Dregs

by evanesce

03. dregs washed away

Remus had been intent on going home the long way. He had been intent on being miserable and self-pitied for another hour at the very least. He had been hoping to have a reason to move to Timbuktu or Djibouti or some such location that would be unknown to his friends. Or, if not unknown, then one which they would hardly string together in a sentence containing the name Remus Lupin. Or just Remus. Or Moony.

In any case, should he move to one of the two aforementioned locals, Remus deduced that could most likely study for days on end and never feel as though he would be missing anything, because that's precisely how he felt now, and to say that he disliked it would be a blatant understatement.

But there had been a hand on his shoulder, so naturally Remus had turned around. What he was expecting, however, was not what he received, and in his surprise at finding Sirius Black standing behind him, looking as pitiful as a stray dog, Remus had let all of his usual composure betray him, and he did something he had never done. Ever. And even when he went back and reflected upon it, he realised how stupid and unlike him it was to do what he did.

He fled.

Well, he supposed he hadn't truly fled; he simply blanched, turned back around, and walked a little bit faster, completely aware that he had left Sirius, undoubtedly unmoving, behind him, with no explanation what so ever.

And now he felt stupid.

Sirius, on the other hand, was quite sure of one thing; he was very confused. Tapping someone on the shoulder had always been a normal, friendly manner of getting someone's attention. Apparently Remus didn't think this way.

And now Remus was getting away from him. And Sirius, being who he was, was not about to let such a thing befall him. So he followed Remus, and when the latter had reached a point in the road where the auto--, well, the Muggle motorised things had the domination of the roadway, Remus had to stop, and Sirius took this ample opportunity to greet him again.

"Remus?" Perhaps Sirius had done something wrong? He couldn't remember saying anything stupid on the day of graduation. In fact, he couldn't remember saying anything at all to the other boy, which was both surreal to think of, and also unnerving.

The bruised sky was of more comfort to gaze upon that the sullen face of the boy next to him, whose gaze, in turn, seemed fixed on the same crescent washed in grey.

And indeed it was. Remus found the unnatural colouring of the sky to only mirror his emotions, and the comfort in that, well, wasn't a comfort at all. Because, after all, who is truly comfortable in knowing that the phenomenon they find themselves identifying with is the phenomenon everyone else, including themselves, resent? And Remus knew all too well the feeling of being the object of resentment amongst his peers, his elders, even those who were barely old enough to talk.

"Hey, er..."

Remus fell back into his senses with an uncomfortable feeling of bitter reality, and, with reluctance, turned to face Sirius. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the cars stopped and the pedestrians who had slowly been collecting like rain in a gutter, were ushered across the road. Remus gave Sirius a helpless shrug and turned back around to cross in the midst of the throng; so that he'd blend in; so that, for one vain moment, he'd be like everyone else; a simple citizen wishing to reach the other side.

Sirius had other plans.

Hooking his right hand around Remus' wrist, Sirius held the boy back despite the persistent flow of traffic that countered their movements with alacrity.

A child dressed in a tartan Mac hit Sirius with her little umbrella as she passed, hand-in-hand with her mother (who threw Sirius the parental "Terribly sorry! Kids will be kids, will they not?" look). Remus laughed. Well, it wasn't a laugh so much as it was a smile accompanied by a light hum of amusement somewhere at the back of his throat.

Sirius caught the sound, noted its meaning, and smiled in a self-conscious manner. "How're you?" Ah, yes. The innocence with which such a question was presented still felt like the epitome of the uncaring individual's intentions, and Remus shrugged, glancing askance over his shoulder at the now busy road.

"Well enough." This was, for all it was worth, the truth in its candid entirety.

"So I'm going to assume that you--"

"You're soaked." It was so abrupt and so utterly out of context that Remus had scarcely blinked before he'd realised that he had even said it.

Sirius smiled. "So're you."

"Are you cold? I've a flat near here and I could make you some tea. If you'd like, that is." No sense rushing into things. Besides, Sirius had never been much of a tea-drinker. No one could match Remus, this was painfully true, but Sirius preferred his raw and untamed coffee to the delicate and refined tea which Remus enjoyed so much. Apparently, like the wand picks the Wizard, the hot beverage picks the drinker. In which case, Remus had been glommed on to by two; cocoa and tea.

"That would be lovely."


And slowly, perhaps so much so that neither party understood, nor even full recognised what was finally coming to pass, something was exchanged between the two; something to unify them both, whether they should have chose to admit it at that exact moment or tuck it away for an evening when the hot beverages would indeed be summoned as a companion for heartfelt colloquy.

But for now; for now simply standing in the rain, partially illuminated by the flickering headlamps of the rumbling vehicles, was enough. For now, simply smiling and nodding for no other reason than a thank you, was enough. For now.

It wouldn't always be enough.

Whatever ethereal entity was melding thoughts was also directing action, and Sirius, without thinking long enough to know to second guess, draped one arm lazily across Remus's shoulders, fingers idly drumming a tuneless melody on the other's soaked jacket and enabling them, together, to finally manage to conquer the grey paved river that stretched between Running Away, and Coming Home.

Fin.