Chapter Two
“You tired?” Remus asked, glancing over at where Sirius was lounging, half-asleep, on the sofa.
“A bit,” Sirius agreed. He was on his third mug of hot chocolate. Remus had made a mental note to go buy a lot of it the next day.
Remus cleared his throat, trying not to sound nervous. “Well, my bed is big enough for two,” he said, then quickly added, “And there’s a spare bedroom, if you’d prefer.”
Sirius looked away, more obviously nervous. “Whichever you’d like,” he said, keeping his tone light and casual.
“Why is it up to me?” Remus asked.
Sirius took a gulp of his hot chocolate and wished that it was spiked with something stronger. “Because I’m crazy and I shouldn’t have to make decisions,” he said, nodding convincingly, as if this made perfect sense.
“I’m not asking you to make a decision,” Remus said, amused by Sirius’ logic. “I’m just asking you which you’d prefer.”
“I never could resist your stunning body,” Sirius said in a joking tone, but his smile faded quickly. “But I’ll understand if you’d like me to take the guest room.”
Remus gave him a long, even look. It wasn’t so much like reading an open book; more like being whapped over the head with one. “Sirius? You’re an idiot. Now let’s go to bed.”
“Why am I an idiot?” Sirius asked, sounding vaguely put out.
“Because you ever thought for an instant that I wouldn’t want you to sleep in my bed,” Remus said.
“Fourteen years is a long time,” Sirius said, sounding slightly defensive but more just nervous. “I’d be stupid to think we could just go back to the way things were.”
“Sirius, you know me,” Remus said gently. “Would I have offered my bed if I didn’t want you in it?”
Sirius shook his head, now smiling again. “Sorry. I feel rather jumpy and pathetic.”
“Jumpy, yes,” Remus said, and kissed the tip of his nose. “Pathetic, never.” Sirius smiled wider and spontaneously pulled Remus into another hug, which lasted for a few minutes before Remus pulled away and said, “Now let’s go to bed.” Sirius nodded and followed him into the bedroom, pausing at the door.
“Could you maybe leave the shade up partway?” he asked, his tone rather embarrassed.
Remus hesitated. “There’s a big orange streetlamp outside, and it would shine right in our eyes. Would a night light do, perhaps?”
“It should.” Sirius laughed. “Big scary escaped con needs a night light to sleep. Maybe we should feed that to the Daily Prophet.”
Remus raised an eyebrow at him. “I’d say that the Daily Prophet has better things to print, but given Rita Skeeter . . . no.” He gestured with his wand and a glowing ball emerged from the tip of it, hovering for a few seconds before floating down to settle on the night table next to where Sirius was standing. Remus frowned and gestured at it, and the light dimmed slightly.
Sirius watched this with a hungry expression on his face. “I miss my wand,” he said. “And my magic.”
“We can get you a new one soon, probably,” Remus said, rummaging in his drawers. Sirius was taller than him, but he was also thinner, so absolutely nothing he owned would fit. He sighed and looked for the next best thing. He fished out a pair of flannel pants and large T-shirt and handed them over. “These should come close to fitting you.”
“Thanks,” Sirius said, accepting them. He pondered leaving the room to change, but Remus was already changing into his own pajamas without being bothered by modesty. Sirius supposed that, given that they used to sleep together without bothering with clothes on a regular basis, he shouldn’t worry about it. “I thought about asking Ollivander when I stopped by to let him know that Dumbledore would be calling in the troops, but in the end I just bolted. He always sort of scared me.”
“Ollivander scares everyone,” Remus stated. “I’m surprised he didn’t already have a wand ready for you, given how creepy he is.”
“I think maybe he’s the Ollivander who opened the store way back when,” Sirius said, smiling. It felt good to be able to joke again, and pretend for a few minutes that everything was back to normal.
“That might be funnier if it weren’t possibly true,” Remus said, and pulled back the blankets. They, like everything else, were worn and tattered, but no less warm or comfortable. He crawled in under them, turning off the lamp.
Sirius hesitated, then climbed in next to him. He snuggled up to Remus instinctively, without really thinking about what he was doing. “Sorry I’m all bony,” he added, realizing this a few minutes too late.
Remus curled up next to him. “After fourteen years of an empty bed, I’m not going to complain about bones,” he said dryly.
Sirius blinked at him, his face dim in the light. “There was never anyone else?” he asked, his tone bordering between shocked and flattered.
“I never wanted anyone else, Sirius,” Remus replied, his tone quiet and very tired. “I never tried to be with anyone else. I was too hurt.”
Sirius reached out and hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry about everything. Sorry James died, sorry I ever trusted Peter, sorry I left you alone.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Remus said. “It wasn’t your fault. You did what you thought was best.”
Sirius shook his head. “It wasn’t good enough, though. I ended up hurting everyone I wanted to protect.”
Remus reached out and took Sirius’ chin between his fingers. “Voldemort hurt the people you were trying to protect,” he said firmly. “Voldemort and Wormtail. You never hurt anyone.”
Sirius closed his eyes. “I want them back, Moony,” he said softly. “For twelve years I had nothing else to think about, and I still can’t come to terms with it.”
“It’s not the kind of thing you come to terms with just by thinking about it, Sirius,” Remus said, moving a little closer and draping his arm over Sirius’ waist. “It’s harder to accept loss when you don’t have anyone else to turn to. Maybe now we’ll both do a little better.”
“It was always new in my head,” Sirius said. “It was like that night every time I remembered it. And poor Harry was just silent. Dead silent. The night they died. It never changes.” His voice rose, sped up, growing a little more distressed. “It was never remember it like it was a day ago or a week or a month. I never remembered it. I just relived it. Everything was like that. Everything that went wrong in my life. And the worst it was, the more often I relieved it.”
Remus hugged him for a long minute, waiting to see if he would say anything else. When he remained silently unhappy, he replied, “But you’re out now. It doesn’t have to be that way anymore.”
“I have trouble putting it in the past,” Sirius said. “I never just remember things anymore. Everything feels so immediate to me.”
“We’ll sort it out,” Remus said, feeling pathetic, like he was just repeating the same thing over and over again. “I can help you. It’s past, it’s done, and we can put it behind us.”
Sirius nodded, to show that he was listening, even though he was having trouble believing it. “I just want something to go right,” he said with a sigh.
Remus managed a soft chuckle. “Not a bad sentiment, but I don’t know if the next few months are going to help much with that.”
“I don’t think they are,” Sirius said heavily. “And God help us all if Voldemort gets a hold of Azkaban.” He flinched, trying very hard not to remember how it had been on the inside.
Remus shivered a little, unconsciously moving closer to Sirius. “That would be very bad, yes. But I trust Dumbledore to do something about that before it happens.”
“I’m trusting him with Harry,” Sirius said. “That means I’m trusting him with stopping Voldemort.”
Remus laughed. “I wonder if I should even ask which is more important to you.”
Sirius smiled and met his eyes. “You and Harry are the only things I have left in the world,” he said. “God help anything that hurts either of you.”
Remus kissed his forehead. “It’s good to have you back, love.”
“Well, this is going right,” Sirius said, still smiling. “If I can just get the rest of my life to follow the lead . . .” He leaned over and planted a chaste kiss on Remus’ lips. “It’s very good to be back.” Remus hugged him tightly. Sirius rather suspected that he was crying. “If you keep that up, I’m going to start bawling,” he said, his voice soft but honest.
“I know.” Remus pulled away and rubbed his eyes. “I’m just glad you’re back, that’s all.”
“Hopefully I’ll be staying around this time,” Sirius said. “I’d forgotten how nice it made me feel just to be around you.”
“I hadn’t forgotten,” Remus said softly, running his hand through Sirius’ hair.
“It’s a good feeling,” Sirius said, looking apologetic. “I wasn’t able to have them.” He looked over at Remus, watching his hand move through his hair. “My hair needs to be washed.”
Remus laughed. “It certainly does.”
“Maybe you can help me with that in the morning,” Sirius said, grinning and giving him another kiss, a little more playfully.
“I hope you mean that, because it’s not nice to tease,” Remus said.
“You always were demanding,” Sirius said.
“Said the pot to the kettle,” Remus said, looking affronted.
Sirius grinned. “I know. I’m Black.”
Remus groaned. “Oh, that was just awful.”
“So my humor is a bit rusty,” Sirius said.
“I’ll have to find something truly terrible to do to you for that pun,” Remus said, idly twirling some of Sirius’ hair between his fingers. His tone was light and teasing, and he doubted that Sirius could miss the fact that he was joking.
“It’s not my fault I have such a versatile name,” Sirius said.
Remus poked him in the nose. “We’ll see how versatile you are when I help you wash your hair tomorrow.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Lewd, Moony.”
“Fourteen years of impatience,” Remus said. “Blame my libido and your dark good looks.” Though to be perfectly honest, he doubted that much of anything was going to happen in the shower the next day. Sirius was still so jumpy and skittish, and so nervous about things that might be potentially good, that he figured he’d be lucky if he managed to get a kiss, let alone anything else.
“And here I thought my hair was grimy,” Sirius mentioned.
“I’m ignoring the grime,” Remus said.
“Think we can kidnap Harry tomorrow?” Sirius asked, changing the subject abruptly and further reinforcing Remus’ belief that Sirius wasn’t ready for anything beyond kissing.
“I’ll send an owl to Dumbledore tomorrow and ask him about it,” Remus replied. “I don’t want to take Harry from the Dursley’s until he says it’s okay. It’s not like Dumbledore to leave him with such horrible people, so there must be a reason.”
“Well, it had better be a damn good one,” Sirius said irritably.
“I’m sure it is,” Remus said. “I just hope it’s one we can get around.”
“At this point, I think I can get around anything,” Sirius said whole-heartedly.
Remus hesitated. “May I ask you a question?” At Sirius’ nod, he said, “Why didn’t you ever . . . come by, this year? Or at least write?”
Sirius looked at him, a bit startled, then quickly looked away. “I was . . . I was afraid that you wouldn’t want me anymore.”
“And you couldn’t even write and find out?” Remus asked, wondering exactly how pathetic he sounded.
“I . . . if I didn’t know, I could still hope,” Sirius said quietly.
“But . . . I missed you.” That was it. He probably sounded like the most pathetic person on earth right about now.
“I missed you too,” Sirius said quickly. “Dear God, how I missed you, but . . . I just couldn’t have dealt with it if you didn’t want me, Moony. I just didn’t have it in me to deal with that possibility.” He sounded ashamed, and fixed his eyes on the bed.
Remus snuggled closer. “I understand that much,” he said. “I just wish you had at least written me to let you know that you were okay.”
“I’m sorry,” Sirius said, sounding very sorry. “I should have known better, but things weren’t really right in my head.”
“I guess I have trouble picturing you worrying about me rejecting you,” Remus said, and laughed. “Especially seeing as how I used to worship the ground that you walked on.”
“You say that as if it was a one-way street,” Sirius said, smiling slightly.
“I recall much more worship on my part,” Remus said, poking him in the nose again.
Sirius smiled and tried to bite the offending finger, but Remus pulled it away in time. He waited a moment, then said quietly, “I paid more attention to you and what you wanted than anyone else in the world. Sometimes I even thought ahead for you.”
“You, think ahead?” Remus smiled. “Wouldn’t have thought it possible.” He leaned over and landed a soft kiss on Sirius’ forehead. “I understand why you were frightened. I just wish . . . I wish a lot of things.”
“I wish I had done things differently,” Sirius said.
“This wasn’t your fault,” Remus said firmly, then added teasingly, “Do we need to have that discussion again?”
Another small smile formed on Sirius’ lips. “Most likely.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” Remus said with a yawn. “I’m tired. Do you want to get some sleep?”
“We should.”
“But do you want to?”
Sirius hesitated. “Sometimes I have nightmares,” he admitted. Of course, ‘sometimes’ meant ‘nearly always’, but he wasn’t about to tell Remus that. “Makes me a little leery of sleep.”
“Well . . . I’m here, and there’s chocolate right out in the kitchen,” Remus replied. “You’re worn out. You need to get some rest.”
Sirius nodded, resigned, but it helped some when Remus curled around him and he fell asleep still wrapped up in his arms.
****
Ron was somewhat disconcerted upon looking up from his breakfast, which he was eating in his rumpled flannel pajamas, to see Dumbledore sweeping in through the front door in his usual dignified manner. He let out a rather undignified squeak.
Dumbledore smiled at him. “Hello, Mr. Weasley. I trust you are enjoying your vacation?”
Ron nodded. “Ah . . . yes. Thank you.”
His mother bustled in. “Oh, hello, Headmaster, it’s good to see you. Ron, close your mouth, you’re drawing flies. Eat your breakfast. The Headmaster is just here to see that we’re safe so Harry can come for the rest of the summer.”
Dumbledore nodded. “Sooner rather than later. I received a rather impatient owl from Professor Lupin yesterday. He fears that Sirius Black might be . . . paying the Dursleys a visit soon, if Harry is not removed from their care.”
Mrs. Weasley smiled slightly. She had grilled the entire story about Sirius out of Ron after being informed that he was not, in fact, a dark wizard. She had then shared the information with her husband, but thus far, none of her other children knew. “I understand his impatience, having met those . . . those horrible people myself.”
There was a small bang from upstairs, and the scent of smoke filled the air. Ron glanced upwards. “Oh, the twins are up,” he mentioned, eating another mouthful of cereal.
Mrs. Weasley winced and muttered something underneath her breath. Ron guessed that it was probably something rather unpleasant, and could possibly involve the twins at the end of a grounding later.
He watched as Dumbledore walked around the Burrow, both inside and out, muttering to himself and occasionally waving his wand. Ginny came downstairs and sat down beside him. “What’s Professor Dumbledore doing here?” she whispered.
“He’s setting up protection spells and stuff so Harry can come stay with us,” Ron said, and thoroughly enjoyed the sudden rush of blood to Ginny’s face. “He ought to be here by the end of the week.”
“Oh,” she squeaked, and automatically started trying to smooth her hair down. Ron just laughed at her, and she smacked him over the head before moving on to get her breakfast.
He walked outside in time to see Dumbledore getting ready to leave. “I will send Professor Lupin and Mr. Black to pick Harry up and bring him here,” he said. “I will provide them with directions. I think you can expect to see Harry tomorrow or the day after.”
Mrs. Weasley nodded and smiled. “Thank you so much, Headmaster. We’ll let you know when Harry gets here.”
Ron went back to his breakfast and waited for his mother to come back inside. “D’you think I could go with Sirius and Professor Lupin when they go to pick Harry up?” he asked eagerly.
Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat. “From the Headmaster’s description of Mr. Black’s current frame of mind, I think it might be best if you just stayed here. You’ll see Harry soon enough.”
“So why is it,” Ron asked thoughtfully, “that Harry can come live with us now when he never could before?”
Mrs. Weasley sat down with her mug of tea. “It’s a bit complicated,” she said. “But to make a long, painful story short, the reason Harry was so well protected at the Dursleys was because he had blood ties with them, being related and all. But since You-Know-Who took some of his blood, now he’s immune to those particular protections. So now we’re just as good as the Dursleys. Really better, since we can protect Harry as best we can.”
Ron nodded. “I get it. It’s too bad he couldn’t be related to better people.”
Mrs. Weasley couldn’t help but laugh.
****
Hermione opened her window and let a large Great Horned Owl swoop through. She took the letter from him, thanked him gravely, and gave him some food before he took off through the window again. She opened the letter and gave it a quick read.
Dear Miss Granger,
Have you been able to get in touch with Harry at all this summer? Sirius and I have both been sending letters, but he has never replied. I don’t have his phone number, so I have no other way of getting in touch with him. Dumbledore wants to send him to the Weasleys for the summer, but we don’t want to just show up. Or at least, I don’t. Sirius is getting a bit antsy. Have you heard anything? Please let me know as soon as possible.
Remus Lupin
Hermione folded the letter up and considered it. She was rather surprised that Lupin seemed to know what a telephone was, let alone a telephone number. She supposed he must have at least one Muggle parent, and made a mental note to ask the next time she saw him.
She fished out her address book and looked up Harry’s telephone number, which she had asked him for at the end of their fourth year. Then she went downstairs and picked up the phone. Harry had told her not to call unless it was very important, stating that his aunt and uncle would be unhappy. Hermione thought that the danger of Sirius breaking through their front door probably counted as important.
It rang three times before someone picked up. “Hello?”
“May I please speak to Harry?”
There was a pause. “No Harry here,” the voice said, and there was a click as he hung up.
Hermione glared at the phone and dialed again.
“Hello?” The voice was more irritated this time.
“May I please speak to Harry? I know he lives here. He gave me the number himself.”
“I don’t know who gave you the number, young lady, but there’s no Harry here,” the voice said shortly.
“Kindly put Harry on the phone,” Hermione said, before they could hang up. “I know he lives there, and if you don’t put him on the phone I’ll call the police. And we might sue you for emotional damages.” She had always thought that threatening the Dursleys with magic was ineffective because they didn’t understand it. This was something they would understand.
There was a pause. “Who is this?” the voice asked angrily.
“Hermione Granger. One of his friends from school.”
Another pause, longer. “Oh, hang on.” There was a thud as the phone was dropped unceremoniously.
It was a long minute before she heard Harry’s voice, cautious and uncertain. “Hello?”
“Hello,” Hermione said. “You hadn’t been answering our letters. We were getting worried.”
“And since you’re the only one who knows how to use a telephone properly, you decided to call?” Harry asked, sounding amused by this.
“I was elected by a committee,” she said, smiling.
“Uncle Vernon has been burning my letters,” Harry told her. “I haven’t gotten any of them.”
“That horrible . . . blob!” she said indignantly. Harry laughed. “Well, how have you been? Are they feeding you?”
“Regularly,” Harry said, and chose not to mention that the regular interval was once a day.
Unfortunately, Hermione was rather intelligent. “How regularly?” she asked suspiciously.
“Uhh . . . daily. Every day.” Harry tried to change the subject before Hermione went off onto a rant. “How did you get Uncle Vernon to give me the phone?”
“Threatened to sue him. Or call the police. Or possibly both.”
Harry laughed again. “That’s why his face was the color of cheese when he came to get me. I had wondered if you’d threatened to change him into a beetle or something.”
“No, then I’d have to back it up,” Hermione said. “This just frightens them in the beginning.”
“Very bright of you,” Harry remarked.
“Thank you. Are they letting you out of your room?”
Harry cleared his throat. “Somewhat less regularly.”
“I see,” Hermione said.
“I’m fine, really,” Harry said immediately. “At least I don’t have to worry about Voldemort when I’m locked up in my cupboard.”
“When you’re what?” Hermione asked, her voice rising in an indignant squawk.
There was a pause. “Er,” Harry said.
“You did say cupboard, didn’t you?”
“Um, no,” Harry said. “I expect you heard me wrong.”
“I expect you to not lie,” Hermione said sharply.
“All right, cupboard.”
“They lock you in a cupboard?!”
“It’s a very roomy cupboard.”
“Then it wouldn’t be a cupboard, now would it.”
“Hermione, I’m fine. And you’re making my ear hurt.”
“Those people,” Hermione said. “In any case, don’t worry. They’ll get what they deserve.”
****
Harry sat bolt upright in bed very early the next morning. There was no light in the cupboard, so he could see absolutely nothing. There wasn’t even the usual thin strip of light underneath the cupboard door; it was too early for any of his relatives to be up.
He lay back slowly, breathing hard, and reached up to turn on his light. “Why did I dream about Malfoy?” he asked himself aloud. He had been getting strange dreams ever since Voldemort had risen, more so than usual. He couldn’t tell if they were prophetic, or simultaneous, or just plain strange.
He didn’t think that dreaming about Malfoy receiving the Dark Mark was too far off, though. He knew that the entire family was a line of dark wizards, and Draco seemed to be no exception. The lord only knew that his father might as well have been wearing a shirt that said ‘hello, I’m evil.’
There was just something about the dream that was bothering him. It wasn’t Malfoy clutching his arm in pain after his father and Voldemort had gone. No, that gave him a chuckle. It was the look on Malfoy’s face that was bothering him. If Harry hadn’t known better, he would have thought that Malfoy wasn’t altogether pleased to have become Voldemort’s servant.
But of course he knew better.
Didn’t he?
****
Chapter Three
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