Even the Savage Beast

Disclaimer -- If Remus and Sirius were mine, Sirius would be alive. End of story. Or rather, beginning of spin-off story in which Sirius becomes king of the universe and Remus is his chief royal consort. Hey, that might be funny ...

Author's Note – dedicated to my friend, a greatly talented pianist. She goes by Sulwyn of the North on I had read another story in which Remus was portrayed as a musician. But – here's the dreadful part – he was playing Johann Sebastian Bach on the violin. Now, violin isn't my favorite – I prefer piano or guitar – and I liken Bach to being repeatedly hit on the head with a teaspoon. Thus, this one-shot was born. Cheers, Sulwyn. Play the Nocturne for me again, will you?
And before anyone asks, my only musical talent is playing taps on the harmonica. I'm no musician, in fact I am musically challenged. But that's okay -- I imagine Sirius would be too.

Sirius wandered the deserted corridors, alone. James and Peter both had detention, but he and Remus had escaped this time. Remus had said he'd meet him here, and they'd go off to perform a little havoc themselves, something that would make the other half of the Marauders proud.

"Remus?"

He continued to patrol the vicinity of the portait of Mileva the Eldritch they'd agreed to meet by, wondering if Remus had gotten held up somewhere. Maybe Peter had squeaked as to their involvement. Even James might have talked, under threat of torture. Sirius's much-older cousin was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year, and he wouldn't put anything past her – he'd had too many run-ins with the wooden ruler that lay on her desk.

"Remus? Where are you?"

Sirius continued to wander in an ever-widening circle around their meeting place, stopping briefly for a chat with the portait of Kamrin the Ruthless. It was unsuccessful; Kamrin didn't like to chat. The halls were nearly empty, because it was rather late, nearing curfew. His footsteps echoed in the high-ceilinged halls. He glanced out the window at the moonless sky, the stars blazing. Then he stopped next to a statue of Alaric the Entertaining, head cocked to one side, listening. He could hear something. Faint strains of music.

He followed the sounds. After a while he realized he knew where he was going; in the back corner of one of the empty classrooms was a magnificent grand piano. The wood gleamed with a soft, dusky golden magnificence – Remus said there was a dusting spell on it. When they depressed the gleaming ivory keys, the tones were sweet and pure. Sirius had no idea what a piano was doing sitting there, and he had less idea how it had gotten there or how long it had been there. But now someone was playing it. He wondered who.

He opened the door and saw that the musician was Remus.

He was seated on the bench, his back straight, his eyes intense, and his hands were moving over the keys. As Sirius watched, he finished the piece he was playing, and reached to turn the page of the book balanced atop the instrument. Remus paused a moment, then started playing again.

Sirius moved quietly over to a chair and seated himself on it backwards. Remus didn't notice – he was caught up in his music, and the notes filled the room hauntingly. Sirius enjoyed watching him; he had a bit of hair in his eyes, but both hands were occupied. The lines of tension in his body shifted with the music. The song itself was a remarkable, half-stately, half-violent melody that shifted into something different again and again, well before Sirius' attention had time to waver. It seemed that Remus had a little bit of trouble with it at some times – the notes slowed a bit, and he scowled at his hands as though trying to intimidate his fingers into doing what he wanted. All in all, Sirius was sorry when he finished, with a campy flourish that was most unlike him.

Remus sat back on the bench, and then he caught sight of Sirius and stiffened. "Hello," said Sirius. "Moony, that was ... amazing."

Remus recovered his calm. "Thanks. How long have you been there?"

"Since a little before you started that last song. What was it?"

"Beethoven," said Remus. "'Fur Elise.' Did you like it?"

Sirius nodded. "It was cool. I didn't know you played. Did they put the piano here for you? That was good."

Remus shrugged. "Not really, and the piano was here already, but I took lessons when I was little, and when we found this, I decided I would play it. I come down here about every other night."

"And here's me thinking you just study too much," said Sirius, fascinated.

Remus laughed a little uncomfortably and rose. "I didn't mean to stand you up. I had no idea it was so late." He got up and lifted the top of the bench, drawing out another book. He opened it to a selected page and started playing. Sirius cringed and put his hands over his ears. "Stop!" he wailed.

"Don't like 'The Entertainer' much?" said Remus, with a half-amused look.

"It's irritating. It's so ... happy," said Sirius with distaste. "It's kind of disgusting."

Remus shrugged and started flipping through another book. "I know you'll like 'Puck,'" he said, and started playing again. Sirius loved it.

At the end, they were silent for a while, and then Remus started playing chords. Sirius came and stood next to him, touching a few notes. It produced an odd, atonal sound. "I could never play like that," said Sirius enviously.

"Sure you could, if you had any patience at all, which you don't," said Remus, not unkindly.

Suddenly he laughed. "What?" said Sirius.

"Music soothes even the savage beast," said Remus. "And which of us does that refer to?" Though Sirius didn't quite see the humor, he smiled a little in return. "Shall we go wreak havoc, Mr. Moony?" he asked.

"Yes, Mr. Padfoot, we shall."

Terminus Quod Orsa