Every muscle in his body seemed to ache with clenched soreness when Sirius woke the next morning. His awkward position wasn't being helped any by the wiry man he was entwined with. Sirius delicately untangled himself from Remus's arms. The man didn't wake, only groaned slightly and shifted his position. With vaguely doglike movements, Sirius stretched out his limbs, wincing slightly as the aches sharpened for a moment, then sighing in relief as they faded.
He moved into the kitchen, eggs in the sparse pantry. He quickly set to work making them to the best of his ability. His unfamiliarity with even that simple magic took him slightly by surprise. All the years in Azkaban and then in hiding had certainly left their mark. As the eggs began to appear ready, Sirius strode gently into the living room and settled himself on the couch next to his friend's sleeping form. Gripping Remus's shoulder, he shook him slightly, "Remus, mate, wake up."
The man simply groaned and swatted half-heartedly at Sirius's hand.
"C'mon, you. I made breakfast."
At this announcement, one of Remus's eyes snapped open, "You did what?"
"I made breakfast," Sirius repeated, a bit of a triumphant smile coming over his face.
"I'm sorry, mate, but you couldn't cook before you went to Azkaban. You don't have a chance now," At his words, the smell of smoke started floating in from the kitchen.
"Damn!" Sirius exclaimed, and leaped off of the couch. He sprinted into the kitchen, only to find his eggs blackened and ruined.
"Sorry about your eggs, Sirius," Remus said, stifling a giggle, the light in his eyes dancing with laughter. Sirius shoved him lightly.
"Fine, make fun of the man who has been eating scraps for fourteen years. That's real nice," Sirius started to chuckle too, but when he looked over at Remus he saw that his laughter had ceased and his eyes had grown grave.
"No, Remus," Sirius said.
Remus sighed, turning toward the mess of eggs, which he cleaned up with a sweep of his wand, "Tell me what happened to Harry."
Sirius sat down at the tiny kitchen table, resting his elbows on the worn wood and placing his chin in his hands. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off before he could even start by the arrival of an owl through Remus's kitchen window.
