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The first time Sirius Black saw Remus Lupin’s house, he was fifteen and his fingers had gone numb, gripping his broom in the cold winter air.
Ordinarily, he would have used the fireplace at his parents’ house to get where he was going, but after his spectacular exit, marching out the door and down the street with such force that he practically ripped a swath through the air, he’d felt that that option was closed to him. He could still hear his mother yelling after him – “Good! See you in June, then!” – and the slam of the door.
He stood on an empty sidewalk only a few blocks away from home for several minutes, his broomstick in one hand and the small bag he’d brought home for the Christmas holidays in the other, unconsciously worrying his lower lip. Looking up, he was surprised to note it had started snowing, flakes falling slowly and softly in the yellow glow of the streetlights. As though this was a call to action, Sirius straightened, mounted his broom, and, barely sparing a glance to ensure no Muggles would see him, shot up into the night air.
In less than thirty minutes, Sirius was seated at James Potter’s gleaming kitchen table drinking hot cocoa with James and his mother. He wrapped both hands around the warm porcelain, his fingers still raw from the cold.
“It’s fine, it’s not a big deal. It was the same old argument, it just…I couldn’t just sit through it again.”
James nodded sympathetically, his brows furrowed in anger and frustration. He spared a cautious glance toward his mother. Her eyes were soft and concerned over her own mug as she took a sip. Putting it back on the table, she looked at Sirius and assured him, “Of course you know you’re always welcome. We can get the spare room made up for you right away.” She smiled and, turning, pointed her wand at one of the open doors leading directly off the kitchen. “There we go.”
Sirius nodded at her, smiling genuinely for the first time since leaving Hogwarts the previous week. “Thanks, Mrs. Potter.”
She nodded kindly, but remained silent, as though she felt she had no right to get involved; she was just beginning to understand the seriousness of the situation, but felt she should wait until her son came to her. Either of her sons, she thought, as she looked at Sirius with a fondness that surprised her. As James and Sirius stared at each other over the table, she could sense all the words that they felt they couldn’t say with her there. They were still too young to understand that she already knew, but she excused herself, inventing some chore upstairs.
“So…do you want to talk about it? Really?” Sirius felt as though James’ eyes and questions were boring holes in his head. He knew this was unfair, that he was frustrated for reasons that had nothing to do with James, but he pushed himself away from the table abruptly to stand. He didn’t bother brushing away the hair that fell into his eyes.
“No. I really don’t,” he snapped. Feeling guilty immediately, his voice softened, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m being a total prat.”
James grinned. “Yeah, you are. But you know I’m here when you do want to vent.” He had come around the table to put an uncertain hand on Sirius’ shoulder, more taken aback than he realized by Sirius’ temper, that small dose directed at him for the first time since they were children.
“Yeah, I know. Right now I just think I’m ready for bed.” It was barely ten, but it had been dark outside for nearly six hours, and it felt like longer.
James nodded. “Of course.” He gestured toward the spare room. “Your kingdom awaits.” He twirled his hand in the air and gave a little bow, and Sirius had to suppress the urge to laugh, clap like they were twelve again and this was their first sleep-over. He settled for bowing in return and saying, “After you.”
There was a brief silence as James glanced awkwardly away before seeming to make a decision, looking back at Sirius and rolling his eyes. “Bed’s awfully small for both of us now, don’t you think?” He felt terrible as he was saying the words. He couldn’t pinpoint when or how, but over the course of the last year he’d felt some imperceptible change in their relationship. He wasn’t even entirely conscious of it, but every moment of physical contact felt somehow more intimate, less casual. They were sixteen now, and touch had become something private, something reserved for Lily Evans (hopefully, maybe, one day). He missed the simplicity of childhood, when words like ‘implications’ were not part of his vocabulary or his emotions.
Sirius was careful not to let his expression change. He laughed and hoped it didn’t sound forced. “Of course. Sorry, I just haven’t stayed over in so long… Feels like we should still be kids.”
“Yeah. It does.”
Neither seemed to know what to say, so they both said “Well, goodnight then,” and chuckled at their symmetry.
“You sure you’ll be okay, Pads?” James suppressed the ridiculous urge to apologize. He hadn’t done anything wrong. It was a very small bed; it would likely be uncomfortable even if they slept on top of one another.
Sirius nodded. “Yeah, of course. Thanks again. For letting me stay here. I’ll go back to Hogwarts as soon as I can, get out of your hair.”
“Don’t be daft. You can stay until the end of break, it’s only a few more days.”
He nodded again, more uncertainly. “Maybe. Thanks.”
“Any time, mate. Goodnight.” He gave Sirius one final reassuring smile, clasping his shoulder briefly as he passed to climb the stairs.
Sirius stood for a moment in the empty kitchen as though he wasn’t sure what to do next, where to go. He sighed and crossed over to his room. He’d never spent the night here alone, and he felt the bed’s emptiness as soon as he climbed in despite its size. Irrationally, he suddenly felt like he was back at Grimmauld Place, in his own four-poster. In the dark, it felt the same.
He must have fallen asleep at some point, because when he awoke the sun was barely rising, a dim glow along the horizon. Looking up, the sky was still dark; night was quick to come and slow to leave in England at this time of year.
Sirius climbed out of bed, surprised at how much energy he found he had. Without thinking, without sparing a thought for how James and his parents might react, he crept out the front door. He couldn’t say where it had come from, but he wasn’t at all surprised by the intense desire that seemed to have sprung unbidden into his consciousness sometime in the night: he had to see Remus. He thought, suddenly, of that childhood fairy tale, the one with the house elf testing out beds and chairs in a wizarding family’s house, until she found the ones that fit. He’d jumped from his parents’ house, to James’, but neither felt just right, not anymore; something had changed, had been changing for a long time, and he was just beginning to realize it.
It was bitterly cold outside in the early morning damp. The snow had continued falling overnight, and Sirius couldn’t recall ever seeing the ground so covered.
The sky was pale orange by the time he approached Remus’ small white house. He knew exactly where it was – Remus had described it many times, the name of his country town, his parents’ place right on the outskirts, the massive tree in the backyard that had survived through hundreds of winters. The square downtown, he said, had been Roman; the tower in the centre older than most of London.
The air felt clearer here, somehow.
Remus was just waking up, curling up in on himself for a moment under his heavy patchwork quilt, trying to collect all the warmth he could before climbing out of bed. His house was old and poorly-insulated; the colder it was outside, the more willpower it required to get up. Just as he was deciding to stuff it and go back to sleep, he heard strange shuffling noises coming from outside the window. Curiosity won out, and he didn’t even notice the change in temperature as he padded over to look through the glass. His brow furrowing in confusion, he dragged the window open, stuck his head out, and yelled “Sirius?!”
Sirius looked up and waved, grinning. “Hi Moony!”
Remus shook his head, wondering if he was still dreaming. “What are you doing in my yard?!”
Sirius paused, stumped. “Standing, I suppose.”
Laughing despite himself, Remus hurried downstairs and opened the back door. “Well, come on, come in. I’m not even going to ask.”
Ordinarily, Remus would have assumed a fight with his parents – Sirius often expressed the urge to run away from the home over the past few years, and Remus knew it was only a matter of time until he really did it – but Sirius seemed entirely too cheerful for that to be the case.
Stepping inside, Sirius shook quickly-melting snow out of his hair. “Bloody freezing out there!”
“You are mental, Pads. Has anyone ever told you that before?”
“First time today!”
“But really…what are you doing here? Not that I’ve not been pining for your presence since the hols began.”
“I knew it! Luckily, I’m here to put you out of that particular misery!” He slung his arm around Remus’ shoulders. He didn’t move away, seemed almost to sink into the touch. This was what it used to be like with James, Sirius thought, when they were young and things were simple. Remus laughed and Sirius smiled at him, suppressing the urge to pull him even closer, forcing himself to imagine he hadn’t thought it at all. Remus stared back, his eyes still faintly amused, but seeming to demand a serious answer that Sirius couldn’t escape giving. He sighed. “I just decided I needed a break from my parents for a while.”
“A break? We’ve only been home a week.”
“I know, but you know them. Well, no, you don’t, and you’re luckier for it.” Sirius could sense Remus’ face melting into sympathy, and this was the last thing he wanted. “But forget it, that was yesterday, this is today, right?”
Remus nodded. He knew when not to press. “Right. I’m sure your parents won’t mind you’re here; they’re always asking why don’t I have my friends round in the summer, but you lot are always off on your exotic family vacations…” He realized he was babbling, but he still felt partly asleep, like the dim light of the morning gave him permission to be someone more free.
Sirius grunted with displeasure. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.” He pulled away from Remus to begin exploring the kitchen, glancing down the short hallway leading to the front door. “I love this place, Moony! It’s so…”
“Small?”
“No! Well, I mean, yes, but good small!” Remus laughed, shaking his head.
“I think you’re delirious from the cold. Tea? Breakfast?” He was already opening cupboards.
Sirius came up behind him, just a bit closer than necessary. He could feel the heat from Remus’ back, and it felt good. “What’re you offering?”
Remus tried to ignore how his breath suddenly stuck in his throat. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge to himself why.
“Eggs and bacon okay? I’m sure my mom won’t mind.”
Sirius continued looking over Remus’ shoulder at the contents of his pantry. “Brilliant!” He moved away, and Remus felt disappointment and relief both at once. “Can I help? Can we do it by hand, no magic? I’ve never made breakfast by hand before!”
He was behaving like a small child and he knew it, but Sirius felt as though he had entered some new world where things were uncomplicated, and he wanted to cling to this feeling as long as he could.
Remus responded calmly, but his smile belied how amused he was, how glad to have Sirius here, however unexpected. His parents were still asleep upstairs and it was easy to pretend the kitchen was their own, an idea that thrilled and worried him. “Sure, Pads, we can do it by hand.”
Remus’ even voice seemed to have had a stabilizing effect on Sirius, who had calmed down significantly in the space of seconds, recovering whatever small dose of maturity he possessed. “Thanks, Moony.”
Remus inclined his head. “Of course.”
Sirius took Remus’ wrist, looked him straight in the eyes. “I mean it, really. Thanks for being here.”
“I’ll always be here, Sirius.” Remus only realized as he was saying it how much he meant it.
Sirius smiled. “I know.” He let go of Remus’ wrist, but Remus could still feel the touch of fingers against his skin. “Anyway, I’m starved! Eggs?”