Chapter Four
"Si... Sirius?" Harry gasped, staring in shock at his long-lost godfather. His robes still dangled forgotten from one arm. "Is it really you?"
Sirius grinned. "It is."
Finally yanking his arm free of his robes, Harry flung himself across the room at Sirius, nearly knocking them both over. "Thought you were dead!" he cried. "I thought I'd lost you for good!"
"Yeah," said Sirius, giving his godson a rough hug. "That seems to be the general consensus around here." It was a bit unnerving to realize that Harry had grown several inches over the past two years, and was now tall enough to look Sirius straight in the eye.
Suddenly Harry pushed back, a suspicious look on his face. "When?" he asked abruptly.
"Not long," interrupted Remus. "Just over a day or so."
"I know what you must be thinking, Harry," Dumbledore soothed, "but we were not hiding anything from you. Sherbet lemon?"
Harry opened his mouth to say something caustic, but thought the better of it. Instead he wisely sat down and accepted the proffered candy from Dumbledore's outstretched hand. "Thanks," he said. "Alright then. How?"
"Erm," said Sirius, glancing sideways at Remus, who immediately turned bright red and became very interested in the small cracks in the ceiling.
"Honestly," said Harry, plainly exasperated. "I'm of age now. Whatever it is, you can tell me. And I'm pretty sure I deserve to know."
"The boy's right, Sirius," Remus sighed, finally catching Sirius' eye.
"I know, I know," Sirius grumbled. He took a deep breath. "We reckon that maybe.... Well, the headmaster has a theory that..."
"... that just as Lily's love saved you from Voldemort," supplied Remus, "my love for Sirius was strong enough to protect him from the effects of the veil."
Harry stared. "But that would mean... You mean... You and Remus? You're..."
"We are," Remus stated firmly, threading his arm through Sirius'.
"Butterbeer all around, I think," said Dumbledore, with a mild wave of his wand. "And perhaps some sandwiches," he added, gently retrieving the refreshments from where they hovered a few inches above the table.
Remus gave Sirius a small shove towards the table. "Go on. I'll bet you haven't had a butterbeer in two years," he said, his eyes twinkling.
Harry continued to stare at the two men, noticing suddenly the ease with which they interacted with each other, the frequency with which they touched. Should I have known? he wondered. Does it even matter?
"Harry," Dumbledore said softly. "One does not choose love. It simply happens. And that, Harry, goes beyond gender."
It doesn't matter, Harry thought, and grinned broadly. "You're right," he said, "as always. Sirius, Remus, I think I'm very happy for you."
"You think you're happy for us?" asked Sirius.
"Well," Harry admitted, "it's a bit of a shock. First you were a murderer, then you weren't. Then you were dead, and now you aren't. Now you're apparently gay, which is a bit of a shock in conjunction with the not-dead thing..."
"Actually, I'm not gay," said Sirius, biting heartily into a sandwich. "I don't think so, anyway."
"You're not?" Remus asked, a bit stunned. "You've been doing a fairly good imitation of it!"
Sirius threw a bread crust at Remus. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," Remus said airily, easily ducking the crust.
"But," said Harry, looking utterly confused. "You just said..."
"I meant," said Sirius, "that I love this man because he's Remus... Not I love Remus because he's a man. Get it?"
"I think so..."
They ate contentedly for several minutes, pausing only to say things like "pass the butterbeer" or "another sandwich?" or (in Sirius' case) "I hate egg salad!"
When the food had been eaten and the plates pushed aside, Dumbledore rose gracefully from his chair and cleared his throat.
"I did not want to bring this matter up quite yet," he began, "but I can hardly think of a more opportune time, and it is a matter of rather extreme importance."
Remus, Sirius, and Harry exchanged furtive, puzzled glances.
"As you know," the headmaster continued, "Voldemort has been defeated."
Sirius snorted. "I didn't know," he muttered under his breath.
Dumbledore inclined his head. "Very true, Sirius," he said. "My sincere apologies."
"'S okay," Sirius mumbled, embarrassed to have mentioned it at all.
"However, I do not believe we are in the clear just yet," Dumbledore continued gravely. "Since Sirius vanished through the veil over two years ago, there have been several disturbing incidents at the Ministry of Magic."
A sharp tap at the window startled the four men. Remus quickly strode over to admit the owl who hooted balefully, sticking out its leg so that Remus could detach the parchment. The owl's feathers were ruched up in a dozen directions from the wind outside, and it tried vainly to smooth them.
Remus opened the small scroll, scanning it quickly.
"Harrry," he said, his face ashen. "It's from St. Mungo's. About Ron."
Though it pained both of them to do so, Remus and Sirius stayed at Grimmauld place while Dumbledore and Harry went to St. Mungo's. Neither of them had known Ron terribly well, but they knew how much he meant to Harry, and that was very important to them.
Full night had fallen outside, and to keep his hands busy Remus stoked up the fire in the kitchen. Leaving the lamps on low, he sat himself down on the worn sofa in the corner, hoping that Harry would get good news.
Within a few minutes Sirius was in the room.
"I was wondering where you disappeared to," he said softly, sitting down next to Remus, one hand sitting gently on his leg.
Remus sighed. "Harry has been through so much already. Seen so much pain and suffering..."
Sirius squeezed Remus' leg reassuringly, putting an arm around his shoulder to pull him closer.
Remus smiled and rested his head on Sirius' shoulder.
It was such a serene moment, so like the old days, that Remus wanted to hold onto it forever.
The fire crackled and Sirius caressed his leg softly. Neither spoke. After the turmoil of the last few days this was so peaceful that Remus felt like closing his eyes and sleeping, right there in Sirius' arms.
"I'm sorry, Moony," Sirius whispered into his hair.
"For what?"
"For earlier...for hurting you. For taking out my frustrations on you. It wasn't fair of me to do that to you."
Remus shifted so he could look at Sirius. His grey eyes were so dark with fatigue right now they looked as black as his hair.
Remus lifted a hand, running his fingers through the dark strands. "Nothing matters to me except having you back in my life. I was empty without you..."
Sirius made a sound deep in his throat and leaned down to kiss Remus.
There was none of the earlier ferocity. This was pure and gentle. Sirius traced Remus' mouth with his tongue, daring to delve inside several times, causing Remus to moan softly.
Shifting, he pulled Remus under him, hands stroking Remus' sides tantalizingly.
Remus moved his hands down Sirius' back, tucking them deftly under the band of his jeans to cup his backside. Sirius ground himself against Remus, a predatory growl escaping him.
Someone cleared their throat.
Startled, Sirius tried to sit up so quickly he ended up rolling off the sofa, pulling Remus with him.
As they untangled themselves, they peered over to the door, and both faces became extremely red.
Dumbledore and Harry had returned, along with what looked like the whole Weasley family.
Sirius stood first, offering his hand to Remus and pulling him up beside him.
"Um...," Molly said, blushing, "perhaps I should make some tea?"
"That sounds lovely, Molly." Dumbledore said, chuckling softly.
Arthur was just standing at the door, almost as red as Sirius and Remus. Fred and George were there too, grinning in an amused way, and Ginny was smiling behind her hand.
"Er...we didn't hear you come in," mumbled Sirius.
Remus nudged him in the ribs for stating the obvious.
Finally Arthur spoke.
"It's marvelous to see you back, Sirius!" he smiled and stepped forward to shake Sirius' hand jovially.
"Thank you, Arthur."
Fred and George shook his hand too, and Ginny gave him a small hug. Sirius blushed at all the attention.
Remus broke the uneasy silence by asking the inevitable. "How is Ron?"
Immediately Molly began to wail. Remus frowned, concerned, but Arthur grinned at him. "He's finally come out of it. We managed to have a very small conversation with him!"
"It's so...so...wonderful!" Molly cried, sobbing over the teapot.
Ginny went over to comfort her and the others took seats at the table.
"He's really beginning to get a sense of self again. Knew where he was, who we were!" Arthur continued.
"That's wonderful to hear," Remus smiled. "Does anyone know what he remembers? If anything?"
Dumbledore sat with his tea, while Molly and Ginny handed around other cups. "I believe everything will come to him in time. I'm afraid he is still coming to terms with...losses."
"Hermione," Remus murmured, sympathizing with Ron about the loss of the one you loved. He reached out a hand for Sirius, who caught it and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently.
Harry cleared his throat.
"Sirius might not know that they got engaged right before the last fight..."
Sirius suddenly understood what Remus was thinking at that moment.
"Yes, time...and things will get easier," Remus said softly, not thirsty any more, simply tired.
Dumbledore took a look at both of them. "I think its time to call it a night. We can talk more tomorrow."
Remus smiled gratefully as they both said their goodnights and made their way up the stairs to their room.
Remus undressed then slipped under the covers. In a few moments Sirius joined him, reaching out his arms to pull him close.
"Love you Remus."
Remus smiled, snuggling close.
"Love you Sirius."
He began to drift into the first peaceful sleep in years, Sirius stroking his hair.
Sirius lay there in the dark, thinking over the events of the evening.
"Re'..."
"Mmm?"
"If Ron and Hermione were engaged, would it be possible he knew about what she was working on? I mean, to clear my name?"
Remus shifted slightly. "It's actually quite possible. I never thought of that...but we may not be able to find out anything like that for a while."
"I know," Sirius murmured. "Go to sleep Re'"
"G'night Sirius."
It took very little time for Remus' breathing to become deep and even.
He must still be exhausted from his transformation, Sirius realized. He lay on his side, propped up on one hand, quite content to watch Remus sleep.
For a while, at least.
Gradually his shoulder began to stiffen, and Sirius eased himself off the bed, careful not to wake Remus. Quickly he dressed. There was no way he could sleep, not now, not with so many things preying on his mind.
Can't have everything, he thought, glancing ruefully over his shoulder at his lover as he tugged on his boots. Truthfully, there was nothing Sirius would have liked better than to snuggle back into the bed, letting Remus kiss away all his fears and questions. But Remus needed sleep far more than Sirius needed answers, at least right now.
Noiselessly he stole from the room and down the stairs, unconsciously avoiding the creaky parts of the steps.
The empty front hall was silent as a tomb.
Sirius paused, debating for a long moment. His mind still reeled with the sheer wealth of information he'd had to assimilate.
His freedom, still compromised. Hermione. dead. Buckbeak, ever loyal, also dead. Ron, hospitalized.
The war, apparently over, yet Dumbledore hinting that more was yet to come. But, thought Sirius, how could there be more, if Voldemort is dead?
And then, of course, there was Sirius' own return through the veil. What was it? he wondered. Was it truly death that lay beyond it, or something more? Remus claimed Sirius had been dead, and surely he would have known, would have felt their bonding sever...
Sirius shivered inwardly, his muscles knotting under the memory of fierce, relentless cold.
Like the Dementors, he thought bleakly, but worse. He blinked, startled by the idea that there could somehow be something worse than Dementors.
Voices drifted up from the kitchen. Someone – no, two someones – were coming his way.
Sirius Disapparated.
"I do wish they'd give us more answers, Arthur," Molly Weasley said irritably, rinsing her mug out at the sink. "I want to know when he's coming home."
"I know, dear," soothed her husband. He idly rubbed the small of her back with strong fingers. "So do I. He's getting the best of care, though; we can't fault them for that."
Molly made a distinct noise that clearly stated that the best care at St Mungo's was nothing compared to what a mother could do.
"Cheer up, Mum," added Fred. "It could have been a lot worse."
George, his twin, elbowed him sharply in the ribs. The twins, now twenty, had a clear idea of what "worse" meant: Percy. Although they had done phenomenally well with their joke shop – Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes – their success had never been able to overshadow the other tragedies that had befallen the Weasley family in the recent years.
The four were silent for a moment, each remembering proud, ambitious Percy, who'd refused to the end that Voldemort had returned. He'd publicly ostracized his family throughout the war, preferring to turn a blind eye as the conflict raged on.
His name was no longer mentioned in the Weasley household, and no one knew what had become of him. Molly mourned her lost son silently, as only a mother can, and occasionally wondered how Peter Pettigrew's mother must feel.
"D'you think he's remembered about Hermione yet?" asked George, desperate to veer the subject away from the unspoken Percy.
"I don't think so," Molly said. "He wasn't quite himself yet."
Fred frowned. "I thought you said he knew who he was..."
"...and where he was," finished George.
Arthur smiled fondly at his sons. The twins had been finishing each other's sentences since they'd first learned to talk. "Well," he admitted, "he did... to an extent. He seemed to think, actually, that he was visiting us."
Molly sniffled.
"Well," Fred said hastily, "best get to bed."
"Yes," agreed George. Neither wanted to be the cause – indirect or otherwise – of another outburst of tears. "We're very, ah..."
"Tired!" supplied Fred. "Long day and... um... everything."
"All right, dears," sniffed Molly, kissing them both on the cheek as they stooped over her chair to hug her goodnight. "Check in on Ginny, will you? She's had such trouble sleeping lately."
"Will do, Mum," they chorused.
As soon as they were out of earshot, George asked, "What d'you reckon? Think Ron'll pull out?"
"He'll be fine," whispered Fred, pitching his voice low. "He's stronger than he looks, that one... But don't ever tell him I said so!"
Crack!
The twins stared at each other, bewildered, then around the empty hall as they emerged into it.
"Who Disapparated?" wondered Fred aloud.
There were few places a wanted man could wander in relative obscurity, and Knockturn Alley was one of them. Still, Sirius took no chances, turning his collar up and his eyes down. He hunched over as he walked, making very sure to catch no one's eye.
It was surprisingly easy. The wind was bitter, smelling of snow, making Sirius shiver as he threaded his way along the twisted, narrow street. It seemed very few people were eager to be out in such weather, even if the closely set buildings did block most of the wind.
Across the street from Borgin and Burkes, a shop rather well known for its "ask-no-questions" attitude, stood a small bar that Sirius had never heard of before: The Severed Head.
That's just disgusting, Sirius thought, surveying the crude sign, but I'll bet I could get a drink in there. Shit, do I even have any money?
A quick search through his pockets revealed a handful of Galleons, along with a smattering of Sickles and Knuts.
Fair enough. Couple of drinks, then.
He hauled open the heavy wooden door, stepping gratefully out of the yawing wind.
The place itself was not very large, not half the size of the Leaky Cauldron, but it was blissfully quiet. A few patrons huddled at the narrow bar, surreptitiously shooting suspicious glances towards him. Three or four scarred tables lay in the shadowed corners, one of them on its side.
The bartender glared at Sirius, slowly wiping the wooden counter with a filthy rag. "Firewhisky," he barked suddenly. "'S all we got. Take it or leave it."
"I'll take it," growled Sirius, and dropped some coins on the bar.
The bartender slopped the alcohol into a rather battered looking glass, which Sirius hurriedly took to the furthest table. Seating himself with his back to the wall, he surveyed the room.
There really wasn't much else to see. Three people sat hunched over their drinks at the bar, and that was it. One looked, like Hagrid, to be half-giant, but not nearly as friendly. As Sirius watched, the man lurched to his feet and began heading for the door. Halfway there, he toppled over and lay muttering incomprehensibly at the ceiling. No one seemed to notice.
Doubt they'll notice me so much then, Sirius thought with a suppressed snicker. It was very good to be out... even if it was here.
Sirius sipped his firewhisky, wrinkling his nose a bit. It tasted a bit off, but he decided it was due to the not-so-clean glass or that it was perhaps watered down.
Probably a bit of both, he thought, downing it anyway. Better get back before I'm missed.
He wiped his mouth on the back of one hand, and stood up to go.
The door opened suddenly, admitting a howl of wind and two well-bundled figures. Sirius' eyes widened in shocked recognition as they unwound their scarves and wraps.
That's the Malfoy brat, he realized, ducking back into the shadows. I'd know a Malfoy anywhere. But... what's he doing here? And more important... what's he doing here with Snivellus?