Any Way the Wind Blows
A Sad, and Often Lamentable, Tale
Part III: Problem the Second Creates a Problem
Fate began to draw back her leg in what looked like a pretty Superbowl-worthy kick.
"Cor, mate!"
That would have to be James. No one else in the entire school said things like that. It wasn't the words, or the slang, but rather how he said it; bright and cheery, as if he'd just been accepted onto a pro Quidditch team.
Remus blinked awkwardly at him through stinging eyes and a bloody nose.
"Your nose is bleeding."
"…"
"I guess I missed. Sorry."
Remus blinked again. Obviously, James hadn't really noticed the bloody nose at all. "Hosbital wing," he mumbled from behind his hands, sniffing loudly. He winced. James winced.
"Er. Where's Padfoot?"
Remus blinked at him again. "Whad?" he asked, clutching helplessly to his nose to stop the blood flow. It wasn't working, and it hurt like hell.
"Padfoot. You know. Sirius?"
"Yed I know that! I'b dot an idiot!" Remus snapped, sniffing again and giving a little yelp.
"Course not. So, er, where is he?"
"Flyig."
"Right, right. Course. Er. Moony?"
"Yed?"
"You might want to get to the hospital wing. Your nose is still bleeding."
Remus seriously considered placing an Unforgivable on James. Perhaps all three, even. Cruciatus on James' limp corpse seemed incredibly inviting right then. Truthfully, the only thing that stopped him was the fact that his hands were covering his nose. Fucking stupid nose, Remus thought angrily. How dare it prevent him from committing murder!
Remus did heed his own advice (he refused to acknowledge that James had also told him to do this, under the grounds that James was criminally insane), and hobbled off to the hospital wing, head throbbing, nose throbbing, eyes stinging.
Perhaps it would have been a more successful journey if he hadn't had the urge to sneeze.
***
Remus looked a mess when he finally got back to Gryffindor tower.
More specifically, Remus looked like a Jackson Pollock painting when he finally got back to Gryffindor tower.
Because Remus had sneezed.
Twice.
There had never been a louder cry of anguish in any of the corridors of Hogwarts since the castle had been built, and it was doubtful that there would ever be, either.
So now Remus stood in the middle of the common room, nose bruised, but the break healed (breaks, actually – never sneeze twice with a broken nose); arms across his chest as he tried to fold in on himself. He'd gotten two black eyes out of this mess, and Madam Pomfrey wouldn't heal them.
Fucking slag, Remus thought, with no real conviction behind the words. He just thought that he ought to feel indignant about something. Anything! But instead, all he felt was immense pain, and rather dizzy.
Good thing he hadn't decided to kill James. May have caused a few complications.
"COR, MATE!"
He ate his thoughts immediately.
James was bounding down the stairs, a lopsided grin slapped absently on his face; hair ruffled; glasses askew. Remus sighed.
"Nose broken?" James asked, not sounding at all concerned. Actually, it sounded as though he rather hoped it was.
"Was," Remus conceded reluctantly. "Pomfrey did it up, but it still hurts—DON'T TOUCH IT!" James retracted his hand.
"Come on up stairs. Padfoot'll have kittens over this!"
"Wouldn't puppies be more appropriate?" Remus muttered, too quietly for anyone to hear.
***
Sure enough, Sirius had kittens. And puppies. And pulled thousands of unknown muscles as he laughed. And laughed. And laughed.
Remus leaned heavily against one of the posts holding up the canopy above his bed. He was glad that most of his face was too bruised over to let the embarrassed blush creep through. He was currently plotting a way to commit two murders and call it a Potions Accident Gone Horribly Wrong.
Sirius was wiping tears from his eyes.
Remus sank down on his bed.
"Christ," Sirius said during a brief respite from the laughter. "Have you seen yourself yet?"
"Not yet. Wasn't actually planning on it."
"Ah, lighten up, Moony," Sirius said amiably, standing up and stretching. Remus couldn't help but notice the thin line of skin that was exposed as the taller boy's shirt hiked up.
Remus swallowed.
"Too bruised to lighten up," he said after a while, flopping down on his back, arms behind his head.
"Does it hurt much?" Sirius asked, leaning against the post that Remus had been leaning against just moments before.
"Yes."
"Did you cry?"
"Sirius!"
"What? Did you?"
"No!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes I am bloody well sure!" Remus shut his eyes. Sure, his eyes had stung and watered up, but he hadn't CRIED. Least not in the way that Sirius was implying. I mean, you can't HELP but get a bit teary eyed when part of your face fractures.
"What's wrong with you, then?"
Remus felt the sag of the mattress as Sirius sat down on the end of the bed, legs outstretched in front of him (and, Remus noticed even with closed eyes, right next to his own outstretched legs).
"James broke my nose."
"Er, I know that, mate. You feeling okay?"
This was met with toxic silence.
James looked up from his Quidditch magazine, seemingly suffering from horrible bouts of delayedreactionitis. Sure, he'd laughed and made jokes and all that, but once Remus had told Sirius just how his nose was broken, James had shut up.
It's not exactly a good thing to be accused of punching your friend in the face while your best friend laughs uproariously.
"I didn't mean to break it!" James protested. "It's just that I was, er, distracted, and you walked right in front of me and startled me and you know. Reflexes!" He demonstrated his ability to hit the air around him. Remus blinked.
"But the wall?"
"THAT was an accident, Moony!"
"And the punching wasn't?"
Again, the silence was toxic. In the distance, Remus swore that he could hear something like bubbling sewage.
"There are easier ways to break off a friendship, Prongs," Sirius told him, grinning deviously.
James snorted and went back to the magazine.
Remus delicately touched his nose. "Someone, somewhere, wants me to die."
Sirius looked at him with those piercingly blue eyes, strands of silky black fringe hanging perpetually in front of them. He grinned again (he was always grinning – it was worrying). "Nah. I reckon someone somewhere just doesn't like you very much."
If silence could be translated into words, this particular silence would have gone on longer than War and Peace.
"Thanks, Padf—What are you doing?"
Remus suddenly found himself pinned down by Sirius.
His head began to throb again, as did other parts of his anatomy. He tried not to look too flustered.
"I just wanted a better look," Sirius said, peering down, eyes squinted. He lifted a hand and brushed the hair from Remus' eyes.
"Ponces," someone muttered from a nearby bed. Sirius grinned over at James, gave Remus a kiss on the forehead (Remus' eye twitched), and hopped off of the bed.
"Yep. And damn proud of it, I should think!" he said.
"Speak for yourself," Remus muttered, sitting up slowly and making all sorts of pained faces as he got the urge to sneeze once more.
James looked over at him. "What do you mean?"
"What?" Remus asked, now properly slumped against his pillows.
"Well, I guess we just always thought…"
"Just always thought what?"
"That you were gay." James gave him a Look.
It was then, right then, that Remus was sure that someone, somewhere, was out to get him, and nothing anyone could say would convince him otherwise.