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Chapter One: Comme S'ouvrent Les Fleurs
What happens
: Remus goes to Diagon Alley and then to Hogwarts, and in doing so meets Sirius Black, James Potter, Lilly Evans, and Lucius Malfoy, too!
Main Characters
: Remus J. Lupin, Sirius Black
Subsidiary Characters: James Potter, Lilly Evans, Peter Pettigrew; Professor Voldemort; Etienne Ibert
Couples You Will Find In This Fic (Whether You Like It Or Not): Sirius Black/Remus Lupin; James Potter/Lilly Evans; a hint or two of Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape; other relationships of both a homosexual and heterosexual nature
Dedication: This fic is dedicated to Lins, who continually rekindles my joy of SiriusxRemus whenever I am losing it.
This is: chapter two of a work in progress. Like all my works in progress, it is possible that you will be waiting a very long time between installments, or they could come out daily in a psychotic and rather frightening fashion. Do Not Worry! Just take it as it comes, and feel free to send me demanding fan mail (all demanding fan mail should be sent to IremusJLupin@aol.com) if you feel you've been waiting an egregiously long time. Demanding fan mail is annoying sometimes, but on the whole it makes me feel incredibly cool. And that's what it's all about, right? Oh yes. And I am also constantly updating chapters that have already been uploaded, whenever I find a hideous spelling error or a problem with grammar. So check back often.
C&C: is demanded. Or, you know, desperately longed for, in a rather pathetic sense. Just gimme some of that good ol' fashioned R&R, and let me know you actually do want to see more of my work.
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Chapter One: Comme S'ouvrent Les Fleurs

The office Etienne sat in was messy in the way a house is when one family is moving hurriedly out and another is moving hurriedly in. He felt uncomfortable and out of place. This was not the sort of neat, tidy office he was called into on occasion by the bank manager to be congratulated for a job well done. All the things that should have been familiar were not. Stacks of paper sorted themselves, collating of their own free will on the ancient mahogany desk. The paperweights did not attempt to hold these files down; rather, they seemed to have faces and minds of their own, shuffling lazily over the surface of the desk occasionally to newly formed sunspots. There were the usual picture-frames displayed, portraying the smiling faces of the office-holder's family, but even they were not familiar. On the occasion, if he caught a glimpse of such a picture, the people in it would lift their hands and begin to wave vigorously at him, until he coughed awkwardly and looked away.

Finally, he settled on staring at his shoes, which he had just had polished at a shoe-shine station that morning. They were comfortingly familiar objects, the only sane bit in this whole situation. He clung to the sight like a man drowning at a circus.

He was beginning to wish he hadn't come.

The man seated behind the very odd desk was searching through a stack of errant papers, the job made harder as the sheets kept re-ordering themselves whenever the man disrupted them. He was muttering vexedly to himself, words that sounded, at the least, exceedingly unprofessional.

"Aha!" At last he managed to grasp a manila folder from the pile and waved it triumphantly in the air above him before he slapped it down on the desk by a little plaque that stated in sprawling script 'Albus Dumbledore.' "There we are. Remus Jean Lupin. Lycanthrope. Aged eleven."

"Mh," coughed Etienne, nodding, his eyes focused desperately on his feet. "Yes, Mr. Dumbledore."

"I take it," Albus Dumbledore murmured, blue eyes twinkling from beneath slightly shaggy brown eyebrows, "your son has inherited his wizard-blood from his mother's side of the family?"

"Yes. You assume-- correctly, sir."

"Please, please, this is my second day on the job. Sir is a bit much."

"Ah. I am sorry."

"Quite all right, quite all right. Now," he went on, distractedly, riffling through the papers, which had finally given up the skirmish by falling still in a state of apparent exhaustion. "Your son is a very bright boy, I assume?"

"Yes. Yes, very bright."

"All parents say that."

"I--"

"But with you, I can see it is true," Dumbledore plowed on. "Next question: has your son ever received any proper schooling?"

"I have taught him in our apartment." Etienne spoke hurriedly now, fast enough to shove a word or two in edgewise. "He has been quick, very eager, to learn. He loves to read--"

"--but he is unused to the company of other children, his age."

"Yes. Back in France, he had one or two friends, when he was very young, but that is all." Etienne licked his lips and toyed with the cuff-link on his freshly pressed dress-shirt. Dumbledore's blue eyes surveyed him inscrutably.

"I think you have done well," the older man said finally, "in keeping him away from his peers. For the time being, of course. But-- you see-- at Hogwarts--"

"It is a good school, I hear," Etienne murmured wretchedly.

"My good man, it is the best school. And I do believe that your son, Remus, would do well to start his schooling in a place where, well, how does one put it so it is not too alarming: ...anything can happen. Do you understand?" The paperweight took that moment as an excuse to unfurl a long, swift tongue and slurp up a fly that had been buzzing lazily around the office. Dumbledore's eyes sparkled, his hands folding neatly over the desk before him.

"The best school, you say?"

"The best, without a doubt."

"It will be hard for him-- he has never been away from home before, he has never--"

"Mr. Ibert, I understand completely. The only two people who will know his secret shall be myself and the infirmary nurse, Madam Pomfrey. The other children will never know."

"But he has never, without me--" Dumbledore focused his piercing eyes on Etienne's face, silencing him easily.

"Your son deserves the chance to grow up in this world, despite his unusual predicament. If he is strong enough, and brave enough, and intelligent enough, then he will spend his life thanking you for the chances you have given him." Etienne ran his fingers through his graying hair, bowing his head for a moment in deep thought. Part of him was desperate to be selfish. He would be alone in the house, alone in the world, without his son.

But back in the woods, when he had pulled the trigger so determinedly on his wife, without a second thought directed to her life or death, it had all been for Remus, had it not? For his son.

"Mr. Ibert."

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Tell me-- how much? I will pay it. He will come to your school. He will learn all he needs to for this world." This world, in which Etienne himself had no part. He loved his son, and this would estrange them both. But perhaps, he would do better in this new world. Perhaps, it would be what could bring a smile back to Remus's face.

"You have my gratitude," Dumbledore said, his eyes crinkling sadly in the corners. "But it will be the gratitude of your son for which you are doing this."

"Yes," Etienne said. "Yes. Tell me what I must do."

In the two years since he and his father had arrived in the port at London, Remus had not once been around so many people. He clung, dwarfed in the crowd, to his father's hand as they moved through the throng of loud men and women. He felt like a three year old lost in a toy store: a place he'd been desperate to see suddenly turned into in an unfamiliar world of fear and people very much bigger than himself.

"This is Diagon Alley," Etienne had bent down to murmur into his son's ear.

"Mm," Remus nodded, wide-eyed and all but silent.

Their first stop had been the underground tunnels of Gringott's bank, where Etienne exchanged a significant amount of his 'muggle' money for a sack of foreign looking gold, silver and bronze coins.

They went next to a store named 'Flourish and Blotts,' where Etienne scrambled through a long list on parchment paper to acquire for his son books with such strange titles as A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot and A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch. Afterwards they moved on to buy Remus a hand-me-down robe at a shop run by a Madam Greymalkin (who, coincidentally, was later forced to change her name to simply 'Malkin' over some muggle copyright infringement).

Under a sign that printed boldly "Cauldrons: All Sizes" Etienne added a pewter cauldron and scales for weighing soon-to-be-bought 'ingredients' to their purchases. They moved on to The Apothecary next, where Remus's sensitive nose was flooded with mildly unpleasant and completely unfamiliar smells.

"For-- making potions," Etienne explained softly as Remus held that oddly scented merchandise to his chest, carefully, as certain bottles were quite fragile.

Their last stop was a place called 'Ollivander's,' where, Etienne revealed, they were going to buy Remus a wand.

"Mr. Dumbledore says it's important," the man said, keeping his voice quiet beneath his salt-and-pepper mustache.

"Ah," a wiry man said, appearing suddenly behind the shop counter. "Who do we have here?" He had perceptive eyes. Remus shrank back, hiding behind his father's taller, comforting form.

"Come now, Remus," Etienne coughed, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Yes, yes, that's right, Remus." From behind sparkling round spectacles, perched precariously on the shop owner's hooked nose, there was a glimmer of sadness and understanding. "Let me have a good look at you."

He paused for a moment, hesitating. Etienne coughed again, and Remus stepped out from behind him, lifting his chin but keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. The man behind the counter -- Mr. Ollivander -- thought he looked like a dog, trying very hard to prove his submission.

"Much better," Mr. Ollivander murmured encouragingly. "Now, now, let's see -- Remus Lupin, it was? -- very interesting, very interesting...yes, yes, I do believe I might--" His eyes lit up again, flashing excitedly. "You know! You know! That might be the very thing!" He clapped his hands together suddenly, then disappeared into the rear of his shop. There was the sound of things crashing to the floor, and a cloud of dust billowed out of the back room. Etienne held his son's hand tighter at the sounds, almost colorless eyes meeting Remus's in disbelief and uncertain worry. "Just a moment-- be with you in an instant -- if I can just -- aha!" Another crash followed the exclamation, and a more battered version of Mr. Ollivander stumbled out into view. He held in his wrinkled yet graceful hands a slim box made of ebony wood. "This! The very thing -- what luck you've come to me, Remus! What fantastic luck!"

"What is this very thing?" Etienne questioned, voicing both his and his son's confusion.

"What? You mean you've never-- but no, of course not!" The man looked vaguely sheepish, and he hurriedly opened up the box, holding it down to Remus's eye-level. "There: there it is. Isn't it magnificent?"

Remus peered cautiously into the velvet casing, where a delicate length of dark ebony wood caught the light and glinted. He felt it pull at his fingers. They lifted of what seemed to be their own accord, and he hesitated again, biting his lower lip.

"Can I..."

"Pick it up, boy, pick it up! Try it out, if you want!"

"I don't know what to do with it."

"You'll know." Mr. Ollivander caught Remus's eyes and winked. "You leave the worrying to the wand." Remus's fingers itched for it. It only took one more heartening nod from Mr. Ollivander and a pat on his back from Etienne for Remus to be encouraged sufficiently. His hand shot forward, grasping the slight, smooth wood and raising it high above him. Electricity pulsed through him, gathering in his fingertips. The room rocked, and then faded.

"Remus!" Etienne cried out.

"He can't hear you!" Mr. Ollivander shot back, through the thickness in the air. "Just wait!"

Remus shook a little, eyes squeezing shot. The pressure built inside him, then shot suddenly through his fingers and into the wood. The lights in Mr. Ollivander's shop flickered and went out, then lit up after a second of darkness. Remus set the wand down almost reverently in the box.

"Don't put it away, boy! It's yours, now. There should be a spot for it in the sleeve of your robe that will hold it-- there you are."

"But what is it?"

"Eleven-and-a-half-inch ebony wand. The core-- well, I made it on a hunch, you see. The materials were there, and I couldn't help myself. Just-- call it a whim, if you like."

"And what is it, sir? The core?" Etienne blinked down at his son, truly worried now. His boy's eyes had been that bright, fireside gold, burning as Dalila's once had. Immediately, he was wary.

"The core! Ah, of course. Forgive me-- I'm a bit excited, as it is-- the core has never been replicated, and never will be! Let's see, let's see... I don't know if you are familiar with Norse legend but...perhaps you would not believe such myths, so that is of no importance. In any case; the core has one hair from the tail of Fenris the wolf -- I found it in the forest of Iron Trees; the Ogress who guarded the great thing wasn't happy to give it up, but I got it in the end, and lucky for us that I did! Tremendous-- positively fantastic!"

"It was rather strange," Remus murmured, eyes glinting faintly.

"Well," Mr. Ollivander murmured, shaking his head. "Rather an understatement, I should think." He tugged off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose lightly. "Oh my, oh my...I must take a bit of a break, sit down for a while-- go on now, son, or you'll be tired for catching your train tomorrow! Last minute shoppers should always be careful-- oh, my..." The man replaced his glasses on his nose and shooed them out hurriedly, closing the door with a bang behind him. A moment later he'd hung up a "CLOSED FOR LUNCH" sign, bright red, against the glass pane of the front window.

Etienne shook his head. "Very strange," he whispered.

"Yes," Remus echoed. "Yes, very strange." Etienne's eyes were drawn sharply to his son, studying him once more. He looked changed, pulsing with some inner power Etienne could never hope to comprehend. For a moment, he found Remus almost unrecognizable, holding one stuffed, lumpy bag in one hand and two in the other, his back set in a determined line.

"Well," Etienne said softly, bewildered. "Shall we go home, then?"

"Mm." Remus nodded, shifting his things so he could take his father's hand again. In a moment, the boy had morphed back into Etienne's child and nothing more, no secret strength thrumming in his veins.

Together, they wove their way through the milling witches and wizards and muggles alike. They were better at going through walls, this time, though it was still a process that made Etienne and Remus both feel quite uncomfortable.

Remus slept against his father's shoulder on the train ride home, and didn't wake when they came to their station. Etienne carried his son and all they had bought onto a trolley and rode in contemplative silence the long journey home. Now more than ever, the man felt acutely and painfully alone in the world, as if his wife, even dead, had a tight clutch on his son still. Remus would wake the next morning, with that unspoken, hidden strength eager to carry him farther and farther away from his father, and home. Now more than ever Etienne comprehended how much he would miss the boy, and how long the days would grow without him.

They reached the King's Cross station early the next morning. Etienne had qualms about the platform number. On the ticket, stamped plain as day, was what had to be a misprint: Platform 9 3/4. Certainly, he could find someone else heading for Hogwarts who could explain this mistake. After all, Dumbledore had said there was only one train.

"Maybe," Remus had said thoughtfully, after his father had voiced his worry on the trip up to the station, "we're going to have to go through another wall, again." Etienne found that he severely liked the idea, but realized, after all, it was quite possible.

Together, they stood, perplexed, between platforms 9 and 10.

"Cor," said a conspiratorial voice by Remus's ear, "You're a first year, then?" He turned quickly, eyes registering a flicker of surprise. Before him stood a red haired, firm-faced girl, half a head taller than he. She wasn't the type of person who seemed to be daunted by the fractions in her platform numbers.

"Yes," Remus said finally, eyes darting back to his father's face for reassurance.

"Then," the girl stated, with a good degree of over-confidence, "you just say goodbye to your dad, and then follow me." She hoisted her suitcase up afresh and trotted off a few feet to give them both their privacy.

"Well." Etienne coughed, removing his wire-frame glasses and polishing them on his shirtsleeve.

"Papa." Remus half-smiled at him. It was a diagonal sort of smile, long rusty and unstable with disuse. It was the smile that belonged to a boy whose face muscles had atrophied.

"Remus."

"Merci, papa."

"P--pas de quoi." Etienne waved a hand helplessly, forgetting to instruct his son to use English.

"Mais-- j'ai peur."

"Je sais." The man crouched down on his knees and grasped his son up in a tight embrace, crushing him against his chest. Remus dropped his worn suitcase, which was light although it held all the clothes he owned, and the odd-shaped sack he was carrying, which held everything else, and was therefore considerable heavier. The boy, in turn, wrapped his arms around his father's neck. Etienne's worn hands cradled his son's head, fingers tangled in his hair. "Bon chance, mon fils."

Remus pulled back, biting his lower lip. He steeled himself, and nodded.

"Right," said the girl, who had trotted up eagerly to them. She was quite proud to have found someone who obviously needed her help. "Now, it's really quite simple. All you have to do is go straight at that barrier over there, right between 9 and 10. Sometimes," she added, giving Remus no time to protest, "it helps to get a running start. Stops you from thinking about running into something so 'solid,' after all." She clapped a hand on his shoulder, not noticing when he flinched. "Go on. Give it a whirl, why don't you." All of Remus's logical mind was telling him that if he ran at a barrier as substantial, as concrete as the one this girl was pointing to, he would get away, at best, with bruises on his body -- their sizes would be directly proportional to exactly how hard the rock he'd slammed himself into was.

"You can't go at it sideways," the girl encouraged, half-impatient. "You have to face it head on."

And then there was the part of Remus's mind that connected directly to his heart. That part of his mind told him he could remember Mr. Ollivander's shop, and the way the wand had felt in his hand, and it really wouldn't be that hard to go through walls or barriers, or anything else supposedly 'solid,' for that matter.

"Look, if you just think of it like--"

Remus hefted his belongings in his arms and clutched them tight to his chest, gritting his teeth and rushing straight towards the barrier. Etienne's jaw dropped as he saw his son disappear right before his disbelieving eyes.

"Cor!" the girl exclaimed, turning to stare at Etienne. "That's better'n I did, my first try!" Not to be outdone, she steeled her broad shoulders and thrust herself forward. A moment later, she too simply disappeared.

Etienne removed his glasses again, wiping them slowly on the hem of his jacket. He coughed once, twice, and settled his spectacles once more on his nose. The barrier was there, firm and real once more.

Squaring his own shoulders, Etienne turned his back on the hidden platform and walked away, hands hanging empty by his sides.

Remus stumbled forwards, shaking his head free of fuzziness as a wolf-pup would shake dirt from its fur. He had to scrabble with his things to keep them from falling as the dizziness surged. As soon as the feeling had started, it passed away, leaving him staring at Platform 9 3/4.

"There you are." The girl's familiar voice puffed from behind him. "You're a natural! Didn't need any help from me."

"Thank you," Remus murmured, ducking his head down. It wasn't from modesty. It was one thing to have a surge of courage to get you through something formidable, but it was quite another to keep that courage with you. He was absolutely terrified.

"Right. Well." Again, she clamped a hand down on his shoulder. Remus felt like disappearing into the ground. "If you need anything else, just search me out. Eugenia Klatch. Fifth year Gryffindor." She grinned and then pounded off, joining a circle of girls in the distance, who gave up a loud whoop as she drew near.

Remus shifted nervously from foot to foot. Snatches of conversations were caught up in his sensitive ears from the throng of students all around him. He couldn't lift his hands to shut out the sounds. He felt as if he was drowning in a world to which he did not belong.

"You."

He shifted uncomfortably, catching the voice, but not its intent.

"You."

Remus drew his eyes over the train, subtly brighter and more vivid than the trains at platforms 9 and 10 had been.

"Are you deaf?" A hand pressed against his shoulderblade. A moment later it shoved at him, hard. Remus dropped his suitcase but held onto the bag, staggering forward a few steps as his knees threatened to give way. By some impossible force of will, he managed not to fall. "I was talking to you." Remus turned, dark eyes fixing on a pale, angled face. Light, almost white blond hair was smoothed back from blue eyes so ice-cold they burned. "Well," the voice said, the lips around it curling into a sneer. "How lovely. Father was right. They are letting any old trash into the school, now."

"I'm not sure I--"

"Ah, so you can hear. And talk, too. Fantastic." The voice was a lazy, cruel drawl. "Let's just get this straight, boy, this is an elite school. You probably don't know what that means--"

"I do." Remus straightened, holding the bag firmly against his chest like a lifeline. The words were lost from the other boy's lips for a moment. He trembled slightly, body tensing, eyes opening slightly in disbelief.

"What did you just say?"

"I said, I do."

"You can't be serious."

"I am. I know what it--" The blond boy lifted both his hands, thrusting against Remus's chest, and slammed him back as hard as he could. Remus went down out of surprise. The bag of breakable purchases stayed above him, and he did not hear, to his relief, the sound of any glass cracking.

"I heard what you said!" The form rose above him. Stunned, he could only stare up at it, head reeling, unable to even crawl away. "What kind of stupid, imp- "

Something dark passed before Remus's vision, blocking out that golden figure standing over him. His ears picked up the sound of the blond boy's breath whooshing out his stomach after he caught the sound of flesh and bone impacting with flesh and bone. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. There was a thud a few seconds later as something -- a body -- hit the ground.

"Oi," a voice said from overhead. Remus swallowed something thick down in his throat and opened his eyes. A concerned face was peering into his own, blocking out the bright sunlight from above. "Are you all right?"

"Nh," Remus grunted, then cleared his throat. "Yes."

"You went down pretty hard. You must've said something wonderfully bad to him."

"I don't understand." The dark form stepped back, deep blue eyes sparkling in his bright, sun-browned face. It was a boy, Remus's age but a full head taller, his body possessed of a wiry, rowdy strength. He ran his fingers through unconventionally long, jet-black hair, shoving it from his twinkling eyes, then offered one hand down to help Remus up.

"Come off it! I just punched his bloody lights out for you, you can tell me."

"Really," Remus murmured, taking that offered hand and letting it haul him to his feet. The bigger boy took his bag as he brushed himself off. "I didn't say anything."

"He was picking a fight then. Hn-- guess he got more than he bargained for, didn't he?" The boy laughed softly, eyes roving over the blonde's prostrate shape, letting out the occasional groan in a plea for pity. "Well, my mum always said I'd pick a fight the first chance I had. Guess she was right. Always right, my mum is. 'S the way mums are."

"Yes," Remus stated plainly. "And yes." He held out his arms and took the bag back, then moved back to his abandoned suitcase, sighing softly as he discovered a ripped seam had been torn open at least an inch more.

"The way you went down," the boy persisted, standing fast near his triumph, "was positively professional."

"I didn't want to break anything," Remus said.

"Positively professional," the boy repeated. "Fantastic."

"Thank you." Remus paused. "I think." The boy laughed again, and Remus turned his face away to hide that weakened half-smile. It was inadequate in the light that radiated from this other boy's face.

"Oi," Sirius murmured, misinterpreting Remus's body language. "Don't let it worry you. These things happen, sometimes. You just have to know who your friends are."

"My friends..."

"Exactly." Sirius nodded, looking smug.

"But I don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't know who my friends are."

Sirius opened his mouth and found he was speechless. He closed his mouth, and coughed for half a minute, and then tried again.

"Well, I don't know what that means."

"I don't have friends."

"...oh." Unabashed, Sirius plowed on. "Well, you do now! I'll have you know that, having just punched that boy in the face to defend you, the Rules state quite clearly that I happen to be your friend."

"What ru--"

"You," that high voice interrupted them suddenly, outraged and half whining, "the both of you-- you've made the wrong enemy today! Lucius Malfoy does not forget--"

"Yes, yes, yes." The boy rolled his eyes, snorting softly. "To save you the trouble, my name's Sirius Black. Sirius-- S-I-R-I-U-S. Black you can handle on your own, I should think, unless you'd like help with that one, too...?" The blond -- named Lucius -- scowled darkly, but Remus could only find the look oddly comical.

"You haven't seen the end of this," he snarled, before he turned and swept into the crowd.

"Not only a fight, but an enemy," Sirius murmured. "Wow."

"It's nice to meet you," Remus said, interrupting his reverie, "Sirius Black."

"Right. Bloody hell-- where are my manners? I'm Sirius, and you're..." He hesitated, freeing a hand to hold it out.

"Remus," Remus supplied, remembering to change the pronunciation as his father did to make it sound less French. For the second time that day he took Sirius's offered hand, and the other boy shook it vigorously. "Remus Lupin."

"...and you're Remus-- that's a nice name, you know, very unusual, I don't believe I've ever heard it before-- and at any moment now--"

"Sirius?" A new voice rang out across the platform, and a moment later another boy was shooting towards Sirius with a cry of indignant glee. Sirius dropped his things thoughtlessly to the platform ground as he and the new boy launched themselves at each other. Like dogs at play, Remus thought. "You bloody stupid-- how dare you, getting into your first fight, without me--"

"I couldn't help it-- come off it, James-- the opportunity presented itself and I--"

"Taking all the glory for yourself, how like you!-- leaving me behind, as usual -"

"Oh, c'mon, James-- this is it! Bloody thought you weren't going to make it! Late, like always--"

"You know how it is," James groaned, pulling back and rolling his eyes. "But I made it on time." He wrinkled up his nose, his voice going nasal, somewhat like Lucius's. "Fashionably late, as they say."

"Right, right." Sirius snorted. "But you missed all the bloody fun."

"Thought that was your fault, starting all the fun without me."

"Actually," Sirius said slyly, checking his things for damage, "I didn't start the fun." He jerked a thumb back in Remus's direction. "He did. Though it seems like he didn't exactly mean to start it, but hey, these things happen." Satisfied that he'd broken nothing in his carelessness, he slung his bag over his shoulder. "James, this is Remus. Remus, this is, unfortunately, James."

"C'mon!" James's eyes flashed without any anger at all. "What's all this 'unfortunately' business, anyway?"

"Never mind, never mind! Where are your manners, son?" They burst into laughter that didn't end for a few moments. Finally, rubbing at the corner of his eye, James bowed low before Remus's eyes, hiding his laughter behind one hand.

"Chaaarmed, I'm suuure," he drawled thickly. Sirius choked on fresh laughter as Remus merely blinked, head tilted just slightly to the side. He had never been around people like this before. He had no idea what to do, and certainly, he was at a loss for words.

"I...pleased to meet you," he managed, taking a step backwards.

"Come off it, James. You're new around here, aren't you, Remus?" Remus nodded. "Don't let him frighten you away, then. He's just all bark and no bite, like they say."

"Mm." Remus ducked his head down, scuffing his heel against the ground. Silence passed amongst the three of them. James lifted warm hazel eyes to Sirius, flashing him a questioning glance. Sirius shrugged, shaking his head. Whatever was wrong with this Remus was a mystery to him. James caught the little flash in Sirius's eyes that meant determination and some sort of hidden agenda. James opened his mouth to speak but a whistle was blown, cutting him off before any words could pass his lips.

"Right," Sirius said. "Come on, or we'll miss the bloody train, and then where will the three of us be?"

"Well, for starters," James grinned, "not on the 'bloody train'." Sirius tousled James's hair, rolling his eyes slightly.

"Right," he grumbled. "Let's go." Remus hung back. He knew well enough by instinct that he was not a part of this. He wanted to be, oh yes, but he wasn't, and for the life of him he didn't know where to start so that he could be. His fingers tightened on the handle of his suitcase and he straightened up a little, trying to call on the courage he had. It was there, only buried very deep inside him. James paused, looking back over his shoulder at the smaller boy, then nudged Sirius in his side with his elbow. "Right," Sirius repeated, only softer, and then, loud enough for Remus to hear: "You're coming, aren't you, Remus?"

"Mh?" Remus lifted his head, looking painfully hopeful. Sirius -- who had never been one for tact, or for gauging a person's emotions -- was able to catch the smaller boy's almost dogged air, like a mutt slapped in the face one too many times. He softened a little, head inclining to the side, his face growing oddly tender, more so than James had ever seen it.

"Earth to Sirius," James hissed under his breath.

"Er-- right," Sirius mumbled. "What I said was... You're coming, aren't you, Remus? On the train-- with us." There was something different about the question, this time. it wasn't so frightening anymore for Remus just to nod.

"Thank you," he said, voice so soft it could barely be heard.

"There you are, Remus," James said, hurrying to break the peculiar silence that had fallen amongst them. "It's going to be simply amazing, Hogwarts is. The best bloody school around." Remus hastened to keep up with the other two, who could cover more distance with their single strides than he could with two.

"Yes," he agreed. He'd never been much good with conversation, no matter how simple. "I've been...told."

"It's what everyone says," James went on, spirits rising, all deeper thoughts forgotten. Sirius was unusually quiet, but that didn't bother him. Sirius had these moods, and James knew him well enough to know he'd pop out of it, sooner rather than later. "That's because it's true, you see, Hogwarts is where everybody who's anybody goes, and even though there's a new headmaster..." Remus tuned him out after a while, nodding once in a while to keep up the appearance of listening. His mind, however, was focused merely on keeping him afloat amidst all that was going on around him.

Things were happening quite quickly. First, they were on the train and then they'd secured a car for themselves. The train had started unceremoniously soon, leaving the station suddenly behind. After that, in a desperate frenzy, James, and Sirius too (he'd been revived by the smell of chocolates) scrambled to buy themselves the strangest of treats with their pocket money. Remus had none, and instead watched the other two gorge themselves on their candy like a child standing in front of a toy shop on Christmas Eve.

" 'Ere," James said, muffled behind a bag of what might have been jelly beans, "why 'aven' 'oo gotten anyfin', Remuf?"

"I..." He faltered. "I'm not hungry. I ate breakfast...not more than an hour ago."

" 'Eah," James grunted, "but 'at 'as breakfaft." He gulped something down and grimaced. "Bloody-- I think I got all the ones that taste like foot."

"Really?" Sirius, who had been silent while eating his, spoke up now, wearing a rather pained expression. "We match, then. I seem to have gotten all the ones that taste like old sock." Remus folded and unfolded his hands in his lap, turning to stare out the window once more as the countryside whizzed by.

"That's brilliant," James said, trying to cling to his easy laughter. Suddenly, though, it was a bit hard to laugh.

"Here, Remus," Sirius was attempting, "D'you like chocolate? You have to like chocolate. Everyone likes chocolate."

"Yes," Remus said, eyes pulled from the window. "I do."

"Well then, try this." Sirius held out a harmless bar of rich, dark chocolate. He was more than ready when Remus began to object. "No, no, no, I insist. You must have one. On the house! Free of charge. Consider it a--a gift, or something like that."

"Really. I couldn't."

"Then let's just say you owe me one? I'll be expecting a chocolate bar, in the future. Come on, I'm not going to shut up until you take it!"

"He's serious, you know," James butted in. "And he's awfully loud too, sometimes, so I wouldn't take such words as an idle threat."

"All right," Remus said. Sirius leaned over the distance between them, dropping the bar of chocolate in Remus's lap.

"Bet you've never had anything like it, before," Sirius promised. Without having his father to turn to for reassurance, Remus hesitated for a few moments longer than usual before he undid the wrapper and broke off a piece. He savored the sweetness in his mouth for as long as he could, eyes closed.

"Bet you've never seen anyone enjoy chocolate like that before," James whispered to his friend, shaking his head.

"No," Sirius agreed, "never." He watchedwith fascination as the smaller boy savoured the chocolate down to the last molecule. James was right. He had never seen anyone enjoy chocolate like that in his life.

With a deep breath, Remus finally opened his eyes, carefully folding down the edges of the silver wrapping around the bar of chocolate. "Thank you," he said, holding the rest out. "Here--"

"Keep it," Sirius said.

"I can't. Take it back--" Sirius shook his head, taking the chocolate and placing it once more in Remus's lap.

"Keep it," Sirius said again. Remus swallowed. The chocolate tasted sweet on his teeth and his tongue.

"All right," Remus said. James nodded, satisfied. He knew Sirius as well as Sirius's own mother did, if not better. His friend never gave up on something. His friend always accomplished what he'd set his mind to.

"Well." James nodded again, folding his arms over his chest and feeling justifiably proud. "That's more like it." Remus ran his fingers over the silver foil and let his mussed bangs hide his eyes, which smiled a secretive gold.

The train rolled down the track smoothly, fields and towns flying namelessly by the windows. For the first hour or so Remus had watched life speed by him with a determined wish to remember every single detail. After a while he tired of it, and curled up against his suitcase with one of the newly bought books opened on his lap. In half an hour, Sirius noted the other boy had gotten through more of that book than he himself had been able to in a week.

Sirius himself had talked a while with James, recounting with atrocious inaccuracy the details of his heroism. They had planned some things together, even managing to bring Remus into the conversation; though the small boy didn't volunteer more than a word here or there, he did pay attention for a while, soaking up every word. James had caught up on his studies, and had then gone off to locate a certain Lilly Evans, who wasn't really bad, as girls went, but Sirius's nature demanded his slight resentment of her.

After James had been gone for half an hour or so, Sirius started to get bored. When he got bored, he got fidgety. He crossed his legs and uncrossed them again. He stood and stretched, arms above his head. He pondered reading, or getting into his robes, but he wouldn't have been able to concentrate on a book and he didn't want to look desperately impatient. He was, but he didn't want to look it. Part of him was a little nervous at the thought of just where the train was speeding to, but for the sake of his bravado, such emotions would be forcibly repressed inside him.

He sat back down and stretched his legs out before him, hands shoved in his jeans pockets. He fought the almost irresistible urge to sulk, and chose instead to yawn, very loudly.

Surprisingly, the sound brought him the desired result. Remus lifted his head, which had been bowed low over his book, blinking his eyes like a child awakened from a dream. Sirius flashed a weak, sheepish grin and shrugged, eyes flickering away. Sure, he'd gotten the attention he'd wanted so badly. The problem was, he didn't know what to do with it.

Remus went back to his book, but found he couldn't concentrate on it, something nagging at the back of his brain. Finally, he lifted his head a second time, shutting the book quietly and letting it rest in his lap.

"So," Sirius began, coughing softly. "Remus."

"Yes?"

"I..." Sirius felt uncharacteristically tongue-tied in the face of Remus's soft spoken, understated nature. "Uhm."

"Yes...?"

"Where are you from?" It was a frail attempt towards conversation, but it was the best Sirius could produce. He immediately regretted asking, as something fleeting ran over Remus's face, tugging his lips down.

"France." Remus cleared his throat, pushing down the accent. "I'm French."

"Ah. Where-- where in France?"

"It's-- you wouldn't have heard of it."

"Tell me anyway?"

"A village. Called C¦urdeloupe." No recognition was sparkled in Sirius's eyes. Remus tried again. "Twenty miles from Lourdes. On the Garonne." Still nothing. Remus shrugged helplessly.

"Oh." The silence between them lasted for more than a minute, making the air thick. Remus struggled with what he should say next, grasped onto a sentence, and spoke it as quickly and quietly as he could.

"Where do you come from?"

"Wales," Sirius said, so relieved that a grin spread over his face, "I'm Welsh. I come from-- well, you wouldn't have heard of it, either."

"Tell me anyway." They caught each other's eyes. Sirius laughed softly. It was a low and comforting sound, and Remus liked it.

"Rhondda. My father and my two brothers are muggles. They mine there; it's a mining town." Remus swallowed this information thoughtfully, comfortable enough with this conversation to give himself proper time for coming up with something else to say.

"What about," he decided on finally, "your mother?"

"My mum? She just takes care of everybody, that's all."

"Mm."

"What about your mum?"

"She's dead." The only sound between them was sound of the train rolling down the track. Sirius stared, horrified and silenced, at his lap.

"Sorry," he mumbled softly, praying that his seat would grow a mouth and eat him whole.

"Why?"

"Wh-- what do you mean, why? I-- I mean, I'm just-- I didn't know, I wasn't - thinking, I'm..." He lifted his hands in a feebly apologetic gesture.

"It's not your fault."

"I'm still sorry it happened!" The crinkling of foil interrupted the long silence that had been erected like a wall between them after Sirius's expostulation. Remus unwrapped the chocolate on his lap and broke off two pieces, eating one and offering the other to Sirius. He sighed and took it, popping it into his mouth. "Thanks," he said.

"I didn't thank you, before.I don't know what I did to him to make him so angry, but he seemed even angrier at you after you did that. So thank you. For doing that." Remus drew in a deep gulp of air, as if those had been his dying words, and it had taken his last breaths to force so much out his lips. Afterwards, though, he seemed to have more color in his face and more mettle behind his eyes. It was something quite breathtaking to see.

"It's...nothing, really," Sirius scoffed, inspecting his knuckles nonchalantly. To the untrained eye, there was nothing to be seen on his tanned skin. For one actively searching out any contusions, no matter how minute, a few, almost-red inconsistencies might possibly be visible to the naked eye.

"Did it-- did it hurt?" Remus set the book down on the seat beside him and stood, peering cautiously over at Sirius's hand. For a moment, Sirius hid it, and then held his hand out for Remus to inspect it. Remus squinted, and looked from Sirius to his knuckles to Sirius again.

"Didn't hurt. Not really, anyway," he explained, grinning nearly from ear to ear. Remus opened his mouth to say 'But there's nothing there!' and closed it almost immediately.

"Looked like," he tried, "it hurt him, anyway."

"You think?"

"Oh, yes."

"He sure stayed down for a while, anyway. Like a little baby." Remus nodded, tempted to keep his eyes on his feet, but lifting them instead to Sirius's face.

"A very long while," Remus agreed, sitting back down in his seat, across from the other boy. The tension between them had been broken. Sirius felt at ease now to do as he liked and say whatever came to him.

"So," he said, stretching his arms above his head. His insouciance was like something directly out of one of Remus's paperback novels. If his name had been 'Charming' rather than 'Sirius' it wouldn't have surprised Remus one bit. "Exciting, isn't it?"

"Well-- no, not really." This seemed to wound Sirius deeply, and Remus wished immediately he hadn't said it.

"You mean you don't think any of this is just fantastic?"

"Well you see," Remus explained himself quickly, "I haven't had time to get excited, yet."

"Didn't have time to...?" Sirius was baffled. Immediately, Remus realized he would have to try again.

"You see," he said, going about it from a different angle, "My father only just told me I was coming two days ago, when we went...went shopping. At Diagon Alley."

"Two bloody days ago?"

"My father is what...is what you called a 'muggle.' Apparently...I am not." He shrugged, hoping he wouldn't have to lie. It would be best if he could just get away with neglecting to inform Sirius of things.

"That shouldn't make any difference!" Again, Remus shrugged. "Must be-- really weird, then, for you," Sirius attempted, after Remus made it clear he would be speaking no more on his subject. It was harder to draw information from this boy than it would be to draw blood from a stone. "I mean, all of a sudden, you're going to Hogwarts, and you didn't even know about it three days ago, or anything..." Remus swallowed down another piece of chocolate and shrugged again.

"Yes," he said finally, "weird." Sirius got the odd feeling that in this context, 'weird' didn't mean just 'weird' but 'lonely' and 'terrifying,' too.

"Sorry," Sirius muttered.

"Don't apologize."

"Yeah. Right. Still..."

"It is weird, like you said. Just like that." The chocolate was soothing his insides, which were, to be honest, writhing in a coil of nerves. "I suppose I'll be excited tomorrow, or the day after that. If I get excited at all."

"You know something," Sirius said, shaking his head, "you're weird." Remus got the odd feeling that in this context, 'weird' didn't mean just 'weird' but 'rare' and 'bloody fantastic,' too.

"Mh." He looked thoughtfully down at his closed book, silent. As if he was drowning, Sirius cast about for a line to rescue the floundering conversation.

"You like to read?"

"Yes. Very much," he added, remembering something his father had said once about monosyllables being the black thumb of discourse.

"I liked A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration a lot," Sirius said, because of all the books it had been the one he'd been able to read whole chapters of without nodding off.

"I've only just started Magical Theory/" Remus demonstrated by holding up the book.

"Didn't understand a single word of that," Sirius griped.

"Some of it was hard. I wonder if I could find a copy in F-- no, that wouldn't be a good idea." He bit his lower lip as if holding something back. Sirius leaned forward, scrutinizing his face.

"Why? Sounds like a pretty good idea, to me." His eyes twinkled. "Maybe then, you could tell me what the author's bloody going on about in there."

"It's best in English," Remus said.

"But why--" Remus shook his head, hands wringing in his lap. It was a seemingly harmless motion, but Sirius could tell from the way Remus's shoulders tensed that the boy was inexplicably uncomfortable.

"It's best in English."

"Right." Sirius faltered again, but would not be beaten down. "Did you go to any muggle schools before this one?"

"No."

"Mm. Neither did I, but my mum'n'dad were saving up to get me into Hogwarts. 'S kinda scary, they've been waiting so long for this."

"What about you?"

"Huh?"

"Have you been waiting so long for this?"

"Mm-- yeah, I guess so. I'm just as excited as they are." Sirius let his hands drop to the seat beside him. "But I have to be scared, too, in case I disappoint them or something." It was a stunning revelation to Remus that Sirius should be afraid of anything at all, no matter how terrifying.

"Don't worry about it," he said, without thinking. "You've got nothing to be afraid of."

"What gives you that idea?"

"You weren't afraid of that blond boy, that Lucius."

"That was just a boy."

"Yes, but he seemed much more frightening than that, at the time. And even though you weren't afraid of him in the least, I was. Quite." He hadn't been scared at all, but Remus didn't see the harm in this sort of lie. He had been too shocked to be afraid. In the scheme of things, some blond boy who thought he was terribly important wasn't even something to be considered a disturbance, much less terrifying.

Remus had the priorities of a forty-five year old, but he didn't even realize anything was off about the way he thought.

"Well," Sirius said and, for lack of anything more to say, he said again: "Well." Remus took in a deep breath. It seemed to draw raggedly through his throat, and Sirius would have sworn that he saw Remus's chest expand like a balloon while he spoke, and then shrink, as if the escaping words had deflated him. "That's quite...that's quite something. All you just, uhm, said."

He got no response, though, for Remus had gone back to his book and seemed for all intents and purposes to be deaf to the rest of the world.

Remus's robe seemed shabby even in comparison to Sirius's own newer hand-me-down, and James's brand-new one put them both to shame. They were all three of them more than ready by the time the five minute warning rang out through the cars. Getting off the train was even harder then getting on. Remus could not cling to his father and was unused to being touched by anyone else; he cringed and pulled back when anyone brushed against him, and had no shield from the crowd of excited, eager children. It wasn't that he felt alone, though he did, and it wasn't that he felt overwhelmed, though he did. It certainly wasn't because he felt afraid, because he didn't. It was simply because he couldn't stand so many bodies, so close. It was simply because he couldn't stand being touched.

"It isn't that bad," Sirius said, because he didn't understand, but his voice was soft and it was nice enough to listen to it without hearing the words.

All the first -years, the three of them included, were led down a steep, narrow path. Sirius didn't stumble himself, but he was half expecting Remus to. Still, there was something in him that wasn't surprised when the smaller boy didn't falter, keeping his footing easier than even James. There was darkness all around them, and Remus could sense there were trees by sniffing the scent on the air only once. He felt trapped, with the trees closing in on him from both sides.

"It isn't that bad," Sirius repeated, knowing somehow that Remus was trying to curl in on himself. Again, he didn't understand, and Remus bit his lip to keep from saying anything. "Look, Hogwarts is probably just around this--"

The blackness of shadow all around them was lifted, and was replaced by the glittering black stretch of a vast lake. It reflected the dark sky and reflected shards of the half moon and the stars as a broken mirror reflects candles lit in a dark room. Sirius fell silent. Before them, across the lake, was a castle that seemed impossible to Remus logical senses, but utterly wonderful all the same. High turrets pierced the impassive, impressive sky and lights from the windows twinkled on and off, as if of their own accord.

They had barely any time to stand and stare at the magnificent sight. They were herded four at a time into shallow-bellied boats and sent off rowing towards the sight. Remus, Sirius, and James snagged one of the first boats, and the fourth rider was a girl who introduced herself as Lilly. She had pale hair and emerald eyes and a slight build, and there was a proper balance of mischief and wisdom in her features. It wasn't hard for Remus's eyes in the darkness to see her smile at him. He took advantage of the poor light and the others' weaker eyesight to smile that crooked smile, and breathed out deeply in relief when it seemed to pass as acceptable. James folded his arms over his chest and glowered but said nothing. Remus didn't understand James's behavior, but he figured it had something to do with how Sirius had kicked him in the shin before he could speak.

The boat ride was beautiful, and compared with all the bodies that had pressed against his before, just brushing shoulders with Sirius wasn't all that bad. He took in silent, deep breaths and kept himself calm as the dark sky disappeared above them and they were swallowed by a gloomy tunnel. Remus found that, despite the splendor of the scenery, he was glad when he was out of the boat, both feet on solid ground once again. A few minutes and one flight of steep steps later, the first -years were pressed against the great oaken door of the school.

Remus drew back as a teacher whose name he had not caught pounded thrice on the wood. The sound rang out hollowly, and even he held his breath.