Dregs

by evanesce

02. dregs of the conscience

It had been a long day. A long week for that matter. Hell, it had been a long summer and Sirius Black was now getting a respite. Albeit brief, but a week off was better than a week on, so he took advantage, as he was prone to do, by taking his motorcycle out for a drive. A long drive; across the country and into London, just because he could. He'd seen enough of the Wizarding sections to last him twelve lifetimes, so now he wanted to take a bit of an excursion into the Muggle sections. He'd done that as well, of course, but there was nothing even remotely tedious about venturing back. He'd bought his motorcycle off of a London Muggle, after all.

Taking a leaf out of his own book (the only book he knew), Sirius was currently speeding down the motorway, leather jacket shrunken and folded up in his back pocket in an effort to be more manly; for nothing is as blatantly fuelled by testosterone as driving in the rain at breakneck speed whilst devoid of any protective layers of clothing. In Sirius's case, he was wearing a white tee shirt. Two, actually, but admitting that would be to own up to a less powerful repute of manliness.

And manliness is everything.

That, and fighting big, bad Wizards for a top secret organisation that he was just bursting to tell people about, which, obviously, meant he had to be extra manly.

But it was raining a bit more persistently now, and his hands were numbing quite successfully. He revved his engine in order to spite the idiotic freezing of his extremities, and went just a little bit faster. That is, until he entered Muggle London, which forced him to slow down and then to eventually stop. And then go again. And then stop.

And then get nearly clipped by a bus or whatever those damned, red motorised things are called. And then get lost, although he'd never admit it.

And as the 'ands' piled up, Sirius's spirit dropped down to the point where he'd fallen into a sullen and relatively cranky mood, fuelled only further by the fact that he now had no place to stay, and no purpose for even being here in the first place. He didn't really know anyone of any particular importance or intrigue.

James was back at Godric's Hollow. Peter was with the Ministry working on Merlin knows what. Lily was, most likely, with James, and Remus...

Sirius's heart gave an involuntary jolt when he thought of his third best friend; because he hadn't been thinking about his third best friend at all. Not once had it occurred to him that Remus, the reason for the absurd nicknames and half of the better pranks and adventures at Hogwarts, was probably quite alone, quite lonely, and quite, well...Probably not living in the best of environments. Sirius knew, from the sheer reliability of his memory that Remus mentioned he had purchased a small flat in Muggle London. But London was rather large, as it were, and Sirius had no sense of direction when on the ground.

But flying was out of the question.

And now he had, had, had to see Remus, because Remus was probably wondering why no one was writing to him; was probably wondering if anyone even knew he where he was living; was probably wondering if his friends had left him. Moony's personality contained a certain degree of paranoia, which he had learned to control by use of his calm demeanour. But it didn't make him any less paranoid.

Revving the engine, Sirius now felt entirely guilty. Too guilty. And far less manly.

He parked his bike along the kerb in front of a grocer and stepped out onto the rain-slick pavement, extracting his compacted leather jacket from the back pocket of his trousers. One Engorgio later and he was far warmer than he had been previously.

Sirius shoved his hands deep within the warmth of the pockets, dodging through the Muggle crowds skilfully. He was going to find Remus. He had no idea how to go about doing this, but he was certainly going to make an effort, and he would be successful too, damn it. Why? Because he was Sirius Black.

Intuition told Sirius to check every Muggle bookshop in London. Logic told him that someone might know of Remus if he were to inquire about him in one of the bookshops. Reasoning told Sirius that this would take a great deal of his day to do, but it would be worth it in the end – should he be successful, of course. And he would be, because he was Sirius Black.

The first store was a tiny shop that was haphazardly pressed between a solicitor's office and a clothing store. An eclectic grouping of stores, thought Sirius as he entered the tiny bookstore. A little brass bell tinkling merrily above his rain-drenched black hair, and he paused, looking up at it.

"Can I help you?"

Sirius jumped, looking around the room for the speaker. A tiny, balding, elderly man wearing a woollen sweater, crisp white shirt, and a pair of worn corduroy trousers with a patterned fabric patch covering one knee, was standing behind a glass counter. The patch reminded Sirius of Remus's brown coat, and he shook his head in order to clear it.

Then he remembered that the man had spoken to him, and thusly, he replied; "Um, I'm looking for someone." Way to sound completely idiotic, Sirius thought as he took a few steps closer to the counter.

"Have you got a name for me to by, then?" asked the man, smiling slightly as he polished a pair of round, gold-rimmed glasses with a dirty rag, undoubtedly used for dusting off books, as it was grey in colour.

"Right. Sorry. Yes, I do. Remus Lupin?" He sounded unsure of himself even as he said it, and watching with dismay as the man shook his head.

"Can't say the name sounds familiar. What does the lad look like? Perhaps I'll remember. Although no guarantees as I'm getting on in years and the memory is not what it once was." The man punctuated this statement with a wheezy laugh, and placed the spectacles on his crooked nose.

Sirius frowned and looked at the bookshelves. "Well, he's got light brown hair. Er, he's fairly frail-looking, I suppose. Not unhealthy, just sort of...tired. He's about my age, which is eighteen, almost nineteen. He's about three inches shorter than I am..." Sirius would have mentioned Remus's blazing eye colour; his characteristic toothy smile; the dark circles under his eyes...But some details would seem far too much to just go about telling a total stranger.

The man stopped, thinking. "Quiet boy?" he asked in a rough, aging voice.

Sirius nodded. "Most of the time."

"I've seen him."

Sirius's heard skipped involuntarily. "Really?" he asked, eagerly.

The man nodded. "Been a while. A week at least. Bought a book about herbs from me. Said he was planning on planting a small box outside of his window. I asked him why, although I'll admit that that was a bit of a foolish thing to ask, and he said that he was looking for something to occupy his time now that he was out of school. I asked where he went to school and he said it was a boarding school in Scotland. You're a friend of his?"

Blinking and jerking back to reality, as he had been momentarily put into a daze by the man's story, Sirius nodded. "Yeah. We, ah, went to school together. Haven't seen him in a while."

The man nodded. "Nice boy."

And it was then that Sirius remembered his entire purpose of asking about Remus in the first place. "Do you know where he lives, by any chance?"

The man shrugged. "We don't keep those records on file. The newer stores, well, they do. I'm afraid that I've never been inclined to keep track of a client's residence."

"Oh. Well, thanks anyway," Sirius replied with a smile, and left the shop.

Well, he thought to himself, it hadn't been a completely useless visit. He now knew that Remus lived within walking distance of this shop (as he doubted his friend would ever purchase one of those Muggle automobiles, and flooing was out of the question). And so, with that thought in mind, Sirius proceeded to the next bookshop, with the same results.

After a rather unsavoury amount of walking had produced nothing but unknowns, Sirius doubled back to his bike, revving the engine to alleviate some of his sudden annoyance, and kicked away from the kerb. He played a game of cat and mouse with the cars, darting in between as many vehicles as he possibly could, until he reached a part of town that boasted three old bookshops, all in a row.

The possibilities now wide open, Sirius parked again, stepping off of his trusty bike and briskly jogging across the road.

There was a small café on the corner, and he happened to be craving coffee for some decidedly random reason, so he began to hurry towards the warmth of the building, completely disregarding it when he slammed shoulder to shoulder with another pedestrian, and instead, kept going.

Muttered apologies in a familiar voice only vaguely registered in his mind as Sirius stepped inside of the café, intent on some sort of caffeinated liquid to sustain his energy long enough to make some real progress in the matter of finding Remus. It wasn't until he sat down near the front windows, coffee in hand, that the familiar voice clicked, and he suddenly realised who he had run into.

Remus.

Nearly choking on his first sip, Sirius jumped up, toppling the metal café chair over and proceeding to make as much chaos as humanly possible, in the effort to get out of the building as fast as possible.

Fumbling with the door knob as if he'd never encountered one before was only half of his problems. He spilt the coffee down his front, yelping and swearing as his skin was scorched, and his white shirt stained noticeably. He'd fix it later, but for now he has in hot pursuit of his best friend.

Muggles. Everywhere there were Muggles and not one would bloody move! No amount of shouldering could part the throngs of returned Church-goers and nattering teen girls with their irksome shopping bags. Sirius tried to be polite, but no one heard him. Sirius tried to be violent, but no one cared. Sirius tried to Apparate, but realised how stupid of an idea that was, albeit he'd save the idea if things got truly desperate.

And things were getting more desperate by the second.

A mad rush of people exited one clothing store at once, drowning him in frenzied chats and hurried walking. Sirius managed to break free, and as he did so, he finally spotted the familiar light brown hair and dark brown jacket that he'd known so well and for so long.

He began to walk a bit faster, as the Muggles had nearly completely cleared out of his path, and the space between himself and Remus began to shrink. Soon, Sirius was only a few paces behind. And then none at all.

He reached out and gently tapped the slighter boy on the shoulder.