setting up for their fourth game.
"When are you not?"
"Shh, this is serious!"
"Yes, that is Sirius."
"Harry!"
Harry, unable to help himself, burst out laughing. Ron and Sirius glanced over with vague interest, and then deciding that their game was more important, returned their attention to the chess board.
Hermione was glaring at him. He straightened his face out hastily and tried to look apologetic. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. What were you going to say?"
She glowered at him for a second longer just to emphasize her point before saying, "I think we should go to Hogwarts."
Harry blinked. "Why?"
"To talk to the Headmistress."
"You want to talk to Minerva?"
"Yes, to Prof—Minerva," said Hermione, and Harry bit back another laugh. Hermione still had trouble addressing her previous professors by their first names.
"About Sirius?"
Hermione chewed on her lower lip, a nervous habit. Lowering her voice even more so that Harry had to practically put his ear right next to her mouth, she hissed, "Well, yes. I've been doing research into the Veil and all these different theories on what's between life and death, and for that matter if there'd been any circumstances of mysterious bright lights bringing dead people back to life, but I've come up with nothing."
"But you're Hermione. You always come up with something."
She sensed his teasing and gave him a nudge with her elbow. "Yes, but any information about the Veil in the Ministry library is in the highly classified section, and as an apprentice I can't actually access it yet. I need to get permission, and what am I going to say to get that? That I need it to figure out why Sirius Black, the notorious escaped Azkaban prisoner, is now alive again?"
"The pardoned escaped Azkaban prisoner," Harry corrected automatically.
She was getting impatient now, darting glances between Harry and the other two at a speed that made him feel dizzy. "Look. I know you like having your godfather back in your life and having something like your own family again. But you can't avoid the truth here, it's going to come out eventually and, well, I don't think this is as simple as someone just decided Sirius should get a second chance at life, Harry. There's something else at work here."
He was silent, playing with the frayed edges of the armchair. He could feel a petulant scowl about to form and he fought to clear his face of any expression. Finally, he sighed. "Fine. But, just… give it another week or so, okay? Let me enjoy my time with Sirius. Let's say a month from the date he came back—what was that, the twenty-second?"
She gave him a long look, then leaned back and exhaled a sigh of her own. "Oh, all right. June twenty-second, if I still haven't found anything, we'll go to Minerva."
"Deal." Spirits restored once more, Harry returned his attention to the game. Ron had now won his fourth round in a row and was crowing in victory whilst Sirius's chess pieces appeared to be sending him dirty looks. Sirius himself looked peevish.
"Right." Sirius whirled around in his seat so that he was facing Harry and Hermione. "Does somebody else want to try getting beaten in five minutes? It's brutal, I tell you."
"I'll play," Hermione said, tossing her curly hair over her shoulder and slamming shut her book. "Come on, Ronald. I just need one more win to even our score."
"In your dreams, 'Mione," Ron replied, setting up the chess pieces once more.
Sirius came and lounged in Hermione's vacated seat. "All right, Harry?"
Harry grinned in response. "Never better."
And it was these moments—a hot summer's night in June, without a war to worry about, spending an evening indoors together with his closet remaining familial link and his two best friends—that was completely irreplaceable to Harry. Hermione had been right, of course. This was the closest he'd ever come to having a happy family of his own, and he didn't want to let it go. Again.
###
"You haven't been sleeping well lately."
The statement, not a question, came from Tonks as she and Remus had breakfast together on the morning of June 11th.
"Do you think," Tonks said, in a tone that suggested she was skirting very carefully around the subject, "that the fact your dreams have started up again… well, have you checked the calendar recently?"
He knew what she was talking about, the looming date that was about to fall on him like a ton of bricks in a week, and in all likelihood that was the reason for the revival of his dreams, but he didn't want to talk about it. Opting to breeze over her question instead, he sipped his coffee and idly flicked through the month's issue of The Quibbler; a picture of nonchalance. "Mm-hmm," was all he said.
Tonks stared at him. Overhead, the sound of another charmed miniature broomstick buzzing amidst Teddy's squeals of delight could be heard. She folded up the Prophet, which she had been flicking through moments ago, and set it on the table beside her plate, her movements precise and delicate.
"You can talk about him, you know," she said quietly. "I don't mind."
He felt himself tense immediately. It was an involuntary reaction, but insisted on happening whenever Sirius's death was mentioned, in however obscure a context. He had never discussed the topic with his wife. Even now, he was unsure as to how much Sirius's death had affected her, and how much of his and Sirius's relationship she was actually aware of. While he was alive, they had never told anybody their secret but James and Lily. But women had the tendency to notice things when you wanted them unnoticeable. It was both a blessing and a curse.
Setting down his coffee, he said, keeping his voice at the same even tone as hers, "Thanks, Dora. I don't think so, though."
It took a moment to realize that she was mad. She was attempting to conceal it, but his wolf senses picked up emotions as well as scents, and he could feel the anger radiating off her in waves. But underneath that, stronger still, was hurt.
He felt remorse toil in his stomach and decided to change the subject. Gesturing to the magazine he was reading, he asked, "When did we start subscribing to The Quibbler? We've never gotten it before."
And the anger was subsiding, although the hurt lingered. Tonks gathered up his untouched clean plate, stacked it on top of her own plate full of croissant crumbs and carried it over to the sink. "We didn't," she said, over the sound of running water, "Harry sent that over this morning."
He was distracted by the title of the article he was reading – MINERVA MCGONAGALL: EXCEEDING EXPECTATIONS that showed the familiar if rather irate looking grey-haired woman standing with her arms crossed, glowering at the camera; he would have to call up Minerva later on so they could have a laugh about that – so he almost missed what she said. His mind doubled back to their conversation and he suddenly looked up, alert.
"Who?"
"Harry," Tonks repeated, apparently giving up on manual dishwashing and waving her wand to clean all the dirty dishes in one go.
"Harry came by?"
"No, it was sent over with Hedwig, along with another one of those mini-brooms," Tonks sighed. "You really need to have a talk with him and ask him to stop doing that, Remus. They're driving me crazy."
"Teddy loves them," Remus said automatically, his mind returning to the magazine as he flipped through it vigorously. After three weeks of no contact from Harry since the fire-call, if he sent something over, then the magazine must have some sort of message.
You're being paranoid. It's just an offer of retribution, he feels bad for avoiding you.
Maybe. But he knew Harry.
"I know Teddy loves them, and I know Harry's his godfather, but if one more of those ridiculous broomsticks comes attacking me in the middle of – oh, for god's sake!" Remus glanced up in time to see, as if on cue, Harry's latest charm experiment whiz into the room and make a beeline for Tonks's hair, which was twisted up in a bubble-gum pink knot today on top of her head. Tonks ducked, just in time. The broom whirled around and made a second attempt at making a new home in her hair.
Remus grinned as Tonks stunned the broom and it fell onto the floor. "It's just a bit of fun," he offered.
"It's not funny." Tonks picked up the broom and swept bits of loose hair back behind her ears. "Look, I have to go. Try and figure out if there's a way to stop these things without stunning them? I would use the counter spell but I have no idea what charm Harry put on these, and Teddy'll kick up a fuss if they don't fly again."
Remus hid his smile behind The Quibbler. "Those brooms do seem to have a personality of their own."
He heard Tonks let out a half amused, half exasperated huff before leaving the kitchen. Once he heard the front door close, he returned his attention to the magazine, forehead creasing as he studied the contents page. His eyes flicked over the headlines, his frown increasing. An interview with a man who claimed to have flown to another planet on the new Nimbus 4000, a profile on Kingsley Shacklebolt debating on his chances on being the next Minister for Magic. But nothing that seemed to jump out in significance to Remus.
He was just about to give up when he saw it:
WHERE ARE THEY NOW? – A LOOK AT THE HEROES OF THE WAR SIX MONTHS LATER, P38.
He flipped to the page, feeling suddenly nervous without quite knowing why.
At the top, predictably, was Harry Potter. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were right below him, along with Minerva McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Neville Longbottom, Rubeus Hagrid and a list of other familiar as well as not-so-familiar names, including, he saw uncomfortably, his own. Then he glanced at the page next to it, which was headed In Remembrance and included another long list of names, headed by Albus Dumbledore.
About halfway down the list was a name that had been underlined three times. Remus read the entry, then reread it:
Sirius Black – Harry Potter's mystery of a godfather and prior Azkaban prisoner, although his crime has been officially pardoned by the Ministry. His death on June 18th will be remembered by those close to him. The headstone and memorial site of Sirius Black is located in Godric's Hollow, next to the graves of James and Lily Potter.
The date had also been underlined three times.
Remus stared at the pen strokes as if they would somehow come alive and offer some sort of explanation to him.
What the hell, Harry?
What was the point of reiterating Sirius's date of death to him? Did he think he'd forgotten? That was like saying Teddy was not going to be a Quidditch fanatic when he grew up. In other words: impossible.
Determined, he stood and went over to the fireplace, almost upending the dish of floo powder in his haste. Throwing it into the fire, he shouted, "12 Grimmauld Place!" And stepped into the green fire.
Only to be thrown back out on his arse, skidding across his own kitchen floor.
He stared in disbelief.
I've been blocked.
He didn't bother to try Apparating, his guts telling him that the attempt would only return more negative results. He picked himself up slowly, unaware that the kitchen floor was now covered in black soot.
What in the world is going on?
###
The Burrow was abuzz with activity. From the outside, the windows were aglow with warm yellow light and Celestina Warbeck's warbling voice could be heard for miles. In the kitchen, Molly Weasley had outdone herself in setting out a lavish family feast, and the dining table was so packed with food that Harry was sure there were plates of food on top of other plates of food on top of other plates. A food fight seemed to him inevitable. Above the dining table hung a banner in careful wand-scripted calligraphy that read: SCHOOL IS OVER! And underneath, hand-printed, was the words: FOR EVERYONE!
Ginny was at the center of attention, laughing and chatting with her brothers. Harry had just managed to squeeze out of the crowd and settle himself on a couch in the dining room. He was already plotting his excuse to leave early so he could go back to Grimmauld Place and spend some time with Sirius before his godfather went to bed – he seemed to be doing that earlier and earlier now.
Finally managing to squeeze herself out from between her family members, Ginny flopped onto the couch and immediately snuggled up close to him. "Hey," she said, her face so close he could see every freckle on her cheek.
"Hi," he replied, smiling, and hated that he was still so awkward at this stage in their relationship. Ginny leaned over and gave him a quick kiss.
"I'm sorry to make you sit through all this chaos."
Harry laughed lightly and tried to ease any tension away so it didn't show on his face. "Are you kidding? I'm used to it by now."
"Still," she pressed. "It'll be nice to be able to go and spend some time at your place. When should I come?"
Damn. He'd hoped she'd forgotten. "Erm, yeah, about that—the thing is, I've started renovating again. Proper renovation, like, the Muggle way. It's a bit inconvenient for you to stay."
Her eyes were sharp and he did his best to meet her gaze. "You're renovating?"
"Yes." He was a bad liar and he knew it. The guilt that was now layering itself on top of the lie didn't help much either.
Ginny studied him for a few more seconds, then looked away. "I'm not a child, you know, Harry."
Before he could ask her what that meant, Hermione came over, an intent look on her face that told Harry she wanted to discuss something serious.
"Ginny, mind if I borrow Harry for a moment?"
His girlfriend shrugged and left without giving him another glance.
I'm going to have to deal with that later.
"What's up, Hermione?" He asked tiredly.
She looked at him sharply, much like the way Ginny had when he'd lied to her earlier. Women, he thought viciously, why are they always trying to see everything?
Hermione looked like she wanted to make a comment, then changed her mind. "Have you noticed the date?" She asked instead.
Oh, not this again. "I told you, Hermione, just give me one month to actually spend some time—"
"No, not that," she snapped. "I'm not talking about the twenty-second. I meant today is the seventeenth."
As his mind registered this, some part of his brain seemed to be sending warning signals, trying to tell him something he should already know, but he couldn't quite get the meaning. "So?"
She gave him a disbelieving look. "Harry. You can't be as oblivious as that."
Today is the seventeenth. Did I miss someone's birthday? No, don't think so… Ron's in March, Hermione's in September, Ginny's in August… Seventeenth, seventeenth… June seventeenth… tomorrow's the eighteenth…
Oh.
Harry's eyes widened as the realization hit and he grabbed Hermione's arm hard. "It's Sirius's anniversary!"
"I knew you'd get there in the end," said Hermione wryly.
How could he have forgotten? Harry mentally slapped himself on the brain. "No wonder he's been acting so odd lately!" And then another thought came slamming into him and he dug his nails into Hermione's arm. "You don't think… that he's somehow going to die again?"
"Ow, Harry…" She pried away his fingers gently, a small frown on her face. "I… I'm not sure. But I don't think so. I did think about the possibility, but it seems unlikely. If he's been sent back intentionally, then there's no point in having him die again on the exact same day, especially since he hasn't done a thing since he's returned."
Relieved, Harry fell back against the cushions of the couch.
"Harry, I was just telling you to remind you to be nice to him."
Indignant now, Harry shot back up. "I'm always nice to him! He's my godfather!"
"I meant," said Hermione in a long-suffering tone, "to be more careful about what you say around him tomorrow. He already seems more down than usual, we don't know what he'll feel like tomorrow. So be sensitive. Tactful, you know? It's not exactly something you or Ron excel at."
He had to acknowledge this. "Yeah, yeah, all right. It's a good thing you reminded me."
"I know." She gave him a knowing look. "Now go make it up to Ginny."
He went, wondering how much of a good thing it was that women always seemed to know everything.
###
They were lying on their backs close together on the grass next to the lake, having managed to sneak out of the dorms without James or Peter noticing. Above them, the stars glowed, tiny mini explosions that happened light years ago, gleaming against the black night sky.
The line jumped into Remus's head and was out of his mouth before he could stop it. "Look me in the stars," he murmured.
"What?" Beside him, Sirius has been busy sending sparks up into the sky with his wand.
"What are you doing?"
"I want to see if I can hit one of the stars."
"You idiot." Remus smiled fondly. They were quiet for a moment, then: "It's from a poem."
"A poem?"
"Shorter than a novel, generally following a set structure or rhyme?"
He grinned when he felt Sirius's playful slap on his shoulder. "I know what a poem is!"
"Thought you didn't."
"Git."
And Remus quoted quietly:
"A voice said, Look me in the stars,
And tell me truly, men of earth,
If all the soul-and-body scars,
Were not too much to pay for birth."
For a moment, all he could hear was the lapping of the water in the lake. "It's by a guy called Robert Frost," he added, now feeling completely embarrassed. He decided to try and change the subject. "Did you know Lily finally said yes to Prongs today?"
"Of course. It's all over school, no one can believe it," Sirius said, but his mind was far from distracted. "A Muggle poet?" He asked.
"Yeah."
He was silent for a minute, looking thoughtful. "No," he said finally, decisively.
Startled, Remus glanced at him. "No what?"
"No, it's not too much to pay for birth," Sirius replied. He leaned over and presses a soft kiss to Remus's lips. "I wouldn't care if I had all the scars in the world, soul or body or otherwise, Moony, as long as you're mine."
That was the moment that Remus knew he had fallen irretrievably, irrefutably in love with Sirius Black.
This time when Remus woke up, he felt a sense of doom wash over him even before he even opened his eyes, knowing what would greet him. He tried to force himself back into unconsciousness but knew it would be useless. One eye cracked open involuntarily and stared straight at the calendar hanging on the wall directly in front of him, the numbers on it big and black, mocking him quietly.
It was finally June 18th.
Sirius's date of death, according to the majority of the ambiguous internet population, is June 18th, so that's what I've gone with here (and that's what I was hinting at the last chapter!). However, as my lovely reader Resevius has kindly pointed out to me, Sirius died on a Thursday, and in the real world that would actually have been June 20th in 1996. It's just two days' difference so I'm overlooking it here, but for the more picky readers I just wanted to show that I am aware of this, and June 18th is intentional.
And so, the stage is set! Exciting times to come in the next couple of chapters. Having said that, the next chapter may be a while as I'm going overseas for a week where internet access is dubious and family obligations unavoidable. Stay tuned, though, and reviewers get chocolate. (No, okay, you don't, but you do get my heartfelt gratitude and happy vibes sent your way.)