Disclaimer: If I were J K Rowling, a certain person would not have died.
Grrr.
Rating: PG-13
A/N: It will be slash eventually. But they've had twelve years apart and a lot has happened; can you blame them for not instantly leaping into bed? You get a little implied about their previous relationship in this chapter, but that's all. There's a dream in the middle of this chapter - I did have it in italics but I can't figure out how to get them up on the site, so I've had to separate it differently. I hope it's still clear which is which.
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It did not take long for Remus to clear up the remains of their meal and the two mugs, but by the time he had, the lights had gone off upstairs. He paused briefly at their foot, wondering if he should have handled that differently. Surely Sirius would not have been expecting them to resume their old intimacy? He had given no hint that he had, no hint that he even remembered they had been anything more than friends.
Stop it, Remus, he scolded himself. Stop analysing everything. Aren't you just glad he's back?
Yes, of course he was. It was only to be expected that seeing Sirius again after so many years would bring back all the old memories. He would just have to ignore it, that was all. He was perfectly capable of controlling himself. The first step, of course, being to stop standing at the foot of the stairs and gazing after Sirius like the lovestruck teenager he had once been.
He realised as he went back into the living room that he had not brought down a nightshirt when he collected his blankets. He hesitated briefly... should he go and fetch one? But he did not want to disturb Sirius... or any more old memories. He could sleep in his robe. He had not been lying when he said the living room got cold, so he was damned if he was going to freeze to death sleeping in his underwear. Not even for you, Sirius, he thought.
He curled up in his blankets and put out the candles with a lazy wave of his wand. He was no stranger to sleeping on sofas; he had slept on more couches than beds for the first few months after James and Lily died, before he found this house. It was the first time he had ever had to sleep on his own couch, however, and he had to admit it was not one of the most comfortable. But, he knew from experience that a little discomfort never usually stopped him sleeping when he was this tired.
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He wandered through a street in Muggle London. He recognised it; it was not far from the flat he and Sirius used to share. There was a faint, persistent drizzle in the air and everyone he passed hurried along with their heads down, not even looking at him. He felt a chill and looked down to see that he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, already soaked through.
He shivered and hurried on, though why he was in such a hurry he could not say. He broke into a run, but none of the Muggles spared him so much as a glance. The streets sped past him, all houses much like the one that had been converted into Sirius' flat.
"Lily and James, Sirius!" he heard a voice cry ahead of him. "How could you?" That voice struck fear into him, and he swerved towards it. Around the corner he saw Peter and Sirius facing each other. Sirius' face was pale and from this angle he could see the wand clutched behind Peter's back.
"No!" he cried, but neither of them heard. He raced towards them but was not in time; the street exploded before his eyes. "No!" he cried again, throwing up his arms to shield himself from flying rubble. The dust cleared, he could hear screams, and he lowered his arms fearfully and saw bodies, blood, a huge crater with water spewing out of it onto the street, and Sirius standing on the edge of it all.
For a second Sirius just stared, looking as though he did not understand what had happened. He staggered a few paces backwards, then threw back his head and laughed. The sound made Remus go cold; Sirius sounded completely insane.
Suddenly there were Ministry wizards everywhere. They must have Apparated straight to the disturbance. Some of them paled at the sight of the carnage, others tried to herd up the panicking Muggles. Several stepped towards Sirius, their wands held warily before them, but he did nothing but carry on laughing. Remus' heart leapt; Sirius/
"No," he shouted, forcing his legs to move, running towards them. "No, no, it wasn't him..." A wizard tried to head him off but he swerved around him with the turn of speed that had always taken people by surprise.
"He's innocent!" he called, as two wizards grabbed hold of Sirius, forcing his wand from his hands. Someone grabbed Remus from behind and pulled him back, away from Sirius and the Ministry wizards. He turned around to see Peter Pettigrew, blood streaming down his face and arms.
"You!" he snarled, fighting to get out of Peter's grip, fighting to get his wand.
"He killed me, Remus, he killed me! He betrayed us all... he betrayed you..."
"No!"
"Remus?" Someone was pulling him away from Peter; he felt a hand on his shoulder.
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"Remus?" He awoke with a start to find himself back on the sofa in his living room, staring around wildly in the dark. It was Sirius' hand on his shoulder, shaking him. "Are you all right?"
"S... Sirius?" He had had the nightmare before, though usually he was fighting to save Peter, not Sirius. It always left him disorientated; it was a moment or two before he remembered where he was and the events of the previous day.
"Did I wake you?" he asked, his voice passably calm despite his pounding heart.
"No, I couldn't sleep. I came down to get a drink, and I saw you thrashing about... nightmare?"
"Mmm." Remus did not really want to discuss it with anyone, let alone Sirius.
Sirius did not seem to want to cooperate, though. "Does that happen often?"
"Often enough." Get the hint, dammit. Go and get your drink, and go back upstairs. Had Sirius always been this dense? He would also have been a lot more comfortable if Sirius would move his hand; he had left it on Remus' shoulder.
Sirius sighed. "I've had nightmares every night since I got out." He said it so baldly that for a second Remus did not register it. And he had thought his life worked out badly.
"Every night?" he asked quietly. There was no answer but another sigh. Sirius' hand finally moved, but rather than glad, Remus was worried. "Sirius?" He sat up, clutching the blankets around him, and groped for the wand he had left on the coffee table the night before. By the light of a couple of candles he could see Sirius standing there and shaking, his hands clutching at his arms.
He reached up and pulled his old friend onto the sofa beside him. He was icy cold, so Remus shrugged off one of his blankets and wrapped it around Sirius' shoulders, pulling the other more securely about his own.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked hesitantly.
He was not surprised when there was no answer; Sirius had never been much of a talker. A babbler, yes, when the mood took him, but he had never been good at serious conversations.
"It must have been terrible."
Sirius surprised him by speaking. "They steal everything." His voice was as harsh as it had been that night in the Shrieking Shack. "Every good memory you ever had... There were times when I thought I would rather die than survive one more day in that place. If I had to go back there..." his voice broke and he shuddered. "Every night, I dream that I am back in Azkaban," he finished quietly.
"I'm... sorry." Sorry that Sirius had spent twelve years in Azkaban, sorry that he was not free of it even now that he had escaped, sorry that he had brought the subject up again.
"No. I... didn't mean to bring it up. But then I always did feel I could talk about anything to you." He turned his head towards Remus. In the faint light from the two candles he had lit, Remus could not make out Sirius' expression. He was suddenly rather glad of that.
Sirius drew a great shuddering breath and shook himself as if he could shake off his memories. "And you? You always did suffer from nightmares, if I remember rightly. Still the same ones?"
"Sometimes." After Sirius had said he could tell Remus anything, how could he not return the compliment? "More often... you. And Peter. I... wasn't in time." Such few words to convey such turmoil. Sirius put an arm about his shoulders and he forced a weak laugh. "We don't want to be talking about this. Here..." He conjured up another couple of hot chocolates, but Sirius did not tease this time, just took it gratefully.
"So." Sirius made a valiant attempt to change the subject. "How have you been? You've got twelve years to fill me in on."
"Oh." Remus struggled to think of something worth telling his old friend. "Oh, well, you know me. Nothing exciting in my life. I've been out of work more often than in it. Took a few menial jobs just to get by, but none of them lasted very long." He forced a weak laugh. "In fact, I think teaching at Hogwarts the other year was the longest I've stayed in one job."
"I was so surprised to see you. Never dreamt you'd be there... Don't know why, I guess teaching would suit you."
"I did enjoy it," he admitted. "Harry tried to convince me not to resign, you know, but after everyone found out what I am, there would have been no way I could stay, even if I was willing to risk it."
"Tell me about Harry," said Sirius eagerly. "I've been writing to him, of course, and I met him a few times this year. He looks so like James..."
"My goodness, yes. It was a shock, I can tell you, the first time I saw him. And, of course, you already know he's as brave as James was..."
The subject of Harry carried them into the early hours of the morning, and then they relapsed into reminiscing about the old days, until they both found themselves getting drowsy.
Rating: PG-13
A/N: It will be slash eventually. But they've had twelve years apart and a lot has happened; can you blame them for not instantly leaping into bed? You get a little implied about their previous relationship in this chapter, but that's all. There's a dream in the middle of this chapter - I did have it in italics but I can't figure out how to get them up on the site, so I've had to separate it differently. I hope it's still clear which is which.
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It did not take long for Remus to clear up the remains of their meal and the two mugs, but by the time he had, the lights had gone off upstairs. He paused briefly at their foot, wondering if he should have handled that differently. Surely Sirius would not have been expecting them to resume their old intimacy? He had given no hint that he had, no hint that he even remembered they had been anything more than friends.
Stop it, Remus, he scolded himself. Stop analysing everything. Aren't you just glad he's back?
Yes, of course he was. It was only to be expected that seeing Sirius again after so many years would bring back all the old memories. He would just have to ignore it, that was all. He was perfectly capable of controlling himself. The first step, of course, being to stop standing at the foot of the stairs and gazing after Sirius like the lovestruck teenager he had once been.
He realised as he went back into the living room that he had not brought down a nightshirt when he collected his blankets. He hesitated briefly... should he go and fetch one? But he did not want to disturb Sirius... or any more old memories. He could sleep in his robe. He had not been lying when he said the living room got cold, so he was damned if he was going to freeze to death sleeping in his underwear. Not even for you, Sirius, he thought.
He curled up in his blankets and put out the candles with a lazy wave of his wand. He was no stranger to sleeping on sofas; he had slept on more couches than beds for the first few months after James and Lily died, before he found this house. It was the first time he had ever had to sleep on his own couch, however, and he had to admit it was not one of the most comfortable. But, he knew from experience that a little discomfort never usually stopped him sleeping when he was this tired.
---------------------
He wandered through a street in Muggle London. He recognised it; it was not far from the flat he and Sirius used to share. There was a faint, persistent drizzle in the air and everyone he passed hurried along with their heads down, not even looking at him. He felt a chill and looked down to see that he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, already soaked through.
He shivered and hurried on, though why he was in such a hurry he could not say. He broke into a run, but none of the Muggles spared him so much as a glance. The streets sped past him, all houses much like the one that had been converted into Sirius' flat.
"Lily and James, Sirius!" he heard a voice cry ahead of him. "How could you?" That voice struck fear into him, and he swerved towards it. Around the corner he saw Peter and Sirius facing each other. Sirius' face was pale and from this angle he could see the wand clutched behind Peter's back.
"No!" he cried, but neither of them heard. He raced towards them but was not in time; the street exploded before his eyes. "No!" he cried again, throwing up his arms to shield himself from flying rubble. The dust cleared, he could hear screams, and he lowered his arms fearfully and saw bodies, blood, a huge crater with water spewing out of it onto the street, and Sirius standing on the edge of it all.
For a second Sirius just stared, looking as though he did not understand what had happened. He staggered a few paces backwards, then threw back his head and laughed. The sound made Remus go cold; Sirius sounded completely insane.
Suddenly there were Ministry wizards everywhere. They must have Apparated straight to the disturbance. Some of them paled at the sight of the carnage, others tried to herd up the panicking Muggles. Several stepped towards Sirius, their wands held warily before them, but he did nothing but carry on laughing. Remus' heart leapt; Sirius/
"No," he shouted, forcing his legs to move, running towards them. "No, no, it wasn't him..." A wizard tried to head him off but he swerved around him with the turn of speed that had always taken people by surprise.
"He's innocent!" he called, as two wizards grabbed hold of Sirius, forcing his wand from his hands. Someone grabbed Remus from behind and pulled him back, away from Sirius and the Ministry wizards. He turned around to see Peter Pettigrew, blood streaming down his face and arms.
"You!" he snarled, fighting to get out of Peter's grip, fighting to get his wand.
"He killed me, Remus, he killed me! He betrayed us all... he betrayed you..."
"No!"
"Remus?" Someone was pulling him away from Peter; he felt a hand on his shoulder.
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"Remus?" He awoke with a start to find himself back on the sofa in his living room, staring around wildly in the dark. It was Sirius' hand on his shoulder, shaking him. "Are you all right?"
"S... Sirius?" He had had the nightmare before, though usually he was fighting to save Peter, not Sirius. It always left him disorientated; it was a moment or two before he remembered where he was and the events of the previous day.
"Did I wake you?" he asked, his voice passably calm despite his pounding heart.
"No, I couldn't sleep. I came down to get a drink, and I saw you thrashing about... nightmare?"
"Mmm." Remus did not really want to discuss it with anyone, let alone Sirius.
Sirius did not seem to want to cooperate, though. "Does that happen often?"
"Often enough." Get the hint, dammit. Go and get your drink, and go back upstairs. Had Sirius always been this dense? He would also have been a lot more comfortable if Sirius would move his hand; he had left it on Remus' shoulder.
Sirius sighed. "I've had nightmares every night since I got out." He said it so baldly that for a second Remus did not register it. And he had thought his life worked out badly.
"Every night?" he asked quietly. There was no answer but another sigh. Sirius' hand finally moved, but rather than glad, Remus was worried. "Sirius?" He sat up, clutching the blankets around him, and groped for the wand he had left on the coffee table the night before. By the light of a couple of candles he could see Sirius standing there and shaking, his hands clutching at his arms.
He reached up and pulled his old friend onto the sofa beside him. He was icy cold, so Remus shrugged off one of his blankets and wrapped it around Sirius' shoulders, pulling the other more securely about his own.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked hesitantly.
He was not surprised when there was no answer; Sirius had never been much of a talker. A babbler, yes, when the mood took him, but he had never been good at serious conversations.
"It must have been terrible."
Sirius surprised him by speaking. "They steal everything." His voice was as harsh as it had been that night in the Shrieking Shack. "Every good memory you ever had... There were times when I thought I would rather die than survive one more day in that place. If I had to go back there..." his voice broke and he shuddered. "Every night, I dream that I am back in Azkaban," he finished quietly.
"I'm... sorry." Sorry that Sirius had spent twelve years in Azkaban, sorry that he was not free of it even now that he had escaped, sorry that he had brought the subject up again.
"No. I... didn't mean to bring it up. But then I always did feel I could talk about anything to you." He turned his head towards Remus. In the faint light from the two candles he had lit, Remus could not make out Sirius' expression. He was suddenly rather glad of that.
Sirius drew a great shuddering breath and shook himself as if he could shake off his memories. "And you? You always did suffer from nightmares, if I remember rightly. Still the same ones?"
"Sometimes." After Sirius had said he could tell Remus anything, how could he not return the compliment? "More often... you. And Peter. I... wasn't in time." Such few words to convey such turmoil. Sirius put an arm about his shoulders and he forced a weak laugh. "We don't want to be talking about this. Here..." He conjured up another couple of hot chocolates, but Sirius did not tease this time, just took it gratefully.
"So." Sirius made a valiant attempt to change the subject. "How have you been? You've got twelve years to fill me in on."
"Oh." Remus struggled to think of something worth telling his old friend. "Oh, well, you know me. Nothing exciting in my life. I've been out of work more often than in it. Took a few menial jobs just to get by, but none of them lasted very long." He forced a weak laugh. "In fact, I think teaching at Hogwarts the other year was the longest I've stayed in one job."
"I was so surprised to see you. Never dreamt you'd be there... Don't know why, I guess teaching would suit you."
"I did enjoy it," he admitted. "Harry tried to convince me not to resign, you know, but after everyone found out what I am, there would have been no way I could stay, even if I was willing to risk it."
"Tell me about Harry," said Sirius eagerly. "I've been writing to him, of course, and I met him a few times this year. He looks so like James..."
"My goodness, yes. It was a shock, I can tell you, the first time I saw him. And, of course, you already know he's as brave as James was..."
The subject of Harry carried them into the early hours of the morning, and then they relapsed into reminiscing about the old days, until they both found themselves getting drowsy.