Chapter Text
Gula: Latin, gula; gluttony; consuming to excess.
Sirius’s eyes fluttered open, and his heart leapt into his mouth as he took in his predicament. Were it not for Remus’s arm, braced strong and stable around his back, crushing him to the Prince’s chest, he would currently be plummeting several thousand feet to the ground below. Far beneath them, the hellish Under-London was spread out like a map, glittering red and gold stretching as far as the eye could see. Sirius watched as they sped over what could only have been the Thames, although in this incarnation it was a river of liquid flame and molten rock, bubbling as it ground its way through the city centre. Occasionally, the surface crust would break open and release a gout of cinders high into the air.
Looking up, Sirius realised exactly how he was getting this airborne view. While one of Remus’s arms held Sirius steady, the other was wrapped around one of the great firebird’s legs. Its fiery plumage gave off an unrelenting heat that crisped Sirius’s face, and a brilliant light that seared his eyeballs. Instantly regretful, he looked down, then screwed his eyes shut and buried his face in Remus’s chest. To his surprise, the hand that Remus caressed the back of his head with was tender and reassuring in its touch.
Sirius found his own arms clinging to the demon’s back, hands splayed on his shoulder blades. In any other circumstance, their embrace might have been romantic. Flying hundreds, maybe thousands, of feet above Hell with the threat of falling to his death at any moment, however? Rather took the fun out of things.
Sirius felt his stomach drop and, against his better judgement, opened his eyes. The firebird had hitched its wings above them, and they were now plummeting through the sky in an only moderately controlled fashion. Unable to even scream, Sirius watched the ground grow closer, the featureless landscape resolving itself into streets and neighbourhoods, until they were so close he could make out individual windows on the sides of buildings, and individual faces upturned in awe and terror. Some of the buildings he could recognise – in the Overworld, they would be in Islington, and Grimmauld Place would be only a few streets eastward. The bird’s passage left a wake of fiercely hot wind that tousled the trees, but Sirius’s attention was drawn to what could only be their destination. Rising from the mess of architecture was a single, imposing spire of some pale brick, littered with decorative corbels and the stone faces of gargoyles, looming over the London skyline like an admonishing finger. With a beat of its wings that almost knocked its passengers loose, the firebird tipped upwards towards the top of the spire, and Sirius felt as though he were about to vomit. Bunching Remus’s coat between his fists, he screwed his eyes shut and prayed.
He stayed that way for what felt like an age, trying to hold his stomach in as the bird banked to the left and gravity inverted. Finally, the inertial pressure relented, and the bird landed with a monumental thud. Sweet ground! Sirius would never take it for granted again.
They had landed in a wide, stone room with a view over the entire Under-City. Instead of walls or windows, the room they found themselves in had nought but a wide, open parting in its perimeter, as if this acted as entrance and exit. Before Sirius could take a moment to admire its majesty, the great firebird was gone, shrunken back to his usual form of the old man, Albus, and he was smoothing out his robes absently. His face was haggard, his energy gone from the flight and the fight down in the sewers.
It took a few moments for Sirius to realise that he was still hanging on to Remus and retract his grip, standing back and rolling his shoulders. Remus cleared his throat, rolling his neck and averting his gaze, looking back over to Albus. There were only three of them here, so where was: –
“Prongs?” Sirius spoke the demon’s name, looking to Remus with a question in his eye. Remus said nothing, his face pale, but shook his head.
Oh.
Before Sirius could speak again, Albus strode across the room, making his way to a large brass basin set in its centre, bigger than any bathtub that Sirius had ever seen. The liquid within – if liquid it was – had a faint silver glow, and seemed to swirl with its own currents, since there was no wind to be felt in the tower-room. The old man placed his hands in the concoction and made small circular motions with them, the contents glowing ever brighter at his touch. As he removed his hands he looked rejuvenated – not younger, precisely, but stronger, invigorated.
Remus grunted beside him and Sirius watched as he lowered himself to the floor with one hand on the dark bricks, sitting not a little awkwardly as he splayed his fingers over a large gash on his thigh. Nothing happened at his touch, and Remus seemed frustrated, letting out yet another small grunt that verged on a growl.
Sirius was unsure of what to do. Looking at Remus now it was clear that the fight had taken a heavy toll upon him. There were deep welts in his skin and gashes in his clothes all over his body, and his coat was soaked in the same dark blood which had stained him in the forest. Remus was cursing under his breath, muttering arcane words which Sirius could not understand, and was squeezing the now oozing wound on his thigh with pale, bloodstained fingers. It was no use, however. He could not heal himself.
“Do not fret, old friend.” Sirius almost jumped out of his skin as he looked up to find Albus standing not three feet away. How had he moved so silently? The demon-king spared him a reassuring half-smile that made his eyes twinkle, before placing a hand on Remus’s shoulder with a squeeze of reassurance.
Sirius watched, dumbstruck, as he saw the wounds that zigzagged across Remus’s body begin to knit themselves closed, drawing in the blood which had been dripping down his limbs as if someone were playing time in reverse. His skin took on a faint glow, just as the liquid in Albus’s bowl had done, before he was entirely healed and the glow died back just as quickly as it had come.
Remus let out a short huff of breath before looking up to the two men above him. He placed the hand which had been upon his thigh down on the ground and began to use it to push himself to his feet. He quickly took Sirius’s hand when he offered it in help.
“Thank you,” Remus spoke directly to Sirius as he straightened up before shaking his head, as if remembering himself, “both of you. Your Majesty.” He turned his attention to Albus and gave the old man a grateful smile. His teeth still looked a tad too large for his mouth, though he had settled back into his humanoid form.
Albus gave him a warm smile in return and pulled Remus into an embrace which Sirius supposed might have been fatherly, had he known what fatherly affection was supposed to look like. Sirius watched as the hug went on for several seconds, wiping his hands on the leg of his breeches for something to do.
As Albus broke the two apart he left his hands firmly upon Remus’s shoulders, beaming at him. “Congratulations, my boy, are in order. Your form down in the sewers against Tom was wonderful.” He dropped his grip and took a few steps away, still addressing Remus as he spoke in his booming voice. “You have always been a good servant to me, and I must thank you for your excellent work. My condolences, of course, to you for the losses of James and Lily – such a shame.”
Sirius’s eyebrows drew into a deep frown as Albus turned upon him suddenly, the warmth that had been present in his expression all gone. His eyes were fathomless, an icy blue that pierced directly into Sirius’s heart. So, this was to be it then? This was where Sirius’s soul was to be consumed? It had been an interesting journey, he would give Remus that, and for a few moments at the end he had thought that maybe – just maybe – he would get to go back home, but it seemed that it had all been fruitless. There was no escaping these demons. He’d been dead the moment he arrived down here, and he would end up back in the sewers regardless.
Sirius’s eyes flickered to Remus for a moment, expecting to see him smiling proudly and preparing some speech of gratitude before he handed over his latest gift to his master. Remus, however, seemed to have faltered. He was wringing his hands nervously, and there was an expression on his face which Sirius could not decipher. Albus moved across Sirius’s gaze abruptly, cutting off his view as he slowly circled the human, saying nothing.
The old man’s eyes were hungry as he observed Sirius from all angles, stalking him silently as if he were a wild animal.
“I actually –” Remus began to speak, but was cut off by an abrupt glance from the King, who turned his cold eyes upon the lesser demon in a flash. Remus cleared his throat, standing a little straighter, and spoke once more. “I don’t think you should consume him.”
Oh. Well, that was not what Sirius had been expecting to hear.
Albus said nothing, but tilted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. Remus continued: –
“I would never have made it this far across London without his help. Padfoot has saved my life on multiple occasions. I believe…” he paused to swallow, steeling himself. “I believe that we should send him back to his own world. If it please you, Your Grace.”
Sirius could have kissed Remus, he was so relieved to hear the words coming out of the demon’s mouth. Home? It was all Sirius wanted. He felt a smile break out onto his face as he let out a relieved breath, the tension in his chest dissipating a little.
“And if it does not please me?” Albus let the question hang in the air, unanswered, for an unbearably long moment. “Of course,” he continued, “you do not have the power to do that alone.” His voice was measured, unfeeling. Sirius felt a shiver down his spine at it.
Remus shifted a little where he stood. Sirius was not sure he had ever seen him look so anxious. “That is why I’m saying this now, My Lord. I implore you, please, take Sirius home so that he might enjoy at least a few more years of life.”
Sirius couldn’t help himself. “Only a few?”
Remus shrugged in his direction. “Cholera.”
The old man chuckled quietly, and for a moment Sirius was convinced that Albus would agree. The kindly old man couldn’t be entirely an illusion, could it? Surely, after all of the trials Sirius had been through that day, he deserved this. Surely he should get a reward? Surely he could go home?
“No.” Albus spoke the word firmly, and Sirius thought he could see Remus’s spirit crumble under its weight. “I understand why you may have grown… attached… to this human, but relinquishing him after all you have been through would be a grave mistake, Remus. You are clearly fatigued from the journey and the afternoon’s activities – my own reserves of power are lower than they have been in æons – you are clearly incapable of rational thought at this time, my boy. You must rest.”
Remus stuttered a little, attempting to protest, but was cut off by a hand held up by Albus.
“Whereas this – well, this lad has clearly been pampered as a prince since birth, enduring nothing in his life but indulgence and excess. He is simply brimming with sin – we cannot allow this morsel to go to waste. In my weakened state, I would be an easy target for any upstart worm. As would you, my boy,” he reminded Remus with a stern gaze. “You may partake with me, if you desire. I’m inclined to share.”
Remus found his voice once more. “No. I refuse. He has clearly not had such an easy life as you assume – on our journey he has proved time and time again that he possesses such a mettle which speaks of, perhaps not a difficult life, but certainly not an easy one. He has moral fiber, Albus.”
The old man seemed to contemplate this for a few seconds, watching Remus closely for a moment as the wolf-demon heaved in breath, before flicking his icy gaze upon Sirius. “Yes, it’s a shame, but it shouldn’t spoil the taste too much.”
Remus’s body went stiff, and Sirius saw his jaw clench. A slither of fear trickled down his own spine as he saw Albus smile once more, taking a step toward Sirius, outstretching his hands.
“Come, Remus, be rational,” Albus was saying as he approached. “It would be such a shame for you to have ventured here from Kensington only to miss out on a morsel so delicious as this.”
This was to be it, then? Would it be fast? Would it hurt? Sirius wondered if he should say something – make some speech about his life being cut cruelly short and all the things he could have achieved in his allotted span. He had never seen his work published, he had never gotten to dance with a mysterious foreign prince, he had never –
And then a body stood in front of him, broad and firm and imposing. It faced away from him, raising its arms protectively with a growl that Sirius felt in his very soul.
“You will not take him.” Remus’s voice was low and hard. Sirius had to fight the urge to cling to the demon’s back.
He expected Albus to lurch forward, to attack, but the old man simply gave Remus a withering look, rubbing his hand over his lined face as if exasperated. He waved a hand as if gesturing for Remus to continue, and he had no choice but to comply.
When he spoke, Remus’s voice wavered as if he were unsure of what to say. Sirius was certain that his companion had not been practicing this speech in his head all day, but on that account it had ended up rather moving.
“I – I haven’t known this human for very long, but he has brought out parts of me that I did not know that I had – memories that, I did not realise before, make no sense. There are parts of my past missing, and I think you know where they’ve gone.” Sirius saw Remus draw his shoulders back. “I would quite like an explanation, thank you very much.”
The demand hung heavy in the air between them, Remus's breathing deep as if the very action of speaking had shaken him as much as the confrontation with Voldemort. Sirius looked beyond Remus to Albus's cold, expressionless face. He was watching Remus with an odd look in his eye, before his shoulders sagged and he turned away from the two of them.
Albus began to pace about the wide opening in the tower wall, fingers tented in front of him as if deep in thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was pitiful, sad, but still boomed: –
"Many centuries ago, you came to me, Remus, seeking an alliance. Now, I am not an unreasonable man, and so of course I agreed, with only a few small conditions to which you acquiesced. You have no recollection of the event, of course; you gladly handed over some of your memories into the bargain. Things you wished to forget, I believe." He was not looking at Remus as he spoke, but continued his pacing, gesturing towards the basin set into the floor and its swirling silver contents. "Still, surely you remember how awful this city was before I rose to power, with you at my side, my most faithful lieutenant? Have we not made Hell better together, my boy? Is it not now fairer, more orderly, for all who dwell here?"
Remus drew in a deep breath and Sirius saw his shoulders roll back, but he did not say a word.
Albus continued his monologue, though he seemed far more reluctant to speak. "You were – before – a King, much like myself. With your power – your aid – I have been able to achieve things beyond either of our wildest dreams. Isn't that worth it? Wasn't that worth the sacrifice?" He gestured his hands toward Sirius, who was still cowering behind Remus's back. "Isn't it all worth it?"
Remus's hands were fists again, and Sirius could imagine the snarl upon his lips, curling them up to expose his teeth. "No, it has not been worth it. Everything down here is still fucked beyond reason, and you have never cared. All you desire is to acquire more power, to get stronger, and never use it. I've never even seen you do anything about a demon until today – you usually send one of us as a catspaw, and even then, only when your hand is truly forced." Remus seemed to swell in size, although from behind, Sirius couldn’t tell whether it was due to burgeoning confidence or boiling rage. All he could see from his vantage point was Albus’s expression. Sorrowful, yes; tired, certainly. But not afraid. Not surprised. And without a shred of compassion.
“What about Lilith?” Remus demanded. “What about Severus? And Wormtail, damn him? How many demons have I torn through tonight because you insist on pitting us against one another? What about Prongs?” Remus’s voice broke, and Sirius’s heart broke with it. He placed a hand on Remus’s shoulder, hoping to lend some warmth, some reassurance, through the touch.
Albus shook his head, disappointed. “I have expressed my condolences, Remus, but it is not my fault –”
“It IS your fault!” Remus screamed, and for just a second, Albus’s perfect visage broke, shock leaving fracture-lines across his expression. “It is entirely your fault, Albus, and I honestly don’t know which surprises me more, that I was fool enough to believe in you for centuries, or that it took a human – of all things! – to get me to see the truth!” He stood there, panting, for a second. When he spoke, his voice was calm and solid. “Whatever deal we made, it’s over. I’m breaking it. You can forget about me, and you can forget about Sirius.”
“Remus, please, you’re being hysterical,” Albus said, barely containing a roll of his eyes, and Sirius was suddenly put in mind of his mother. “You should rest. Think about this again later. You need me just as much as I need you.”
“I do not need you,” Remus growled, “and in fact –” He managed to take all of one step forwards before his knees buckled and he crashed to the floor, limp. Sirius managed to catch him beneath the elbows, but after the day’s travails, his pitiful human form was far too weak to arrest Remus’s fall.
Albus tutted, sauntering over to where Remus lay insensate on the ground, head cradled in Sirius’s hands. That aura of glowing power surrounded him once more, but he seemed to suck it back into his skin, as though he were leaching it out of Remus. “Such a shame this had to happen again,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment.
“Again?” Sirius asked, cursing how idiotic he sounded. He should be running! Or fighting! Or… or something!
Albus elaborated. “Every few hundred years, the poor boy gets it into his head that he can do without me. He’s wrong, of course; he has a soft heart. They’d destroy him.” Albus gestured expansively out of the floor-to-ceiling archway. “I removed more of his memories each time, of course, to keep him on track. I had hoped he would do better this time… but then you came along.” Something like awe twinkled in Albus’s eyes as he regarded Sirius, and he lay a hand on the human’s shoulder.
Sirius shrugged it off. “Not this time,” he promised, laying a hand across Remus’s chest. “I’ll protect him.”
Albus only chuckled. “Enough of this charade. For what it’s worth, I am sorry for the horrors you’ve had to endure down here, but at least you reached me alive. Now…” The icy blue eyes drifted shut, and Albus crooked a finger in Sirius’s direction. He felt some force hook into him, just behind his navel, and tug, a sensation that left him feeling violently seasick… but nothing worse. The discomfort abated after a moment, and Albus cracked open an eye, looking down at Sirius. His brow furrowed in confusion. Again, the finger beckoned, and again, after fleeting discomfort, the sensation faded to nought.
A look of comprehension dawned across Albus’s face as his gaze skipped from Sirius to Remus. “My apologies that you were dragged into a blood bond against your will, human,” he said, sounding genuinely sorry. “Allow me to rectify that.” His eyes flashed a luminescent blue, and Sirius felt something in his chest snap like a garotte. The chime of a bell echoed in the recesses of his mind, and he felt suddenly empty. The summoning ritual that had bound him to Remus, he instantly knew, was undone.
Albus stepped closer, hovering over Sirius’s shoulder, but Sirius’s attention was diverted to Remus. The Prince stirred, weakly, in his arms, but his eyes were dull, his skin pallid, and his hair had lost its lustre. “Sirius,” he gasped, voice a papery whisper. With shock, Sirius realised he could see his own hands through Remus’s form; and, with one last, desperate glance to Sirius, he was gone, like a puddle evaporating in scorching summer heat.
The only sound was the blood pounding in his ears. The only view, his empty palms, face-up on the floor. He couldn’t move for shock, even as Albus placed his hands on Sirius’s shoulders. Even as the King said, “I promise to make this quick.” Again, that tugging sensation, like a fishhook buried deep in his belly, and Sirius felt himself being ripped loose – until, yet again, the feeling faded. He was still in his body. Still whole.
“What?” Albus muttered, more to himself than for Sirius’s benefit. He strode around, tipping Sirius’s chin up between his fingers, that icy gaze boring right to his heart. There was genuine consternation on his face, now, but it hardly mattered. “You do have a soul, don’t you?” the King mused.
Did he?
Wait… did he?
Memories of a dimly-lit thicket, eternal twilight, the scent of warm sweaty animal and rotting leaf-mulch. The sharp cut of an antler-tine. Healing herbs burning in his hand, heat burning in his cheeks, that smile burning in his heart. They had shared more than blood in that place.
Comprehension dawned across Albus’s face in the very next instant. Comprehension – and fear.
Through the archway in the wall, the great red moon could be seen, hanging immobile in the sky. Except, it was no longer bloodstained. As Albus stared at Sirius, and Sirius stared at the sky, the celestial sphere washed harvest-moon gold, and then a brilliant silver. The cinnabar fog that had hung overhead evaporated, like an inkblot in reverse spreading out from the moon, revealing an ultramarine sky spangled with twinkling stars. Sirius felt a hand ghost across his back, and looked up to find Remus, savage grin in place and brimming with vitality. He spared a wink for Sirius before turning to glare at Albus.
“I – I don’t – how –?” Albus stammered, eyes flashing from Remus to Sirius and back again.
Remus spoke over him. “Your Grace, I must thank you most profusely for breaking that pesky little blood pact. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to feel like myself again.” Then his body erupted, handsome countenance and quality clothes subsumed in a geyser of some dark, inky substance, lashing out in tendrils in every direction and shooting skywards, twining together, settling on a form… the form of an immense wolf, silver pelt and golden eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Sirius scrabbled backwards out of the way of a paw large enough to cover a horse, a paw with entirely too many toes and wicked claws in all the wrong places. The rest of the wolf followed a similar theme – Sirius couldn’t tell exactly how many legs, teeth, mouths, or eyes the monster had, and its whole form seemed to bubble and blur at the edges, seething and shifting continually. When it spoke, its voice was recognisably Remus’s – although, just barely. “It feels so much better to be back to normal.” The wolf let out a growl that might have been a chuckle, and lunged forwards.
Remus’s jaws clashed together, but this time, Albus was prepared. The demon-king flung himself backwards across the tower, skidding on a trail of fire. His skin shredded apart, flames engulfing his form, and the firebird rose again from the conflagration. If anything, it was larger now than it had been in the sewers – although not so brilliant, Sirius opined, and practically dim when compared to Remus’s shining fur.
Rather than dismay, the wolf let out a bark of laughter and surged forwards to meet the firebird where it hovered. A clash of flame licked over his fur, spilling harmlessly onto the floor, not even singeing him. His jaws closed around Albus’s neck in retaliation, and while the firebird was able to turn to pure flame and escape Remus’s bite, it seemed to shrink in the process, as though part of its power had leached back into its original vessel. Remus, if anything, grew even larger.
Sirius felt one of the tower’s columns pressing against his back, and, despite his better judgement, looked over his shoulder. One step in either direction would take him into nothingness, a fall that seemed to plunge forever downwards.
Best not to fall, then.
Turning back to the fight, Sirius found himself the new object of the firebird’s wrath. Clapping its wings together, the bird glowed brighter, and this time Sirius knew what was coming – the great conflagration that had decimated Voldemort and his followers, and would consume Sirius now, if it didn’t blow him off the top of the tower first.
The firebird never got the chance to unleash its fury. Remus seized one of its wings between his teeth and, before Albus could even contemplate escape, shook the bird roughly and tossed it aside like a dog with a toy. The bird slammed into one of the pillars, shaking the floor beneath Sirius’s feet, and slumped down. Where before it had been large as a house, now it was barely the size of a horse, and Remus was filling half the space with his own bulk. Picking itself up, the firebird shot into the air, darting not for Remus, nor for Sirius, but for escape…
And a huge claw snagged its trailing tail, pinning it to the floor. Caught like a fish on a line, Albus could only writhe and wail as Remus raised him up to a maw that gaped wide as a chasm, lined with teeth on every available surface. The claw released, the bird dropped, and Remus’s jaws slammed shut around it. Flame jetted from the wolf’s nose and issued from between its lips, only to die when the monster swallowed. Remus shook off the fire like a wet dog, and what remained of Albus splashed against the floor to burn itself out on the bricks.
The wolf turned its many-eyed gaze upon Sirius, slavering, and he felt his blood run cold. Was there anything of Remus left in there? Then the beast cracked one horrendous grin, lips pulling back over its fangs in a manner that did nothing to reassure Sirius, before shrinking away like water being sucked down a drain. In its place stood Remus, human again – or as human as he was ever likely to get, Sirius supposed, now that he once again had full control of his form. He had kept the coat from before, although it was silver now in place of green, and Sirius couldn’t tell which gleamed brighter in the moonlight: the silk brocade, or his (mostly human) smile.
It took four strides for Remus to cross the intervening space, and Sirius counted them with his heartbeats. Then he was right there, so close that Sirius could smell him, and rather than a reassuring pat on the shoulder or a few words of thanks, Remus raised his hand to cup Sirius’s cheek. He traced his thumb over Sirius’s cheekbone, sending a shiver down his spine, and when he pulled it away it was smeared with blood. “You’ve got a little something,” Remus commented, voice low and soft, eyes directed a few inches too low to meet Sirius’s own. “Want me to fix it?” Sirius nodded mutely, too stunned by the warmth and tenderness of Remus’s touch to generate any words. Perhaps he wasn’t quite the epic poet he had envisaged himself as.
He only had a moment to brace himself as Remus leaned in, and then the whole world was gone. The sulphur-smelling tower and its basin of swirling silver; the cries of consternation that drifted up from the world outside; even his position in Hell, which by all rights should be an impossibility; everything was blown away on a breath that tasted like midwinter, which passed from Remus’s mouth to Sirius’s as their lips met. He could feel every scrape and gash and bruise across his body fading, skin regrowing, strength replenishing, but it was nothing compared to the falling sensation that gripped Sirius as he lost himself in the kiss.
It ended too soon as Remus drew away, eyelids fluttering open. “All better,” he pronounced with a tiny smile. Quite.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Sirius remarked, blinking to try and clear his head. His train of thought had ground to a halt, and the engines didn’t seem to be firing up again.
Remus gave a shrug, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Nor did I. Would have been quite useful this past day, no? I suppose it makes sense, though,” he added, strolling over to the precipice of the tower and looking out at the sky. “The moon always comes back. So do I. It’s only natural.” Sirius moved to stand beside him, although he didn’t dare stand quite so close to the edge as the wolf-demon. He lacked both supernatural strength and the ability to shapeshift, and he didn’t know how far Remus’s healing powers could stretch.
As though he’d heard the thought, Remus continued. “I’m not sure how much I can do with this, but there’s a chance… I might be able to bring Prongs back. Or at least speed up the process. He’s always taken his sweet time when it comes to reconstituting his form. Lilith, too, I suppose. I – I would rather not leave things with her on such a sour note. And I’ll need to figure out how to get all of my memories back, too.”
“I believe they’re in there,” Sirius said helpfully, gesturing towards the brass basin sunk into the centre of the room. When Remus cocked an eyebrow questioningly, he continued. “Albus alluded to it. Quite a few times, actually, although I suppose you were distracted. Liked the sound of his own voice, didn’t he?”
Remus snickered. “I hadn’t noticed. I’ll be sure to keep him where he belongs, once he’s come back. Although that might take him a while. I’m quite thorough with my digestion.” His tone was inordinately proud, but Sirius could only grimace squeamishly, knocking him playfully on the shoulder. “Anyway,” he continued, clapping his hands together in that businesslike manner he had, “memories can wait for now. We need to get you home.”
“You’ve not changed your mind then?” Sirius ventured, not making eye contact. When he did finally raise his gaze, Remus looked shocked.
“Of course not. I meant what I said. You’ve saved me, Sirius, in more ways than one, and rather a lot of times. I’d say that deserves a return trip to the Overworld, and now that I’m back at full strength, it’s the least I can do to take you there myself. Shall we?” He stuck out his elbow, as though offering to accompany Sirius on a jaunty promenade around the gardens. Sirius hooked his own arm over the demon’s, tucking himself close to Remus’s side. If the return trip were anything like the journey down… “Think of home,” Remus added, in a whisper that tickled Sirius’s ear.
That sudden constricting feeling returned in force as their surroundings went dark, threatening to collapse Sirius’s windpipe and squeeze his eyeballs to the back of his skull. His ribcage was on the verge of caving inwards when the feeling stopped, so suddenly that he stumbled, and would have spilled across the carpet were it not for Remus’s strong grip.
The carpet! Oh, blessed saints, he was home! Remus hadn’t just delivered him back to the Overworld, or even to Dorcas and Marlene’s townhouse, and had instead deposited him in his very own bedroom in Grimmauld Place. There was the four-poster, grand and imposing, sheets still a little rumpled from the previous night’s activities. At the foot of it, his stacks of books, purchased in a fit of pique, that he hadn’t even bothered to shelve yet. And there, his lovely desk, still strewn with the leftovers of failed poetry.
The curtains had not been drawn, revealing London in all its late-night prettiness. The gas-lamp on the street outside cast its amber glow into Sirius’s room, just enough to make out Remus’s silhouette, and he busied himself lighting his oil lamp to give them some more illumination.
Light blossomed from the lamp in Sirius’s hand, revealing that everything was just as he had left it – except for Remus himself, over six feet tall and smelling of Hell, who looked uncomfortably out of place. “Would you like to stay for a cup of tea?” Sirius asked, once again falling back on good manners. The question earned him a hearty laugh from the demon-prince.
“No, thank you,” Remus said, offering a smile that softened the blow of his rejection. “I’m afraid I have a kingdom to get back to. Now that Albus and Voldemort are both gone, all of Hell is up for grabs, and I’ll need to stake my claim if I want any part of it at all. And – no offence – you look like you could use a good night’s sleep.”
“Do you think you’ll try being a King again?” Sirius asked, moving to sit on his bed, making sure to leave plenty of room beside him. The plumped pillows and soft covers were looking mighty enticing, but with no fire in the grate and no warming pans between the sheets, it also looked freezing. He’d much rather not endure it alone…
Remus gave him an indulgent smile, spotting his ploy from a mile away and remaining standing. “Possibly. Although, it’s a rather involved job. I might pull a Prongs and follow my passions into the wilderness. I might try to get him back with Lilith, too, so he doesn’t have time to pester me into going vegan. Plans of your own?” he asked, rocking back on his heels and looking about the room.
Sirius sighed heavily, and shrugged. “Well, I’ll have to let Marlene and Dorcas know that I’m still alive. And Kreacher, too, no doubt he’s already told my parents of the happy news of my disappearance. I expect I’ll be receiving an invitation to my own funeral any day now.” He laughed, but the sound was hollow, even to his own ears. He didn’t want Remus to pity him. “Beyond that, I’m not sure. Perhaps I’ll run off to the seaside and work on my poetry.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Remus commented, nodding sagely.
Sirius swallowed. Now or never, eh? “Could I… would it be alright if I summoned you again sometime?” he asked, staring into the empty fireplace. If only the heat in his cheeks could warm his bed.
Remus’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet when he spoke. “I imagine I’ll get used to it.” Sirius’s head jerked up so fast that Remus let out a snort of laughter. “Come to think of it, I’d rather like to take a look at mortal London. Perhaps I can get some ideas for how to renovate Downstairs. Would you mind showing me around?”
Sirius nodded eagerly, unable to stop the grin that crept across his face.
“Well then, it’s a date,” Remus said, wiggling his eyebrows, although at what Sirius wasn’t sure. “Oh – you might want to watch this. It’s not every day a mortal gets to see a demon leave.”
“Don’t stay away for too long,” Sirius added, and Remus sent him a warm smile. The demon sketched a sweeping bow in the air, and when he raised his head, his eyes were two pools of molten gold, incandescent as if they would be hot to the touch. A bitter wind swept through Sirius’s room, scattering all of the crumpled notes from his desk, and Sirius watched with wide eyes as concentric rings of arcane symbols materialised on his bedroom floor, glowing as though scratched there with a white-hot poker. Then, with a cracking sound like the world cleaving in two, Remus was gone, leaving only a sulphurous tang that lingered in the air.
That could just be the residual Hell clinging to Sirius’s hair and clothes, though. By God, he needed a bath more desperately than any soul in London. That would have to wait a few hours, though – as, to his great regret, would his beautiful bed.
Sirius forced himself back into a standing position and moved across the room, taking a seat at his desk without bothering to clear up the scattered notes. Settling down, he took up his pen, dipped the nib into his pot of ink (which was going to dry up if he kept leaving the cap off, he admonished himself), and pulled a sheaf of paper towards him. He had to get the events of his unbelievable experience down in writing before sleep leached the memories away. A horror tale could be his big break into the world of publishing… and, with a little infernal aid, how could he go wrong? Making a mental note to ask Dorcas for one of her books on summoning when he visited in the morning, he began to write:
GOETIA