CB: Ok, this fic is my main priority now, and it'll be updated regularly. Thanks for being so patient!
NOTE: keeps mucking up my formatting – particularly in the last chapter, where I DID have scene changes, but the asterisks got deleted. From now on, scene changes will be represented as this: AaAaAaAa
Thanks To: Kiyoshi, Akurei Hikari, Yaoi Obsessive, kurokitenshii89, Veertje, Dragon Pearl1, randomficreader, The Hallowed Cat, Yamikitsune-chan, snerkish, Obviously Oblivious, DemonessOfPunishment, Demosthenes49, Evie, Voice Of Reason2, Midnight, bakasu, baby chaos, Kary-Asakura, xCherry-Flavoured-Suicidex, wolfscythe, Faulty Cognition, Akuma Malick: Queen of Typos, Wan wingu no tenshi, SephirothsGoddess, Ophel (I did have spaces between scene changes – marked with asterisks, but killed that. . Yep, I know it's moving slowly, but I was basically setting up the fic – now things will begin to happen! ), angeliris3, Lunaris, angry fangirl (Lol! Soon, soon…), confusion (oops, sorry! Hear that? That's the sound of me walking into my own plot holes/memory loss. ;;), Varis, LBx, The Fallen Caryatid, The Demonic Duo, Lilsi, Yaoi-Is-Gay-13, Wyall Jared, sbxrl4eva, Temys, the-only-innocent, Flame Solo, Pazza, FuzzyTuss, LythTaereneth, Chibi Alania, Anon, Mimi De La Dreama, Penny, C. LaBella, Eizoku, Shadow Cat17, Mon2, YukiDragon, The Syrin Songstress, Dawn Aurilain, Blinkelf, Prisoner-of-Sirius.
Thanks guys!
"Education is the power to think clearly, the power to act well in the world's work, and the power to appreciate life."
- Brigham Young
The Three Broomsticks was bustling with students and teachers alike, all arguing over their bar tabs and chattering excitedly to one another around crowded tables – safe in the knowledge that the weather outside might be awful, but the roaring warmth of the pub fire would drive away any lingering chill.
Remus stared mournfully into his mug of butterbeer, trying to blend into his shadowy corner and praying that no one – especially another member of staff – would notice that he was here. Sliding lower into his seat, he scanned the room for any really familiar faces and winced when he caught sight of McGonagall and Flitwick chatting amiably to Dumbledore across the room. If anyone was going to notice who he was meeting here, it would be Dumbledore.
Biting his lip, he debated whether it wouldn't be wiser to simply wait outside, tell Sirius that it wasn't possible to talk to him after all, and escape back to the castle. This vague idea was shattered, however, when the three teachers migrated to a table right next to the door, effectively barring any hope of escape. Frowning, Remus took a large gulp from his mug and settled down, realising it was hopeless to make good his escape now.
"You really shouldn't drink that so fast," an amused voice commented from somewhere over his head, "Butterbeer is meant to be…savoured."
Remus sighed. "Hello, Sirius."
The young man grinned, his eyes gleaming in the gloom of the corner. "Hello, Professor. Mind if I take a seat?"
Remus waved a hand at the chair opposite him. "Please, be my guest."
"Thanks." Instead of taking the indicated chair, however, Sirius sank down into the one next to his startled teacher, mischief flickering across his face as Remus jumped, then unconsciously shifted as far away as possible.
"So, about those curses…"
The dark haired man scoffed. "You really think I came here to talk to you about curses?" He grinned and shook his head, setting his excessively long hair – which had been tamed back into a ponytail – swaying. "No, dear teacher. I thought you looked a little…lonely, and I thought maybe you could use some company on this fine Saturday afternoon."
Remus stiffened, wondering if every sentence Sirius ever spoke was laden with innuendo, and then wondering – with a flash of uncertainty – if maybe he was imagining things. 'Student,' he reminded himself firmly, his hands curling into fists under the table as Sirius leant across, casually taking his mug and draining the last of the Butterbeer from it. 'He's your student.'
"So," Sirius put the mug back down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "want another Butterbeer, professor?" He grinned, not waiting for a reply and dug in his pocket for money. "I'll buy this one, if you like."
"No, I really…" But Remus got no further as Sirius slid out of the seat and sauntered over to the bar, stopping to talk to several other students and nod casually to McGonagall, who raised an eyebrow before turning back to talk to Flitwick.
Left alone, Remus allowed his misgivings crash over him once more.
Be his mentor, he thought grimly, silently mocking Dumbledore's words. Be his bloody mentor. The boy's a menace, McGonagall was right, he's up to something. Who on earth wants to spend their Saturday afternoon with a teacher?
He got no further, however, as Sirius returned, placing two mugs on the table with a heavy thud.
"So," he said, throwing himself back into the chair, "tell me a bit about yourself."
Remus shrugged, dutifully picking up his Butterbeer. "There's not much to tell," he said softly.
Sirius rolled his eyes and leant closer. "Ok, fine, what did you really want to do after you left school?"
AaAaAaAa
"Can you see them?" James rubbed the glass, trying to dispel the fog clouding it, and peered closer.
"Yes, there!" Peter nudged James, guiding him to his own little spot of window. "They're sitting in a corner on the other side of the room, both facing us. Sirius has just handed Lupin a mug of something."
"He's getting him drunk?" James's words would have been a shriek, but the wind whipped them away. He scowled, unsure as to whether this method was actually allowed within the rules of 'The Bet'.
"No, no, I think he's handing him…" Peter squinted through the fogged glass, "…Butterbeer. Yes, I think it's Butterbeer."
James grunted, slightly mollified, and nudged Peter. "Any idea what Sear's plan is?" he asked, blowing on his fingers to warm them up.
"No idea whatsoever, but he does seem to be getting awfully friendly with that teacher." Peter bit his lip and sniffed, still fighting the lingering effects of a cold that had gripped him yesterday morning. "I still don't think it's right," he added, determined to protest one last time in a futile effort to get James to back down and ask Sirius to do likewise. "I mean, he's not that much older than us, and…"
"In the name of Merlin's beard, Peter!" James swore, swinging around to face his friend. "Stop preaching! Ok, fine, you don't agree, but you've hammered the point home far enough, don't you think? I mean, whatever you say, I know Sirius won't call off the bet, and if he refuses, then I will too. I'm not losing that much money to him! I need it more!" He scowled and pulled his cloak tighter around his body, ignoring Peter's shocked expression. "If you don't want to be a part of this, then don't be." He added, rubbing a patch in the window again. "But stop telling me how wrong it is to do what I want."
Peter opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again, a resigned expression creeping across his features as he stared at James's stubborn expression as the dark-haired boy stared resolutely through the window. Just as he was about to say something, an apology, perhaps, James swung around, a look of panic scuttling across his face.
"Quick! They're coming out!"
"What?"
"They're coming out! If Sirius catches us spying, we are so dead." Grabbing Peter's arm, James steered him rapidly away from the pub and across the street. Turning their backs on the building, the two boys stared resolutely through the Post Office window, James praying Sirius wouldn't notice them, and Peter just praying.
In the reflection, they saw Sirius exit the pub, the bemused Professor trailing behind him. They watched as the long haired boy linked arms with the older man, dragging him through the rain-swept street, neatly avoiding any Hogwarts students and steering him carefully back towards the castle. The squelching of their footsteps faded away under the low moan of the wind, and James turned around again, cautiously.
"Hey, Peter?"
"What?"
"Did Sirius ever state that I couldn't intervene on behalf of my side of the bet?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well…" James paused, weighing his next words carefully. "Sirius is going to all that trouble to try and get Lupin fired, and I'm not doing anything. Maybe I should be…thwarting his attempts, or something."
"You mean ruining his plans?"
"Precisely."
Peter shrugged dubiously. "I don't know," he said, "I don't think Sirius ever said you couldn't…"
James grinned. "Come on," he said lightly, "I think it's time to do a little more spying."
AaAaAaAa
The Butterbeer was still gently warming Remus's stomach, despite the cold sting of the rain against his face. Sirius, walking next to him, seemed happily oblivious to the weather as he regaled the young teacher with a story that appeared to involve McGonagall, a biting teacup and the staff breakfast table in the great hall.
"And then," the long haired man was saying, his hands waving animatedly as he demonstrated, "she picked the cup up – in front of everyone, mind you – and…" he dissolved into helpless laughter and Remus, unable to resist the appeal of Sirius's laugh, smiled. "…And it bit her nose. Except James had charmed it to stay on for twenty four hours, so…so she had to t-teach…." He doubled up with laughter again and Remus, to his own surprise as much as Sirius's, laughed as well.
"Oh…" he gasped at length, wiping his eyes, partly from the tears streaming down his face, partly from the drizzle that had begun to fall lightly. "I think I would have paid to see that."
Sirius smiled as they paused at the edge of the village. "Well…I could always arrange it." His eyes sparkled with mischief, his hair falling around his face in limp, tousled strands, and the laughter died in Remus's throat.
"As your teacher, I'm afraid I would have to thwart any known attempt to prank a member of staff, Sirius," he said, trying to ignore the way Sirius raked his hair back with one hand, an amused smile playing around his lips. "Particularly poor Professor McGonagall. I'm sure that between the two of you, you and Mr Potter are responsible for the strands of grey that are beginning to creep into her hair."
Sirius shrugged, clearly not repentant. "What's the good of teachers if you can't humiliate them?" He demanded, his voice holding an edge of…Remus blinked…arrogance?
"Well, for one thing, they teach you. I'm sure you would agree that it's probably important to learn charms, for example."
There was a snort and Sirius turned away. "What would I use charms for?"
"Housework? One day, Sirius, I'm sure you'll get married, and I somehow don't think your wife will approve of doing all the housework on her own."
"Married? Me?" Sirius's laughter was a rough bark as he tilted his face up to the sky, eyes drifting shut as he enjoyed the cool drizzle. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Professor. Marriage isn't really my…thing." He smiled, bitterly, and Remus bit his lip, wondering how the conversation had become so serious. "I'm not really the marrying type. Besides," Another laugh; this one hard and forced, "I'm sure my family will pick a perfectly suitable woman with a perfectly suitable dowry and a perfectly suitable entourage of House Elves."
"Your family?"
Sirius opened his eyes, scepticism gracing his features. "Don't tell me they haven't told you?"
"Told me what?"
"My family," Sirius said slowly, "are the Blacks."
Remus shrugged. "So? I'm sure lots of people have that surname."
"You're not getting this, are you?" Sirius sighed and finally looked at the young teacher. "As in the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black."
"Oh…" Remus blinked, feeling as though he had been punched in the stomach. "Purebloods…"
"The whole lot of them," Sirius agreed. He sighed again, turning away from Remus. "I'm surprised you didn't know," he confessed, fingers absent-mindedly fiddling with one of the buttons on his leather jacket. "Most of the school knows," his mouth tightened, although Remus couldn't see, "I suppose that's one of the first things people hear about me. My reputation always seems to precede me." His voice was sour.
The bitterness surprised Remus. The truth of Sirius's family was a shock, not least of all because he had been teaching a member of the infamous Black family and hadn't known – or realised – it. Now that the secret was out, however, he began to see several things that should have given him some kind of clue. Sirius's looks, for example. Sleek black hair and pale eyes was a trademark that the Blacks prided themselves on. Impeccable dress sense was another. Even some of Sirius's mannerisms, Remus thought ruefully, gave him away. The beautiful, proud, perfectly crafted arrogance, for example, and the tendency to imply a sneer, even when being polite.
However… Remus frowned. There were several things that didn't tally with what he'd heard, the first and most obvious being that Sirius was a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin. The boy's behaviour, as well, was not entirely at fault. He got the impression that despite the troublemaking and arrogance, a good, strong heart lurked beneath the obviously tough exterior. 'No wonder Dumbledore thought he needed someone to guide him…' he mused.
"I suppose you won't be wanting to associate with the likes of me any more," Sirius said, lightly, although his voice held a faint note of disappointment. "I'm a Black, after all."
Remus took a deep breath. Here it was, his chance to steer…whatever it was they seemed to have…back into the realms of a pure student/teacher relationship. "You may be a Black," he said softly, surprising even himself, "but you are also Sirius. And I think that 'Sirius' is someone who is worth knowing."
There was a pause, as Sirius stared at him. The only sound was the soft patter of drizzle against the leaves of the nearby trees, and the distant shouts of other Hogwarts students as they made their way through the village. Nearby, a bird called once, twice, and fell silent and Sirius blinked, his expression disbelieving. Remus, in turn, smiled faintly, then turned on his heel, looking up towards the school.
"I think we should go back, don't you?" He commented quietly, already starting to walk.
"Wait!" Strong hands gripped his arm, swinging him around to face Sirius again. "Did you…did you really mean that?" The student's grey eyes were intensely focused, a strange, grave expression on his face.
"Of course, one thing that you will find about me, Mr Black, is that I never say anything that I don't mean."
"Professor…no." Sirius shook his head. "Look, what is your first name? I can't keep calling you 'professor', or 'Professor Lupin'."
Remus hesitated, biting his lip. "Remus," he said at length, raising his gaze to meet Sirius's. "My name's Remus."
"Look, Remus…" Sirius exhaled sharply. "I appreciate what you just said." His eyes softened. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Remus smiled then peered at the sky. "I really think we'd better get back," he commented, "it's about to pour down."
Sirius nodded, and the pair started back up the hill in silence. As they walked, the drizzle steadily worsened, obscuring the pathway ahead and falling in a grey curtain around them. Remus shivered and pulled his cloak tighter against his body, wondering briefly why he hadn't thought to wait back in the pub. Beside him, Sirius trudged, occasionally pausing to brush damp strands of hair away from his face.
Suddenly, without warning, the rain grew harder, lashing down in torrents.
Remus thought he heard a yelped "Run!" from Sirius, but wasn't sure. He obeyed, however, dashing for the cover of the nearest tree, which spread its branches promisingly against the stark grey of the sky. Throwing himself beneath it, he felt an instant slack in the water pelting down on him. Seconds later, Sirius staggered underneath as well, and the pair of them huddled against the tree trunk, peering out at the driving rain.
"I think the weather's conspiring against us," Sirius said ruefully, breaking the silence that had been rapidly lengthening.
"It wouldn't surprise me." Remus sniffed and wiped the water from his face as best he could, trying to ignore the occasional splatter of rain that fell through the leaves to drip uncomfortably on his neck. He sniffed again and stuffed his hands into his pockets, trying hard not to shift awkwardly at the tense atmosphere rapidly developing between himself and Sirius within the shelter of the tree.
"So…you've heard all about me, but what about you?" Remus glanced sideways at Sirius to find the other man staring at him. Droplets of water clung to Sirius's lashes and skin, sparkling in the grey light. His hair was soaked, clinging to his face and neck in an intimate caress and Remus had to swallow and look away, feeling heat creeping through his body as he was shot a sharp, somehow smouldering look.
"I'm not entirely sure." Sirius shrugged and looked away as well, the hair on the back of his neck prickling with the tension. "I would say an Auror, but I think that would upset my family even more than being put in Gryffindor." He snorted and ran a hand through his damp hair, pulling it back from his face and wincing as his fingers became stuck. "I'd probably like to do something in music," he said suddenly, impulsively. "I…I love it. Music, I mean. I know it would be a waste of my schooling, but I was thinking, Muggle music, maybe." He laughed awkwardly. "Sounds stupid, I know, but I've never…I've never really told anyone that before."
Remus looked at him, a closed expression on his face. "I think you should do what you want to do," he said softly. "It's no use building a career on something you're not passionate about." He smiled. "If you think music is what you want to do, then I'm sure that if you put your mind to it, Sirius, you will be very successful."
"Are you lecturing me, Professor Lupin?" The awkward, slightly shy teenager had vanished, leaving Remus with the impression he'd glimpsed something very precious, and the pouting, sensuous creature of earlier was back. "Because I'm sure that you aren't doing what you would like to."
Remus shrugged. "I've always wanted to teach," he said mildly, "I was told it was quite an experience."
"But it's not what you really want to do, is it?" Sirius had moved nearer, his gaze burning onto Remus's face. "Come on, who really wants to teach a bunch of stupid kids?"
"You're including yourself there, I notice."
"No," Sirius's grin was wicked, debauched. "There's nothing you could teach me that I don't already know." He smiled. "That's what comes of having a family obsessed with the dark arts."
Remus raised an eyebrow. "So, what I really want to do?"
"Really and truly."
The werewolf bit his lip, looking thoughtful. "Really? I'd have to say…probably to write a book. Create something that's utterly unique and my own, that no one else has ever done before." He shot Sirius a small smile. "So you see, I think both our ambitions are a little cliché and sound a bit stupid."
Sirius laughed. "But we'll do them nonetheless."
Remus laughed as well, and silence descended again, awkward and uncomfortable, settling like a cloak over the both of them. Remus stared off into the distance, trying to work out how far it was to Hogwarts, how far it was back to the village, how long it would be before the rain stopped, why Sirius was being so… he shook himself and dropped his gaze to the soaking grass some three feet away.
The only sound was the soft patter of rain and the gentle splash as it hit the leaves.
Sirius coughed and shifted, his boots making a squelch in the muddied ground.
Breathe in…breathe out… Remus focused on the rhythm, trying to blank his mind as he stared ahead. Breathe in…breathe out. He was beginning to shiver slightly, and it wasn't simply with cold. Hard, icy realisation of an emotion that hadn't existed yesterday was creeping through his veins as he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Sirius idly begin to chew his nails. Breathe in…
"Hey, Pro – Remus?"
"Hmm?" Remus turned his head fully, looking at Sirius. Should anybody that young look so…so…breathe out.
Sirius turned as well.
Breathe in…Pale hands darted out, dragging Remus off balance by the collar of his robe. Before he could blink or utter a word of protest, lips were crushing against his in a hungry, half desperate move. Sirius's fingers were suddenly buried in his hair, tugging him closer, ensuring that he couldn't escape.
He's my student; he's my student… The words kept rushing through Remus's mind, even as Sirius shifted closer. This is wrong, he's my student, I shouldn't let him…this is complicated….if someone sees…if anyone finds out…I don't like him, I'm not attracted to him…
A soft moan vibrated against his lips and Sirius was cupping his face, still kissing him. Remus could taste the dull metallic tang of rainwater and the hot, wet heat of Sirius's mouth; the spicy sweetness that was entirely the other man and the soft, sickly sweet flavour of Butterbeer. He gasped, and Sirius pulled back, no more than a hair's breadth, then kissed him again, more gently, this time, simply nudging his lips apart slowly.
Slowly, hesitantly, Remus reached out, his hands straying to the damp black strands of hair that fell over Sirius' shoulders in a wet curtain. It took him a moment to realise that he was kissing the younger man back, and that Sirius was murmuring approvingly into his mouth as he wove his fingers through long, black hair, tugging slightly, pulling him closer.
…Should be pushing him away… was his last coherent thought before Sirius parted his lips, pulling him closer still.
He could feel the cold of wet clothing against skin, sticking, clammy, and the hot flush spreading through his body from Sirius' fingertips against his cheek. He could feel the lush, burning sensation of Sirius tongue slowly, carefully coaxing his own and the icy sensation of rainwater trickling down his neck.
Slowly they parted, lips swollen and glistening.
Breathe out…Remus reminded himself. Keep breathing.
Sirius licked his lips, a small smile curling them.
AaAaAaAa
"What are they doing now?" James shifted impatiently from foot to foot. "Come on, Pete, don't spare me the details."
"Er…" Peter squinted, wiping rain from his eyes as he struggled to keep the two distant figures in focus. "I can't quite see…"
"Do you need glasses as well? Honestly, mate!" James, growing impatient, snatched the Spying Scope off of Peter and held it up to his eyes. "I'm glad I talked you into buying one of these," he added, peering into the little glass ball, "would have been tricky if I hadn't, eh?"
"I still don't know why we had to use my money," Peter muttered rebelliously, folding his arms.
"I told you, I'm broke. I'll pay…"
"…Pay me back. Yeah, right Potter. How many times have I heard that one?"
"Fine, fine, but aren't you glad we're intruding on Sirius's private time with our dear teacher?"
"No, I've already told you, I don't like this." Peter scowled, pursing his lips and deliberately looking away from James, who was still squinting into the Spying Scope. Sighing, he stared out across the rolling countryside surrounding Hogsmeade and listened to his friend muttering under his breath.
"…Can't believe him…how does he think befriending Lupin will help, anyway? Must be…wonder if he's going to prank him…damn…rain's too hard…"
"I'd noticed," Peter commented icily, drawing his scarf tighter around his neck. "Can we please go back now?"
"No, no, just a bit…" James broke off, his eyes widening. "Holy hell!"
"What? What is it?" Peter jumped and turned back to James, whose eyes were practically glued to the Scope.
"They…Sirius…" James's mouth opened and shut.
"What?" Growing impatient, Peter snatched the Scope off of James and peered into it. "What? I don't see anything! They're just standing there!"
"What?! Give me that!" James snatched the ball back and peered into it. "I…I swear…" he muttered faintly, "I swear they were just kissing one another."
"Are you mad?" Peter asked conversationally, in the same way that a person might ask 'have you had enough to eat?'
"No! Seriously!" James rubbed the ball and peered into it again. "I wasn't imagining things, I promise you."
"Of course, James."
"You don't believe me!" James stuffed the Spying Scope back in his pocket and glared accusingly at Peter.
"No, I don't. Now I'm going back to school, ok? I'm wet and cold."
"Hey! Wait!"
AaAaAaAa
The steady ticking of the clock on the wall was the only sound in Remus's office. His cloak hung over the back of an armchair, still faintly damp and musty smelling, his shoes had been placed carefully, neatly in front of the fire to dry and his books were neatly arranged on the desk, completely untouched.
Remus was sitting in the armchair, his chin in his hands, staring into the fire. It was late; everyone else in the school was in bed and asleep. He alone sat up, worrying as the wind moaned outside and the flames in the grate flickered teasingly, their dance sending shadows skittering around the walls.
I'm his teacher.
Remus closed his eyes, burying his face in his hands. Sirius was his student – what had he been thinking this afternoon? Kissing a student was bad enough, but kissing Sirius Black was ten times worse. The boy was a pure blood, Remus was a werewolf; Sirius was a brash, loud, mischief making eighteen year old, he was a quiet, sober, reserved nineteen year old. It was impossible, besides, he wasn't attracted to Sirius, he…
…He was.
Remus bit his lip, hard. Lying to himself would get him nowhere. If he wanted to deal with the situation he had to face up to it. He was attracted to Sirius, fine, he could admit that. However, he would not act upon it. The kiss this afternoon had been a mistake – one that had occurred through boredom and teenage hormones.
Ignoring the dry voice at the back of his mind that was commenting that Remus himself was still technically a teenager and that a whole twelve months obviously made him a much more worldly and mature person, the young teacher stood up and strode over to the window. Flinging it open, he drew deep, gulping breaths of the cool, damp night air, letting it wash over his face as the wind blew in, rustling the various pieces of parchment scattered around the room and teasing his hair.
Resting his folded arms on the windowsill, Remus leant out as far as he could, simply enjoying the smell of fresh air and wet earth. The wind was still blowing, but not as strongly, and the rain had eased away until only the occasional droplet fell. Behind him, the room was painted parchment gold by the light of the fire, but in front of him, the air was velvet black and mysterious and growing crisply colder by the minute.
As he rested there, poised between two worlds, the wind carried a faint noise down to him, and he blinked, startled.
A soft, rippling tune was soaring through the night, faint but clear, its notes ringing like a bell in the windblown silence. It sounded for all the world as though someone was standing on top of the tower, playing, unconscious of the world spread out below them and anyone who might be listening.
Not really bothering to think about his actions, Remus grabbed his cloak and crept out of his office, climbing the spiral staircase on silent feet. His breath was faintly beginning to mist in front of him by the time he reached the top, and the music had become much louder and clearer with each step. Pausing as he reached the top, he hesitated, one hand outstretched to push aside the heavy oak door and discover who it was that was up on the tower top at this time of night.
As he hesitated, the tune changed, slowing. It became deeper and more sombre, a cascade of notes that somehow seemed to imply bitter sweetness. Remus thought he recognised the tune, but couldn't place it.
Gently, so as not to disturb the musician, he pushed open the door, peering around it.
A slim figure was silhouetted against the night sky, swaying gently in time to the movement of the music and the draw of the bow over what was clearly a violin. Their back was to Remus, and he couldn't make out any distinguishing features in the darkness. He saw the figure shift slightly, its head cocked at a precise angle as its fingers caressed the strings, producing an achingly sad piece, each note seeming to linger, even as the next was being played.
Remus hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to intrude upon this clearly private moment and demand the student return to its dormitory, or whether he should simply leave.
The next movement decided him as the music became flowing, gentle, less mournful but still sad and the violinist began to hum softly, a beautiful, wordless song. Still swaying, the draw of the bow became increasingly rapid, the two sounds of violin and voice floating up into the night air in perfect, painful harmony.
Quietly, Remus crept back down the spiral stairs.
And up on top of the tower, Sirius played on, oblivious.
To Be Continued…CB: The next bit will probably be a little smutty. Ye be warned.
