Chapter Text
It was a hot day. The sun had burst through the clouds mid-morning, beating down on the earth unashamedly. The few wispy clouds that remained drifted uselessly along, not bothered to cover the relentless heat.
Remus spent the majority of the day with his shirtsleeves rolled up as far as he dared, trying to distract himself from the heat by helping with the so-called cleaning that would make the so-called Noble House of Black habitable. (Although he and Sirius were already inhabiting it, so what did that say about them?)
The windows were thrown open, tempting a breeze to break the sweltering musty air, but all it did was lure a few bugs in (to the delight of the doxies that were living in the drapes). Remus was in the drawing room, performing more “scorgify” spells than he suspected he ever had in his lifetime. As he considered the sagging couch, he felt the tell-tale bite of a mosquito that had decided to sample his tainted blood. His hand instinctively slapped the back of his neck, ending the creature’s miserable life.
Remus scowled at his hand, blood and mosquito smeared across the palm. “You’re probably better off dead now anyway,” he muttered, wiping the remains onto his trousers. He was always curious but never knew: did were-mosquitos exist?
He checked his watch. Almost dinner time. Remus wondered what was for eating.
Just then, there was a crash upstairs, followed by a string of profanities, followed by the irritating voice of Molly Weasley: “You better wash out that filthy mouth of yours, young man, if there are to be children in this house! I don’t want them picking up your colorful way of stringing words together. The things you say would shock the poor children, I don’t want….”
Remus bit back a chuckle. Molly had joined their attempt to “clean” Grimmauld Place as soon as she heard it was to be the Order of the Phoenix headquarters. Sirius and Molly got into their first argument ten minutes after Molly arrived on day one. Remus simply tried to avoid the two of them altogether. For some reason, Molly thought she could somehow change the entire personality of a 35 year old man. She was fighting a losing battle.
Besides, Sirius’s vocabulary, albeit creative, was doubtful to be worse than what some of the Hogwarts students said these days. The things Remus had heard in the corridors last year…he suspected the “children” said similar things when their hovering mother wasn’t there.
Still, Sirius should be more careful, and so should I, as they did have a reputation to uphold. Could Sirius have a good reputation if he’s already an escaped convict? As someone who was often judged harshly, Remus wasn’t sure if he was the best candidate to discuss reputations.
Still, it was going to be strange to have the students he taught a mere year ago living in the same house as him. It felt…indecent. He had presented to Molly many reasonable arguments against the situation, but she had insisted, for “otherwise the entire Order would all starve before they could save the world.” At the end of the day, Remus had one main objection to the family joining them in the haunted house: there were finally people in his life that had accepted him as he was, and he didn’t want them to realize how skewed their opinion of him really is.
They hadn’t seen his pre-moon sickness, not really. He didn’t want to get caught wearing only his bathrobe; or snoozing on the couch; or focused on work, shirtsleeves pushed up, revealing ink stains and scars. Or what if, heaven forbid, Sirius decides to partake in some raucous sex and they think it’s him? On second thought, even the children weren’t thick enough to believe that anyone would want him that way. No, the real danger was for Remus to catch the kids doing something….Anyway. It just wasn’t right to have the children in this wretched house.
Tap, tap.
Remus looked up to see a beautiful snowy owl at the window, a letter clamped in her beak. Guilt clenched his stomach as he let her in, Harry’s address to Sirius on display. Remus had intended to write to Harry, at the very least after everything that happened in June, but he never could find the words. For some reason, Harry had grown fond of Remus while he was Professor Lupin, but now Harry got to experience what everyone gets when they become friends with Remus: disappointment. At least Sirius was good to his godson.
“I’ll give this to him,” Remus said to the bird, gently tugging at the letter. She reluctantly let go, looking at Remus as if she knew that he was not reliable. Remus raised his hands in surrender. “I know, I don’t always keep my promises. But I’m meaning to go up to him anyway.” The owl hooted reproachfully. “Do you want a snack? Er-” he was cut off by her wings clipping his cheek as she took off, back to more pleasant company, no doubt.
Turning his back on the retreating bird, Remus made his way out of the depressing room and up the stairs. As he rounded the corner to Buckbeak’s room, Sirius’s voice drifted out to meet him.
“You better not be telling me off for my ‘colorful language’ either, Moony, or I’ll tell Molly that joke you told summer of ‘76…”
“If you’re going to be like that, I’ll just read Harry’s letter myself,” Remus retorted, holding up the letter.
Sirius was standing in the middle of the room, a string of dead rats dangling from one hand, the other patting a cooped-up looking Buckbeak. Sirius dropped the dead rats and sprinted to the door. “No, no, I’ll take the letter. The joke will stay forgotton…for now.”
Remus looked away as Buckbeak tore into the rats with as much enthusiasm as Sirius was tearing open Harry’s letter. Blood splattered the ornate rug, “...those muggles are treating Harry like shit…” tiny bones cracked, “...and Dumbledore won’t let me tell him…” predator swallowing, “...if I could just go to Harry…” yellow eyes peering into his soul, “...wish he could come here…”
“How’s, erm, how’s Harry then?” Remus met Sirius’s eyes, ignoring Buckbeak searching the rug for more food that might have fallen.
The eyeroll Sirius gave could win awards. “Poor kid’s more frustrated than he’s letting on. Stupid muggles won’t let him do anything. Now if I were him…”
“It’s a good thing you’re not him, or the Durselys would likely have been turned to bats by now.”
“I don’t understand why Dumbledore makes him go back to that pigsty every year.”
“I’m sure he has his reasons, Sirius. No point in arguing. Now come on-” Sirius opened his mouth in protest, “let’s go see what’s for dinner.” Remus turned on his heel and started back down the stairs. Looking back, he saw that Sirius hadn’t moved. “What?”
“You seriously believe that good-for-nothing elf made us dinner?”
Remus leaned on the railing. “No, you twit, but Molly did.”
“Oh.”
Remus hissed through his teeth as pain shot through his bad knee. Must be a storm coming.
“What’s wrong Moony?” Sirius joined Remus on the stairs.
Remus shook his head once. “It’s nothing. Come on.”
“I know it’s not nothing.” They clomped down the stairs side by side. “Something’s bothering you.”
“Yeah, you,” Remus said, only half joking.
Sirius looked wounded, placing a hand over his heart. “How could you say such a thing to your best friend?”
Remus merely chuckled darkly, turning the corner and entering the kitchen. The room was filled with an inviting aroma of beef stew. Molly had her back to them, conducting the cooking process with her wand. As annoying as she was, that woman could cook.
Hearing the men, she turned to greet them. “There you two are,” she said, with a wide, fake smile. “I was just going to fetch you. Dinner’s ready.”
“Fantastic, I’m starved,” said Sirius, collapsing into a chair like he owned the place.
Remus crossed the room to the stove. “Anything I can help you with?”
“No, dear, I can handle it,” she said, her soft smile not matching her nervous eyes. Ever since she had arrived, she had been quite jumpy. Apparently removing pests from an ancient house with a convict and a werewolf was not for the faint of heart.
Reluctantly, Remus retreated to join Sirius at the table. They watched Molly in an awkward silence as she magicked some of the stew into two bowls. The bowls floated towards the men, steam blowing out in a long wisp. As the bowls gently landed on the table, Molly wiped her hands on her apron and untied it.
“Well, there you are,” she said, hanging up her apron. “I’d best head home.”
“Thank you, Molly, we really appreciate you,” Remus said, picking up his spoon. Sirius merely nodded, eyes watering from a mouthful of scalding soup.
Molly reached the door. “Anything for Dumbledore,” she said quietly. “Oh,” she turned back to them, “before I forget, Dumbledore mentioned something about you getting a visitor tonight.”
Sirius finished his giant mouthful of soup before spluttering “who?” but Molly was already out of earshot. Sirius looked at Remus, who merely shrugged.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said, stirring his soup.
“Moony, eat up before it goes cold,” Sirius said, slurping another mouthful.
“I don’t think it’ll get cold anytime soon,” Remus retorted. Nevertheless, he brought a spoonful of stew to his mouth, blowing until the steam dissipated, and took a bite. It was incredible. Remus wasn’t too shabby of a cook himself, but it was quite nice to have someone else cook for him. The meat was a little overcooked…it was perfect.
They ate in relative silence, finishing their bowls and leaning back in their chairs. It was comfortable, sitting in the presence of a friend, all the cares of the world currently eased by a full belly and a warm bed upstairs. Sirius’s head began to nod, and Remus was about to suggest they call it a night when a sound from upstairs made his chest constrict. Heart pounding, he sat frozen.
Soft footsteps scuffed down the stairs towards them, accompanied by a strange bullfrog-like mutter. The house was full of strange and dark creatures; it could be anything coming towards them. Remus’s wand was pointed at the door before he realized what it was that had reached the landing - Kreacher.
The house elf shuffled into the kitchen, blinking at the wand pointed straight at his head. Remus let out the breath he’d been holding and lowered his wand as Sirius’s head snapped up with a grunt. It was strange to live with a house-elf. Remus found he didn’t like it much. Ignoring Kreacher, he picked up his bowl and rose to bring it to the sink. Sirius’s eyes narrowed at the house elf.
“Master and the werewolf are in the kitchen,” Kreacher mumbled, “Kreacher wonders what they’re up to.”
“We are obviously eating dinner,” Sirius said loudly. “Something that you should have prepared for us.”
“Give it a rest, Sirius,” Remus retorted, grabbing Sirius’s bowl too. “I’m tired of hearing you two bicker.”
“He’s the one that’s throwing insults left and right,” Sirius protested angrily.
Remus began to wash the bowls, clattering loudly. “I’m sure you’ve heard worse in Azkaban.,” he said lightly.
“This is my house I should not have to listen to…”
“Master and the werewolf are arguing again. Kreacher wonders if they will fight. Maybe they will finish each other off and Kreacher can be alone with his Mistress again…”
“KREACHER! One more word from you and I will..”
“Master is giving empty threats again…”
Slamming both hands on the table, Sirius shoved his chair back and stood, anger lining his face. “Kreacher,” he said in a dangerously low voice. “You are not to speak for the rest of the day.”
The elf couldn’t disobey a direct order. He bowed low, his mouth moving furiously (but silently), and shuffled out of the room.
Sirius, breathing heavily, raked his hand through his hair. Remus had finished washing the bowls, but remained at the sink, rinsing them for much longer than necessary and avoiding Sirius’s eyes. He waited for Sirius’s quip about washing dishes the muggle way (and being way too thorough), but it never came. Turning off the water, Remus looked up at Sirius.
Sirius’s eyes were glazed, and Remus could tell he was reliving a bad memory. “C’mon,” he said gently, “let’s go upstairs.”
Sirius blinked, then nodded. “Right, sorry.”
They made their way up the stairs to the library (one of the few “clean” rooms in the house). The men flopped onto the couch together, Remus picking up the book he had been picking through from the side table. Sirius picked at his sleeve and wiggled his foot.
As Remus read, Sirius took out his wand and sprayed gold sparks as he twirled it between his fingers. The clock ticked as the room grew dark. Sirius lit the lamps and started to peruse Remus’s record collection. Ten minutes later, he finally picked one to listen to (Pink Floyd: Wish You Were Here). As he pulled the record out of the sleeve, they heard the unmistakable sound of the front door open and close.
Sirius shoved the record into the player and drew his wand. Remus did the same, folding over the page he was on and placing the book onto the couch next to him.
Loud footsteps sounded down the hall, announcing a man who walked with purpose and no time for nonsense. The footsteps grew louder until the door banged open, framing a man with billowing black robes, greasy hair, and the air of someone who would really rather not be there.
“Snape.” Sirius growled. “What’re you doing in my house?”
“Ah yes,” drawled Snape, “glad to see that Dumbledore’s lap dog has returned.”
Remus stood, ready to hold back Sirius if he decided to do anything rash.
“And look,” Snape continued, “Dumbledore’s….other lap dog.”
“Run out of insults already?” Sirius spat. “Well that was fast. Must be a new record.”
“I am not here to insult, merely to instruct,” said Snape, undeterred. “Unlike you two, I have limited time so I will cut to the chase. Dumbledore trusts me in the Order, so unfortunately we will all have to play nice. I don’t want to deal with your petty problems-”
“The problem,” Sirius cut in, “is that just last year, you tried to kill us both. And when you failed, you made Remus’s condition made known after years of keeping it…how are we supposed to trust you when -”
Remus laid a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “There’s no point in reliving the past, Sirius, we were all there.”
“But he’s -”
“That’s enough,” Snape’s eyes narrowed. “None of us have to like each other in order to work toward the same goal. Like it or not, we all want the same thing.”
“I disagree,” muttered Sirius.
“I have never had a problem with you, Severus,” Remus said, withdrawing his hand.
Snape took a threatening step towards him. “We both know that’s a lie. You lie even when you don’t have to, Lupin. But I would advise you to stop lying to me or-”
“I only lie when it’s necessary,” Remus countered.
“Whatever you tell yourself.”
“Will you get to the point or get out of my house?” Sirius interrupted. “You may not believe it, but my time is precious and I do not like to waste it.”
“Is that so?” Snape raised his eyebrows. “Very well. Lupin, Dumbledore has asked me to continue to make the wolfsbane potion. I do not see that as a productive use of my time, but he insisted. Unfortunately,” his eyes gleamed, “it is too late to start it for this month, but you will have it for next month, assuming you’re still alive.”
“Thank you,” Remus muttered.
“Is that all?” Sirius said with disbelief. “This could’ve been a letter.”
“I was also asked to bring you these,” Snape continued, pulling a stack of parchment out of his robes. “These maps are too valuable to risk being intercepted. Dumbledore wants you to study them with your…spare time.”
Remus took the stack.
“We will be having a meeting on the tenth,” said Snape, “so do try and have this place at least somewhat habitable for the Order members.” He turned on his heel and swept out of the room, dust eddying behind him.
“That….git,” Sirius said through gritted teeth. “How dare he waltz in here like he owns the place and order us around.”
“Relax,” Remus sank back into the couch, looking at the maps.
“And he won’t even make wolfsbane for you this month because he’s ‘too busy’? Busy doing what? School isn’t in session anymore.”
“It’s too late, I have to start taking it seven days before the moon.”
“Oh. And the moon is…?”
“Four days.” Remus’s heart sank. Waiting another month before having wolfsbane felt inescapably far. He glanced through the maps to try to distract his mind.
“Hey,” Sirius said softly, sliding next to him. “What’s up?”
Remus looked up. “What’s the plan for the moon?” he whispered.
“We could put you in the tapestry room. Maybe you’d manage to destroy it once and for all,” Sirius smirked.
Remus gave him a swift smile. “One more moon,” he mumbled, digging his palms into his eyes. Stars winked at him.
“You can handle it, Moony, you always do.”
“Still…”
“Hey, we have our first meeting to look forward to first.”
“I suppose.” Remus sighed, looking around at Sirius. “Think I’ll go to bed. ‘S been a long day.”
“Care for a nightcap?” Sirius asked, getting to his feet and offering Remus a hand.
Remus clapped his hand into Sirius’s allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. “Alright then,” he said, dropping his hand to his side.
“Excellent,” said Sirius. “Accio Firewhisky.”
A bottle zoomed into the room, caught deftly by Sirius, who uncorked it immediately.
“You forgot glasses,” Remus pointed out.
Sirius shrugged, taking a swing from the bottle, then offering it to Remus.
The whisky burned as it went down, offering to numb the pain and have a good time while doing so. It would be so easy to just drink it all away….Remus corked the bottle.
“Goodnight, Sirius,” he said, placing the bottle on the side table.
“Goodnight, Moony,” Sirius said.