A/N: Okay, I've literally been writing this chapter in chunks while I'm on the train/bus on my way to work/uni, my free time has been available only in snatches for the past two weeks. Sorry it's taken so long, but at least I didn't end the last chapter in a cliffhanger! I'm not completely happy with this chapter to be honest, it feels just a little disjointed to me, but I thought updating sooner was better than later. The first part of this chapter was initially the end of the last chapter, but I moved it because I wanted to end the last chapter on a happier note. Thanks for all your lovely reviews for the last chapter, too!
By the time Remus Apparated back to the doorstep of his home, slipped out of his shoes and tiptoed down the hallway, up the stairs and into his bedroom with Tonks, it was 2AM in the morning.
He grabbed a pair of boxers and a clean shirt from the closet and glanced quickly at Tonks as he headed towards the bathroom. She appeared fast asleep, turned on her side so that she faced the door instead of Remus's side of the bed. He realized with a slight jolt that they had both been sleeping that way for – he couldn't remember. Months. It started perhaps a few weeks after Teddy had been born.
He slid the bathroom door shut behind him, turned on the tap and splashed some water onto his face before looking up at himself in the mirror. Did he look younger? More energized? Invigorated after talking with his best-friend-come-alive for five hours straight?
Honestly, he couldn't tell. He felt like it – but he wondered if that was just wishful thinking, emotions that he thought he was supposed to be feeling that he projected on top of his real feelings because this was what he had been doing for the past few months: putting on a mask, doing what was required, saying what was desired of him. The thought seemed to hover like a black cloud over the past hours of laughter and chatter he'd had with Sirius and he shook it away. You're thinking too much again. He ran through the last five hours in his mind. What had they talked about, really? It seemed like everything and nothing at the same time; time had simply rushed by.
It took him a moment to focus on his reflection and realize that he was smiling like an idiot.
He changed quickly whilst brushing his teeth and turned off the bathroom light before walking back into the bedroom so that it wouldn't disturb Tonks. He had just slipped into bed and was pulling the blanket over himself when he realized that as he'd walked past her, Tonks's eyes had been open. The elation he had felt just a moment ago was starting to fade.
To her credit, she waited a good five minutes before speaking, as if she was giving Remus a chance to explain himself. He wracked his brain desperately for an excuse that he could possibly use, feeling the time crawl by, and coming up with nothing.
Her patience finally ran out.
"Where have you been?"
He hadn't expected her to be so cold. He knew she'd be angry and that he would probably be confronted with an outpour of blame and hurt. The flat iciness of Tonks's tone only appeared when she was truly furious. His heart sank.
"Hogwarts."
He only seemed to be able to manage the one word before his throat closed up. He swallowed, cleared it loudly.
"Minerva sent me a message." Her voice was still the same emotionless steel. "She said you went back to reminisce." She said the word like it was filthy, and Remus silently cursed Minerva for giving him such a flimsy cover story. People didn't just go back to their old school to reminisce for no reason. "I sent her a Patronus two hours ago and she said she'd long gone home."
Blank, blank, blank. His mind had gone empty. He scrabbled desperately in thin air for words.
"I want," said Tonks, her tone wavering slightly, "to be fair. So I'm going to give you a chance to explain yourself, even though I don't feel like you least bit deserve it."
Fuck, Remus, say something!
"I had dinner with Harry," he blurted out, and an immense wave of relief swept over him. That, at least, was true.
There was a short silence. Remus could hear the seconds tick by.
"I noticed you hadn't been speaking to him much lately."
Remus twisted around on the bed so that he was facing her back. "Yes. We had a… well, everything's fine now. It was just a misunderstanding."
She didn't ask him what sort of misunderstanding it was. He wasn't sure if she believed him or not.
In fact, she didn't say anything for so long he thought she'd fallen asleep again. He was just about to drift off himself when her voice cut through the darkness, sharp and brittle: "Are you seeing someone else, Remus?"
He lay there, stunned at her assumption, while his mind tried to figure out the right response. At the same time he couldn't stop the guilt that seemed to steep into his mind, like ink spilt on cloth.
I haven't done anything wrong.
Irritation clawed at him.
"No," he said, just as sharply. "I'm not, Dora. I don't know where you're getting that from. I just had a late night with Harry, we were talking and lost track of the time."
It sounded contrived even to his own ears.
She didn't say anything more after that. She didn't turn around to face him, either, so after a while he turned back to his original position, stared at the wall in front of him, and counted the hours until morning.
###
The next morning, Harry came downstairs and hesitated outside the kitchen door, which was slightly ajar. The house still seemed to be intact when he woke up, so he was feeling optimistic about how Sirius and Remus's talk last night had gone.
Although just because the rest of the house is fine, they were in the kitchen the whole night. It might look like the site of the Third Wizarding War in there.
Bracing himself, he nudged the door open and stood in the doorway, gaping.
The kitchen was spotless, possibly for the first time since he had moved in and Hermione had given the entire place a full spring clean. The kitchen table boasted a generous spread of breakfast specials: buttermilk scones, blueberry muffins, scrambled eggs, fried sausages, baked beans, buttered toast, sautéed mushrooms, grilled tomatoes. Standing at the sink was Sirius, wiping dry the last frying pan.
"Who are you and what have you done to my godfather?" Harry quipped, pulling out a chair and sliding into it, still staring at the feast in front of him. "Did you turn into a cooking prodigy overnight?"
Sirius turned and flashed him a grin. "Good morning, Harry," he said cheerfully. Harry blinked in surprise; the dark bags that had been underneath Sirius's eyes for the past two weeks had miraculous disappeared, his hair looked washed and actually combed, his eyes were glinting with the familiar sparkle he hadn't seen since Sirius's first return.
He took all of this in, and grinned widely in return. "So it went well with Remus, huh?" He said, helping himself to sausages.
Sirius poured out two mugs of coffee. Harry wasn't sure if someone could actually pour coffee happily, but somehow Sirius managed to give that impression. "You know, I think it did," Sirius said, passing one of the mugs over. "We talked until two this morning."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "Wow. I'm glad it went so well – and here I was worried that I'd be woken up in the middle of the night with my kitchen in tatters and Remus having almost killed you." He took a bite of sausage and blanched.
His godfather appeared not to have noticed. He stirred his coffee absent-mindedly and gazed out the window. "Yeah, it did go pretty well, all things considering. Somehow, I don't feel like I've been dead at all – or that I actually died – it just feels like I've been on a long holiday and now I'm finally back home."
As discreetly as possible, Harry popped two sausages back into its serving plate. He reached for the plate of eggs, which was at least a bright sunny yellow and looked considerably like what scrambled eggs were supposed to look like.
"I don't know, Harry…" Sirius said, and Harry heard the precision with which he was weighing his words, "who knows? Things might be able to go back to…normal."
He knew he wasn't mistaken in hearing a pause before the word 'normal'. He thought it probably wasn't the right time yet to ask his godfather just what 'normal' for him meant.
Sirius drained his coffee, left his mug in the sink and drifted out of the kitchen in a manner that Harry swore seemed like he was floating. Torn between feeling amused and anxious, he shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth.
"Eughh," he spluttered, sending bits of egg flying across the table. "Bloody hell." He stared at the untouched platters of food on the table and decided that his godfather hadn't become an overnight cooking prodigy after all.
###
Three days later, Remus Apparated onto the doorstep of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, wearing his second-best suit over a clean shirt, jeans and aftershave, and holding a bottle of red wine in front of his chest like a shield. He felt overdressed and ridiculous and just marginally relieved that he had not opted for his very best suit in the end.
You're dressing up for Sirius, his traitorous brain accused him silently.
Shut up, he thought furiously, I am not. Harry fire-called and told me come over for a celebration. A celebration requires clothes of good taste.
You're dressing up for Sirius, the voice in his head repeated, now taking on a slight mocking tone.
I'm thirty-eight and married, I do not dress up to impress anyone, much less my oldest friend who has seen me in far worse conditions.
The voice was now rolling its eyes and drawling. You're dressing up for Sirius. Admit it.
Just as Remus decided that he would Apparate back home, ditch the suit and possibly change into an older shirt, the door was yanked open by Harry, who greeted him with a cheerful grin. "Hey, Remus! Glad you could come. We're having a little pre-celebration."
Remus stepped into the hallway, hoping he looked completely at ease, because that was the last thing he felt like. "A pre-celebration?"
"Well, Molly's going to throw some big to-do thing tomorrow – oh yes, you're invited to that, by the way, you and Tonks – but we wanted to celebrate a little earlier."
He was feeling completely lost. "What are you talking about?"
"Wait till you hear Ron's news," was Harry's only response.
Right on cue, the familiar redhead bounded into the hallway, closely followed by Hermione, whose cheeks were flushed pink. "Remus!" Ron said, settling one arm around Hermione's waist. "Guess what? I made the Quidditch team!"
Comprehension dawned. His anxiety with his clothes momentarily forgotten, Remus grinned and held out his hand, which Ron shook with gusto. "Congratulations, Ron."
"Thanks," Ron said happily. "Knew you had faith in me. And 'Mione was always saying I'd never make it…"
"I was not," Hermione said indignantly. "I never said that."
"You were thinking it," Ron insisted.
"Ronald Weasley, I always have faith in my boyfriend. And since that happens to be you at the moment for reasons that are beyond me, I'll thank you to not—"
"What'd'you mean, 'at the moment'!"
"Oh, honestly—"
Their voices drifted out down the hall as they left. Remus raised an eyebrow. "Seems like the wrong night to pick a fight, even for Ron."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about it," Harry said in a long-suffering voice as he took the wine from Remus. "In about five minutes they'll be all over each other."
Remus blinked. "Oh. Uh. Right then."
"By the way, I should warn you," Harry added over his shoulder, leading him into the living room, "Sirius insisted on cooking tonight."
"He's cooking?"
"Yeah, he's been doing that a lot lately. On the plus side, I think I've managed to finally lose all that extra weight from Christmas."
Remus burst out laughing. "That bad?"
"Absolutely awful." Harry said, collapsing onto the couch by the fireplace. "I just don't have the heart to tell him. One more botched continental breakfast, though, and I just might crack."
"He made continental breakfast?"
"You really don't want to know. We should get some glasses for a drink. Sirius," Harry shouted, raising his voice in the direction of the kitchen, "bring out three wine glasses, would you?" He caught Remus's look. "Yes I know I can use magic. But if he's going to make me suffer through another meal of sneaking food into napkins and then upstairs to vanish secretly, then the least he can do is get us some glasses."
Remus laughed again, falling onto a blue armchair next to Harry. "None for Ron and Hermione?"
Harry waved a hand airily, screwing up his face in disgust. "They'll come for it when they're ready."
Remus looked around the room. It had been a while since he had been in Harry's living room, but nothing much seemed to have changed. He caught sight of Harry's collection of model broomsticks sitting on the mantelpiece, and it immediately reminded him of Teddy and Tonks. He hadn't had a proper conversation with Tonks since he had returned late after his catch up with Sirius three days ago. She wasn't giving him the silent treatment exactly, but her entire demeanor had become so cold he might as well have been living with a block of ice. They communicated only for pure necessities; otherwise they avoided each other as much as possible. Remus knew that they needed to talk about it, to get it out – whatever it was – but every time he saw her, the accusation she had made that night hung between them, heavy as stone, and seemed to weigh on every word that passed between them. It made having even a casual conversation forced and strained.
"Remus?"
He refocused on his surroundings and realized that his mind had drifted off. Harry was staring at him, looking slightly concerned. Remus gave himself a little shake and smiled to show he was alright, trying to bring some normalcy back into the moment.
"Oh, by the way, Dora wants you to stop giving Teddy charmed broomsticks. They're driving her mad."
Harry looked like he was torn between laughing and attempting a look of contrite. "Whoops. Tell Tonks I'm sorry about that. But Teddy loves them, though."
"That's what I said." Remus settled back comfortably against the cushions of the armchair, putting up his feet on the couch opposite. "By the way, what spell did you use to charm those things? I can't figure it out."
"That's not surprising. It's a nifty spell that George made up and taught me, actually. Something he developed with Fred," Harry said, grinning.
Amused, he shook his head. "Figures."
"Is everything okay with you and Tonks?"
The question had just slipped out without warning and Harry, who looked mildly horrified, began apologizing even before Remus had fully processed the words. "Oh bollocks, sorry. I know it isn't actually any of my business, it's just—"
"Harry," Remus interrupted. "Don't worry about it. It's fine. We're fine, Tonks and I. Everything's fine." He said all of this as firmly as possible, trying not to care that he was attempting to convince himself as much as Harry.
Harry surveyed him for a moment. "Good," he said, and Remus caught the careful wary tone underneath the casual demeanor. He wondered who else had been speculating about his marriage.
But Harry, as it turned out, wasn't finished. He looked like he was debating whether or not to say what was clearly itching to get out. He opened his mouth and got as far as, "It's just with Sirius—" when the man himself walked into the room, carrying three empty glasses and wearing a white shirt that was stained with what looked like three different substances.
Sirius's eyes brightened when he caught sight of Remus, who did not miss Sirius's quick flick of eyes up and down as he looked at him. "Hey, Moony," he said, flashing a smile. "You look nice." Setting down the glasses, he popped open the wine that Remus had brought and began to pour. "It's just with Sirius what?" He added, as he handed glasses over to both of them.
Harry clammed up.
A well-trained Marauder through and through, Remus said smoothly, "It's just with Sirius's lousy cooking, it'll be a miracle if we get anything decent to eat tonight."
"Hey! I'll have you know, my roast chicken is looking tanned and gorgeous in the oven at the moment, Moony." He eased easily into the couch opposite Remus, next to his propped up feet. "As do you."
There was a loud spluttering and coughing as Harry choked violently on a mouthful of wine. He started to stand with the clear intent on leaving the two of them alone, but was not-so-subtly yanked back down onto the couch by Remus, who attempted to look completely nonchalant while slapping Harry hard on the back.
Sirius let out a bark of laughter that was just a bit too high-pitched. "I was just joking, Remus. You skin doesn't even let you get tanned. Harry, my boy, don't choke to death."
"Right," Remus said weakly, managing to force out a chuckle. He knew Sirius was probably expecting a quick comeback and remembered all the flirty bantering they'd done even before they had gotten together in their sixth year at Hogwarts. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he changed the subject. "Let's toast. To Ron."
They clinked glasses, none of them mentioning the fact that Ron wasn't in the room.
Striving for the comfortable atmosphere that had settled before Sirius's comment, Remus asked, "So when does he start?"
Harry replied. "He starts training in three days. It's really soon, but Quidditch season is coming up again and they don't want to lose any time."
Sirius snorted. "Time won't help them."
"Don't let Ron hear you say that," Harry said, though he was grinning. "He's convinced he can turn the team around and win the championship."
"I heard on the radio that France is supposed to have a killer team this year…"
"Sirius, mate, that is completely the wrong attitude," said Ron, coming into the room at that moment with Hermione not far behind, still a little pink in the face. "The England team just needs unity. I'm sure we can manage."
"You haven't even met the rest of the team yet and it's already 'we'?" Sirius teased.
Ron waved this off, saying airily, "No I haven't, but we're all the top Quidditch players of the country. How could we not get along?"
Sirius opened his mouth, caught Harry's dagger look and shut it again. Instead, as Harry, Ron and Hermione started laughing at something Ron was saying, he leaned over to Remus, close enough for Remus to feel his breath on his cheek. "They haven't gotten along yet so far," he murmured, and moved away immediately before Remus could utter a response. He watched as Sirius got up and headed over to Ron to give him a congratulatory handshake.
For the rest of the night, the conversation revolved around Quidditch with Harry, Ron and Sirius talking animatedly. Hermione sat beside Ron, somehow managing to look both proud and resigned at the same time. For his part, Remus contented himself with listening to the conversation and sneaking glances over at Sirius every once in a while. He felt like he was back in fifth year.
He made his excuses and left at nine thirty, determined not to be home late again. He Apparated a short distance from his house so he could walk the rest of the way, thinking that the fresh air would help calm the butterflies that had persistently nagged at him for the entire night, which he had a feeling had started when Sirius had told him he looked nice.
Why does that goddamn git still have that effect on me?
As he walked, immersed in thought, a lone figure walked towards him on the opposite side of the road. Just as he glanced over, the figure turned down an alleyway and disappeared. Remus blinked, frowning slightly. There had been something familiar about the figure, but he couldn't quite place what. He forgot about it as he reached his front door, mentally bracing himself for another frosty evening with Tonks.
It seemed like a never-ending cycle. The question was, when would it break?
When, indeed? Wonder who that mysterious figure is?
By the way, how am I going with the whole British English thing? I grew up with American English and it's really strange for me to be typing things like 'arse' instead of 'ass'.
Please review! It's a long weekend coming up so I'll actually have some real free time. I shall be working hard to churn out another chapter so stay tuned!