Disclaimer: see Chapter 1
Chapter 4: The Storm
It was raining when Sirius awoke the next morning, last in the dormitory again. His head felt like it was full of cotton wool, and his hair was tangled and smelt of wine and cigarettes. He lay there for a few moments, calmly trying to piece together the previous night's events. He had drank a lot… they had played a drinking game… he'd helped Remus tidy up… oh my God! He had kissed Remus! Sirius' mind began to race… Yeah, that was right… and Remus had kissed him back… what had he said? He'd been waiting for that to happen… Yes! That was it! Sirius grinned from ear to ear as the events came flooding back… the nerves, the worries, and the gentle, safe feeling of kissing someone who you know and trust. He closed his eyes and smiled to himself again, tempted to burst out laughing at the warm, fuzzy feeling that had lodged itself in his chest. Then, much to the displeasure of his aching head, he swung his legs out of bed and threw on the nearest set of clothes that came to hand, before bouncing out of the dormitory towards the Great Hall.
"Good night, Black?" called Micha from the Ravenclaw table, where she was sitting gossiping with a group of seventh years Sirius had never spoken to. He gave her the thumbs up and carried on walking, heading over to the Gryffindor table. It was empty, and his good mood began to ebb away as he stared up towards the enchanted ceiling, where thick grey rain clouds rolled overhead, suffusing the hall with a dull light. He helped himself to several pieces of toast and marmalade, and a large cup of coffee. Rather than sobering him up, or curing his hangover, Sirius found that the coffee planted all sorts of unpleasant thoughts in his mind. Why was there no-one here? What had he said to offend people so much that they all wanted to get away from breakfast before he arrived? Had Remus changed his mind, and now regretted kissing him so much that he couldn't bear to be in the same room as him? He looked down sullenly at the table for a full ten minutes until a voice opposite him snapped him out of his daze.
"What's wrong with you this morning?" asked Micha, settling herself on the bench opposite and tossing her long, brown, curly hair over her shoulder.
"Or are you just really, really hungover?" She smirked, pouring herself some pumpkin juice and taking an elegant sip from the glass. Sirius looked up and smiled. Detached from his friendship group by their different houses, Micha, like Ben, was someone relatively impartial in whom he could confide.
"I don't know," he said absently, poking a knife deep into the marmalade jar. Micha laughed.
"What, you don't know if you're hungover?" she said brightly. "Let me tell you, you obviously are. And you smell of wine." Sirius smiled humourlessly at her. Micha didn't get hangovers. They had dated for a while in fifth year, and Sirius had not once seen Micha look anything less than immaculate after a night out, no matter how debauched. Her expression softened though, as she looked at him more sincerely.
"Seriously though, Sirius, there's something wrong, isn't there." It was less a question, more a statement, sort of 'I know there's something bothering you so don't waste both our time pretending there isn't, just tell me'. Sirius made a non-committal noise and Micha threw a handful of cornflakes at him. He looked up indignantly, then dipped a spoon in the marmalade and held it threateningly, as though about to catapult it across the table. They stared at each other for a few seconds, before both smiling.
"Fine," Sirius muttered, putting the marmalade down and picking a few rogue cornflakes out of his fringe. "There's, er, this person I like, who I've kissed once, and I, er, haven't seen them since, and I don't know how I feel about them, or how they feel about me, and… and my head hurts," he finished lamely, looking down at the table and taking another swig of coffee. Micha sighed.
"Sirius," she said calmingly, with the air of a person about to attempt a very tactful statement, "Do you like Remus? Don't interrupt me. Do you want to make something serious of this, or are you just looking for a bit of fun? How much do you like him?" Sirius stared across the table at Micha for a few moments, then closed his eyes. "I don't know," he said quietly. "Well, you need to decide," said Micha gently, picking up her bag and standing up, "He's too fragile for you to hurt." Micha walked away from the table, and Sirius watched as she turned out of the hall. He looked back down at his plate, feeling more confused than he ever had before.
It was a full half-hour before Sirius could summon the energy to stand up, and he walked slowly away from the tables into the entrance hall, with a vague notion half-formed in his mind of going for a walk in the grounds to clear his head. When he reached the entrance, however, he could see outside that the rain was coming down harder than ever, bouncing off the stone steps and leaving huge, deep puddles all over the pathways. He stuck his hand out of the door and allowed a few large droplets to fall on it, before turning back inside and starting off towards the library, feeling thoroughly depressed.
When he reached the library it was full of seventh years, all poring over dusty tomes of complicated potions or charms. He spotted James' untidy black hair across the sea of students, deep in whispered conversation with Lily, who looked very tired.
"Morning, Padfoot," he whispered as Sirius sat down opposite him and peered across at Lily's notes, which she hurriedly shielded from view.
"Morning Prongs, Lily," he muttered, leaning over to a bookshelf and grabbing a large book from the Defence Against the Dark Arts section. He opened it at a chapter about counter-jinxes and began to read slowly, trying his best to take in the information. A good working knowledge of counter-jinxes is vital to the modern witch or wizard, however equally important are the disarming and shield charms, which can be as effective as a good jinx in obstructing an opponent… Sirius knew there was no use trying to revise defensive theory while so many other questions were flooding his mind. Where the warm, fuzzy feeling he had felt in the morning had been there was now what felt like a block of lead in his chest, dragging him downwards and making every breath feel like a sigh. He slammed the book shut with such force that Lily jumped, and the librarian, who was passing a nearby table, gave him a stern look of warning. James gave him a quizzical look.
"Have you seen Moony at all today?" asked Sirius. James ran a hand through his hair and looked puzzled.
"Now that you mention it, I haven't," he mused, scratching his chin with the end of his quill. "He wasn't in the dorm when I woke up, and he wasn't at breakfast either. You sure he went to bed last night?"
"Yeah, he went up to the dorm about half an hour before I did," said Sirius quietly. "I think I might go and look for him." James smiled.
"OK," he said quietly, frowning confusedly at the book in front of him. "But you know Remus, he's probably just found somewhere really, really quiet to work."
"Yeah," mumbled Sirius, placing the book back on its shelf and tip-toeing out of the library.
The rain pounded the windows and strong winds rattled the frames and the trees outside as Sirius stalked miserably through the halls. He wished he still had the Marauders' Map, but with it locked away in the caretaker's office all he could do was try and think where Remus might be. He tried the transfiguration, charms and defence departments, Gryffindor tower, and checked the Great Hall again just to be sure. Micha gave him a half-hearted hug when he wandered into the Ravenclaw common room, but still insisted she hadn't seen Remus. In the cellars, a scruffy-looking Hufflepuff sixth-year told him that Ben was in no fit state to talk to anyone, having not got out of bed yet.
Sirius roamed dejectedly around the castle for a good half-hour, but did not see a glimpse of his friend. He knew, now, that Remus must be avoiding him. Hogwarts was a big place, sure, but his mood worsened with every empty room that he looked in. He reached the owlery tired and depressed, as the cold wind blew through the glassless windows, buffeting his hair and robes and bringing in washes of rain around each opening. The owls hooted mournfully, gathered together at the roof of the tower. He looked up at them for a moment, then drifted over to one of the open casements, gasping as the gale drove cold water across his face. Droplets caught in his hair and eyelashes, and he blinked quickly and shielded his eyes from the gusts, looking down into the grounds.
The view was good, here he could see all across the deserted, rain-swept landscape, the surface of the lake shattering like so many broken mirrors, the Whomping Willow huddling angrily in on itself, and in the distance, a small black figure, leaning against the wind as they walked around the far side of the lake. Sirius squinted. A small black figure with sandy brown hair. He left the tower at a run.
"Remus!" he yelled hoarsely as he raced around the lake, the rain now beating against his face and numbing his nose. No longer able to ignore him, Remus turned round. His hair was plastered across his face, and his robes were so heavy with water that they barely moved in the wind. He was shivering, his lithe hands turning blue as he clutched his sodden cloak around his thin frame.
"W-what?" he asked quietly, shakily, looking intently at a spot inches to the left of Sirius' face. Sirius' expression softened as he saw his friend looking so bedraggled. He walked towards Remus and held out an arm, as if to lead him back to the castle to warm up, but Remus turned away, pulling his robes tighter to his chest.
"What do you want, Sirius?" he asked coldly, still not looking his friend in the face. Sirius sighed confusedly, and walked round to face Remus, but again he turned away.
"Look," said Sirius quietly, "Remus, you're soaked… let's just go back to the castle, you're shivering like mad-" But as he tried to place an arm round his shoulders Remus turned on his heel and walked away, further round the shores of the lake. Sirius looked round for a moment, for a reason for his friend's behaviour, and then set off after him, feet splashing in the mud and rivulets of rain running through his coal-black hair onto his cheeks.
"REMUS!" he shouted, almost running to catch up, "Remus will you stop? Please? What the hell is wrong with you?" Remus wheeled round at this looking almost wild as his sandy hair whipped around his face. But when he spoke it was in a low, trembling, dangerous voice.
"What's wrong with me?" he said quietly, staring at the ground. Then he looked up into Sirius' eyes. "If you must know, Sirius, you're what's wrong with me." Sirius was quite taken aback.
"But… but…" he stuttered, searching for understanding, "what have I done?" Remus sighed loudly.
"It's not what you've done. Not that you'd know. It's who you are." He sighed again. "I don't know why I even bothered. Because what am I to you, anyway? What am I? I kissed you last night Padfoot, and while kissing random drunk people is something you do on a weekly basis you may have noticed I take these things more seriously. I meant it. Can you say that? Honestly? Have you ever taken a relationship seriously?"
Sirius looked up from the ground, grey-blue eyes wide open. He had never heard Remus this emotional. And it was all his fault.
"I don't know," he said quietly, watching the rain drip heavily from the trees overhead. Remus smiled humourlessly.
"And what did it mean to you, when I kissed you?"
"Remus, I don't know – I – " he stammered, and looked up into Remus' eyes.
"Well when you do know, come and find me," he said bitterly, still shivering in the cold April wind. "I won't just be another conquest, Sirius, I won't be another notch on your bedpost. If you decide this is anything but drunken lust, come and talk to me then." He turned on his heel and strode off towards the castle, leaving Sirius bewildered for the second time that weekend.
A/N: Oh my god I'm so sorry bout the lack of updates! I went to Eastern Europe for the summer and now I've broken my wrist! Anyhow, I wrote this before I left, so here's something to tide you over until I get my arm back. Oh, and to N. Beresford: I qualify Peter not being in this cos it's the Easter holidays. Tattva x