To all the people who asked if I was going to "write" OotP as well – yes! After all, I can't let this wonderful opportunity to "write" a certain character's death pass, can I? ;)
As for this chapter: again some bad language, again said by Sirius. I think you'd better get used to it, because I have this sneaky feeling he's gonna say the same sort of things - and worse? - in OotP as well. He's not in the best of moods, you know, and people tend to use a lot of bad language when they're in a foul mood... ;)
Only 8 pages this time, average length by now. ;) Enjoy.
End of June, 1995.
"Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher – the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while; I will contact you there."
Things have gone bad. Am coming your way.
Padfoot.
Buckbeak landed inelegantly on the pavement of Wisteria Walk, his hoofs and talons clattering loudly on the concrete stones. It made Sirius flinch.
"Not with so much noise!" he hissed. He slipped off the Hippogriff and made for some nearby bushes, making sure to keep his head low. All his efforts to avoid attention were, however, immediately undone by Buckbeak: the Hippogriff stomped after him with a strange mix of clicking hooves and talons. Sirius glared at the animal once they were safely in the shadows, but Buckbeak didn't seem affected by it.
It was lucky, Sirius thought, that it was already evening, because it would mean there were less people on the street. Especially with this fine weather he had to be extra careful. Thankfully, most inhabitants of Little Winging stayed in their back garden and didn't start strolling the streets.
It had been different in London. Sirius shuddered when he thought about it. He had come past the capital when flying to Surrey, and as he was asked to alert Mundungus Fletcher anyway, he had thought he might just as well fly down and do it right away. Of course, he hadn't realised that even a city with millions of inhabitants wasn't big enough to hide a Hippogriff. After a few days all his nerves had been on end out of pure stress, and he was absolutely sure he had been glimpsed by at least five people.
To make things worse, he couldn't find Mundungus. Being the crook that he was, he moved from place to place ever so often to avoid being caught, and he didn't really advertise in the yellow pages either. Sirius was about to pack his things and move on again, with the idea that he'd just owl Dumbledore that Mundungus couldn't be found and that he'd have to send an owl instead if he really wanted Dung's help, when he suddenly saw Mundungus on a street corner of one of the more run-down parts of London, trying to sell tattered and most likely stolen Sneakoscopes.
It hadn't taken Sirius long to convince Mundungus that he was innocent – in fact, one of the first things Dung asked was whether Sirius wanted a place to sleep, because he knew a few decent spots – and explain that Dumbledore needed his help and that the Order of the Phoenix was called to arms again. A few hours later he had already left London with an immense feeling of relief.
And right now he was standing in Wisteria Walk, Little Winging, Surrey, trying to remember which house was Arabella Figg's again. He could only remember that it was somewhere in Wisteria Walk and that she was the only Squib there – the only one with some connection to the magical world. But that didn't really help much, seeing as she hadn't exactly put signs in her front yard saying 'Here lives a Squib' and the street was too long to start knocking on every door to ask if Arabella was home.
"Meow."
Sirius looked down. A brown and black spotted cat was streaking affectionately past his legs, purring loudly.
"Hey cat," Sirius said softly. "I'm a big black dog, you know. Really scary." The cat purred louder. Then it walked away, but after a few yards it looked back as if to see why Sirius wasn't coming along. Sirius looked at Buckbeak, who stared back. Then he shrugged and followed the cat.
The cat lead them through a narrow alley behind the back gardens. Even Buckbeak kept as quiet as possible; they were now too close for comfort to the people living there. It even happened once that Sirius walked so close past a woman that he could see which book she was reading. The only thing hiding him from view was the tall fence.
"Meow?" The cat had walked right to one of the last few houses. A tree standing in the back garden had grown so large its branches covered the alley as well. Sirius ducked and ran towards it, hiding in the shadows. Buckbeak followed, nearly hitting the branches with his wings.
"And now?" Sirius whispered to the cat. It didn't even occur to him that it could be considered weird to be talking to a cat. The cat meowed again and sniffed a wooden door in the fence. Sirius obediently opened it and the cat slipped through it, leaving the man and the Hippogriff alone. After a few moments, it returned and meowed again. Getting the hint, Sirius followed the cat into the garden, Buckbeak on its heels.
The tree which overshadowed the narrow alley had more room to grow wild here, and that was clearly visible. It looked as if it hadn't been pruned in a long time: branches were growing wild and a large part of the garden was being overshadowed. Sirius immediately took advantage of this and hid in the shadows again.
Their feline guide joined the five other cats which were meowing hungrily at the backdoor. Sirius wondered what he was doing here; had the cat wanted to be polite by offering him cat food? He sincerely hoped that wasn't the case – rats weren't very tasty, granted, but cat food would be a new low for him.
The back door opened and an old woman on tartan slippers walked out, three opened cans with cat food in her hand. Her legs were immediately assaulted by affectionate cats which all wanted to have food first.
"No, no, just wait," Sirius heard her mutter. "There's enough for all of you, really. Now, where is Mr. Tibbles? I told him dinner would be ready at six!" She ladled food onto a plate. She was barely able to because the cats were practically eating from the cans. "He's probably at the Durlsey's again," she continued. "Bless him, he's so concerned, though Harry won't be back there in a few weeks."
"Arabella," Sirius whispered. How the cat had know it was this house he was looking for, he had no idea. Or maybe it has something to do with the huge Hippogriff on my tail, he thought. It rather shocked him to see how old Arabella had got since he'd last seen her, thirteen years ago. He had known her as a middle-aged woman; old compared to his twenty-one year old self, but not like this, even though thirteen years had passed.
The cat that had lead Sirius and Buckbeak here was now the only one left streaking past Arabella's legs. It ignored the food that was rapidly being eaten by the other cats; instead, it kept meowing, demanding Arabella's attention.
"What is it?" she said, petting the animal. "Not hungry, are you?" The cat nudged her hand with its snout and trotted towards Sirius. Arabella followed the animal until she saw the two refugees. Her eyes widened.
Sirius sheepishly raised his hand. "Eh… hi?"
"I cannot believe it!" Arabella exclaimed. She put her cup with coffee down with a sharp tic. "You-know-who returned? And Harry has seen it? How could Dumbledore let that happen?!"
"He didn't really let it happen," Sirius said. "Of course, he wouldn't let something like this happen, it just – did."
They were sitting in Arabella's sitting room, Sirius on the sofa and Arabella in a comfortable chair. She got to her feet now, though, and peered out of the window.
"Where is Mr. Tibbles?" she muttered irritably.
"Eh, who is Mr. Tibbles, actually?" Sirius asked. Once again he inconspicuously tried to put a biscuit back on its saucer; Hagrid's snacks were too hard to bite, but Arabella's seemed at least two years out of date.
"My cat," Arabella said as if this explained everything. "Speaking of cats, your… thing – "
"Hippogriff."
" – doesn't eat cats, does it?"
"Euh, not anymore."
Arabella glared at Sirius, then took to looking out of the window again. Sirius stood up and walked to the window as well, although he made sure to stay out of view.
"But you understand everything I told you?" he said, taking her attention off the subject of cats. "About the Order?"
"Yes, yes, of course," she said. "I will send Dumbledore a letter first thing tomorrow." Sirius was about to ask why she wouldn't send a letter right away, but then he remembered she'd have to use Muggle post instead of an owl. "I'll of course help the Order again."
"Good." Sirius picked up his frayed coat and put it on. "I'd best be going then, I got more to do actually."
"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?" she said, but Sirius shook his head.
"No, thanks."
The two of them went outside. The cats had gone, except for the brown and black one that had guided Sirius to Arabella's house, earlier on the evening. Buckbeak looked from Arabella to Sirius, unsure what to do. Sirius gestured to him to keep quiet; nothing bad was going to happen.
He had just coaxed Buckbeak out on the alley again, when Arabella said: "you're not going to fly away from here, are you?" Sirius looked around.
Buckbeak's wings were already scraping against the fences along the alley and he hadn't even spread them. And besides that, it would be extremely stupid to take flight on a Hippogriff in the middle of a neighbourhood full of Muggles. He might as well ring a random doorbell and say "hi, I'm Sirius Black, come cash the reward on my head." In other words: bad idea.
"Darn," he said. Arabella, however, had something else on her mind.
"Oh, Mr. Tibbles, there you are!" she said. A big cat was walking leisurely towards them. It regarded Sirius coolly, then sat down to lick its paw.
"Can we for a minute talk about something else but your cats?" Sirius hissed. "For example about how I'm supposed to get out of here?"
"Well, you came through the air, didn't you?" she hissed back. "So just take the same way back."
He snorted. Easier said than done. Well, I might as well walk down this alley, he thought. And see how I can go from there. He immediately put this thought into action, Buckbeak and Arabella on his tail. When he'd reached the end of the alley, he carefully peeked around the corners.
No one.
Walking tiptoe, with a finger on his lips to indicate absolute silence, he guided Buckbeak out of the alley again. The animal immediately spread its wings once there was room for them again, nearly knocking Arabella off her feet.
"Sorry," Sirius whispered. He was looking frantically around to see if nobody was looking. He climbed on the Hippogriff and prodded Buckbeak with his heels. "Up, and fast please," he whispered. Buckbeak just kept in a shriek, spread his wings and jumped in the air, this time really knocking Arabella over. When he looked back over his shoulder, Sirius could see her lying on the ground, staring open-mouthed at the Hippogriff and the convict. She got smaller, smaller, smaller – then Little Winging disappeared.
Sirius patted Buckbeak's neck. "To Derbyshire now," he said. "No more unknown people who may or may not know we're innocent. We're going to Remus. Finally."
Remus leafed once again from the front page of the paper to the very last page, even though he already knew what it said. "Well, that's nice," he told Monster. "First the Daily Prophet is packed with ludicrous stories about the Triwizard which are completely untrue and uninteresting, and right at the moment when I want detailed information, they're not giving me any!"
Monster calmly kept chewing his breadcrusts. It was obvious he couldn't care less.
Remus spread the newspaper out on the table again. It was true, the only information about the Third Task was a small article announcing that Harry had won the Triwizard and the thousand Galleons that came with it. Apart from that, nothing. No information about who was in second, third or fourth place, no information about how long it had taken Harry to win – not even a melodramatic story about how proud Harry's parents would have been. Nothing.
"Let's hope Sirius sends me a long letter telling all about it," he muttered. "And I hope it won't take him too long."
There was a loud crash outside.
Remus rushed to the window on the front side of the house to see what was happening. All he could see was a large grey wing sticking out of a nearby bush. The feathers were ruffled, and the first thing Remus thought was that a flying horse had perhaps crashed down. But then he couldn't for the life of him imagine what a flying horse was doing above his house.
Only one way to find out, really. He went to the front door and walked outside.
"Hello?" he said. "Everything alright?" He had barely said this when a hand was clamped over his mouth.
"God, Moony, wake the whole neighbourhood, why don't you," Sirius said. "Be quiet!"
Remus pulled Sirius' hand back. "Oh, right, like you didn't come down with the sound of a crashing aeroplane." Buckbeak emerged as well, looking disgruntled.
"We've flown from Scotland to London to Surrey to Derbyshire in only a couple of days," Sirius said. "No wonder Buckbeak's tired. And when he's tired, his landing, err, isn't that graceful anymore."
"But what are you doing here?" Remus asked.
"Can we get inside first?" Sirius answered, looking nervously around.
"Good idea."
They left Buckbeak outside to find a place to sleep for himself, which the animal didn't minded at all, as long as he didn't have to fly anymore. As soon as he was inside, Sirius relaxed visibly. He finally didn't need to watch his back anymore.
When they'd reached the kitchen, Remus turned around and said: "okay, what has happened? Tell me everything."
"Everything? You got a few hours to spare then?"
Remus raised his eyebrows. "Sounds like the Daily Prophet didn't tell everything."
"That's not surprising," Sirius scowled. "And I don't even know what they wrote."
"That Harry won the Triwizard. That's it."
"Well, that happened as well," said Sirius. "D' you want the long version or the condensed one?"
"Give me the short version first." By now, Remus was leaning against the sink, his arms crossed in front of his chest, ready for anything. Sirius had sat down on the kitchen table. He was swinging his legs and was sitting hunched – he felt very tired.
"Okay, short version," he said. "Er, Voldemort returned with the help of Barty Crouch Jr. who had been impersonating Moody all year long. The Triwizard cup was a Portkey to Voldemort. Harry and Cedric took it. Peter killed Cedric and used some of Harry's blood to resurrect Voldemort. Harry duelled Voldemort, came back to Hogwarts, fake Moody tried to kill him but was stopped by Dumbledore. And now Dumbledore is calling the Order together again, to once again fight Voldemort. That was the short version."
Remus stared. Then he scratched his head. "Euh, come again?"
"Voldemort returned – " Sirius began teasingly, then broke off. "You heard me. Dumbledore wanted me to gather the old crowd – at least, some members of it. The Phoenix has been reborn, to say it poetically. We're going to kick the Big Butt again. Once more we're going to try and squash the Snake. I don't know how else to say it."
"But I thought Voldemort was dead?" Remus said. "Well, gone anyway."
"Apparently not. He used an old charm to bring himself back to power again – something with bone of his father, blood of his enemy and flesh of his servant. The blood came from Harry, and, it's really disgusting actually, Peter cut off his hand." Both flinched.
"Gross," Remus said. "He cut off his own hand? That must've taken some courage."
"Gryffindor, eh?" Sirius shrugged. "I wish he'd cut off his head."
"Yeah, but that wasn't in the formula," Remus muttered. He pensively plucked his eyebrow. "How did Harry escape anyway?"
"He duelled with Voldemort, but something called Priori Incantatem happened and he was able to run off," Sirius explained shortly.
"Really? Priori Incantatem?" Remus was impressed. "That must've been a rather amazing sight."
"Am I the only one who doesn't immediately know what that is?" Sirius complained.
"I bet Harry didn't know right away what it was," Remus said.
"Harry's fourteen. Practically a baby. Of course he doesn't know it."
"And you've missed twelve years, you're actually still twenty-three, of course you wouldn't know either."
"Will you just stop being right and let me feel sorry for myself?" Sirius said, smiling a little.
"Sure, go ahead." They were silent for a few moment, thinking this bad news over. The silence was eventually broken by a low rumbling from Sirius' stomach.
"Oh, right," he said, glaring at Remus' grin. "I haven't really eaten in a few hours."
"I'll make you something," Remus said. "Would you like mashed potatoes or pasta?"
"Could I have a shower first?" Sirius answered, trying to run a hand through his hair but getting his fingers tangled. "I kind of stink. I can even smell it myself."
"You can even take a bath if you want to." Remus gestured for Sirius to get upstairs. "This way."
"You know, I don't think your clothes would fit me," Sirius said, nevertheless taking the old pair of pyjamas Remus offered him. "You're smaller than I am."
"But you're thinner, so maybe that'll make up for it." Remus turned on the taps of the bath.
"That's not very logical," Sirius noted.
"Well, it's not as if someone will see you, besides me." Remus busied himself with towels and washcloths. "Have you eaten your chocolate yet?"
"Yes mummy." Sirius obediently took a bite from the slab his friend had given him to temporarily stop his stomach from rumbling.
Remus whacked Sirius on the head with the towel, then placed it on the laundry basket. "Look," he said, pointing. "Towel, washcloth, soap, shampoo, brush, toothbrush, toothpaste, razor and shaving cream. You'd be able to manage, right?"
"Well, it's been a while since I last used those, I don't know if I can still remember how to use them…" Sirius joked. Then, seeing Remus' expression: "yes, sure, I can manage. Now, did you say something about mashed potatoes?"
"I get the hint," Remus smiled. "Get into that bath before it floods." Sirius had already turned his back towards him.
Remus was about to leave when he looked back over his shoulder once more. Sirius was just pulling his shirt over his head, and the sight made Remus stop dead in his tracks.
Sirius' shoulderblades stuck out, casting shadows over the row of bumps that made up his spine, going right from his neck to the end of his back. Sirius pulled his shirt off, revealing bony shoulders and thin arms. His long black hair fell over his back, covering it. It reached way down, to his pointed elbows. His hips stuck out, almost feminine. Dear God, there is a skeleton standing in my bathroom, Remus thought, feeling a painful mix between horror and sorrow.
"What are you staring at?" Sirius had turned around and glared at Remus. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, covering his clearly visible collarbones with his hands. He sounded defiantly. Remus noticed he could count his friend's ribs.
"You," he said.
"Well, go stare at me somewhere else," Sirius bit. He threw his frayed Azkaban shirt at Remus' head. "Shoo."
Remus retreated, taking the shirt with him.
Forty-five minutes later he was back upstairs again, knocking on the bathroom door. "Dinner's ready."
Silence.
Remus knocked again. "Sirius, are you alright?"
"Ouch!" came Sirius' voice from inside.
"Sirius?" Remus said. He listened intently. Then the door opened and Sirius appeared.
He actually looked downright stupid. His hair was washed and untangled, his nails were clean for the first time in probably months – but he was wearing a blue-striped pyjama which was too short so it showed his ankles and wrists, and his cheeks were blotched with inexperiencedly applied shaving cream. His jaw was bleeding.
"I bloody cut myself," he said. "And it hurts."
"Apart from that, are you done?" Remus asked, peering inside. Sirius had left the bathroom fairly clean – if you didn't count the dirty towel hanging over the side of the bath and the water on the floor.
"Almost. But I think I broke your brush." Sirius showed him the brush with long black knotted hairs in it. "Sorry. My hair was too tangled."
"I'll buy myself a new one then," Remus said lightly.
"And I can't get the hang of shaving," Sirius added, glaring at himself in the mirror.
"Come here, I'll do it." Before Sirius could react, Remus had already pushed his friend down to sit on the reed laundry basket, which protested heavily but held Sirius nonetheless.
"Ouch," Sirius said, especially when Remus pulled his head back. "Ouch. Ouch. Ouch."
"Oh stop it, I haven't even begun yet." Remus turned on the tap with warm water and cleaned the razor. Sirius was leaning back, staring up at Remus, holding his head upside-down from where Remus was seeing him.
"This is really humiliating," he said.
"Yes, I quite enjoy it," Remus answered. Sirius flinched when Remus flicked the razor over his cheek, expertly wiping the shaving cream away.
"Please don't cut me."
"Sit still," Remus muttered. He took Sirius' long, wet hair in his left hand to get more grip and continued shaving. Sirius' Adams apple moved nervously up and down when he swallowed. He didn't feel comfortable in such a vulnerable position, with his neck bared to such a sharp knife.
"Don't tell Harry about this," he said difficulty, because his head was tilted backwards.
"Be quiet or I'll cut your throat."
"That would be a way to get money," Sirius said. Remus stopped shaving for a moment and looked his friend in the eyes.
"You don't mean that," he said.
"Well, yes. It would be a way to get money, actually. You'd simply do what a lot of people want to do. Snape would be happy."
"Sirius, stop it. That's not funny."
"Remus, it's called black humour. Black humour, got it?"
Remus rolled his eyes. "Yes, I get it. The most unfunny sort of humour there is though."
"Well I got a really unfunny family." Sirius closed his eyes when Remus pulled his head farther back to be able to shave under his nose. "Don't cut my nose off," he muttered.
"Keep talking and I'll cut your lips off as well," Remus muttered back.
"Was that Lupin humour?"
"No, a serious threat. Shut up."
Sirius finally shut up, allowing Remus to finish in peace. He wiped the last bits of cream away with a wet towel, then he let go of Sirius' hair. "Done."
Sirius got to his feet, rubbing his face with his hands. "It feels so strange," he said. He looked in the mirror. "Oh no."
"Oh no what?"
"My face." Sirius stared. "I got a naked face now."
Remus rolled his eyes again. "That lack of food has affected your brain," he said. "Get downstairs. We'll have dinner and then I'll kick you to bed. This day has been going on too long now."
Half an hour later, Remus had made up a bed for Sirius in his study. They wished each other a good night, then Remus went to his own room. Sirius laid down on the bed and pulled the covers over himself, but he couldn't sleep. He stared at the ceiling.
This bed is so strangely soft, he thought. How can anyone sleep in this?
The moving trees outside cast shadows on the ceiling. The curtains here were white and rather thin. Light from outside came through it and Sirius could dimly see the outline of the several bookcases and Remus' desk.
He closed his eyes and pretended he was in his cave again, but the bed told him otherwise. He took to staring at the ceiling again. Compared to the ceiling in my cave, this one's really white and boring. Compared to the ceiling my cell –
He abruptly turned on his right side and forced himself to think about something else. He fixed his eyes on the rows of books, trying to read the titles just to give himself something to do. The effort eventually tired his eyes and he closed them, finally falling asleep…
Remus woke with a start. He had heard something, he was sure of it. He listened carefully, his ears moving without him really noticing.
Nothing.
He now realised he had to go to the bathroom. Perhaps that woke me up, he thought, although he had some doubts about it. He got out of bed and walked to the dark landing. It was completely silent there as well, he couldn't even hear his bare feet on the floor-covering. It was actually kind of spooky.
When he came back from the bathroom, he stopped to listen at the door of his study. Apart from Sirius' breathing, everything was quiet there.
He was about to walk into his room, his ears still turned to his study, to Sirius, when he suddenly heard a sharp intake of breath and an urgent, almost whispered "no!" It came so suddenly it made him jump. He turned around and peered into the darkness. There was nothing.
He walked back again, careful this time. He wished he hadn't left his wand on his bedside table. When he came up to his study again, he heard a ragged breathing and a soft moaning coming from inside. Without thinking, he reached for the handle of the door, threw it open and hit the switch for the light. He squinted his eyes against the sharp light.
Sirius had crawled back in a corner of his bed, his back against the wall. He had his knees drawn up to his chest, a bewildered look in his eyes. He held his hand before his face to block the light out and squinted his eyes as well. Apart from them, there was no one else in the room.
"What's going on?" Remus asked. Sirius seemed to realise only now that his friend had come in, and he gave an utterly relieved sigh.
"It's you," he said.
"Yeah, it's me." Remus looked suspiciously at Sirius. "Why? Who did you think it was?"
"I don't know," Sirius said hastily.
"Sure you're alright?"
"Sure," Sirius said. He gave a smile that wasn't really reassuring.
"You know, I thought I heard you talk earlier," said Remus.
"Really?" Sirius tried to sound interested. "What'd I say?"
"You said 'no'."
"Must've been reliving that handshake with Snape then." There was now a distinct defensive tone in Sirius' voice. Remus knew there was something strange going on, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was, and Sirius wasn't being helpful either.
"I'll be going then," he said. "See you tomorrow." He gave on last suspicious look at Sirius, who pulled a comically broad smile that lasted two seconds, then he waved him away.
The second time it happened, Remus was already standing next to his bed and he had instinctively grabbed his wand before his brain had fully realised what he was doing there. He rushed out of his room and threw the door to his study open.
"You were talking again!" he said. He then remembered to turn the light on.
It didn't look as if Sirius had moved. He was sitting in the exact same position, still in the corner of his bed, pressed against the wall as if he wanted to disappear in it. He was trying to calm his breath without having Remus noticing he was doing it.
"Really?"
"Yeah. This time you said 'get the f-ck away from me'. My guess is it wasn't Snape again."
The silence seemed to go on for minutes. Then, hesitantly, Sirius said: "no." Just that one syllable.
"Then who was it?"
Sirius laughed bitterly. "Can't you guess?"
The realisation hit Remus sharply. He leaned against a bookcase and ran a hand through his hair. "Oh. Err, have you been having these dreams, uh, often?"
"Thirteen and a half year, Remus," Sirius snarled. "I've been having them for thirteen years and six months. I've lived them for twelve years, too."
"Is there any way I can… help?"
"What are you going to do? Jump in my head and conjure a Patronus?" Sirius sneered. "Or perhaps sit next to my bed and hold my hand until I sleep? Want to check for monsters under my bed perhaps?" Remus looked hurt. He genuinely wanted to help, Sirius realised.
"Sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have said that. It's just… those things were pretty much the only beings I saw for years. No wonder I started dreaming about them. And in Azkaban, nobody comes in to tell you you're talking." He laughed mirthlessly. "They usually scream it at you."
Remus had an idea. "C'mon, get up." He didn't wait for Sirius to get off his bed, but picked up his friend's pillow and walked out of the room. Sirius followed, curious despite himself.
They ended up in Remus' room. "Look," Remus said. He pointed to his bed. "This is my bed. This is your side. This is my side." He threw Sirius' pillow at him.
Sirius was so confused he nearly forgot to catch it. "What?"
"You are having nightmares, and you want someone to tell you when you've been talking again," Remus said. "I don't want to run into your room every time it happens, I need my rest as well, so this is the best solution."
"Sure about it?" Sirius wanted to know. Remus stopped making the bed.
"Remember asking me not to tell Harry I shaved you?" he said.
"Yeah."
"As long as you don't tell him this."
A broad grin appeared on Sirius' face. "Sounds an awful lot like blackmail."
"Oh, just shut up and get into that bed."
Sirius obediently climbed in. "Another really soft bed," he noted. Remus looked at him oddly but said nothing. He laid his wand on his bedside table again, got into bed as well and switched off the light. He pulled the cover over him, but Sirius pulled it back.
"Oh no, we're not having a blanket-fight," he hissed, tugging the cover back.
"But – " Sirius began.
"No pillow-fights, no bouncing, and you stay on your side of the bed," Remus added.
"But I'm really cold," Sirius said pathetically. Remus now noticed he had pulled a rather egotistically large part of the cover back.
"Hm, sorry." He gave Sirius his share of the cover back. "I think we need two one-person covers."
"Hmm." Sirius was getting sleepy again. "Hey Remus?" he said softly.
"Hm?"
What exactly are you gonna do when I'm having those dreams again, actually?"
"Whack you on your head with my pillow," Remus said.
"But you said no pillow-fights," Sirius muttered, smiling a little. He had his eyes now closed, he was nearly asleep.
"Seeing as this is my bed, I can do what I want," Remus answered. Sirius didn't reply anymore. He was lying on his left side, facing Remus. He had his hands drawn up to his chest, clenched into fists. Remus couldn't see it, but as Sirius fell asleep, those hands relaxed, unclenched, like the rest of Sirius' muscles. Remus was already asleep when Sirius rolled on his back. In his sleep, a smile appeared on his face.
PS: to everybody thinking this is going to be slash: kindly read the author's note at the end of Prisoner of the Moon. Don't come whining to me. Thanks.