Disclaimer: Harry Potter wasn't mine when I started writing this fic, it's not mine now, and in all probability it will never be mine.
A/N: I wrote this chapter while in a rehab center after staring mindlessly at the TV for a few hours. It was a lovely trip.
Actually, I have most of the next chapter written too, so hopefully I'll have through chapter four up before I leave for Outward Bound. I wish I had something that would type it all up for me though, these chapters are longer than the other ones, and I'm a slow typer! *grumbles* I hope you appreciate the effort I'm putting into this: I mean, the first thing I do after a six hour plane ride is sit down and type this thing up! You all better like it, with all the work I'm doing! (I'm just kidding, feel free to hate it if you want ;) )
P.S. Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I appreciate it so much!
CHAPTER 3: WELCOME HOME
As they traveled home (in a car), Ms. Black was determinedly silent towards the two Marauders. They returned this silence, listening wordlessly to her praise of Regulus's accomplishments.
"Stupid Bitch never complements me," Sirius complained as he and Remus walked towards his room. "And I get better grades than Regulus!"
"And in more trouble, no doubt," Remus replied playfully.
"Well…yeah," Sirius admitted with a touch of pride. By this point they had reached a door. "This is my room," Sirius commented, and with a flourish opened the door.
The room was small: a single bed took up most of the space, the mattress shoved next to it didn't help much either. Squeezed into a corner was a dresser. Books were neatly stacked along one side of the room, the rest of the walls were bare (Sirius later explained this was because his mother disapproved of posters). A closet was slightly opened, reveling conscientiously hung robes.
"It's not normally this organized," Sirius explained, seeing his friend's expression and knowing Remus was having a hard time reconciling this room with Sirius's signature unmade bed and overflowing trunk.
"Oh."
"I'll take this," Sirius said, giving the mattress a kick, "you can have the bed."
"Thanks." Remus dropped onto the object in question with a sigh.
"Really man, don't listen to my mother," Sirius said gently. "It'll only get you down." Remus shook his head slightly wondering how Sirius always knew what he was thinking.
"I'll be ok."
"Of course you will."
* * *
But despite his assuring words, Sirius was worried. He had built up defenses, he knew how to let his mother's words wash over him—he could even laugh at them—but Remus didn't. And Remus was more sensitive than Sirius—he took things to heart more than any of the other marauders. In fact it was this sensitivity that played a large role in Sirius's attraction to his friend, it was what made him so kind, but Sirius was aware that it also lead Remus to be harder on himself than he should be. And as Ms. Black was known to have broken some of the toughest wizards out there—Sirius himself had witnessed her drive more than one ministry official into tears—he found that he had plenty of reason to worry that she might break Remus. Therefore it was with a heavy heart that Sirius went down to dinner that night, Remus in tow.
The other three were already there, sitting at a mahogany table talking with an impatient air.
"There you are," Ms. Black said, her tone indicating that she was highly perturbed at them for being late. Sirius and Remus slipped sheepishly into the two remaining chairs.
"Sorry," Sirius replied in way of explanation. His mother eyed him darkly, not sure if he was being insubordinate. Deciding to ignore it she called for food.
Kreature darted in, eyeing Sirius and Remus as darkly as his mistress was, his nose crinkled to indicate his displeasure. He practically threw their lamb chop at them, a stark contrast to the careful service he gave the other three. Sirius was unaffected by this, he was far to used to it to even notice, but Remus was shocked to see a house elf behave in such a manner. Wisely, he decided to refrain from commenting on it.
At first the dinner went smoothly, the conversation remaining on the safe subject of Hogwarts. The Marauders managed to remain nearly inconspicuous, and on the few occasions Ms. Black deemed it necessary to acknowledge their existence, her questions, though lacking any semblance of warmth, were not accusatory; she and Remus even managed to carry on a civil, if short lived, conversation about the O.W.L.s. In fact, Remus was beginning to relax, even enjoy himself a little (after all, the food was very good), when the conversation moved towards unsteady grounds.
Politics were brought up. First it was the recent ban on flying carpets. That was a safe enough topic, as no one could get very offended over a topic as paltry as carpets. Unfortunately, no one could stay interested in such a topic either. So somehow the conversation strayed to the appointment of the new junior assistant to the Prime Minister.
"Well, I think it should be Willy Nelson," Regulus declared cheerfully. Nicole nodded her assent.
"Of course you do," Ms. Black said approvingly, "one would be insane not to support him." She glared at Sirius as though daring him to defy her. "Now, there's a man with his head on straight. He's got his priorities right, Willy Nelson has." It was then that Sirius noticed the color was draining from Remus's face. He glanced in confusion between his friend and mother, wondering exactly what Willy Nelson's priorities were.
In the next moment Remus cleared this up for him, as he stammered, "He-he's the one who wants to pass that anti-werewolf act, right?"
"Yes. He wants to stop them from getting jobs. I agree with him, of course, they're nasty things," Ms. Black declared. Sirius turned a worried eye to Remus, whose face was losing it's remaining color at a truly frightening speed.
"But-but, it's not their fault. That they were bitten, I mean," he argued weakly.
"Doesn't stop them from being filthy dangerous creatures that respectable wizards should be ashamed to deal with!" Regulus cut in heatedly, oblivious to the effect this conversation was having on Remus. Sirius watched his friend's eyes fill with tears as he did the impossible and became whiter still. Furious at his family for causing Remus so much pain, even if it was unwittingly, he could hardly keep himself from yelling.
"I agree with Remus," he finally managed to choke out.
"You would," his brother muttered.
"I don't see why a wizard should be prosecuted for something they can't help!" This time he did yell.
"Sirius, Sirius, sit back down," Remus said urgently, pulling at the shirt of his friend, who had indeed risen to his feet. Sirius complied fuming.
"Well, you, I'm afraid to say, don't see much very clearly," Ms. Black said, indicating with her tone that the subject was closed.
The rest of dinner was a quite affair, the silence was broken only by the clink of silverware and Nicole's delighted snickers.
* * *
"Listen," Sirius began while he and Remus changed into pajamas.
"I'm ok," Remus lied, sitting on the edge oh the bed. "No, really I am," he insisted when Sirius sat next to him, eyes concerned. In fact, he was so distraught that it took him a few seconds to realize that Sirius, a shirtless, caring Sirius, was sitting close enough for their arms to brush. He shifted away quickly.
"No, you aren't. You aren't ok at all." It was Sirius's matter of fact tone—his assurance that he was indeed right, that broke Remus's weak defenses. He sobbed, letting the tears flow freely, tracing wild paths across his face and falling onto his shirt and blanket.
"It's—there are so many Padfoot!" He choked, "So many that think…think…I'm…we're…a…"
"Shh, I know. It's ok, Moony," Sirius cooed, and Remus became aware of his friend around him, his arms gently encircling him, his hands rubbing his back, while words of comfort were whispered into his hair. He was aware of the warmth and strength of the chest his tears were falling on, he felt Sirius's heart beat, comfortingly steady, contrasting his own sparatec breathes.
Sirius was as aware of Remus as Remus was of him. He felt, more forcibly than every before, the contrast in his friends body, the frailty of his gasping and trembling condition was underlain by strong muscles, it was a body that could have been used dangerously if Remus so desired—not that he ever did. As he murmured words that he hoped could give his friend some strength, Sirius felt Remus's hair, soft against his lips. He could practically taste it, certainly the smell of shampoo was overwhelming. He could also feel his friends breath and tears streaming down is chest, and occasionally his heart would jolt as he felt Remus's lips brushing his skin—lips wet with their own tears.
The remained in this position for what seemed like forever, but eventually Remus's breaths became regular, his tears stopped and his body relaxed, limp in Sirius's arms. Quietly Sirius lay his sleeping friend down, gently wiping the tears off his flushed cheeks and pulling the blankets around him. Then he bent over and lightly kissed Remus's forehead. Trembling himself now—though from repressed desire, not the pain and anger that had plagued Remus, Sirius slipped down onto his mattress, and stared unseeingly at the ceiling for many hours before he too slipped into sleep.