May. 17th, 2012 08:35 pm
Fic: These Four Kings (Year Seven 10/18)
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fox_confessorTechnically this has been posted already but I had cut it in half, thinking I could live without the second part. Apparently I couldn't! So, here it is again. The Official Year Seven Part 10.
Title: These Four Kings (Year Seven 10/18)
Author: Dani (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
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Word count:
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Lily/James (in the future will be Remus/Sirius)
Timeline: December 25
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. I've not made nor seek any profit.
Year 1: one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven
Year 2: one/ two/ three/ four
Year 3: one/ two/three/four
Year 4 (coming in the future when work quits eating my brains! Sorry for the out-of-order-ness)
Year 5 one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven/ eight
Year 6 one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven/ eight/ nine
Summer one/ two
Year 7 one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven/ eight/ nine/ten/eleven/twelve/thirteen/fourteen/fifteen/sixteen/seventeen/eighteen
Leaving Hogwarts one/two/three/four (the end)
The last time Sirius had been sent to Professor Dumbledore's office, it'd been the worst day of his life. At least on that occasion, James had been at his side even if it hadn't alleviated his worry over Remus, who lay fighting for his life in the infirmary. Sirius' skin had still tingled after James' hurried Scourgify had rid him of the worst of the blood on his clothes before the moving staircase had carried them to the polished door and admittance into the office. Professor Dumbledore had offered them tea and quietly healed the cuts Sirius had made on his own hands, not asking any questions. It'd been a singular visit, comforting and unnerving at the same time. Dumbledore had merely commented on the very fine weather they'd been having, and inquired after James' mother and father--wondered about the next Quidditch season. Sirius had spent the quiet half-hour expecting to be expelled at any moment for using dark magic, and instead had gone away with his pockets stuffed full of candies and reassurances that Remus was strong and healthy, and likely to recover fully from his "accident."
James wasn't here this time, having gone home for the holidays, though reluctantly and only at his mother's insistence. She'd wanted all the boys to come stay with them in their rambling house in Godric's Hollow, but the full moon on Christmas night prevented Remus from traveling, and Sirius wouldn't leave Remus. In the end, James had gone home by himself but had sent loads of messages by his owl, Aether, including a rather cryptic one late last night (or early this morning, depending on how you looked at it) that said only, Pete and Lily are fine. More soon. --Prongs
Nothing more had come despite a rather insistent return owl of his own demanding an explanation. Instead, as he was returning to Gryffindor tower with a tray laden with food meant to tempt Remus' appetite, he'd been waylaid by Professor McGonagall, who had promised to deliver the tray herself as Sirius was wanted immediately by Professor Dumbledore. He'd protested but half-heartedly, and rather wickedly, actually, because he liked getting that tiny rise out of his favorite professor, though she'd only flicked her wand at the tray to take it out of his hands and then rather sternly pointed him down the hall.
Professor Dumbledore met Sirius at the bottom of the stairs, his face a grave mask of concern as he spoke quietly with Professor Sprout. He waved Sirius upstairs, urging Sirius to make himself at home while he finished up his conversation, and Sirius stepped onto the moving steps by himself. Alone, he did what he didn't have the mind for on his last visit: he paced about the large circular room to look at the rather spectacular view of the mountains, poked at Fawkes where he sat on his golden perch behind the door, and inspected a particularly curious decalhydralon that whirled on its base, emitting little puffs of smoke at regular intervals. He reached out a cautious finger to nudge one of the tiny silver bells that hung from its base when a drawling voice startled him.
"You were taught better manners than to touch what didn't belong to you."
Sirius straightened and turned toward the desk to find the owner of the strangely familiar voice, and scowled when he found it came from the portrait of his great-great-grandfather. "Wotcher Phineas Nigellus."
"Impertinent boy."
"You're looking rather dusty," Sirius said as he came closer to drag his finger along the bottom of Phineas Nigellus' intricately carved gold frame.
"As a matter of fact, my frame was polished just this morning," Phineas Nigelllus replied rather stiffly, tugging at the lace around his cuffs.
Sirius leaned closer, his head tipped to the side as he searched for and found the family resemblance--the same jet black hair, though Phineas Nigellus' was done up in rather elaborate curls that must have been old fashioned even when the portrait had been painted, and the same grey eyes. He supposed they had the same nose, too, though it wasn't a close resemblance. His grandfather looked more like Regulus, Sirius thought, with his weak chin and perpetually sour expression. "I don't suppose you've seen my brother this morning," he said, the thought of his Regulus suddenly reminding him of James' hastily scrawled morning owl.
"As a matter of fact, I have. I gave him a stern admonition for coming in so late and disturbing me in my frame. In my day--"
"Never mind that. I suppose he was a right swot and gave you a proper apology."
"Of course. Unlike--"
"And an explanation?" Sirius interrupted.
"I hardly required one once he showed his quality."
"Of course," Sirius mimicked Phineas Nigellus' tone, lifting his chin in dismissal. He laughed out loud as Phineas Nigellus blustered, the long black feather in his painted hat shuddering as he shook his head.
"You could stand to take some lessons from your brother, young man," Phineas Nigellus finally spluttered in his high, nasal voice. "So often your mother has lamented to me the deep shame of your betrayal--"
All the laughter fell from Sirius and he hunched his shoulders against the mention of his mother, jamming his hands deep into his pockets. "I don't want to talk about her."
"Of course you don't. You would much rather wallow in your own self-pity. I well remember the day you stormed from Grimmauld Place, the birthplace of your ancestors. You were in tears then--"
"Wasn't."
"You were a sniveling, cowardly mess, dragging your trunk behind you in the dark of night, stealing away like a thief." His grandfather sounded jovial at the memory but it made Sirius shake with rage as he remembered that summer--the long nights locked in his room, the pain of the punishments as his parents decided that he would submit to their will by reason or force, and then finally, when nothing else seemed to break him, the threats against who he considered to be his real family, James and Remus.
"I left," Sirius said, his voice raising as he took another step toward the painting, "because your grandson performed an unforgiveable curse upon me."
"Unforgiveable," Phineas Nigellus spat. "Namby-pamby Ministry talk. In my day it was called discipline. Children respected their elders. Now you've rended your family asunder for what? To connive with that traitorous Potter boy? And Merlin only knows what you get up to with the half--"
"Don't you dare say anything about Remus."
"Does it have a name? I had no idea one called such a--"
"That's enough, I believe, Phineas Nigellus."
Sirius jumped when Professor Dumbledore laid his hand on Sirius' shoulder, biting back his reply as his hand curled around the knife in his pocket. He'd never gotten along very well with the portraits of his ancestors, Phineas Nigullus in particular, but it made him feel stupid and gullible to be caught by the headmaster bickering with a painting.
"Oh, fine Albus. Nevermind me, but in my day I wouldn't have tolerated--"
"Yes, I know Phineas. Do rest yourself," Professor Dumbledore said gently as he steered Sirius to one of the high-backed chairs in front of his desk. "Come along and sit, my dear boy. Tea?"
Sirius watched as Professor Dumbledore arranged the tea tray that appeared quite suddenly on the edge of his desk, giving Sirius a few moments, he realized, to compose himself. He sat on his shaking hands, not quite trusting himself to speak yet, and wished harder still that James was by his side. When he looked up again, he found that Phineas Nigellus was quite asleep, the feather on his hat fluttering with each soft snore. "I'm sorry, Professor," Sirius whispered after he took a sip of tea.
"No need for apologies. He's actually rather fond of you, I think." Professor Dumbledore ignored Sirius' sharp look as he place a handful of biscuits onto a small plate and passed it along to Sirius. "Don't look so surprised. That portrait hasn't been quite as energetic in an age."
"Professor--"
"They are, after all, just paintings, Sirius. Nothing more than impressions. Now come, enjoy your tea and tell me how Remus gets on this morning."
Sirius cast another glance at the sleeping image of his ancestor before he sighed and took up his cup again. "He didn't sleep well last night, never does but then-- I had a strange owl from James, sir, before dawn..."
"Ah, yes, I had one as well, though less strange for me, I believe. What did your message say, if I might ask?"
"Only that Lily and Peter were safe. He didn't bother to say from what, though, and I haven't heard from him today at all. Do you know what he meant?"
"I do, and I'm afraid the news isn't good." Professor Dumbledore pushed away his cup and untouched plate of biscuits as he folded his hands on his desk. "There was an attack over night. Two of Hogwarts' students were injured. One--a boy named Jack Wentworth--was murdered."
"Jack? He was one of Remus' boys. He'll be devastated."
"I thought in this case, and James agrees with me, that it might be best if we waited to tell him until tomorrow."
Sirius folded his arms over his chest and gnawed on his lip. He hated the thought of Remus ever finding out, knowing too well the way Remus' shoulders would stiffen, his mouth flattening out as if bracing himself for a blow--and it would be. Remus was convinced that the only students he would ever be allowed to teach were these at Hogwarts, and he put all his efforts into doing it well. The children (as Sirius thought of them, mostly first and second year students who seemed so tiny to him now, smaller, he was sure, than he had ever been at that age) followed Remus about, demanding a lot of his time and attention, and he gave it freely, earning their respect and admiration. To lose one like this, Sirius knew, would hurt Remus deeply.
"I think you're right," he whispered, understanding now why there'd not been another owl from James. "You said it was an attack..."
"You've heard the name Voldemort?"
Sirius nodded once, sharply.
"You've heard the whispers, then, about what he means to do?"
"They're more than just whispers in my family. Do you know who was involved?"
"I know some of the names."
"Regulus?"
Professor Dumbledore sat back in his chair, his fingers tented beneath his chin as he regarded Sirius from beneath bushy gray eyebrows though his face gave away nothing. Finally, after a long silence, he sighed and waved his hand toward the teapot, which began to refill both their cups. "I'm not sure I can give you news about your brother. You may be in a better position--"
"I'm not. We haven't spoken in months, not really at all since I left home."
"Still, he's your brother--"
"James is my brother," Sirius said, cutting across Professor Dumbledore's words. He sat awkwardly in his chair for a moment, wanting rather desperately to be back in the common room with Remus. He almost laughed at the thought that he didn't need Divinations to know where this conversation was going. "There'll be others--Snape, Mulciber, Travers. They'll have been involved. Were more killed other than Jack?"
"Many more, 19 in all, and more injured."
"And they'll be allowed back in, the Slytherins."
"I don't know for sure if they were involved, Sirius. As long as there is no proof, then yes, they'll be allowed to come back to Hogwarts." Professor Dumbledore piled sugar into his cup, carefully stirring so as not to crash the spoon into the cup's delicate china edge. "If they're shown compassion, there may yet be a chance to change their course."
Sirius grunted out a harsh, humourless laugh, shifting in his chair again when Professor Dumbledore's eyebrows climbed. "It's too late for that," Sirius said. "Regulus has already been marked. Remus saw it on him last spring."
"It's never too late for someone to change if they wish it. Perhaps, if you spoke with Regulus...appealed to him as a brother."
"It's too late for that, as well."
"This is important, Sirius. In time, I'm afraid you'll come to just how important it will be. Jack wasn't the first to die, and he won't be the last. We have to take every chance we have to stop it, no matter how hopeless it may seem," Professor Dumbledore said as he leaned forward on his elbows. His half-moon glasses glinted in the light, and Sirius fidgeted in his chair, wishing once more that James--who always seemed to know what to say--were with him. He nodded rather reluctantly, and as soon as that battle was apparently won, Professor Dumbledore's mood changed and he began to ramble about the holidays and the feast that was yet to come. Sirius' thoughts were too occupied for him to answer with more than monosyllabic grunts to show he was listening, and he escaped as soon as his cup was empty once more.
Back in the Gryffindor common room, Sirius found Remus on one his favorite couch beneath a pile of blankets in front of the fire. He was asleep, his head pillowed on his hands, making a tiny whuffing sound that wasn't quite a snore, which Sirius had always found strangely endearing. Sirius sat on the floor to watch him, glad he didn't have to disturb him with the news that Professor Dumbledore had shared. He wished he could stop thinking about everything, too, but it was impossible.
When they'd been boys, Regulus had followed Sirius like a shadow, one that dissolved into smoke the moment Regulus had been sorted into Slytherin. Sirius felt as though Regulus had turned his back on Sirius and over the years, the gulf between them had deepened. Sirius couldn't imagine a conversation between them that wouldn't end in a duel, especially after what had happened to Remus when Remus had found the werewolf Fenrir with Regulus. Sirius pushed it firmly from his mind, knowing it wouldn't matter until after the holidays, especially since they both had enough to worry about with that night's full, the longest of the year. As if sensing his thoughts, Remus' eyes fluttered open.
"You're back," he said, his smile soft and sleepy until it was split in half by a wide yawn. When he spoke again, his voice was filled with accusations. "You made me have tea with Professor McGonagall."
"Minerva likes you. She practically begged me, and who am I to deny her the pleasure of your company, especially at Christmas."
"She made me drink a cup of broth and have a slice of dry toast with hardly any butter on it. And no jam," he added, as if that was the worst crime.
"Then I'm glad she came. I wouldn't have had better luck, with or without jam."
"She left me a book, too."
"You like books."
"She wants me to write an essay on it."
"I suspect you like writing essays, too."
Remus studied Sirius for a moment, his mouth pulled into a frown but his eyes were brighter than they usually were this close to the full. "You're being purposely obstinate."
"I was thinking the same about you."
"Where were you?" Remus demanded, reaching out to curl his hand into the soft fabric of Sirius' shirt.
Sirius let himself be tugged forward. "Professor Dumbledore wanted to see me."
"Then he found out you and James--"
"No, not yet at least. How did you find out? That was meant to be a surprise."
"Exploding toilets haven't been my idea of a surprise since third year."
"When you're well, you'll think it's a grand idea," Sirius said as he pushed Remus' overlong fringe from his eyes. "I'm cutting this when you're feeling better."
Remus tried to duck his head away from Sirius' appraising glance but manage only to push against his hand like a cat looking for attention. "Why did he want to see you?" He asked, clearly not willing to let Sirius distract him too much. "Did it have to do with James' owl last night?"
"I thought you were asleep."
"There was a draft when you opened the window and I saw it was Aether. I figured the two of you were plotting something. By the time you came back to bed, I was almost asleep again."
"Professor Dumbledore wanted to ask me about Regulus," Sirius said carefully, not willing to lie outright.
"Is he in trouble?"
"Maybe," Sirius said evasively as he turned so that his back was against the low couch and he no longer had to meet Remus' eyes. Remus snaked his arm out from beneath his covers and wrapped it around Sirius' shoulders, holding him awkwardly. Sirius tipped his head back to look at Remus. "Yeah, I think he is. He wants me to talk to him."
"Will you do it?"
Sirius shrugged. He still didn't believe it would do any good. "He buys into it, the importance of blood purity and the view of muggles as creatures rather than beings. More than that, mother believes the Blacks are practically royalty, that we have a divine right to rule. He probably thinks that if Voldemort--"
Remus flinched at the name, his blunt nails digging into the Sirius' shoulder. "Is it a person then. I thought maybe-- I don't know what I thought."
"Dumbledore thinks so. My parents have probably convinced Regulus that he'll be able to take over the world. The little fool always believed anything my parents told him." Sirius sighed and closed his eyes for a few minutes, blindly closing his hand around Remus' thin wrist. He rubbed his cheek against the soft, nubby wool of the old cardigan Remus wore, knowing that it'd been Remus' father's, already threadbare when he'd began wearing it a few years ago. It smelled like Remus now, warm and comforting, a world away from the sort of trouble Regulus brought.
After a few minutes listening to the fire pop and crackle, Sirius turned to lean on his elbows over Remus. He forced a smile, the conversation over. "Will you eat another slice of toast if I spread it with jam?"
"Maybe later."
"You look tired."
"I am."
"Sleep then. Budge up." Sirius crawled onto the couch next to him, pealing back the blankets to join Remus in his warm cocoon. Once he was settled, he wrapped his arms around Remus, tucking him in tight against Sirius’ chest so that they both fit on the couch.
It wasn't long before he felt Remus relax in his arms, the soft whuffing sound sending warm breathes against his neck. It was harder to push away the thoughts of his brother and the trouble he'd found but Sirius was determined, at least for tonight, to find whatever peace he could. As Remus sighed, his hands seeking the warmth of Sirius' skin beneath his shirt, Sirius settled, closing his eyes and chasing after whatever dreams they could find together.
***
The infirmary was deserted when Sirius helped Remus through the door and onto a bed. He could hear Madame Pomfrey in one of the storerooms at the back but there were no students to worry about, which was a relief. Remus curled onto his side, nursing his arm as he lay shivering while Sirius began to work on untying his boot laces. The steady rain of yesterday evening had turned to ice sometime in the night and they'd slipped into an icy puddle more than once on their way up the steep hill to the castle. Sirius had considered keeping Remus in the shack until the day had warmed up a bit, but knew that Madame Pomfrey would come looking for them and didn't want her to figure out that Sirius hadn't spent the night in his own warm bed.
"Your wand," Remus bit out around his chattering teeth, and Sirius grunted as the lace in his hand finally came free of its knot and he pulled the boot off.
"My hands are shaking," he said as an afterthought when he dropped Remus' other boot onto the floor to join the first. "I didn't want to end up taking off your entire foot."
"Pomfrey would've reattached it." Remus was clawing at the blankets, trying to pull them up over his chin but Sirius yanked them back down.
"Get undressed first. You'll be warmer when you're not wet."
"I wouldn't be wet if you hadn't let me fall."
"Sorry," he whispered but didn't sound too apologetic. Remus was always a bit tetchy the morning after, the ache gone from his bones after the transformation only to be replaced by whatever pain he had inflicted on himself. Luckily, he was only a bit beat up, Sirius noted as he tugged Remus' wet robes off and dumped them in a sodden mess on the floor. The wolf and the dog had had to stay inside rather than roam the forest as they usually could with Prongs and Wormtail as he'd promised James before the holidays. They'd still spent the night playing, the wolf taking great pleasure in wrestling with Padfoot as they tumbled about, knocking dents into the already dilapidated furniture and walls.
Once Remus was naked and curled up beneath the blankets, Sirius sat next to him on the bed and ran his hands through his hair. It'd been a long night but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed it. That always made him feel a little guilty but reasoned that it didn't mean he liked the reason he was there--didn't like that Remus was forced into painful transformations each month. He could almost hear one of Mrs. Potter's homilies about making the best of things and gave a flat grin as he rubbed his knuckles into his tired eyes.
"You could go back to the room if you want," Remus whispered, his eyes already closed. "Poppy will take care of me."
"I'm not leaving." Sirius raised his head in time to see the smile that crossed Remus' face, to see a quiet peace settle into the lines around his eyes.
"And how is he, Mr. Black?"
Sirius jumped at the sound of Madame Pomfrey's voice so close to the bed. He'd almost forgot that the matron was there, which was a bit stupid really but he blamed it on how easily distracted he became by Remus, especially when Remus needed him. Sirius sat up, swiping his hand over Remus' forehead as he'd seen Madame Pomfrey do a hundred times. Remus felt cool and dry, which Sirius took as a good sign, and then peeled back the blanket so that Madame Pomfrey could see the bruise on Remus' shoulder and the long cut along his bicep. "He's all right, I think. Mostly, at least. Just this and then another on his back. I put a towel on it to stop the bleeding."
"Good. Do you remember the spell I taught you?"
Sirius nodded and gently took ahold of Remus' arm, straightening it out. Remus opened his eyes to watch, and Sirius wished he hadn't. He hadn't told Remus he'd come to Madame Pomfrey for lessons in healing--he hadn't told anyone, not even James. He hadn't been sure he'd be any good at it.
"I'm worried I'll hurt him," he mumbled as he held his wand poised over Remus’ wound, watching as a thin line of blood trickled from the cut.
"He's already hurt, Mr. Black. You're helping him."
Sirius nodded, silently testing the words of the spell before he spoke them aloud. When he did, it made Remus bleed harder and he felt panic well up in his chest. He was surprised when it was Remus who grabbed Sirius’ arm to help calm him. "It's okay, Sirius," he said, raising up a bit until Madame Pomfrey pushed him back down into the pile of pillows.
"Apply gentle pressure," she said calmly. "These are magical wounds, Mr. Black. They're resistant to treatment. Try again."
Sirius spoke the spell again. This time the bleeding slowed, then stopped, and Madame Pomfrey showed Sirius how to bind the wounds in long, thin strips of bandages. They then rolled Remus over onto his stomach, prodding at the wound on Remus' back, discovering it wasn't magical but caused by a splinter. Sirius remembered suddenly and vividly when Remus got it when they'd crashed into a chair that had literally been on its last leg.
"Make sure there's no wood left behind before you use a healing charm," she warned, as she showed his how to tell. "You risk infection. Sometimes it's best to let it heal on its own."
"Leaves more ugly scars then," Remus said. He huffed when Sirius dragged his fingertips over two of the most prominent scars along his scapula. "You wouldn't like them so much if they were on you."
"They're part of you," Sirius said, distracted as he whispered the words of the charm, watching Remus' skin carefully. When he was finished, he spoke the healing charm, relieved when Madame Pomfrey nodded and rose with the tray of bandages to take them back to the storeroom.
"Part of who you are," Sirius said, his thoughts still on Remus' scars.
"What?" Remus asked as he rolled onto his back with Sirius' help, settling down into the bed as Sirius tucked the blankets back around him.
"Your scars. That's why I like them. They're part of who you are." Sirius held his hand up and spread his fingers wide so that Remus could see the scar that marred his palm.
"That's from you being noble. Mine are--" Remus stopped, rubbed his thumb over the mark, unwilling to go on, Sirius could tell by the set of his mouth.
Remus' hand was still cold and Sirius took it between his own, chaffing it gently. "I think you're the bravest person I know, Moony."
"It hardly takes a special talent to be bit and transform once a month."
"You survived. Survive," Sirius corrected himself. "And you manage to still be the best--"
"Don't go soft on me," Remus teased but his voice was suddenly deeper, a bit ragged. He tugged his hand away as if annoyed but Sirius could tell Remus was pleased by the way the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks glowed pink in the winter light filtering in through the windows. Sirius grinned, leaning in to whisper something else--anything that would keep that look in Remus' eyes.
Behind him, Madame Pomfrey coughed politely, warning them both of her presence and Sirius jerked back up straight while Remus' blush deepened. She ignored them both, and Sirius wondered if she had noticed anything, reasoning that really there had been nothing to notice. She rushed into to fill the silence, though, quizzing Sirius on the various potions she'd brought back and nodding encouragement as he picked up and identified bottle after bottle, telling what each did. Finally, he held up the last, a small blue vial. "Valerian Sedativus. A sedative. It'll help him sleep without dreams so he can truly rest and heal."
"Two drops, I think, into his tea. Usually I'd say three so he could sleep through tomorrow morning but he doesn't seem too upset today."
"I'm fine without it," Remus protested.
"He always says that." Madame Pomfrey poured out a fresh cup of tea and watched as Sirius carefully put two drops from the vial and stirred it gently with the spoon. "Don't let your patient dictate treatment, particularly this one. Help him to sit up. There we go."
Sirius held the cup to Remus' lips, waiting until he had finished it all before he settled Remus back against the pillows. Madame Pomfrey had already bustled off with her tray of medicines, leaving them alone once more, but it wasn't too long before Remus' eyes fluttered close and he drifted off to sleep.
***
It was hours later when Sirius woke up. The shadows in the room, and more than that--his growling stomach told him it was late afternoon. He'd fallen asleep slumped in the chair pulled up next to Remus' bed in the infirmary and woke, his eyes still closed, to the feeling of Remus' fingers tugging through his hair, his blunt nails gently massaging Sirius' scalp. He felt like thumping his leg, like Padfoot would have done, and nearly said so to Remus when he realized they weren't alone.
"How are you feeling, Mr. Lupin?" Professor McGongall asked, her accent thick in the quiet of the room.
"Tired but all right. Better than I usually do after."
Sirius forced himself to sit up and scrubbed at his face, at what felt like a week's worth of stubble. Professor McGonagall sat across from him in her green tartan robes. She watched him come awake and he squirmed beneath her watchful eye. It didn't stop him from straightening Remus' blankets and checking that the cut on his arm was healing.
"Madame Pomfrey said that you did well, Sirius. She agreed to take you on this next term, if that was still your wish."
"Yes, ma'am," Sirius answered, avoiding Remus' eyes.
"You asked?"
"Professor McGonagall suggested it."
"If Mr. Black wishes to be an auror, then healer training may come in handy."
"James, too?" Remus asked.
Professor McGonagall traded looks with Sirius, and Sirius knew that Remus could tell that the auror training was just an excuse. Once they left Hogwarts, someone would need to be able to take care of Remus after the transfigurations, and the hospital would not always be an option. Sirius didn't say it out loud, though. He knew that Remus must know, but he wouldn't like it.
"I can sit with Mr. Lupin for a bit, Sirius, if you'd like to go back to Gryffindor Tower for some sleep."
"I'm all right. I can wait until Remus can go back with me."
"Then perhaps a change of clothes?" Professor McGonagall suggested, and Sirius was about to decline again when Remus shook his head. "For me, Sirius," he said, pointing down to the pile of wet clothes still laying by the bed.
Sirius got up then, and left them alone in the infirmary. He tried not to think too hard that Professor McGonagall looked as though she wanted to talk to Remus alone. Part of him wanted to tell Remus about Jack himself, later--tomorrow, maybe, or the next day--and part of him was relieved that perhaps Professor McGonagall meant to do it herself. Professor Dumbledore hadn't said when they would tell Remus, only that it would be later, when Remus was well.
Sirius shook his head, unwilling to think of it at all right now. When he did, it felt like something a ball of hot lead had dropped into his stomach, and he couldn't bear it. He would never say it out loud, but he was fond of Remus' students, too, most of them. He couldn't help it when he saw in their faces their utter devotion to Remus. Peter said it was mostly because a seventh year deigned to talk to them but Sirius knew it was more than that.
Back in their room, Sirius gathered clean clothes for Remus--his favorite jeans, and old t shirt of James', and the ridiculously tattered jumper that Remus was so fond of, and dumped them onto the end of his bed. He stripped off his own clothes, jumping into and out of the shower in record time, and dressing again before he noticed Aether pecking at the window. He retrieved James' note, muttering finally as he unfolded it to find that James only asked about Remus. Sirius scowled at the bit of parchment, wanting more--wanting James there, if he was honest--and jammed the note into his pocket.
Sirius ran back to the infirmary, ignoring for the moment that he was still hungry--he was sure that he could talk Madame Pomfrey into dinner for them all--and checked his watch as he rounded the corner. He'd only been gone for about thirty minutes, and thought it likely that Remus would be asleep again. He opened the door quietly, not wanting to disturb him if he was, and stopped short when he heard Professor McGonagall's voice.
"Will you share your plans with Mr. Black and Mr. Potter?"
"Eventually," Remus answered quietly--hesitantly. "I don't want to ruin our last year."
"It's a very lonely road you're setting yourself upon."
"I know, but it's for the best," Remus said. "He--they might not understand."
"I understand, Remus." Professor McGonagall sounded sad, to Sirius' ears, and he hugged the bundle of clothes to his chest. "I would encourage you to confide in them sooner rather than later. Mr. Black strikes me as someone who doesn't countenance secrets very well."
"No, he doesn't," Remus answered, but there was affection rather than annoyance in his voice.
"Then I'll say nothing, Mr. Lupin, and trust you to do it in your own time."
Sirius stood still for a moment, waiting to see if they said anything else, but nothing more was coming. After another minute, he backtracked to the door, coming back in making enough noise this time to earn him an admonition from Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall both.
He dropped the pile of clothes at the end of the bed and looked at Remus, trying to see what was different. He knew if he demanded it, Remus would tell him what he'd been talking about, but for once Sirius held his tongue. He waited until they were alone to pull out James' letter and read it to Remus. They answered it as they ate the sandwiches that Madame Pomfrey left for them, Sirius scratching out only half of what he wanted to say and adding Remus' comments as he did it. Once he'd sent the letter off and cleared off the trays, he sat back at Remus' side, quiet, his thoughts filled with what he had heard Professor McGonagall say.
"Penny for your thoughts," Remus asked after a while, and Sirius didn't even bother Remus to remind him what a penny was. "Are you all right?"
"Just tired."
"Come here, then." Remus carefully moved over on the bed, lifting the covers.
Sirius followed the line of Remus' body beneath the sheets with his eyes, stopping when he reached the flat planes of Remus' stomach. "There's not enough room," he said, not pointing out the fact that Remus was naked because he really, really didn't mind.
"Says the man with no sense of personal space. C'mon. I'm tired, too, but I'll sleep better if I don't think you'll be staring at me all night to make sure I'm still breathing."
"I don't do that. Often."
"Just lay down."
Sirius crawled onto the bed, curling in the space behind Remus as Remus turned onto his side. He thought again of what he'd heard Remus and Professor McGonagall say, worried suddenly that perhaps Remus meant to go off by himself after they left Hogwarts, leaving Sirius. He thought about that--losing Remus, or even just not being able to see him everyday, not being able to touch him when he wanted or not being able to talk to him. Sirius slipped his arm around Remus' waist, listening to his slow, even breathes as he slept, and tugged him closer. He sighed when Remus turned, tucking himself against Sirius' body, and Sirius held him as tightly as he dared, not sleeping for a long time.
continued
Title: These Four Kings (Year Seven 10/18)
Author: Dani (
escribo)Word count:
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Lily/James (in the future will be Remus/Sirius)
Timeline: December 25
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. I've not made nor seek any profit.
Year 1: one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven
Year 2: one/ two/ three/ four
Year 3: one/ two/three/four
Year 4 (coming in the future when work quits eating my brains! Sorry for the out-of-order-ness)
Year 5 one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven/ eight
Year 6 one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven/ eight/ nine
Summer one/ two
Year 7 one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven/ eight/ nine/ten/eleven/twelve/thirteen/fourteen/fifteen/sixteen/seventeen/eighteen
Leaving Hogwarts one/two/three/four (the end)
The last time Sirius had been sent to Professor Dumbledore's office, it'd been the worst day of his life. At least on that occasion, James had been at his side even if it hadn't alleviated his worry over Remus, who lay fighting for his life in the infirmary. Sirius' skin had still tingled after James' hurried Scourgify had rid him of the worst of the blood on his clothes before the moving staircase had carried them to the polished door and admittance into the office. Professor Dumbledore had offered them tea and quietly healed the cuts Sirius had made on his own hands, not asking any questions. It'd been a singular visit, comforting and unnerving at the same time. Dumbledore had merely commented on the very fine weather they'd been having, and inquired after James' mother and father--wondered about the next Quidditch season. Sirius had spent the quiet half-hour expecting to be expelled at any moment for using dark magic, and instead had gone away with his pockets stuffed full of candies and reassurances that Remus was strong and healthy, and likely to recover fully from his "accident."
James wasn't here this time, having gone home for the holidays, though reluctantly and only at his mother's insistence. She'd wanted all the boys to come stay with them in their rambling house in Godric's Hollow, but the full moon on Christmas night prevented Remus from traveling, and Sirius wouldn't leave Remus. In the end, James had gone home by himself but had sent loads of messages by his owl, Aether, including a rather cryptic one late last night (or early this morning, depending on how you looked at it) that said only, Pete and Lily are fine. More soon. --Prongs
Nothing more had come despite a rather insistent return owl of his own demanding an explanation. Instead, as he was returning to Gryffindor tower with a tray laden with food meant to tempt Remus' appetite, he'd been waylaid by Professor McGonagall, who had promised to deliver the tray herself as Sirius was wanted immediately by Professor Dumbledore. He'd protested but half-heartedly, and rather wickedly, actually, because he liked getting that tiny rise out of his favorite professor, though she'd only flicked her wand at the tray to take it out of his hands and then rather sternly pointed him down the hall.
Professor Dumbledore met Sirius at the bottom of the stairs, his face a grave mask of concern as he spoke quietly with Professor Sprout. He waved Sirius upstairs, urging Sirius to make himself at home while he finished up his conversation, and Sirius stepped onto the moving steps by himself. Alone, he did what he didn't have the mind for on his last visit: he paced about the large circular room to look at the rather spectacular view of the mountains, poked at Fawkes where he sat on his golden perch behind the door, and inspected a particularly curious decalhydralon that whirled on its base, emitting little puffs of smoke at regular intervals. He reached out a cautious finger to nudge one of the tiny silver bells that hung from its base when a drawling voice startled him.
"You were taught better manners than to touch what didn't belong to you."
Sirius straightened and turned toward the desk to find the owner of the strangely familiar voice, and scowled when he found it came from the portrait of his great-great-grandfather. "Wotcher Phineas Nigellus."
"Impertinent boy."
"You're looking rather dusty," Sirius said as he came closer to drag his finger along the bottom of Phineas Nigellus' intricately carved gold frame.
"As a matter of fact, my frame was polished just this morning," Phineas Nigelllus replied rather stiffly, tugging at the lace around his cuffs.
Sirius leaned closer, his head tipped to the side as he searched for and found the family resemblance--the same jet black hair, though Phineas Nigellus' was done up in rather elaborate curls that must have been old fashioned even when the portrait had been painted, and the same grey eyes. He supposed they had the same nose, too, though it wasn't a close resemblance. His grandfather looked more like Regulus, Sirius thought, with his weak chin and perpetually sour expression. "I don't suppose you've seen my brother this morning," he said, the thought of his Regulus suddenly reminding him of James' hastily scrawled morning owl.
"As a matter of fact, I have. I gave him a stern admonition for coming in so late and disturbing me in my frame. In my day--"
"Never mind that. I suppose he was a right swot and gave you a proper apology."
"Of course. Unlike--"
"And an explanation?" Sirius interrupted.
"I hardly required one once he showed his quality."
"Of course," Sirius mimicked Phineas Nigellus' tone, lifting his chin in dismissal. He laughed out loud as Phineas Nigellus blustered, the long black feather in his painted hat shuddering as he shook his head.
"You could stand to take some lessons from your brother, young man," Phineas Nigellus finally spluttered in his high, nasal voice. "So often your mother has lamented to me the deep shame of your betrayal--"
All the laughter fell from Sirius and he hunched his shoulders against the mention of his mother, jamming his hands deep into his pockets. "I don't want to talk about her."
"Of course you don't. You would much rather wallow in your own self-pity. I well remember the day you stormed from Grimmauld Place, the birthplace of your ancestors. You were in tears then--"
"Wasn't."
"You were a sniveling, cowardly mess, dragging your trunk behind you in the dark of night, stealing away like a thief." His grandfather sounded jovial at the memory but it made Sirius shake with rage as he remembered that summer--the long nights locked in his room, the pain of the punishments as his parents decided that he would submit to their will by reason or force, and then finally, when nothing else seemed to break him, the threats against who he considered to be his real family, James and Remus.
"I left," Sirius said, his voice raising as he took another step toward the painting, "because your grandson performed an unforgiveable curse upon me."
"Unforgiveable," Phineas Nigellus spat. "Namby-pamby Ministry talk. In my day it was called discipline. Children respected their elders. Now you've rended your family asunder for what? To connive with that traitorous Potter boy? And Merlin only knows what you get up to with the half--"
"Don't you dare say anything about Remus."
"Does it have a name? I had no idea one called such a--"
"That's enough, I believe, Phineas Nigellus."
Sirius jumped when Professor Dumbledore laid his hand on Sirius' shoulder, biting back his reply as his hand curled around the knife in his pocket. He'd never gotten along very well with the portraits of his ancestors, Phineas Nigullus in particular, but it made him feel stupid and gullible to be caught by the headmaster bickering with a painting.
"Oh, fine Albus. Nevermind me, but in my day I wouldn't have tolerated--"
"Yes, I know Phineas. Do rest yourself," Professor Dumbledore said gently as he steered Sirius to one of the high-backed chairs in front of his desk. "Come along and sit, my dear boy. Tea?"
Sirius watched as Professor Dumbledore arranged the tea tray that appeared quite suddenly on the edge of his desk, giving Sirius a few moments, he realized, to compose himself. He sat on his shaking hands, not quite trusting himself to speak yet, and wished harder still that James was by his side. When he looked up again, he found that Phineas Nigellus was quite asleep, the feather on his hat fluttering with each soft snore. "I'm sorry, Professor," Sirius whispered after he took a sip of tea.
"No need for apologies. He's actually rather fond of you, I think." Professor Dumbledore ignored Sirius' sharp look as he place a handful of biscuits onto a small plate and passed it along to Sirius. "Don't look so surprised. That portrait hasn't been quite as energetic in an age."
"Professor--"
"They are, after all, just paintings, Sirius. Nothing more than impressions. Now come, enjoy your tea and tell me how Remus gets on this morning."
Sirius cast another glance at the sleeping image of his ancestor before he sighed and took up his cup again. "He didn't sleep well last night, never does but then-- I had a strange owl from James, sir, before dawn..."
"Ah, yes, I had one as well, though less strange for me, I believe. What did your message say, if I might ask?"
"Only that Lily and Peter were safe. He didn't bother to say from what, though, and I haven't heard from him today at all. Do you know what he meant?"
"I do, and I'm afraid the news isn't good." Professor Dumbledore pushed away his cup and untouched plate of biscuits as he folded his hands on his desk. "There was an attack over night. Two of Hogwarts' students were injured. One--a boy named Jack Wentworth--was murdered."
"Jack? He was one of Remus' boys. He'll be devastated."
"I thought in this case, and James agrees with me, that it might be best if we waited to tell him until tomorrow."
Sirius folded his arms over his chest and gnawed on his lip. He hated the thought of Remus ever finding out, knowing too well the way Remus' shoulders would stiffen, his mouth flattening out as if bracing himself for a blow--and it would be. Remus was convinced that the only students he would ever be allowed to teach were these at Hogwarts, and he put all his efforts into doing it well. The children (as Sirius thought of them, mostly first and second year students who seemed so tiny to him now, smaller, he was sure, than he had ever been at that age) followed Remus about, demanding a lot of his time and attention, and he gave it freely, earning their respect and admiration. To lose one like this, Sirius knew, would hurt Remus deeply.
"I think you're right," he whispered, understanding now why there'd not been another owl from James. "You said it was an attack..."
"You've heard the name Voldemort?"
Sirius nodded once, sharply.
"You've heard the whispers, then, about what he means to do?"
"They're more than just whispers in my family. Do you know who was involved?"
"I know some of the names."
"Regulus?"
Professor Dumbledore sat back in his chair, his fingers tented beneath his chin as he regarded Sirius from beneath bushy gray eyebrows though his face gave away nothing. Finally, after a long silence, he sighed and waved his hand toward the teapot, which began to refill both their cups. "I'm not sure I can give you news about your brother. You may be in a better position--"
"I'm not. We haven't spoken in months, not really at all since I left home."
"Still, he's your brother--"
"James is my brother," Sirius said, cutting across Professor Dumbledore's words. He sat awkwardly in his chair for a moment, wanting rather desperately to be back in the common room with Remus. He almost laughed at the thought that he didn't need Divinations to know where this conversation was going. "There'll be others--Snape, Mulciber, Travers. They'll have been involved. Were more killed other than Jack?"
"Many more, 19 in all, and more injured."
"And they'll be allowed back in, the Slytherins."
"I don't know for sure if they were involved, Sirius. As long as there is no proof, then yes, they'll be allowed to come back to Hogwarts." Professor Dumbledore piled sugar into his cup, carefully stirring so as not to crash the spoon into the cup's delicate china edge. "If they're shown compassion, there may yet be a chance to change their course."
Sirius grunted out a harsh, humourless laugh, shifting in his chair again when Professor Dumbledore's eyebrows climbed. "It's too late for that," Sirius said. "Regulus has already been marked. Remus saw it on him last spring."
"It's never too late for someone to change if they wish it. Perhaps, if you spoke with Regulus...appealed to him as a brother."
"It's too late for that, as well."
"This is important, Sirius. In time, I'm afraid you'll come to just how important it will be. Jack wasn't the first to die, and he won't be the last. We have to take every chance we have to stop it, no matter how hopeless it may seem," Professor Dumbledore said as he leaned forward on his elbows. His half-moon glasses glinted in the light, and Sirius fidgeted in his chair, wishing once more that James--who always seemed to know what to say--were with him. He nodded rather reluctantly, and as soon as that battle was apparently won, Professor Dumbledore's mood changed and he began to ramble about the holidays and the feast that was yet to come. Sirius' thoughts were too occupied for him to answer with more than monosyllabic grunts to show he was listening, and he escaped as soon as his cup was empty once more.
Back in the Gryffindor common room, Sirius found Remus on one his favorite couch beneath a pile of blankets in front of the fire. He was asleep, his head pillowed on his hands, making a tiny whuffing sound that wasn't quite a snore, which Sirius had always found strangely endearing. Sirius sat on the floor to watch him, glad he didn't have to disturb him with the news that Professor Dumbledore had shared. He wished he could stop thinking about everything, too, but it was impossible.
When they'd been boys, Regulus had followed Sirius like a shadow, one that dissolved into smoke the moment Regulus had been sorted into Slytherin. Sirius felt as though Regulus had turned his back on Sirius and over the years, the gulf between them had deepened. Sirius couldn't imagine a conversation between them that wouldn't end in a duel, especially after what had happened to Remus when Remus had found the werewolf Fenrir with Regulus. Sirius pushed it firmly from his mind, knowing it wouldn't matter until after the holidays, especially since they both had enough to worry about with that night's full, the longest of the year. As if sensing his thoughts, Remus' eyes fluttered open.
"You're back," he said, his smile soft and sleepy until it was split in half by a wide yawn. When he spoke again, his voice was filled with accusations. "You made me have tea with Professor McGonagall."
"Minerva likes you. She practically begged me, and who am I to deny her the pleasure of your company, especially at Christmas."
"She made me drink a cup of broth and have a slice of dry toast with hardly any butter on it. And no jam," he added, as if that was the worst crime.
"Then I'm glad she came. I wouldn't have had better luck, with or without jam."
"She left me a book, too."
"You like books."
"She wants me to write an essay on it."
"I suspect you like writing essays, too."
Remus studied Sirius for a moment, his mouth pulled into a frown but his eyes were brighter than they usually were this close to the full. "You're being purposely obstinate."
"I was thinking the same about you."
"Where were you?" Remus demanded, reaching out to curl his hand into the soft fabric of Sirius' shirt.
Sirius let himself be tugged forward. "Professor Dumbledore wanted to see me."
"Then he found out you and James--"
"No, not yet at least. How did you find out? That was meant to be a surprise."
"Exploding toilets haven't been my idea of a surprise since third year."
"When you're well, you'll think it's a grand idea," Sirius said as he pushed Remus' overlong fringe from his eyes. "I'm cutting this when you're feeling better."
Remus tried to duck his head away from Sirius' appraising glance but manage only to push against his hand like a cat looking for attention. "Why did he want to see you?" He asked, clearly not willing to let Sirius distract him too much. "Did it have to do with James' owl last night?"
"I thought you were asleep."
"There was a draft when you opened the window and I saw it was Aether. I figured the two of you were plotting something. By the time you came back to bed, I was almost asleep again."
"Professor Dumbledore wanted to ask me about Regulus," Sirius said carefully, not willing to lie outright.
"Is he in trouble?"
"Maybe," Sirius said evasively as he turned so that his back was against the low couch and he no longer had to meet Remus' eyes. Remus snaked his arm out from beneath his covers and wrapped it around Sirius' shoulders, holding him awkwardly. Sirius tipped his head back to look at Remus. "Yeah, I think he is. He wants me to talk to him."
"Will you do it?"
Sirius shrugged. He still didn't believe it would do any good. "He buys into it, the importance of blood purity and the view of muggles as creatures rather than beings. More than that, mother believes the Blacks are practically royalty, that we have a divine right to rule. He probably thinks that if Voldemort--"
Remus flinched at the name, his blunt nails digging into the Sirius' shoulder. "Is it a person then. I thought maybe-- I don't know what I thought."
"Dumbledore thinks so. My parents have probably convinced Regulus that he'll be able to take over the world. The little fool always believed anything my parents told him." Sirius sighed and closed his eyes for a few minutes, blindly closing his hand around Remus' thin wrist. He rubbed his cheek against the soft, nubby wool of the old cardigan Remus wore, knowing that it'd been Remus' father's, already threadbare when he'd began wearing it a few years ago. It smelled like Remus now, warm and comforting, a world away from the sort of trouble Regulus brought.
After a few minutes listening to the fire pop and crackle, Sirius turned to lean on his elbows over Remus. He forced a smile, the conversation over. "Will you eat another slice of toast if I spread it with jam?"
"Maybe later."
"You look tired."
"I am."
"Sleep then. Budge up." Sirius crawled onto the couch next to him, pealing back the blankets to join Remus in his warm cocoon. Once he was settled, he wrapped his arms around Remus, tucking him in tight against Sirius’ chest so that they both fit on the couch.
It wasn't long before he felt Remus relax in his arms, the soft whuffing sound sending warm breathes against his neck. It was harder to push away the thoughts of his brother and the trouble he'd found but Sirius was determined, at least for tonight, to find whatever peace he could. As Remus sighed, his hands seeking the warmth of Sirius' skin beneath his shirt, Sirius settled, closing his eyes and chasing after whatever dreams they could find together.
The infirmary was deserted when Sirius helped Remus through the door and onto a bed. He could hear Madame Pomfrey in one of the storerooms at the back but there were no students to worry about, which was a relief. Remus curled onto his side, nursing his arm as he lay shivering while Sirius began to work on untying his boot laces. The steady rain of yesterday evening had turned to ice sometime in the night and they'd slipped into an icy puddle more than once on their way up the steep hill to the castle. Sirius had considered keeping Remus in the shack until the day had warmed up a bit, but knew that Madame Pomfrey would come looking for them and didn't want her to figure out that Sirius hadn't spent the night in his own warm bed.
"Your wand," Remus bit out around his chattering teeth, and Sirius grunted as the lace in his hand finally came free of its knot and he pulled the boot off.
"My hands are shaking," he said as an afterthought when he dropped Remus' other boot onto the floor to join the first. "I didn't want to end up taking off your entire foot."
"Pomfrey would've reattached it." Remus was clawing at the blankets, trying to pull them up over his chin but Sirius yanked them back down.
"Get undressed first. You'll be warmer when you're not wet."
"I wouldn't be wet if you hadn't let me fall."
"Sorry," he whispered but didn't sound too apologetic. Remus was always a bit tetchy the morning after, the ache gone from his bones after the transformation only to be replaced by whatever pain he had inflicted on himself. Luckily, he was only a bit beat up, Sirius noted as he tugged Remus' wet robes off and dumped them in a sodden mess on the floor. The wolf and the dog had had to stay inside rather than roam the forest as they usually could with Prongs and Wormtail as he'd promised James before the holidays. They'd still spent the night playing, the wolf taking great pleasure in wrestling with Padfoot as they tumbled about, knocking dents into the already dilapidated furniture and walls.
Once Remus was naked and curled up beneath the blankets, Sirius sat next to him on the bed and ran his hands through his hair. It'd been a long night but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed it. That always made him feel a little guilty but reasoned that it didn't mean he liked the reason he was there--didn't like that Remus was forced into painful transformations each month. He could almost hear one of Mrs. Potter's homilies about making the best of things and gave a flat grin as he rubbed his knuckles into his tired eyes.
"You could go back to the room if you want," Remus whispered, his eyes already closed. "Poppy will take care of me."
"I'm not leaving." Sirius raised his head in time to see the smile that crossed Remus' face, to see a quiet peace settle into the lines around his eyes.
"And how is he, Mr. Black?"
Sirius jumped at the sound of Madame Pomfrey's voice so close to the bed. He'd almost forgot that the matron was there, which was a bit stupid really but he blamed it on how easily distracted he became by Remus, especially when Remus needed him. Sirius sat up, swiping his hand over Remus' forehead as he'd seen Madame Pomfrey do a hundred times. Remus felt cool and dry, which Sirius took as a good sign, and then peeled back the blanket so that Madame Pomfrey could see the bruise on Remus' shoulder and the long cut along his bicep. "He's all right, I think. Mostly, at least. Just this and then another on his back. I put a towel on it to stop the bleeding."
"Good. Do you remember the spell I taught you?"
Sirius nodded and gently took ahold of Remus' arm, straightening it out. Remus opened his eyes to watch, and Sirius wished he hadn't. He hadn't told Remus he'd come to Madame Pomfrey for lessons in healing--he hadn't told anyone, not even James. He hadn't been sure he'd be any good at it.
"I'm worried I'll hurt him," he mumbled as he held his wand poised over Remus’ wound, watching as a thin line of blood trickled from the cut.
"He's already hurt, Mr. Black. You're helping him."
Sirius nodded, silently testing the words of the spell before he spoke them aloud. When he did, it made Remus bleed harder and he felt panic well up in his chest. He was surprised when it was Remus who grabbed Sirius’ arm to help calm him. "It's okay, Sirius," he said, raising up a bit until Madame Pomfrey pushed him back down into the pile of pillows.
"Apply gentle pressure," she said calmly. "These are magical wounds, Mr. Black. They're resistant to treatment. Try again."
Sirius spoke the spell again. This time the bleeding slowed, then stopped, and Madame Pomfrey showed Sirius how to bind the wounds in long, thin strips of bandages. They then rolled Remus over onto his stomach, prodding at the wound on Remus' back, discovering it wasn't magical but caused by a splinter. Sirius remembered suddenly and vividly when Remus got it when they'd crashed into a chair that had literally been on its last leg.
"Make sure there's no wood left behind before you use a healing charm," she warned, as she showed his how to tell. "You risk infection. Sometimes it's best to let it heal on its own."
"Leaves more ugly scars then," Remus said. He huffed when Sirius dragged his fingertips over two of the most prominent scars along his scapula. "You wouldn't like them so much if they were on you."
"They're part of you," Sirius said, distracted as he whispered the words of the charm, watching Remus' skin carefully. When he was finished, he spoke the healing charm, relieved when Madame Pomfrey nodded and rose with the tray of bandages to take them back to the storeroom.
"Part of who you are," Sirius said, his thoughts still on Remus' scars.
"What?" Remus asked as he rolled onto his back with Sirius' help, settling down into the bed as Sirius tucked the blankets back around him.
"Your scars. That's why I like them. They're part of who you are." Sirius held his hand up and spread his fingers wide so that Remus could see the scar that marred his palm.
"That's from you being noble. Mine are--" Remus stopped, rubbed his thumb over the mark, unwilling to go on, Sirius could tell by the set of his mouth.
Remus' hand was still cold and Sirius took it between his own, chaffing it gently. "I think you're the bravest person I know, Moony."
"It hardly takes a special talent to be bit and transform once a month."
"You survived. Survive," Sirius corrected himself. "And you manage to still be the best--"
"Don't go soft on me," Remus teased but his voice was suddenly deeper, a bit ragged. He tugged his hand away as if annoyed but Sirius could tell Remus was pleased by the way the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks glowed pink in the winter light filtering in through the windows. Sirius grinned, leaning in to whisper something else--anything that would keep that look in Remus' eyes.
Behind him, Madame Pomfrey coughed politely, warning them both of her presence and Sirius jerked back up straight while Remus' blush deepened. She ignored them both, and Sirius wondered if she had noticed anything, reasoning that really there had been nothing to notice. She rushed into to fill the silence, though, quizzing Sirius on the various potions she'd brought back and nodding encouragement as he picked up and identified bottle after bottle, telling what each did. Finally, he held up the last, a small blue vial. "Valerian Sedativus. A sedative. It'll help him sleep without dreams so he can truly rest and heal."
"Two drops, I think, into his tea. Usually I'd say three so he could sleep through tomorrow morning but he doesn't seem too upset today."
"I'm fine without it," Remus protested.
"He always says that." Madame Pomfrey poured out a fresh cup of tea and watched as Sirius carefully put two drops from the vial and stirred it gently with the spoon. "Don't let your patient dictate treatment, particularly this one. Help him to sit up. There we go."
Sirius held the cup to Remus' lips, waiting until he had finished it all before he settled Remus back against the pillows. Madame Pomfrey had already bustled off with her tray of medicines, leaving them alone once more, but it wasn't too long before Remus' eyes fluttered close and he drifted off to sleep.
It was hours later when Sirius woke up. The shadows in the room, and more than that--his growling stomach told him it was late afternoon. He'd fallen asleep slumped in the chair pulled up next to Remus' bed in the infirmary and woke, his eyes still closed, to the feeling of Remus' fingers tugging through his hair, his blunt nails gently massaging Sirius' scalp. He felt like thumping his leg, like Padfoot would have done, and nearly said so to Remus when he realized they weren't alone.
"How are you feeling, Mr. Lupin?" Professor McGongall asked, her accent thick in the quiet of the room.
"Tired but all right. Better than I usually do after."
Sirius forced himself to sit up and scrubbed at his face, at what felt like a week's worth of stubble. Professor McGonagall sat across from him in her green tartan robes. She watched him come awake and he squirmed beneath her watchful eye. It didn't stop him from straightening Remus' blankets and checking that the cut on his arm was healing.
"Madame Pomfrey said that you did well, Sirius. She agreed to take you on this next term, if that was still your wish."
"Yes, ma'am," Sirius answered, avoiding Remus' eyes.
"You asked?"
"Professor McGonagall suggested it."
"If Mr. Black wishes to be an auror, then healer training may come in handy."
"James, too?" Remus asked.
Professor McGonagall traded looks with Sirius, and Sirius knew that Remus could tell that the auror training was just an excuse. Once they left Hogwarts, someone would need to be able to take care of Remus after the transfigurations, and the hospital would not always be an option. Sirius didn't say it out loud, though. He knew that Remus must know, but he wouldn't like it.
"I can sit with Mr. Lupin for a bit, Sirius, if you'd like to go back to Gryffindor Tower for some sleep."
"I'm all right. I can wait until Remus can go back with me."
"Then perhaps a change of clothes?" Professor McGonagall suggested, and Sirius was about to decline again when Remus shook his head. "For me, Sirius," he said, pointing down to the pile of wet clothes still laying by the bed.
Sirius got up then, and left them alone in the infirmary. He tried not to think too hard that Professor McGonagall looked as though she wanted to talk to Remus alone. Part of him wanted to tell Remus about Jack himself, later--tomorrow, maybe, or the next day--and part of him was relieved that perhaps Professor McGonagall meant to do it herself. Professor Dumbledore hadn't said when they would tell Remus, only that it would be later, when Remus was well.
Sirius shook his head, unwilling to think of it at all right now. When he did, it felt like something a ball of hot lead had dropped into his stomach, and he couldn't bear it. He would never say it out loud, but he was fond of Remus' students, too, most of them. He couldn't help it when he saw in their faces their utter devotion to Remus. Peter said it was mostly because a seventh year deigned to talk to them but Sirius knew it was more than that.
Back in their room, Sirius gathered clean clothes for Remus--his favorite jeans, and old t shirt of James', and the ridiculously tattered jumper that Remus was so fond of, and dumped them onto the end of his bed. He stripped off his own clothes, jumping into and out of the shower in record time, and dressing again before he noticed Aether pecking at the window. He retrieved James' note, muttering finally as he unfolded it to find that James only asked about Remus. Sirius scowled at the bit of parchment, wanting more--wanting James there, if he was honest--and jammed the note into his pocket.
Sirius ran back to the infirmary, ignoring for the moment that he was still hungry--he was sure that he could talk Madame Pomfrey into dinner for them all--and checked his watch as he rounded the corner. He'd only been gone for about thirty minutes, and thought it likely that Remus would be asleep again. He opened the door quietly, not wanting to disturb him if he was, and stopped short when he heard Professor McGonagall's voice.
"Will you share your plans with Mr. Black and Mr. Potter?"
"Eventually," Remus answered quietly--hesitantly. "I don't want to ruin our last year."
"It's a very lonely road you're setting yourself upon."
"I know, but it's for the best," Remus said. "He--they might not understand."
"I understand, Remus." Professor McGonagall sounded sad, to Sirius' ears, and he hugged the bundle of clothes to his chest. "I would encourage you to confide in them sooner rather than later. Mr. Black strikes me as someone who doesn't countenance secrets very well."
"No, he doesn't," Remus answered, but there was affection rather than annoyance in his voice.
"Then I'll say nothing, Mr. Lupin, and trust you to do it in your own time."
Sirius stood still for a moment, waiting to see if they said anything else, but nothing more was coming. After another minute, he backtracked to the door, coming back in making enough noise this time to earn him an admonition from Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall both.
He dropped the pile of clothes at the end of the bed and looked at Remus, trying to see what was different. He knew if he demanded it, Remus would tell him what he'd been talking about, but for once Sirius held his tongue. He waited until they were alone to pull out James' letter and read it to Remus. They answered it as they ate the sandwiches that Madame Pomfrey left for them, Sirius scratching out only half of what he wanted to say and adding Remus' comments as he did it. Once he'd sent the letter off and cleared off the trays, he sat back at Remus' side, quiet, his thoughts filled with what he had heard Professor McGonagall say.
"Penny for your thoughts," Remus asked after a while, and Sirius didn't even bother Remus to remind him what a penny was. "Are you all right?"
"Just tired."
"Come here, then." Remus carefully moved over on the bed, lifting the covers.
Sirius followed the line of Remus' body beneath the sheets with his eyes, stopping when he reached the flat planes of Remus' stomach. "There's not enough room," he said, not pointing out the fact that Remus was naked because he really, really didn't mind.
"Says the man with no sense of personal space. C'mon. I'm tired, too, but I'll sleep better if I don't think you'll be staring at me all night to make sure I'm still breathing."
"I don't do that. Often."
"Just lay down."
Sirius crawled onto the bed, curling in the space behind Remus as Remus turned onto his side. He thought again of what he'd heard Remus and Professor McGonagall say, worried suddenly that perhaps Remus meant to go off by himself after they left Hogwarts, leaving Sirius. He thought about that--losing Remus, or even just not being able to see him everyday, not being able to touch him when he wanted or not being able to talk to him. Sirius slipped his arm around Remus' waist, listening to his slow, even breathes as he slept, and tugged him closer. He sighed when Remus turned, tucking himself against Sirius' body, and Sirius held him as tightly as he dared, not sleeping for a long time.
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