A Night at the Golden Snail

Chapter 3 – Dragging Down the Stars

The rating, spoilers and disclaimers have not changed.

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The following Saturday afternoon, Gryffindor played Hufflepuff at Quidditch.  Remus spent three minutes searching for his scarf, so he was only seventeen minutes early to the game.  As he approached the stadium, he could see McGonagall waiting outside.  Soon, it became apparent that she was waiting for him.

"Mister Lupin," she called.  "A word with you, please."

The corner of Remus's brain that never shut up took that opportunity to remind him exactly how strident McGonagall's voice could be when she wanted your attention; like a siren almost, and not the kind that sang to you either.

"Is this about my project?" he said.  "I swear to you, it was completely unintentional – "

"We'll discuss that on Monday," she said.  "Right now, Mister Black is missing."

"Sirius?"

"Normally by now he would be up in the stands, playing with the microphone under the guise of testing it," she said.  "I'd hoped he would be coming with you."

"Huh.  Well, I haven't seen him all morning."

The Professor scowled.  "In that case – "

"Oh, I can find him for you," Remus said, and began to sprint back to the castle.  McGonagall yelled something after him, but he blocked it out and mentally reviewed the morning instead.  He had been awakened by the noise of Peter and James leaving, which had probably been around ten-thirty.  He had gotten out of bed immediately and Sirius had not been there.  He distinctly remembered Sirius not being there because he had flung Sirius's pillow across the room, infuriated at having lost his scarf, and if Sirius had been in hiding anywhere he would surely have had an apoplectic fit because he had had that pillow longer than he had been Sirius.  So plainly, Sirius had left the room before ten-thirty and if he was not at the game, then he was either unable to move or doing something very, very important.

Remus summoned the Marauder's Map in the entrance hall and stood there looking at it for a full five seconds longer than he had to, simply because he could not see a single reason why Sirius would be in the library twelve minutes before a game, unless he had somehow gotten his hand stuck again in one of those infernal potions books he liked to sneak out of the Restricted Section.  And even if that was the case, he reasoned as he sprinted for the library, such was Sirius's love for the game that he would have come even with a nine-hundred-page book hanging from his hand.

Maybe, Remus thought, maybe he was paralyzed.

He burst into the library and Sirius looked up.  He was sitting at a table, reading a book with a slowly undulating curtain on its front cover.

"Thank you for making me read these books," Sirius said.  "They're freaking incredible."

"Have you gone mad?" Remus yelled.  "The game's in ten minutes."

"Bloody hell!"  Sirius stuffed the book in his pocket and they flew back down the hall.

"Remus, you've got to tell me what happens," Sirius gasped as they ran.  "I'm going to die if I don't find out."

"Forget that, what'll you tell McG?"

"Make something up, I don't care."

"Tell her you're sick," Remus advised.  "It'll be close enough."

"Thanks," he said as they approached the stadium.  "Later."  Sirius continued running, over to where the professors sat.  Even from that distance, Remus could tell McGonagall was distinctly displeased.

He went into the Gryffindor stands and found a decent seat.  It was five minutes till game time.

"Er-HEM," Sirius said into the microphone.  "'Scuse me.  Ladies and gentlemen, beings and creatures and various other forms of life, I am proud to present to you the Gryffindor Quidditch team – Abelman, Blakely, Potter, Pettigrew, Green, Sidd, and Captain Llllleslie Bank."

Everyone around Remus was screaming, applauding and swinging their scarves in the air.  Naturally Remus did too, and he booed the Hufflepuffs when they came out, and he flipped his head back and forth trying to watch everyone at once, but he couldn't forget about himself like he normally did.  Remus had never felt like an idiot before, standing up on his seat and doing the victory dance when they scored a goal, but today he did.  So he stayed in his seat and wiggled his fingers back and forth, slowly, to keep them from freezing.

The game went on for hours and hours.  Being January, it soon got dark and most of the school left, a broken column of bobbing wand-lights heading back up to the castle, where it was warm and bright and suppertime.  Remus summoned a blanket, being very careful to request the blue fuzzy one he kept underneath his bed, and stayed.

"Remus," said a tiny voice behind him.  "Can I share your blanket?"

Remus lit his wand and angled it into the darkness.  Sure enough, it was Ellie.  He wanted very much to tell her no but she looked cold and pathetically alone, rather like himself.

"Sure," he said.  "If you want."

"That's why I asked."  She clambered over the bench and snuggled down next to him, taking far more than her share of the blanket.

"Hi, Remus," she said.

"Hi, Ellie."

"Why are you still here?" she asked.  "You can't even see the game hardly."

"Well," Remus said, "two of my friends are out there and the other is commentating, and if they have to stay out here all night then so do I."

"Do you like your friends?"

What an idiotic thing to say, Remus was about to tell her, and then he realized he didn't, most of the time.  "Sometimes," he said.  "So why are you here?"

"Because," she said, "I'm in love with you."

"No you aren't," Remus said absently, marveling at her moronic honesty.

"How would you know?" Ellie demanded.

"You don't know me."

"I've known you for a week," she said.  "If that's long enough for Romeo and Juliet, that's long enough for me."

Remus sighed.  "Ellie," he said, "that was a book."

"It's a play."

"It's a work of literature," he said, "and it is completely made up.  It has no connection with the real world.  In reality, you don't meet someone's eyes across a room and fall in love."

"I did," she said.

"Yes," Remus said.  "But I didn't.  So it isn't real, you know?"

"But in the Velvet Curtain," Ellie said, "Sebastian fell in love with Christine, right?  And she didn't love him, I mean not really, and he made her change her mind, didn't he?"

"I know," Remus said, "but it's not like – I mean, they're in love and everything, okay.  But you know how the story ends?  She dies.  Because love like that messes things up.  You can't live a normal life.  And if they did – like, say Sebastian and Christine got married.  What next?"

"But that's just stupid," said Ellie.

"Exactly," Remus said.  "It'd be stupid to try to drag down the stars and put them on the mantelpiece.  So they fall in love, and they screw up their lives, and if they're lucky they die, so they don't have to deal with the consequences of their stupid, screwed-up lives."

"So," she said in a tiny voice.  "I guess you don't believe in love."

"I'm not saying it doesn't happen," Remus said.  "I'm not saying it doesn't make a wonderful story.  I just wouldn't stab myself on account of it."

"You don't," she said.  "But I do.  And now I've told you I love you, so you have to love me too."

Remus gave a faint laugh.  "Ellie darling," he said, "that is not how it works."

"I don't care," she said.  "I'll love you forever until I die and I'll kill myself too, so there."

"Don't," Remus said.  "I might feel guilty."

Ellie brightened.  "Would you kill yourself too?"

Remus sighed in amused exasperation.  "You'd better find someone else to love.  Someone more worthy of the sacrifice."

"I think you are," Ellie said.  "You're really not as much of a jerk as everyone says."

"Who says?" Remus demanded.

"Oh, I don't know.  Everyone."

"Am I a jerk?"

"I don't think so," Ellie said.  "But I love you."

There was nothing to say to that, so he didn't.

The game ended at four in the morning when Abelman finally captured the Snitch.  Remus met James, Peter and Sirius outside the changing room.  Sirius had lost his voice hours ago, James and Peter were so sore they could hardly walk, and Remus was too tired to laugh at any of them.  They stumbled up to the castle and bed; Remus had only to close his eyes and he was asleep.

Remus woke with a start.  One of his boots, which he had not bothered to take off, had somehow worked its way off his foot and fallen to the floor.  He got out of bed and Sirius was standing over his potion raising a spoon to his lips.

"What now?"

Sirius picked up Remus's quill and wrote in the margin of Remus's Defense essay, I lost my voice.

"I know that," Remus said.  "That doesn't explain why you're writing on my essay and taste-testing a Love Potion."

Sirius replied, They make you want to drink them.  I don't know why, but I suspect it's to do with the butterfly tongues.

"Bull," Remus said.  "You want to be in love.  Don't you?"

Well, yes, said Sirius.  Who doesn't?

"You're looking at him," Remus said sourly, turning to leave.

Sirius ran after Remus and tugged on his hand.  Remus turned around and looked unwilling at Sirius, who was looking up at him, saying something without words.  Whatever it was, it made Remus follow Sirius back over to the potions lab, where Sirius flipped over his essay and asked, Why don't you want to be in love?

"It's beautiful," Remus said, "but it always falls apart in the end, every single time it ends the same way because somebody has to die."

But the bit in the middle, Sirius said, that makes it worth it.

"I wouldn't know," Remus said, looking hazily at the curls that were caught under the strap of Sirius's goggles and his wide asking eyes.  "I've never been in love."

I have, Sirius said.

"Oh, I know all about that," Remus said.  "You call that love?  Giving everything and getting back nothing?"

You just want to be loved, Sirius said.

"Is that so wrong?"

You want other people to love you and you don't want to have to do anything but watch them.  You want to read about love and pretend it's real, so you don't get hurt.

Remus looked away.  "No one wants to get hurt."

Sirius stuck the parchment in front of his face.  Some things are worth it, he said.

"I don't want to jump off a cliff," Remus said in a tiny voice.

No matter what you do –

"Stop it, would you?" Remus snapped.  "I don't need your advice.  All I know is life's a lot easier this way."

I'm going to make you change your mind.

"That's exactly what Ellie said to me," Remus said morosely.

Your firstie?

"Yeah," he said.  "She thinks she loves me."

She's probably right, said Sirius.

Remus sighed explosively.  "You are not going to tell me I ought to fall in love with her."

I had no such intention, Sirius said, looking indignant.  But since you know she loves you, it's absolutely risk-free.

"That would be so perfect if I loved her," Remus said.

Oh, Sirius said.  Well, in that case.

"Don't even think about it," Remus said.  "I don't want any of your chemical love."

All love is chemical, said Sirius.

"I won't argue that one," said Remus.

%%%

Later that day Sirius was drinking mugs and mugs of something laced with honey.  Remus was at the desk frantically writing his Defense essay, wearing a mask so he did not accidentally inhale any fumes from the Love Potion.

"It's cold," Remus said.  "Why is it so damn cold?  I need my blanket.  What'd I do with my blue fuzzy blanket?"

Sirius made an uncomfortable sound and tucked the trailing ends underneath his pillow.

"I'm cold," Remus said, going over to his trunk and putting on a sweater and an extra pair of socks before crawling into bed.  "What in God's name are you doing with my blue fuzzy blanket?"

"I was cold," said Sirius.

They looked at each other for a minute in mutual distrust.  Remus started to say something when Sirius interrupted.

"Are you sick?"

"I'm cold," Remus said.

"Are you done with your essay?"

"Nearly."

"Can I look at it?"

"No."

Sirius got up, wrapping Remus's blanket around his shoulders, and went over to the desk.  He picked up the essay and sat on the table to read it.  "Damn," he said, wiping his finger on the blanket.  "Ink's not dry."  He glanced at Remus over top of the parchment.  "I'm sorry," he said.  "Were you going to say something?"

"Yeah."  Remus got out of bed.  His hair was sticking up on one side.  "I was going to say you were a lot cuter when you couldn't talk, but I changed my mind.  You're just a cold heartless bastard and you don't really give a shit about me.  Do you?"

"Excuse me," said Sirius, "but I am risking ten years in Azkaban for you, so don't even tell me I don't care."

"Yeah?" Remus said.  "Well, you treat me like dirt the rest of the month.  Give me that."  Remus grabbed the essay, leaving one corner of it in Sirius's hand.  He stuffed it into his pocket, whirled around, began tearing the sheets off his bed.

The door banged open.

"What are you doing?" demanded James.

"I treat him like poop," Sirius said tonelessly.  "So he decided to have one of his self-righteous spaz attacks."

"Remus, he treats everyone like that," Peter said.  "Don't take it personally."

"Sirius, I don't think you're that terrible," James said.

"Where are you going?" Peter asked Remus.  "Can I come?"

"Okay, hold it," James said, dropping his broom and stepping into the middle of the room.  "What exactly is the problem here?"

"This isn't a bloody tribunal," said Remus.  "It's between me and Sirius."

"And you're doing a rotten job of solving it," James said.  "Why are you so pissed off at Sirius?"

"Because he's an inconsiderate asswipe," Remus said.

James sighed.  "I meant what did he do?"

"Stole my blanket and my essay."

"Remus, he does that to you every day of the week," James said.

"I know," Remus said.  "And I'm sick of it.  Just because I don't complain – " he was talking to Sirius now – "I act like it doesn't bother me but it does.  I try to tell you something and you just keep on trying to persuade me otherwise because you don't care what I think."

Sirius looked at him quietly.  "If it bothers you so much," he said, "why didn't you ever tell me?"

Remus gave a bitter laugh.  "Weren't you listening?  You don't care what I think."  Then he turned around and walked out.

"I do," Sirius said to the door.  "I just act like I don't."

"You sure fooled him," James said.

"Give me the map," Peter said, shrugging out of his Quidditch robes.  "I'll go talk to him."

"Good old Peter," James said fervently.  "And if we ever do anything that annoys you, please let us know, but in a nice way."

Peter looked at Sirius.  "You slurp your pumpkin juice in the morning and it really gets on my nerves."  He smiled a little, then left.

"Do I?" Sirius said miserably.

"Yeah."

Sirius groaned.  "Am I so inconsiderate?"

"Not to me," James said.  "But Remus is different."

He had gone to the library, because you sometimes ran into other people in the bathroom.  He had chosen the furthest corner, where two windows met the floor and each other and you could see all the way down to the lake.  Peter joined him five minutes later.

"Sirius does that to me, too, you know."

"Ruins your stuff?  Doesn't listen to a word you say?"

"I got some chocolate from home," Peter said meditatively.  "He ate it all and tried to claim he needed it for his Love Potion.  But I knew better."

"When was that?"

"Last week."

The lake was an odd shade of blue, Remus noticed.  Perhaps another one of the merpeople had died.

"Peter, am I a jerk?"

Remus thought sourly that it took Peter a rather long time to answer.  "I don't think so," he said.

"What you mean is, people put up with my occasional jerkiness because they like me."

Peter considered.  "Crass, but true."

"Do you like me?"

"Yeah," he said, "as a friend."

"That's what I meant."

"Do you like me?" Peter asked shyly.

Remus considered.  There wasn't much to dislike, but by the same token, not much to like either.  Drab, he thought.  "Yeah," said Remus.

Peter smiled hugely.

"I don't get it," Sirius said to James.  "Do you think I'm doing anything wrong?"

"No."

"Then why is Remus mad at me?"

"Because he thinks you're doing something wrong."

Sirius exhaled.  "What does he think I'm doing wrong?"

"I don't know!" James said.  "I don't understand him any better than you do."

"How can I live with someone for five and a half years and still not understand him?" Sirius said, banging his heels distractedly against the floor.

"Maybe," James said dryly, "that's his point."

Sirius sighed.  "I don't have time for this mind game shit," he said.  "I'm going to go talk to him."

"That's the spirit," James said, stretching out lazily.

"That essay is due tomorrow morning and I have to figure out what to say to him so he'll let me borrow it."

"I begin to see his point," James said.

"Where'd you put the cloak?  Maybe if I sneak up on him."

%%%

Midnight, and Remus still had not spoken to him.  Sirius was at the desk writing his essay.  Remus was sitting on his bed attempting to remove the ink stain from his blanket.  James was listening to music.  Peter was asleep.

"Oh here."  Sirius pitched his quill onto the desk, strode over to Remus, and took out the ink with a wave of his wand.  "You always were hopeless at stain removal."

"Yeah," Remus said, not looking at him.

Sirius stood there watching him, hands in his pockets.  After one minute Remus glared directly at him and said, "What on earth are you doing?"

"Looking at you," Sirius said.  "I don't think I ever have before."

Remus closed his eyes.  "What color are my eyes?"

"Hard to describe," Sirius said in a pseudo-thoughtful voice.  "Sort of a greenish golden-brown with flecks of hazel…"

"They're gray, you toadstool," Remus said, opening them.  "When's my birthday?"

"Don't tell me.  It's in March sometime."

Remus folded his arms and scowled.

"Okay, I screwed up," Sirius said.  "I admit it.  Now, what do I have to do to make it up to you?"

"Whatever it is," Remus said, "it had better be big."

"I'm writing my own essay," Sirius said.  "I took out the ink stain for you.  What more do you want from me?"

"You're intelligent," Remus said.  "You think of something."

And Remus thought that was the end of it.

During the following week, Sirius grew ever more reclusive.  He spent large amounts of time in the library, only returning to tend the Love Potion when necessary, and he took to wearing the stocking cap that Remus had given him for his birthday.  From all this, Remus, Peter and James deduced that he had come up with something after all.  So naturally, when James spotted Sirius in the library, sitting at a teak desk facing the wall, and writing, he was keen to investigate.

"Hey, Sirius," said James.  "Whatcha writing?"

Sirius lifted his head from his labors and gave James a self-satisfied smile.  "This is my gift to Remus."

"Ah," James said.  "Er…what is it?"

"It's a play."

"Ah."

"An adaptation of the Velvet Curtain for the stage."

"Is that that thing you're always talking about?" James said.

"Yes it is."  Sirius gave him a hopeful look.  "Would you like to hear it?"

"I have – er, some kind of paper to write," James said.  "How about you just give me the condensed version."

"Well, okay," Sirius said.  "Seeing as how it's so important."

Act I

This is how it starts.  There's this guy, and his name is Sebastian.  He is young and beautiful and idealistic.  He believes there is nothing better or more powerful than love, so he goes to Paris and rents a shabby little room in Montmartre in the hope of finding some.

Then one fine day as he's sitting at his typewriter, the ceiling falls in, and with it comes an unconscious Argentinian named Lyon.  Soon a comical person named Poitou arrives at the door, and not long after that, Sebastian finds himself reading Lyon's part in a bohemian production about a Swiss goatherd.  Even better, Sebastian has some excellent artistic suggestions and Poitou and the rest are convinced that he is the man to write their play.  So they dress him up and take him to this nightclub, the Golden Snail, to meet with this prostitute-cum-actress, Christine, to convince her that he is indeed the one to write this play.

"And that's where it really gets interesting," Sirius said pointedly to James, who was in the act of stifling a yawn.

"Yeah, it's great," he said.  "A really choice bit of drama.  Maybe you could read me the rest some other time," and he was gone.

"Dang," Sirius said to himself.  "Maybe I ought to run it past Peter instead."

So he did, that very evening.  Fortunately, Peter loved it.

"Do you really?" Sirius squealed for the fifteenth time.  "I am sooo excited!"

"Oh my God," said Peter.  "I love it!  The way you write the characters is so fresh and original, yet amazingly faithful to the books.  How in the world do you do it?"

"Er," Sirius said.  "It's like exactly the same as the book.  Okay, so I took a little liberty with some of their lines, but other than that…"

"Whatever you did, it was freaking inspired."

"Well, thanks," Sirius said.  "So what do you think I should do with it?"

"Don't change a thing," Peter said.  "It's the absolute pinnacle of perfection."

"That's not what I meant," Sirius sighed.  "This is Remus's consolation prize for me being a rotten friend, so I don't just want to hand him the script.  I want to be able to bring him down to the common room for his own personal performance of the Velvet Curtain books, you know?"

"Huh," Peter said.  "So it has to be a surprise?"

"Yeah."

"That might be kind of tough," Peter said diplomatically.  "I mean, first of all, how would you get people to audition and practice and all that without him knowing?"

"Yerk," said Sirius miserably.  "I hadn't even thought of that."

"I know what you could do instead," said Peter.

%%%

The following Monday night at seven PM, the Gryffindor common room was packed to the gills, and James had to simulate a small explosion to gain quiet.

"Now then," he said.  "I've called this meeting for a reason, which Sirius Black is about to explain to you."  James climbed off the sofa, and Sirius scrambled up to take his place.  Looking around the room, he suddenly realized that a quarter of the whole school, give or take, was waiting for him to say something either witty or intelligent.

"As you all know," he said, "I can be a bit of a jerk."

This at least got a laugh.  Sirius, however, wondered irritably if it was only funny because it was true.

"In particular, my pal Remus thinks I'm an insensitive clod – "

More laughter.

"So I promised him something big to prove I wasn't, and I wrote him a play."  Sirius sought Remus out in the crowd and his eyes really were gray.  "It's an adaptation of the Velvet Curtain for the stage, and I would like all of you to help perform it for him."  Sirius noted with pleasure that half of the common room was now whispering excitedly to the other half.  "There's going to be an audition on Friday, and I'll post a list of the main parts so you can decide what to try out for.  If you want to sing, dance or do costumes, come talk to me.  That's all, I guess."

Sirius stepped down from the couch and pulled out a roll of parchment that listed the principal parts.  He tacked it just above the fireplace and was promptly stampeded by a horde of people wanting to see it.

"Sweet!" Sirius said to himself, grinning, as he fought to get away from the mob.  Finally he broke free and Remus was exactly where he'd been before, sitting motionless atop one of the tables and watching him.

"Your eyes are gray," said Sirius.

Remus smiled a little.  "You're bonkers," he said.

"Is this what you wanted?"  Sirius looked up at him, not breathing, hanging on his answer.

"I wasn't expecting anything," Remus said.  "Maybe an apology."

"Am I that big a jerk?" Sirius said, dismayed.  "Remus, whatever I've done to you, and I'm sure it's a lot, this had better make up for it because I don't have another plan."

"Sirius," said Remus, "you amaze me."

"Thank God," Sirius said fervently.  "I was so afraid you wouldn't like it."

Remus slid off the table and smiled again.  It was not a particularly happy smile, and Sirius was struck with a sudden desire to know why.

"Thank you," Remus said.

"Remus – "

"Yes?" he said softly.

"Aren't you happy?"

"I was feeling a little glum," Remus said.  "But I'm better now.  Thanks."

"Yeah," Sirius said.

"I think I'm going to go upstairs," Remus said.  "I want to get started on that research paper for Potions."

It's Friday, Sirius almost said but held it back.  "I'll be up in a while," he said.

Remus gave him a funny look.  "It's Friday," he said.  "You aren't going to the Broomsticks?"

"Don't know," Sirius said.  "Maybe if James is."

"Oh," said Remus, and hesitated a moment.  "Well, I'll see you later, then."

"See you," Sirius said and watched Remus go, the lines of his cloak and the dark blond hair licking his collar.  Sirius went and sat down on the table, wanting to be alone, feeling like the wings of some great bird had just brushed his face and taken off.  He was not there a minute when people started coming up to him, wanting to sing or choreograph or make up the costumes.  Sirius borrowed a quill and parchment from someone and wrote down all their names, thinking with remote wonder of what he had begun and how quickly it was catching him up in its great claws.

As the crowd ebbed, James came over.  "Sirius," he said, "the parchment's already full and they all want to know if you're going to have copies of the script for them to practice with."

"Oh," Sirius said.  "I can do that tonight.  I'll pick out parts for the audition and make copies, if you'll tell me how many."
"Tonight?" James said.  "Don't you want to go to the Broomsticks?"

"It won't kill me to miss a week," Sirius said dryly.  "Besides, this way they'll be done tomorrow."

"Have it your way," James said.  "I'll get you the list once they're through."

"Thanks," Sirius said.  He hopped off the table and went up to their room.  Peter was reading something and Remus was at the desk, the Potions text open in front of him, his face masked.  Sirius went over to check the Love Potion, being careful not to breathe on it.
"The fumes won't hurt you, you know," he said to Remus.

Remus didn't look up.  "I'd rather not risk it."

Sirius went over to his bed and settled down with his copy of the script.  Luckily he knew a handy charm to duplicate objects; the bed was covered with copies by the time James came in and handed Sirius two rolls of parchment.

"I'm going to the Broomsticks with the team," he said, "if any of you decide you aren't losers after all."  He got his cloak and scarf and left.

Remus sighed.  "Sirius?"

"Hm?"

"Do you have any mermaid hair?"

Sirius looked up.  "A few strands.  Why?"

"I need some for this potion."

"Couldn't you get some in Hogsmeade?"  Sirius immediately wished he hadn't said it because it sounded so whiny.

"I don't have enough gold," Remus said quietly.

"It's okay," Sirius said.  "I'm about due for another trip to the bottom of the lake anyhow."

"I'll pay you back when I can," Remus said.

Sirius sighed.  "Don't worry about it."

Remus leaned his head on his hand, and looked out the window.  "Thanks," he said.

%%%

To Be Continued