Fic: Parallax 1/10
Parallax
Chapter 1: The Dream - The Beginning
Master Post of all the chapters: here.
Chapter 1: The Dream - The Beginning
19th July 1993
Harry.
Sirius woke up with a start. He had no idea why, as his alarm was not sounding and the sun was most certainly not shining. He checked the display on his bedside clock and groaned: 3:05 in the morning. The curtains on the windows were still closed and the bedroom was pitch black.
"This is ridiculous," Sirius said. He repeated, more loudly, "I said, this is ridiculous."
"I heard you the first time," the sleeping lump next to Sirius muttered. "What is it? You want a go?" Sirius felt what were probably supposed to be sexy fingers groping in the dark, missing his private area completely and ending up near his elbow.
"No, Remus, I do not want a go." Sirius waited and the fingers withdrew. "Aren't you going to ask me what's wrong?"
Remus intoned dully, "What's wrong?"
"I had a," Sirius searched for the right words, "I had an odd dream."
"An odd dream?" Remus said. "Are you taking the piss? Is this what you woke me up for?"
"I was listening to a series of names and birth dates and times being listed off. All babies, you know, babies born around the same time," Sirius explained, choosing to ignore the warning tone in Remus's voice. "It seemed endless."
"You must have been dreaming about a maternity ward, then," Remus said, as if that settled it. "When Harry was born, remember when we were stuck waiting outside and the nurse was reading out all the new baby arrivals to print in the paper the next day?"
"That was a happy day, though. And this dream was..." Decidedly not happy, Sirius thought. "There was this feeling. I can't shake it, and I can't put it into words. Something ominous."
"Really, Sirius," Remus yawned. "I know being there with all those wailing babies and women screaming was uncomfortable, but I'd never consider the experience traumatizing."
"I suppose." Sirius closed his eyes. Maybe he was being a bit stupid. "You're probably right. A dream, is all."
"Mm," came Remus's muffled reply.
"But by the way, since we're both up," Sirius slid closer to Remus. "How about that go, then?"
A loud snore was all that Remus had left to say on the matter.
* * * * *
"Good morning," Remus said, as Sirius walked into the kitchen. The kitchen was bright and cheerful, a large window over the sink permitting sun to come into the warm room. There was a simple square table near the other window that looked out into the back garden. Sirius liked to sit facing the window, and Remus liked to sit with his back to it so the light wouldn't shine directly in his eyes while he read the Daily Prophet. There was a much more formal setup in the dining room, but Sirius couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten there.
"Good morning," said Sirius a little coolly, walking over to the table and delicately sniffing the discolored sausage before him. "What is this? Burnt shoe?'
"No, we finished all our burnt shoe yesterday," Remus replied automatically. "Oh, come on, you're not crabby about last night, are you?" Sirius said nothing as he poured himself some tea. "Sirius, for the love of Muggles, it was three in the morning, I was barely alive, much less awake." Again, Sirius said nothing. "Oh, don't sulk at me."
"I am not sulking," Sirius said at last with great dignity. "I am eating your sausage, which does, in fact, taste like burnt shoe in spite of your misleading statements to the contrary. And I am drinking my tea. I am also thinking about the busy, busy day at work I have today."
"It was a bad dream! What did you expect me to do, hold your hand and cuddle you until you fell asleep again?" Remus stopped. "Oh." Sirius took a long, pointed sip of his tea.
Remus sighed a little and put his newspaper down on the table. "Sirius. You know how I am without sleep--I get cantankerous."
Remus sounded so genuinely contrite that Sirius relented--a little. "I guess this sausage texture is a little less shoe-like than last week."
Remus stood and folded his hand over Sirius's. "I'll do better next time." He dropped a kiss on the top of Sirius's head. "I promise I'll make it up to you later."
"Promises, promises," Sirius said around his bite of awful tasting sausage.
* * * * *
"Well done, everybody!" Sirius shouted to his team as they began to descend on their broomsticks. He stood in the middle of the Quidditch field and waved up at them. "I think we might have a fighting shot at the League Cup this year, and that's not hyperbole, that's the truth!"
"Excuse me, Mr. Black?" An exceedingly pretty witch with long blond hair tapped Sirius on the shoulder. "My name is Zamira Gulch, I'm from the Daily Prophet. If I could have a moment of your time"
"The Daily--oh! Of course, of course." Sirius gestured to his team that they could take a rest break. "Right this way, let me show you my office."
"Office, Mr. Black?"
Sirius walked with her for a few feet on the field and gave his wand a little flick. A voluminous orange tent decorated with the Chudley Cannons logo instantly sprung to life before them and Sirius gave her a gallant bow. "After you."
Impressed, Zamira walked into the tent, which was larger on the inside than it first appeared. The floor was covered in comfortable rugs, and the walls hung with photos of Chudley Cannon players in flight. There was a table in the center, with assorted mismatched chairs around it. "You bring this with you everywhere?"
"Everywhere and always. Terribly handy--in rain or tornado, Quidditch must go on--but at least I can stay dry and avoid falling debris. Besides, it comes in handy for the occasional interview with charming reporters." Zamira blushed slightly. "But where are my manners? Please, have a seat." Sirius swept his hand around the room. "Any one you like. Would you care for a biscuit? Tea?"
"A cup of tea would be lovely, thank you," Zamira said as she took a seat in one of the huge, comfortable chairs near the table Sirius was standing by.
He picked up the teapot--fine bone china patterned in web-like gold lace--and poured her tea. "Milk? Sugar?"
"Neither, thank you." She accepted a cup. "Thank you."
Sirius took a seat with his own teacup. "What would you like to know? I take my tea with a dash of milk and no sugar, and I do enjoy long walks on the seashore."
Zamira chuckled a little as she took out a pen and paper. "As fascinating as it is to know how you take your tea, I was hoping you would answer some questions more related to your work with the Chudley Cannons."
"What could be more fascinating than how I take my tea?" Sirius grinned wolfishly. "I tell you what--since you've already found out the good stuff I suppose I'll give you some filler for the rest of your article. What would you like?"
She referred to her notes. "Some would claim that you're the mastermind of the Cannons' remarkable change in fortune. They're currently ranked at number three this season and this is the closest they've been to the League Championship game in thirty years. This is a tremendous change from three years ago when they lost every game they played."
"It obviously hasn't been an overnight transformation," Sirius said. "I can attest to that personally, seeing as I was the manager of the Cannons three years ago when we lost every match."
"Three years isn't that long, and their performance this year has been--unprecedented. What's your secret?"
"The exciting answer is that I've captured a sprite that has direct ties to Lady Luck," Sirius grinned. "The boring answer is hard work. Constant practice, studies of the strategies other teams employ... winning the old fashioned way. I also have a great team of players, too."
"You've made some controversial choices when drafting your team, Mr. Black. Any comments on that?"
"There's a method to my madness, as you can see in the results... I can't tell you what that method is though." Sirius grinned. "It's taken a few years to put this team together, but now that I have I'm very happy with how they work together."
"You've been manager for," Zamira consulted her notes, "five years now?"
"That's right. I started out as a glorified water boy three years before that--I had some title like, 'assistant-assistant-assistant manager', but all I did was observe and fetch water."
"And how does one go about getting started as an assistant-assistant-assistant manager? An ad in the classifieds?"
"I found out about the job through a friend of mine at the ministry. Works in the Magical Games and Sports department, naturally."
"Naturally."
"He suggested I have a go, since Quidditch has been a lifelong passion of mine."
"What were you doing before that time?"
"Truthfully, not much." Sirius played with the handle of his teacup. He lowered his gaze so his eyelashes would flutter most becomingly across his cheek and give him a vulnerable sort of aspect. "I was in a bad state at the time. Wandering from job to job, but nothing felt right. I wasn't even sure this was going to be the right place for me when I took the job--all I wanted was something new to do."
Zamira nodded understandingly as she took copious notes. "It seems you finally found the perfect fit."
"Yes, hopefully the players agree." Sirius chuckled. "They're a great group and I'm immensely lucky to work with them."
"It's a very exciting time for you all now that you're only four matches away from the end of the season and possibly the League Cup."
"Technically three, since the match we're playing in a couple of days is an exhibition game."
"Ah, right, Paris, is it?"
"Right. For fun and for sport only. Not rankings."
"Are you still gunning to win even if it doesn't affect your rankings?" she inquired.
"We're always gunning to win!" Sirius exclaimed. "I told my players what I always tell them--play hard, play their best, and they won't disappoint no matter the outcome."
"It's a winning formula so far." Zamira flipped her notebook closed. "Thank you so much for your time, Mr Black. If you'll wait one moment more, our staff photographer should be arriving--"
With a loud pop, a frazzled wizard Apparated next to her. "I'm here, I'm here. Photos, yes..."
Zamira coughed a little self-consciously, "A photo of Mr Black--"
"It's Sirius, now that you know my life story," Sirius interrupted with a wink. He stepped in front of the camera and put on his most a winning smile.
"Sirius Black," the photographer said to himself. "All right, done, next!"
"A picture with the team perhaps, Mr.--I mean, Sirius?" Zamira said hopefully.
"Absolutely! But first, how about a picture with the team?" Sirius walked towards the tent opening.
"Oh, I couldn't--" She flushed prettily.
"Nonsense, I'm sure your photographer wouldn't mind a bit," Sirius said as he pulled back the flap for her to step through. The photographer's expression begged to disagree.
* * * * *
"...And as soon as I tasted that familiar taste of vomit, I knew we were in for a hell of a lot of paperwork," James concluded with a flourish.
Sirius, who had been enjoying a pleasant daydream about dancing chocolate frogs accompanied by an endless sea of gold Galleons, snapped to attention. "Ah, yes, absolutely thrilling, my dear chap, thrilling." They were sitting in the back garden of James' house, drinking tea and catching up on the day. James' day, as it turned out, had been an immensely boring one. But it was a leisurely summer evening, and Sirius could hear the insects buzzing around the flowerbeds around them.
James' mouth puckered in annoyance. "Have you been listening to me?"
"Now don't you give me that look, laddie--and I'm serious, it makes you look like a fish--I've already got a Remus to nag me at home. I don't need a second one away from home."
"You haven't heard a word all the time you've been here, have you?" James pointed at him accusingly. "An hour, it's been and all you probably remember is 'Hullo'!"
"Oh, come off it." Sirius tipped his wicker chair into a precarious position on its back legs. "You've been talking about foul tasting cockroach clusters for the past hour at some deadly dull Gobstones match--"
"For your information, it was contraband Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans at a speed wizarding chess match--"
Sirius waved his hand impatiently. "Really, James, when did you start caring about what sweets they eat at chess matches?"
"When I started working at the Department of Magical Games and Sports ten years ago, you idiot! And in case you were wondering, it's been strictly forbidden to sell Bertie Bott's at all competitive sporting events since--"
"I would hardly consider wizarding chess a sporting event," Sirius murmured, which did not improve James' mood.
"Since the incident," James said loudly, "in 1933. Strictly forbidden. Do you know what that means?"
"It means you've gone and grown into a daft old stiff who tells jokes with punchlines that include Gobstone rulebooks and wizarding chess puns."
"It means that, well, obviously you weren't listening so what's the point," James said irritably. "I'm sure what you did was far more exciting and you're clamoring to tell me all about it."
"As a matter of fact I am, Mr. Snippy-Pants. I'll have you know I was interviewed about my brilliant work by a lovely young reporter from the Daily Prophet. And I had my photo taken."
James rolled his eyes but seemed amused. "Still charming the pants off the young and unsuspecting, are you?"
"Metaphorical pants, James--remember I've been made an honest man," Sirius said. "I might have been unwilling at first, but I've settled down like you! Although luckily I'm still fun to be around, unlike you."
"Fun? I hate to say it, but you're past your prime, old chum. You're hardly more diverting than watching snails crawl. Grass grow. I didn't want to be the one to tell you, but, well, frankly, people flee your company for fear of ending up a dry and lifeless husk. I thought you should know."
"Flee my company? I can still remember the first time you ever called me 'chum.' It was the day I--and the rest of Hogwarts--decided on the spot that you were a poncy twat who had read too many romance novels." Sirius thought back fondly on his first year at Hogwarts. "Actually, I still think that."
"And I thought it'd be the perfect nickname for the biggest snotty-nosed twit I'd ever met," James retorted. "How could I have known you wouldn't see the irony?"
"This whole debacle supports, once more, my life-long assertion that you should leave the witticisms to me. As you are clearly not up to the task." Sirius patted James on the shoulder gently.
"You're nothing but a lowbrow wanker. Of course irony is wasted on you," James said. "How could I have not seen that? And why are we still mates?"
"My dashing good looks and aristocratic charm, no doubt," Sirius supplied. "My brilliant wit and great cleverness are merely a bonus."
James laughed. "Yes, that's must be it. Though I don't have to live with your aristocratic ego, thank god... Guess the more fitting question might be how Remus puts up with it."
"It is his duty and, moreover, his joy," Sirius declared haughtily.
"His insanity, more like."
"Now now, there's no need to be bitter. He beat you in the election to be President of the Sirius Black fanclub fair and square. It was a tight race and he ran a good, solid campaign. Can't blame a bloke for that."
"Sirius," James said with a solemn expression, "the only way I would ever be in a fanclub of yours is if you paid me. And then, it'd have to be a lot. Enough for me to resign and stay at home and be nothing but a paid layabout."
"Stop talking as if you need your pencil pushing desk job, you silly sod," Sirius said. "You know that between your inheritance and Lily's salary you're already living the life of a paid layabout."
"Am I really being scolded about money? This from the heir of the noble and most ancient house of Black?" James chuckled. "Cauldron calling the kettle black?"
"That was a terrible pun," Sirius informed him. "Speaking of inheritors, where are Lily and Harry? I understand they stand to gain quite a bit after I murder you in your sleep."
"Thank you, and that was a terrible segue. Lily's still a work. You know how she is." James sipped his tea and made a face. "Stone cold. Anyway, as for Harry, he's left today for a friend's house in Wales."
"Wales? For how long?"
"Oh," James examined his teacup and attempted to sound casual. "Two weeks. He'll be back in time for his birthday."
"Is that right?." Sirius said shrewdly. "First time away from home other than Hogwarts?'
"I suppose," James said with an air of forced indifference. "Might be."
"And what a coincidence that you're sitting out here in the back garden then, facing north. North, the direction from which an owl might come. If Harry were to owl." James made a noncommittal noise. "Why, James, I was wrong; you haven't died and come back a stiff, you've died and been reborn an old woman, worrying and weeping as her baby boy leaves the nest!"
"It's his first time away from home and he's--" James restrained himself with great effort. "I mean. Not that I don't think he can take care of himself. He can. And I am most definitely not worrying or weeping."
"Oh, but you are. Hands are being wrung--both figuratively and physically."
James' hands froze. "They are not. I am fine."
"You're a lying sack of lies, is what you are. And a poor liar of a sack, at that." Sirius shook his head tragically. "You've been waiting all day for an owl, haven't you?"
"No! Of course not." James said quickly. "I only want to make sure I don't miss the owl, you know, sometimes they see no one's home and they don't bother to drop it off before flying off god knows where, and Harry promised to owl me as soon as he'd arrived."
"Good lord, James, let the poor boy settle in and enjoy himself before you send all of the hit-wizards in England to Wales to reclaim him. I imagine it's ruddy embarrassing having you as a dad, hovering all the time."
"I wouldn't expect you to understand," James said.
Sirius rolled his eyes. "What did Lily have to say about this?"
"She, ah, seemed a bit relieved. I mean, she isn't happy Harry's gone, but she did mention that since he's home again it's been even more difficult to find time for the two of us."
"Have you thought of the potential in that? Here's free time you'll have together--time alone." Sirius gave James a lascivious wink.
"Perhaps I haven't fully evaluated the potential," James said slowly. "I suppose it will only be fortnight."
"That's the spirit," Sirius clapped James on the back. "Now, I know you didn't invite me over simply to bore me to death with your wizarding chess stories and cold tea. So what's the real problem, Prongs?"
James turned his empty teacup over in his hands. "We got a little sidetracked, what with you mocking me relentlessly, but it actually involves Harry. His birthday's coming up and I'm a little at a loss for what to get for him."
"Is there anything that Potter boy hasn't got already?" Sirius smiled to soften the words. "Really, James, you spoil him rotten."
James chuckled ruefully. "The sad thing is that I would spoil him more if Lily weren't around to stop me. In any case, I haven't got any good ideas at all. Everything I can think of, I've already bought him or it's so outlandishly expensive Lily would put her foot down and forbid it."
"I'm not sure what to say," Sirius said, deep in thought. "My birthday present is going to be Top Box seats at the League Cup, so that's out."
"I thought about getting him a new broom as the one he's riding is already at least six years old," James said. "One of the international standard types, but Lily would never agree to the expense."
"Well, the Cannons have to buy new brooms almost every other year, we tend to get a steep discount for buying in bulk," Sirius said. "If you'd like, I could look into whether we could fit another broom into the order for you."
"Would you?" James asked hopefully. "Perhaps it'd be enough that Lily wouldn't--"
"Oh no." Sirius stood up and shook his head. "It's not that much of a discount. Lily is still going to breathe fire at the price. But it'll be worth it to see the expression of Harry's face, I think."
James smiled. "Thank you, Sirius."
"Always happy to help the helpless," Sirius replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a fantastic shag waiting for me at home that I shouldn't keep waiting."
* * * * *
"Remus, my little honey-covered rotten cabbage!" Sirius called as he Apparated into the foyer. It was small and messy, and shoes were strewn everywhere across the floor. But Sirius took a deep breath and felt instantly at home. "I know you're here somewhere--there's nothing quite like the rotten cabbage smell you track into the house."
"That's sweet," Remus said, stepping into the foyer. "You know how I know you're home? The muddy footprints all over the carpet."
"Is that your way of telling me to wipe my shoes?" Sirius wiped his shoes on the mat. "Because I was telling you to take a bath. Or stop working at that blasted apothecary. I'll take either."
"I've taken an oath never to bathe again, didn't I tell you that yesterday?" Remus kissed Sirius lightly on the mouth before returning to the kitchen. "And I'm not giving up my job no matter how many times you ask."
"I've gone past the point of asking politely and moved into the territory of taking hostages and making demands."
"Your demands are being ignored."
"This much I know," Sirius said, wandering into the kitchen. "You come back everyday smelling like eye of newt or troll's feet or dragon's breath--and those are only the scents I can identify. It's not exactly appealing, if you know what I mean."
"That's funny, because it didn't stop someone from a peeling yesterday, if you know what I mean. Heh."
"I most definitely do not. I have no recollection of said peeling. Your bawdy insinuations are a slight on my honor." Sirius pulled out a chair and sat at the table.
"As if you have any honor left to slight," Remus said under his breath.
"What's that?"
"What?" Remus replied innocently. "Your dinner is ready."
Sirius stared at his plate. "You poisoned this, didn't you?"
"Eat, Sirius. Take advantage of my foolish, foolish benevolence."
"This isn't the rotten cabbage I was smelling before, correct? That was all you?" At Remus' lack of amusement, Sirius put his hands in the air. "I joke, I joke! This is delicious."
"You are not nearly as charming or witty as you think you are," Remus said, but seemed mollified nonetheless.
"You could return to the Magical Menagerie." Sirius tried to swallow his food as quickly as he could, as it did unfortunately bear a striking resemblance in both taste and odor to rotten cabbage. "I don't know why you left in the first place."
"Half the animals were terrified of me, and the other half attacked me on sight. Also, I didn't leave, I was let go."
"I'm sure they were attacks of love." Sirius took a gulp of water after biting into a particularly burnt piece of whatever it was Remus had made. Remus, luckily, did not notice.
"The owners disagreed. Besides, I thought you hated the way I was covered in feathers and smelled like catsand all the time?"
"Oh that's right, I did," Sirius said. "How about that cauldron shop then? You only smelled like rusted tin there."
"The shopkeeper's daughter, Mathilda, wouldn't leave me alone." Remus sighed. "She still sends me flowers and singing dwarves on Valentine's Day."
"Ah yes. That was a good one," Sirius chortled. "I miss her. How about that Gringotts one? That paid rather well."
Remus glowered at him. "Yes, I guess the danger money is pretty good considering your life expectancy is shortened to approximately three days. A fine exchange that is, having more gold at the end of the day than ashes to put in a box."
"Oh, being dragon feeder wasn't all bad." At Remus' look, Sirius hastily added, "All right, perhaps it was. No, but what I really don't understand is why you quit Quality Quidditch Supplies. Best job in the world, after mine!"
"I'm not going to dignify that question with an answer. You know why I can't go back there."
Sirius swallowed the last bite of his food and forced himself not to grimace at the slightly acrid taste. "Your long and illustrious career up and down Diagon Alley--riddled with misfortune, odor, and overly persistent cauldron-selling spinsters."
Remus gave a flick of his wand and both their empty plates flew up into the air towards the sink. "You love to hear yourself talk, don't you?"
"Most beautiful sound in the world," Sirius said. "I know you agree with me because you are, after all, madly in love with me and would die without me."
"I am somewhat fond of you, like one is fond of a particular spiny weed growing on the side of the road. But I wouldn't go so far as to invoke 'love'."
"The icy shield you put up won't push me away. I won't let it." Sirius stood up and put both hands on the table. "You're going to tell me how wildly you adore me or I'm not going to do the washing up."
"Fine. Don't wash up. When the food rots, I won't be the one suffering. You have a much better sense of smell than I do." Remus stood up as well.
Sirius took out his wand. "Don't make me cast a Tickling Charm, Remus Lupin. Because I will. Then I'll make myself a love potion--or just steal one off Mathilda, I'm sure she has dozens--and revel in your false affections."
The corner of Remus' mouth twitched. "You're incorrigible."
Sirius puffed out his chest and preened. "You're a stubborn scamp. But you know when to admit you're wrong. Probably why I love you." He flipped his wand in the direction of the washing up. The plates and cutlery leaped into action immediately.
"I thought it was due to," Remus drew himself up into a stance mirroring Sirius,' "my dashing good looks and aristocratic charm. And of course, my brilliant wit and great cleverness are merely a bonus."
"My," Sirius said, "that's a little eerie. Have you been practicing? And do I really do that little wriggle with my eyebrow towards the end?"
"Yes you do and yes, I've been practicing. All the girls at the shop think it's hysterical."
"Ah, they've grown so attached to me," Sirius said mistily. He began drying the plates. "How they're going to miss my scintillating conversation when you inevitably move onto the next stepping stone of your career. Who knows where it might be? Will it lead you down a sweet path to Florean Fortescue's, or a wooden one to Ollivanders?"
"You can make all the jokes you want but I'm not leaving the apothecary," Remus said flatly. "Why the sudden interest in my career past? I thought you hated talking about work."
"Been on my mind today. And your work is a lot more amusing than James' at least."
"James brought work up? And you let him?"
"As if anything could stop him," Sirius said. "He was trying to remind me of how lucky I was to have him in my life, elsewise I'd still be a restless, wandering socialite making scandalous headlines in all the tabloids."
"And you're telling me you disagree?" Remus said. "He got you that job offer, didn't he?"
"I should be groveling for the rest of my life because of one measly, life-changing job offer?" Sirius grumbled.
"I'm just glad you took it. For a while there it didn't look as if you were ever going to settle down."
"When the love of one's life threatens to leave one on account of lack of direction," Sirius began to examine his nails very carefully. "What is one supposed to do but take whatever sad work that comes one's way?"
"Sirius," Remus said softly. "You know that wasn't--" Sirius continued studying his nails. "I wouldn't have left. You know that, don't you?"
Sirius abandoned his cuticles and walked to Remus, whose arms encircled his waist instinctively. "I know that now."
* * * * *
For the second night in a row, Sirius woke up unexpectedly. But this time, it was no mere baby-name induced list of dread; this was a full-blown nightmare.
"Remus, Remus!" Sirius pushed him none too gently. "I had another nightmare."
"Babies again?" Remus croaked, most unhappily.
"Worse," Sirius gnawed at the edge of his thumbnail. "No, this was about my life, Remus. My life!"
Remus inhaled deeply. "I am almost awake enough to be supportive. Tell me what happened."
"It was terrifying, Remus. I can't put into words what. I'm beside myself with fright." Sirius sat up in bed. "It gives me chills to relive it."
"There, there." Remus patted him on the knee. "It's going to be okay."
"But what if it's not?" Sirius moaned and put his head in his hands. "What if it's an omen? A sign of things to come?"
"What was it? This omen?"
"Our rankings. The Chudley Cannons, we were ranked," Sirius could barely bring himself to say it out loud. "We were last in the league!"
To Sirius' horror, Remus laughed. "That's it? That's your nightmare? Here I was, imagining your dead body being picked at by carrion creatures and it's about your bloody Quidditch rankings?"
Sirius wasn't listening. "There's still time. This could be a portent. I must take this seriously, I must prepare." He threw back the blankets and scrambled out of bed.
"Where are you going? What the--come back to bed. Wait." Remus stared in amazement as Sirius climbed into his dressing gown and walked out of the room muttering to himself about strategies and tactics. "It was only a dream!"
* * * * *
By the time morning arrived, Sirius was a good deal calmer. Remus walked into the kitchen. "Morning, sleepyhead."
"Morning yourself." Remus yawned. "Did you stay up all night?"
"No." Sirius flipped the contents of his flying pan. "I fell asleep on the sofa."
"You should have come back to bed," Remus said, pouring himself some tea. "I couldn't get back to sleep."
"Sorry," Sirius replied. He slid the food onto a plate and sent it to the table with his wand. "I made omelets. I know they're your favorite."
"Thank you. And I'm not angry." Remus glanced down at the piping hot, delectably fluffy omelet, stuffed with mushrooms and peppers and cheese. "I meant I'm not used to sleeping without you."
Sirius smiled as he sat down across the table. "I know what you meant."
"You're not cross with me, are you?"
Sirius shook his head. "Some League Cup nerves, I expect. Bound to happen sooner or later. Pity it was sooner."
"No more panic?" Remus ventured.
"No more panic," Sirius said resolutely.
"Good." Remus dug into his omelet. "This omelet is fantastic."
Sirius glanced at the window. "The Daily Prophet hasn't arrived yet, has it?"
Remus checked the time. "Not yet, no. Why?"
"Oh it's--" Sirius coughed. "I know you like your morning paper with your tea."
"It's all right. Perhaps the owl is running a bit late. I can catch up with the news later after work."
"I wouldn't want for you to start the day off on the wrong foot though--" Sirius was interrupted, thankfully, by the owl arriving at that very moment. "And here we are! Fated." Remus picked up the paper while Sirius busied himself with clearing the table. "Any, ah, interesting news? Articles? Bits and bats?"
"Not really," Remus replied. "Enchanted chickens... ten ways to effectively de-gnome a garden... and some silly bloke with some Quidditch team."
"I see." Sirius tried not to sound disappointed, but failed.
"Do you now?" Remus passed him the paper and Sirius blinked. There was a photo of himself winking cheekily at the camera while the rest of the Chudley Cannons zoomed around the background on broomsticks.
"My, isn't that a dashing fellow," Sirius said.
"You're worse than a peacock," Remus said affectionately, and took back the paper. "I'll mount it in a place of honor on my office wall, where all the girls can giggle about it when they pass."
"You'd better." Sirius threw him an even cheekier wink.
* * * * *
"Hullo, hullo, hullo, for I am here!" Sirius announced himself dramatically at the door to Lily's office. It was a fairly large and imposing office, very clean and dust-free. Shelves ran along all the walls of the office, stocked with things as mundane as textbooks to things as mysterious as swirling clouds of gold dust trapped in jars. Sirius longed to stop and peer at everything for hours but Lily, who sat at her Spartan mahogany desk at the end of the room, would never approve of it.
Lily took the barest glance up from her work. "You're not a miniature squid."
"I'm glad that confusion's cleared up." Sirius threw himself into the uncomfortable chair in front of her desk. "This chair is awful, by the way."
"Perhaps if you were a miniature squid, it might be more comfortable." Lily's voice was as pointed as her quill working furiously over papers.
"Even if you repeat a bad joke a dozen more times, I highly doubt I will a, spontaneously morph into a miniature squid because I only morph into a dog, thanks, and b, understand what the devil you're talking about." Sirius spotted a clouded round crystal ball on Lily's desk and leaned forward to touch it.
"Don't touch that," Lily said sharply.
Sirius retracted his arm. "Your resemblance to Professor McGonagall grows more unnerving every day."
Lily put down her quill. "Perhaps next time I should let you touch the prophecy sphere and watch you go insane instead. Would you like that?"
"Prophecies? Oh, Lily." He shook his head reproachfully. "You shouldn't leave those lying around any old where. They're liable to lead to spontaneous bouts of insanity!"
"They're only a danger to idiots, luckily," Lily replied dryly. "Not that it isn't a joy to see you, always, but why are you here?"
"One old friend can't visit another?" Sirius leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head. "I was in the Ministry doing some last minute paperwork for the game tomorrow--"
"The Department of Magical Games and Sports is upstairs, or didn't you notice the large sign at the top of my door saying, 'Department of Mysteries'?"
"Prickly, prickly," Sirius said. "I can read, thank you. Sometimes I can sound out words with more than three syllables while I'm at it. As for my paperwork, I finished it ages ago, and I thought I'd pop by."
"This isn't some kind of practical joke, is it?" Lily glanced around the office suspiciously. "James isn't going to pop out of a bottle naked with a feather duster again, is he?"
"You wound me with your words." Sirius put his hands over his heart for effect. "I was going to ask some sensitive, thoughtful questions about how you're holding up now that Harry's left, but I see now I needn't bother for you have a heart of coal."
Lily cracked a tiny smile. "I'm fine. Harry's fine--he owled us yesterday night about how much fun he's having."
"You seem to be holding up much better than James. Last I saw him, he was sobbing inconsolably. I tried to comfort him, but you know he gets. I was at a loss."
Lily actually chuckled at this. "James will find a way through this. He was a wreck for weeks after Harry first left for Hogwarts, and he got through that. I didn't enjoy the weeks of him tearing up over old picture albums of Harry though..."
"What a bore," Sirius said fondly. "I, on the other hand, am too exciting for words! How's about you and I fly away together on an Axminster carpet to Tahiti." He gave her a seductive leer. "I'll bring the firewhiskey, and you bring the naughty negligee."
"I don't think Remus would entirely approve. He is a mite territorial." Lily sounded amused.
"Ah, it was worth a shot." Sirius shrugged. "But if you won't run away with me for an exotic adventure, how about telling me what exactly it is you do here?"
"I've already told you all I could. It wouldn't be much of a Department of Mysteries if there weren't any mysteries, would it?"
Sirius sighed, regarding all the inscrutable odds and ends in the shelves lining Lily's office wistfully. "You are the deliverer of crushing blow after crushing blow. I don't know if I've still the will to live, knowing our love can never be, and my burning questions will remain evermore."
"I have faith in you," Lily said. "If you're so anxious for an exotic adventure, why don't you run away with James? Or Peter? I understand he's already somewhere far, far away."
"Albania," Sirius replied gloomily. "Not that exotic, if you ask me. Rather dreary, in fact. And Peter doesn't look nearly as good in naughty negligee as you do."
"There's always James," Lily reminded him. "But what is Peter doing out there again? Has he got another new job?"
"James has flat out refused to wear it anymore on account of my 'not respecting him the morning after' or some such rubbish. As for Peter, he's now a part of the Cartographer's Guild. He updates maps with minute elevation changes. So boring I think I fell asleep while he was talking about it ages ago. I might fall asleep talking about it now."
"You fall asleep while a lot of people talk," Lily pointed out.
"But never you, my sharp-tongued beauty." Sirius grinned and stood. "I assume you're going to throw me out of your office now in order to return to being unspeakable and mysterious-like."
"You assume correctly." Lily returned to her paperwork. "Oh, and Sirius?" He turned. "I know that broom James is bent on getting for Harry is nowhere near the price he says it is. And I know you had something to do with the whole idea."
"I," Sirius hovered in the doorway uneasily, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"A lifetime of constant indulgence is not what I want for Harry. I hope you know that, Sirius," Lily said. "Look at what it did to James."
Sirius smiled weakly, "I don't think he turned out all bad."
Lily sighed. "I know he's your best mate. But if you could just think about my point of view every now and then--I'm not always wrong."
Sirius nodded, wanting to escape as soon as possible. "Admonishment received."
Lily shook her head and smiled a little. "Just remember not to have too much fun in France, now. I hear the ladies are saucier than I and Remus might not approve."
* * * * *
"You're home early," Sirius said as Remus entered the bedroom.
"I left a little early to help you pack." Remus shook his head at the explosion of socks, robes, cloaks, and hats covering the floor of the bedroom. "I know you're still hopeless at it."
Sirius heaved a sigh of relief. "I'm no use at these organizing and packing spells, and I have no idea what to take at all, which doesn't help..."
"You're going for three days," Remus said as he surveyed the room critically. "You don't need to bring half of England with you for three days."
Sirius flipped open all of the drawers in the room in an attempt to be helpful. "Only a quarter of England, then?"
Remus began sending all of Sirius' clothes through the air, folding them before fitting them neatly into the open drawers. After he was finished with that, there were three sets of clothing plus pajamas on the bed, and those he whisked into the trunk. "Voila."
Sirius smiled sweetly up at Remus. "Have I ever told you that you're my favorite?"
"Other than James?" Remus tipped the trunk closed and put it by the door.
"James is but a pale shadow of the wizard you are."
"I believe thanks are in order, then?" Remus said. Sirius bounced on the edge of the bed eagerly and Remus leaned closer.
"Thanks could be arranged." Sirius said against Remus' neck.
"Then I think," Remus put a hand square on Sirius' chest and pushed him onto his back. "Hot dinner it is!"
Sirius got up on his elbows, miffed. "With no dessert first?"
Remus paused to think. "Nope! All I want in this world is a hot dinner. Right now. Chop chop!"
Sirius fell back onto the bed sulkily. "Dinner. Philistine."
* * * * *
Sirius' filet mignon served with a side of potatoes au gratin were--if he said so himself and he did--magnificent. The texture of the beef was heavenly and the cheese flavor unexpectedly smoky and rich.
"I much prefer it when it's your day to cook," Remus said around a mouth full of half chewed steak. "I still don't know how to make anything passable unless it involves chocolate."
"'Passable' is not a word used to describe this gustatory celebration," Sirius said.
"I must admit it all tastes French to me." Remus winced at the scathing look Sirius gave him.
"I thought a French inspired meal would be fitting, seeing as I'm leaving England's tender embrace for a mistress with far finer cuisine," Sirius said snobbishly.
"You know I'd cook for you if," Remus touched his wand woefully, "if I could make anything that didn't still have a rubbery texture."
"It's not important," Sirius said, too busy savoring his steak to care one way or the other.
"I'll bake a cake for tomorrow morning, to see you off."
"A cake for breakfast?" Sirius squinted at Remus. "Oh dear. You are going to miss me, aren't you?"
"It'll be fantastic," Remus swore. "Cakes I can bake."
"This is true," Sirius said. "Once I start eating your cakes, I can't stop. They're addictive, as if you put something besides love into them."
"To what end, might I ask?"
"I don't know what goes through that twisted mind of yours and I don't want to." Sirius finished the last bite of his potatoes with a sigh of great contentment.
"You're going to have to be up awfully early," Remus mused. "Which means I will have to be up awfully early. Unless you have another nightmare, in which I will get no sleep at all."
"You talk as if I'm having these nightmares for the single purpose of annoying you. I can assure you that is far from the case, as they're far more bothersome to me than to you. As for getting up so damn early, it's because the trip is stupidly difficult and involved. I have to floo to the south of England, then fly myself over the channel, and then Apparate myself to Paris. It's ridiculous." Sirius took a vicious cut into his steak.
"I can see you feel very strongly about this."
"I do. And this is because I do not understand how a rock that makes you immortal and endlessly rich can be invented, but not some sort of floo direct connection between England and France."
"I don't know about you, but everlasting life does hold my interest for a spark or two," Remus said, smiling faintly.
"Overrated," Sirius waved Remus' point away. "If you've lived life right, you shouldn't need more of it."
"Not everyone can live so confidently with themselves as you do, I'm afraid."
"Then how do they live with themselves?" Sirius demanded. "If you're not the hero of your own story, what are you? The supporting character? The arch-villain? The hero of somebody else's story?"
Remus laughed. "But then where is your tragedy, Sirius? Every hero needs proper tragedy, otherwise he's not a proper hero."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why must all heroes be tragic? Why shouldn't they go on to lead happy, ordinary lives after they've finished all their heroics?"
"Because that doesn't make for good drama," Remus said. "Which is more compelling: the man with nothing to lose who throws it all away for a cause, or the man who has everything to lose and still throws it all away from a cause? Heroism is about greatness. Greatness is about sacrifices even the good aren't willing to make."
"I don't know if I agree with you," Sirius said. "Heroes can be great without tragic circumstances. Take me, for example."
"Not the heroes I like," Remus said. "I think the greatest heroes are the ones that give up the things that are most difficult to part with. Because it's the right thing--the only thing--to do."
"You're going to say something like, 'give up their lives for righteousness', aren't you?"
"Sometimes a life." Remus was strangely thoughtful when he reached over and took Sirius' hand. "A past, present and future--you'd be surprised at how difficult those things can be to part with."
* * * * *
For the third night in a row, Sirius woke with a start. "Brilliant," he said. "And wide awake, too."
"Awake again?" Remus groaned mightily.
"Thestrals."
"What?"
"Thestrals," Sirius repeated sourly. "I know you're going to ask what happened in the dream and I thought I'd save you the trouble: I had a bad dream about Thestrals."
"Are Thestrals--" Remus was struggling to wake up. "Those horses. With wings?"
"Not quite Pegasus, but you get excellent marks in Care of Magical Creatures. You can only see them if you've seen death. I've never seen them myself--only etchings in a book once. A very long time ago, at that."
"Macabre."
"That's not the worst of it." Sirius shivered and felt strangely cold. "We were in some kind of very small, very cold room together. Trapped, I think. I couldn't find the door."
"I'm sorry. That must have been unnerving, to say the least," Remus rubbed Sirius' arm, and it helped a little. "But why are you dreaming about steeds of death?"
"I don't know." Sirius pondered. "Lily mentioned something about a miniature squid today. Reminded me of the giant squid at Hogwarts, which is where I saw the etchings. I don't know how the giant squid leads to Thestral etchings, but it just does."
"Lily?" Remus said. "You saw Lily yesterday? How is she? I keep inviting her over for dinner but she's rather in demand these days."
"Same as usual. Busy, irritable." Sirius shrugged. "Does anybody really change?
"It's too early for philosophical questions," Remus said. "When do you have to be up?"
"In an hour--might as well get up. I need to floo before the rush anyway."
"I'll get up with you."
"No, stay in bed." Sirius got out of bed and fumbled in the dark for his robe.
"I'm up," Remus said. He flicked on the lights. "I'll get started on that cake for you."
"Remus--" Sirius started, but had already left for the kitchen.
Half an hour later, Sirius was dressed and ready. The beautiful aroma of fresh cake greeted him in the kitchen. Remus put the finishing touches on a round chocolate cake covered in blue and white icing. 'Bon Voyage!' was written in squiggly red letters across the top. "I tried to write, 'The Chudley Cannons don't need luck tomorrow because they have you', but it didn't quite fit," Remus said.
"It's perfect," Sirius said.
Chapter 2: The Man in the Mirror
Chapter 1: The Dream - The Beginning
Master Post of all the chapters: here.
Chapter 1: The Dream - The Beginning
19th July 1993
Harry.
Sirius woke up with a start. He had no idea why, as his alarm was not sounding and the sun was most certainly not shining. He checked the display on his bedside clock and groaned: 3:05 in the morning. The curtains on the windows were still closed and the bedroom was pitch black.
"This is ridiculous," Sirius said. He repeated, more loudly, "I said, this is ridiculous."
"I heard you the first time," the sleeping lump next to Sirius muttered. "What is it? You want a go?" Sirius felt what were probably supposed to be sexy fingers groping in the dark, missing his private area completely and ending up near his elbow.
"No, Remus, I do not want a go." Sirius waited and the fingers withdrew. "Aren't you going to ask me what's wrong?"
Remus intoned dully, "What's wrong?"
"I had a," Sirius searched for the right words, "I had an odd dream."
"An odd dream?" Remus said. "Are you taking the piss? Is this what you woke me up for?"
"I was listening to a series of names and birth dates and times being listed off. All babies, you know, babies born around the same time," Sirius explained, choosing to ignore the warning tone in Remus's voice. "It seemed endless."
"You must have been dreaming about a maternity ward, then," Remus said, as if that settled it. "When Harry was born, remember when we were stuck waiting outside and the nurse was reading out all the new baby arrivals to print in the paper the next day?"
"That was a happy day, though. And this dream was..." Decidedly not happy, Sirius thought. "There was this feeling. I can't shake it, and I can't put it into words. Something ominous."
"Really, Sirius," Remus yawned. "I know being there with all those wailing babies and women screaming was uncomfortable, but I'd never consider the experience traumatizing."
"I suppose." Sirius closed his eyes. Maybe he was being a bit stupid. "You're probably right. A dream, is all."
"Mm," came Remus's muffled reply.
"But by the way, since we're both up," Sirius slid closer to Remus. "How about that go, then?"
A loud snore was all that Remus had left to say on the matter.
* * * * *
"Good morning," Remus said, as Sirius walked into the kitchen. The kitchen was bright and cheerful, a large window over the sink permitting sun to come into the warm room. There was a simple square table near the other window that looked out into the back garden. Sirius liked to sit facing the window, and Remus liked to sit with his back to it so the light wouldn't shine directly in his eyes while he read the Daily Prophet. There was a much more formal setup in the dining room, but Sirius couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten there.
"Good morning," said Sirius a little coolly, walking over to the table and delicately sniffing the discolored sausage before him. "What is this? Burnt shoe?'
"No, we finished all our burnt shoe yesterday," Remus replied automatically. "Oh, come on, you're not crabby about last night, are you?" Sirius said nothing as he poured himself some tea. "Sirius, for the love of Muggles, it was three in the morning, I was barely alive, much less awake." Again, Sirius said nothing. "Oh, don't sulk at me."
"I am not sulking," Sirius said at last with great dignity. "I am eating your sausage, which does, in fact, taste like burnt shoe in spite of your misleading statements to the contrary. And I am drinking my tea. I am also thinking about the busy, busy day at work I have today."
"It was a bad dream! What did you expect me to do, hold your hand and cuddle you until you fell asleep again?" Remus stopped. "Oh." Sirius took a long, pointed sip of his tea.
Remus sighed a little and put his newspaper down on the table. "Sirius. You know how I am without sleep--I get cantankerous."
Remus sounded so genuinely contrite that Sirius relented--a little. "I guess this sausage texture is a little less shoe-like than last week."
Remus stood and folded his hand over Sirius's. "I'll do better next time." He dropped a kiss on the top of Sirius's head. "I promise I'll make it up to you later."
"Promises, promises," Sirius said around his bite of awful tasting sausage.
* * * * *
"Well done, everybody!" Sirius shouted to his team as they began to descend on their broomsticks. He stood in the middle of the Quidditch field and waved up at them. "I think we might have a fighting shot at the League Cup this year, and that's not hyperbole, that's the truth!"
"Excuse me, Mr. Black?" An exceedingly pretty witch with long blond hair tapped Sirius on the shoulder. "My name is Zamira Gulch, I'm from the Daily Prophet. If I could have a moment of your time"
"The Daily--oh! Of course, of course." Sirius gestured to his team that they could take a rest break. "Right this way, let me show you my office."
"Office, Mr. Black?"
Sirius walked with her for a few feet on the field and gave his wand a little flick. A voluminous orange tent decorated with the Chudley Cannons logo instantly sprung to life before them and Sirius gave her a gallant bow. "After you."
Impressed, Zamira walked into the tent, which was larger on the inside than it first appeared. The floor was covered in comfortable rugs, and the walls hung with photos of Chudley Cannon players in flight. There was a table in the center, with assorted mismatched chairs around it. "You bring this with you everywhere?"
"Everywhere and always. Terribly handy--in rain or tornado, Quidditch must go on--but at least I can stay dry and avoid falling debris. Besides, it comes in handy for the occasional interview with charming reporters." Zamira blushed slightly. "But where are my manners? Please, have a seat." Sirius swept his hand around the room. "Any one you like. Would you care for a biscuit? Tea?"
"A cup of tea would be lovely, thank you," Zamira said as she took a seat in one of the huge, comfortable chairs near the table Sirius was standing by.
He picked up the teapot--fine bone china patterned in web-like gold lace--and poured her tea. "Milk? Sugar?"
"Neither, thank you." She accepted a cup. "Thank you."
Sirius took a seat with his own teacup. "What would you like to know? I take my tea with a dash of milk and no sugar, and I do enjoy long walks on the seashore."
Zamira chuckled a little as she took out a pen and paper. "As fascinating as it is to know how you take your tea, I was hoping you would answer some questions more related to your work with the Chudley Cannons."
"What could be more fascinating than how I take my tea?" Sirius grinned wolfishly. "I tell you what--since you've already found out the good stuff I suppose I'll give you some filler for the rest of your article. What would you like?"
She referred to her notes. "Some would claim that you're the mastermind of the Cannons' remarkable change in fortune. They're currently ranked at number three this season and this is the closest they've been to the League Championship game in thirty years. This is a tremendous change from three years ago when they lost every game they played."
"It obviously hasn't been an overnight transformation," Sirius said. "I can attest to that personally, seeing as I was the manager of the Cannons three years ago when we lost every match."
"Three years isn't that long, and their performance this year has been--unprecedented. What's your secret?"
"The exciting answer is that I've captured a sprite that has direct ties to Lady Luck," Sirius grinned. "The boring answer is hard work. Constant practice, studies of the strategies other teams employ... winning the old fashioned way. I also have a great team of players, too."
"You've made some controversial choices when drafting your team, Mr. Black. Any comments on that?"
"There's a method to my madness, as you can see in the results... I can't tell you what that method is though." Sirius grinned. "It's taken a few years to put this team together, but now that I have I'm very happy with how they work together."
"You've been manager for," Zamira consulted her notes, "five years now?"
"That's right. I started out as a glorified water boy three years before that--I had some title like, 'assistant-assistant-assistant manager', but all I did was observe and fetch water."
"And how does one go about getting started as an assistant-assistant-assistant manager? An ad in the classifieds?"
"I found out about the job through a friend of mine at the ministry. Works in the Magical Games and Sports department, naturally."
"Naturally."
"He suggested I have a go, since Quidditch has been a lifelong passion of mine."
"What were you doing before that time?"
"Truthfully, not much." Sirius played with the handle of his teacup. He lowered his gaze so his eyelashes would flutter most becomingly across his cheek and give him a vulnerable sort of aspect. "I was in a bad state at the time. Wandering from job to job, but nothing felt right. I wasn't even sure this was going to be the right place for me when I took the job--all I wanted was something new to do."
Zamira nodded understandingly as she took copious notes. "It seems you finally found the perfect fit."
"Yes, hopefully the players agree." Sirius chuckled. "They're a great group and I'm immensely lucky to work with them."
"It's a very exciting time for you all now that you're only four matches away from the end of the season and possibly the League Cup."
"Technically three, since the match we're playing in a couple of days is an exhibition game."
"Ah, right, Paris, is it?"
"Right. For fun and for sport only. Not rankings."
"Are you still gunning to win even if it doesn't affect your rankings?" she inquired.
"We're always gunning to win!" Sirius exclaimed. "I told my players what I always tell them--play hard, play their best, and they won't disappoint no matter the outcome."
"It's a winning formula so far." Zamira flipped her notebook closed. "Thank you so much for your time, Mr Black. If you'll wait one moment more, our staff photographer should be arriving--"
With a loud pop, a frazzled wizard Apparated next to her. "I'm here, I'm here. Photos, yes..."
Zamira coughed a little self-consciously, "A photo of Mr Black--"
"It's Sirius, now that you know my life story," Sirius interrupted with a wink. He stepped in front of the camera and put on his most a winning smile.
"Sirius Black," the photographer said to himself. "All right, done, next!"
"A picture with the team perhaps, Mr.--I mean, Sirius?" Zamira said hopefully.
"Absolutely! But first, how about a picture with the team?" Sirius walked towards the tent opening.
"Oh, I couldn't--" She flushed prettily.
"Nonsense, I'm sure your photographer wouldn't mind a bit," Sirius said as he pulled back the flap for her to step through. The photographer's expression begged to disagree.
* * * * *
"...And as soon as I tasted that familiar taste of vomit, I knew we were in for a hell of a lot of paperwork," James concluded with a flourish.
Sirius, who had been enjoying a pleasant daydream about dancing chocolate frogs accompanied by an endless sea of gold Galleons, snapped to attention. "Ah, yes, absolutely thrilling, my dear chap, thrilling." They were sitting in the back garden of James' house, drinking tea and catching up on the day. James' day, as it turned out, had been an immensely boring one. But it was a leisurely summer evening, and Sirius could hear the insects buzzing around the flowerbeds around them.
James' mouth puckered in annoyance. "Have you been listening to me?"
"Now don't you give me that look, laddie--and I'm serious, it makes you look like a fish--I've already got a Remus to nag me at home. I don't need a second one away from home."
"You haven't heard a word all the time you've been here, have you?" James pointed at him accusingly. "An hour, it's been and all you probably remember is 'Hullo'!"
"Oh, come off it." Sirius tipped his wicker chair into a precarious position on its back legs. "You've been talking about foul tasting cockroach clusters for the past hour at some deadly dull Gobstones match--"
"For your information, it was contraband Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans at a speed wizarding chess match--"
Sirius waved his hand impatiently. "Really, James, when did you start caring about what sweets they eat at chess matches?"
"When I started working at the Department of Magical Games and Sports ten years ago, you idiot! And in case you were wondering, it's been strictly forbidden to sell Bertie Bott's at all competitive sporting events since--"
"I would hardly consider wizarding chess a sporting event," Sirius murmured, which did not improve James' mood.
"Since the incident," James said loudly, "in 1933. Strictly forbidden. Do you know what that means?"
"It means you've gone and grown into a daft old stiff who tells jokes with punchlines that include Gobstone rulebooks and wizarding chess puns."
"It means that, well, obviously you weren't listening so what's the point," James said irritably. "I'm sure what you did was far more exciting and you're clamoring to tell me all about it."
"As a matter of fact I am, Mr. Snippy-Pants. I'll have you know I was interviewed about my brilliant work by a lovely young reporter from the Daily Prophet. And I had my photo taken."
James rolled his eyes but seemed amused. "Still charming the pants off the young and unsuspecting, are you?"
"Metaphorical pants, James--remember I've been made an honest man," Sirius said. "I might have been unwilling at first, but I've settled down like you! Although luckily I'm still fun to be around, unlike you."
"Fun? I hate to say it, but you're past your prime, old chum. You're hardly more diverting than watching snails crawl. Grass grow. I didn't want to be the one to tell you, but, well, frankly, people flee your company for fear of ending up a dry and lifeless husk. I thought you should know."
"Flee my company? I can still remember the first time you ever called me 'chum.' It was the day I--and the rest of Hogwarts--decided on the spot that you were a poncy twat who had read too many romance novels." Sirius thought back fondly on his first year at Hogwarts. "Actually, I still think that."
"And I thought it'd be the perfect nickname for the biggest snotty-nosed twit I'd ever met," James retorted. "How could I have known you wouldn't see the irony?"
"This whole debacle supports, once more, my life-long assertion that you should leave the witticisms to me. As you are clearly not up to the task." Sirius patted James on the shoulder gently.
"You're nothing but a lowbrow wanker. Of course irony is wasted on you," James said. "How could I have not seen that? And why are we still mates?"
"My dashing good looks and aristocratic charm, no doubt," Sirius supplied. "My brilliant wit and great cleverness are merely a bonus."
James laughed. "Yes, that's must be it. Though I don't have to live with your aristocratic ego, thank god... Guess the more fitting question might be how Remus puts up with it."
"It is his duty and, moreover, his joy," Sirius declared haughtily.
"His insanity, more like."
"Now now, there's no need to be bitter. He beat you in the election to be President of the Sirius Black fanclub fair and square. It was a tight race and he ran a good, solid campaign. Can't blame a bloke for that."
"Sirius," James said with a solemn expression, "the only way I would ever be in a fanclub of yours is if you paid me. And then, it'd have to be a lot. Enough for me to resign and stay at home and be nothing but a paid layabout."
"Stop talking as if you need your pencil pushing desk job, you silly sod," Sirius said. "You know that between your inheritance and Lily's salary you're already living the life of a paid layabout."
"Am I really being scolded about money? This from the heir of the noble and most ancient house of Black?" James chuckled. "Cauldron calling the kettle black?"
"That was a terrible pun," Sirius informed him. "Speaking of inheritors, where are Lily and Harry? I understand they stand to gain quite a bit after I murder you in your sleep."
"Thank you, and that was a terrible segue. Lily's still a work. You know how she is." James sipped his tea and made a face. "Stone cold. Anyway, as for Harry, he's left today for a friend's house in Wales."
"Wales? For how long?"
"Oh," James examined his teacup and attempted to sound casual. "Two weeks. He'll be back in time for his birthday."
"Is that right?." Sirius said shrewdly. "First time away from home other than Hogwarts?'
"I suppose," James said with an air of forced indifference. "Might be."
"And what a coincidence that you're sitting out here in the back garden then, facing north. North, the direction from which an owl might come. If Harry were to owl." James made a noncommittal noise. "Why, James, I was wrong; you haven't died and come back a stiff, you've died and been reborn an old woman, worrying and weeping as her baby boy leaves the nest!"
"It's his first time away from home and he's--" James restrained himself with great effort. "I mean. Not that I don't think he can take care of himself. He can. And I am most definitely not worrying or weeping."
"Oh, but you are. Hands are being wrung--both figuratively and physically."
James' hands froze. "They are not. I am fine."
"You're a lying sack of lies, is what you are. And a poor liar of a sack, at that." Sirius shook his head tragically. "You've been waiting all day for an owl, haven't you?"
"No! Of course not." James said quickly. "I only want to make sure I don't miss the owl, you know, sometimes they see no one's home and they don't bother to drop it off before flying off god knows where, and Harry promised to owl me as soon as he'd arrived."
"Good lord, James, let the poor boy settle in and enjoy himself before you send all of the hit-wizards in England to Wales to reclaim him. I imagine it's ruddy embarrassing having you as a dad, hovering all the time."
"I wouldn't expect you to understand," James said.
Sirius rolled his eyes. "What did Lily have to say about this?"
"She, ah, seemed a bit relieved. I mean, she isn't happy Harry's gone, but she did mention that since he's home again it's been even more difficult to find time for the two of us."
"Have you thought of the potential in that? Here's free time you'll have together--time alone." Sirius gave James a lascivious wink.
"Perhaps I haven't fully evaluated the potential," James said slowly. "I suppose it will only be fortnight."
"That's the spirit," Sirius clapped James on the back. "Now, I know you didn't invite me over simply to bore me to death with your wizarding chess stories and cold tea. So what's the real problem, Prongs?"
James turned his empty teacup over in his hands. "We got a little sidetracked, what with you mocking me relentlessly, but it actually involves Harry. His birthday's coming up and I'm a little at a loss for what to get for him."
"Is there anything that Potter boy hasn't got already?" Sirius smiled to soften the words. "Really, James, you spoil him rotten."
James chuckled ruefully. "The sad thing is that I would spoil him more if Lily weren't around to stop me. In any case, I haven't got any good ideas at all. Everything I can think of, I've already bought him or it's so outlandishly expensive Lily would put her foot down and forbid it."
"I'm not sure what to say," Sirius said, deep in thought. "My birthday present is going to be Top Box seats at the League Cup, so that's out."
"I thought about getting him a new broom as the one he's riding is already at least six years old," James said. "One of the international standard types, but Lily would never agree to the expense."
"Well, the Cannons have to buy new brooms almost every other year, we tend to get a steep discount for buying in bulk," Sirius said. "If you'd like, I could look into whether we could fit another broom into the order for you."
"Would you?" James asked hopefully. "Perhaps it'd be enough that Lily wouldn't--"
"Oh no." Sirius stood up and shook his head. "It's not that much of a discount. Lily is still going to breathe fire at the price. But it'll be worth it to see the expression of Harry's face, I think."
James smiled. "Thank you, Sirius."
"Always happy to help the helpless," Sirius replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a fantastic shag waiting for me at home that I shouldn't keep waiting."
* * * * *
"Remus, my little honey-covered rotten cabbage!" Sirius called as he Apparated into the foyer. It was small and messy, and shoes were strewn everywhere across the floor. But Sirius took a deep breath and felt instantly at home. "I know you're here somewhere--there's nothing quite like the rotten cabbage smell you track into the house."
"That's sweet," Remus said, stepping into the foyer. "You know how I know you're home? The muddy footprints all over the carpet."
"Is that your way of telling me to wipe my shoes?" Sirius wiped his shoes on the mat. "Because I was telling you to take a bath. Or stop working at that blasted apothecary. I'll take either."
"I've taken an oath never to bathe again, didn't I tell you that yesterday?" Remus kissed Sirius lightly on the mouth before returning to the kitchen. "And I'm not giving up my job no matter how many times you ask."
"I've gone past the point of asking politely and moved into the territory of taking hostages and making demands."
"Your demands are being ignored."
"This much I know," Sirius said, wandering into the kitchen. "You come back everyday smelling like eye of newt or troll's feet or dragon's breath--and those are only the scents I can identify. It's not exactly appealing, if you know what I mean."
"That's funny, because it didn't stop someone from a peeling yesterday, if you know what I mean. Heh."
"I most definitely do not. I have no recollection of said peeling. Your bawdy insinuations are a slight on my honor." Sirius pulled out a chair and sat at the table.
"As if you have any honor left to slight," Remus said under his breath.
"What's that?"
"What?" Remus replied innocently. "Your dinner is ready."
Sirius stared at his plate. "You poisoned this, didn't you?"
"Eat, Sirius. Take advantage of my foolish, foolish benevolence."
"This isn't the rotten cabbage I was smelling before, correct? That was all you?" At Remus' lack of amusement, Sirius put his hands in the air. "I joke, I joke! This is delicious."
"You are not nearly as charming or witty as you think you are," Remus said, but seemed mollified nonetheless.
"You could return to the Magical Menagerie." Sirius tried to swallow his food as quickly as he could, as it did unfortunately bear a striking resemblance in both taste and odor to rotten cabbage. "I don't know why you left in the first place."
"Half the animals were terrified of me, and the other half attacked me on sight. Also, I didn't leave, I was let go."
"I'm sure they were attacks of love." Sirius took a gulp of water after biting into a particularly burnt piece of whatever it was Remus had made. Remus, luckily, did not notice.
"The owners disagreed. Besides, I thought you hated the way I was covered in feathers and smelled like catsand all the time?"
"Oh that's right, I did," Sirius said. "How about that cauldron shop then? You only smelled like rusted tin there."
"The shopkeeper's daughter, Mathilda, wouldn't leave me alone." Remus sighed. "She still sends me flowers and singing dwarves on Valentine's Day."
"Ah yes. That was a good one," Sirius chortled. "I miss her. How about that Gringotts one? That paid rather well."
Remus glowered at him. "Yes, I guess the danger money is pretty good considering your life expectancy is shortened to approximately three days. A fine exchange that is, having more gold at the end of the day than ashes to put in a box."
"Oh, being dragon feeder wasn't all bad." At Remus' look, Sirius hastily added, "All right, perhaps it was. No, but what I really don't understand is why you quit Quality Quidditch Supplies. Best job in the world, after mine!"
"I'm not going to dignify that question with an answer. You know why I can't go back there."
Sirius swallowed the last bite of his food and forced himself not to grimace at the slightly acrid taste. "Your long and illustrious career up and down Diagon Alley--riddled with misfortune, odor, and overly persistent cauldron-selling spinsters."
Remus gave a flick of his wand and both their empty plates flew up into the air towards the sink. "You love to hear yourself talk, don't you?"
"Most beautiful sound in the world," Sirius said. "I know you agree with me because you are, after all, madly in love with me and would die without me."
"I am somewhat fond of you, like one is fond of a particular spiny weed growing on the side of the road. But I wouldn't go so far as to invoke 'love'."
"The icy shield you put up won't push me away. I won't let it." Sirius stood up and put both hands on the table. "You're going to tell me how wildly you adore me or I'm not going to do the washing up."
"Fine. Don't wash up. When the food rots, I won't be the one suffering. You have a much better sense of smell than I do." Remus stood up as well.
Sirius took out his wand. "Don't make me cast a Tickling Charm, Remus Lupin. Because I will. Then I'll make myself a love potion--or just steal one off Mathilda, I'm sure she has dozens--and revel in your false affections."
The corner of Remus' mouth twitched. "You're incorrigible."
Sirius puffed out his chest and preened. "You're a stubborn scamp. But you know when to admit you're wrong. Probably why I love you." He flipped his wand in the direction of the washing up. The plates and cutlery leaped into action immediately.
"I thought it was due to," Remus drew himself up into a stance mirroring Sirius,' "my dashing good looks and aristocratic charm. And of course, my brilliant wit and great cleverness are merely a bonus."
"My," Sirius said, "that's a little eerie. Have you been practicing? And do I really do that little wriggle with my eyebrow towards the end?"
"Yes you do and yes, I've been practicing. All the girls at the shop think it's hysterical."
"Ah, they've grown so attached to me," Sirius said mistily. He began drying the plates. "How they're going to miss my scintillating conversation when you inevitably move onto the next stepping stone of your career. Who knows where it might be? Will it lead you down a sweet path to Florean Fortescue's, or a wooden one to Ollivanders?"
"You can make all the jokes you want but I'm not leaving the apothecary," Remus said flatly. "Why the sudden interest in my career past? I thought you hated talking about work."
"Been on my mind today. And your work is a lot more amusing than James' at least."
"James brought work up? And you let him?"
"As if anything could stop him," Sirius said. "He was trying to remind me of how lucky I was to have him in my life, elsewise I'd still be a restless, wandering socialite making scandalous headlines in all the tabloids."
"And you're telling me you disagree?" Remus said. "He got you that job offer, didn't he?"
"I should be groveling for the rest of my life because of one measly, life-changing job offer?" Sirius grumbled.
"I'm just glad you took it. For a while there it didn't look as if you were ever going to settle down."
"When the love of one's life threatens to leave one on account of lack of direction," Sirius began to examine his nails very carefully. "What is one supposed to do but take whatever sad work that comes one's way?"
"Sirius," Remus said softly. "You know that wasn't--" Sirius continued studying his nails. "I wouldn't have left. You know that, don't you?"
Sirius abandoned his cuticles and walked to Remus, whose arms encircled his waist instinctively. "I know that now."
* * * * *
For the second night in a row, Sirius woke up unexpectedly. But this time, it was no mere baby-name induced list of dread; this was a full-blown nightmare.
"Remus, Remus!" Sirius pushed him none too gently. "I had another nightmare."
"Babies again?" Remus croaked, most unhappily.
"Worse," Sirius gnawed at the edge of his thumbnail. "No, this was about my life, Remus. My life!"
Remus inhaled deeply. "I am almost awake enough to be supportive. Tell me what happened."
"It was terrifying, Remus. I can't put into words what. I'm beside myself with fright." Sirius sat up in bed. "It gives me chills to relive it."
"There, there." Remus patted him on the knee. "It's going to be okay."
"But what if it's not?" Sirius moaned and put his head in his hands. "What if it's an omen? A sign of things to come?"
"What was it? This omen?"
"Our rankings. The Chudley Cannons, we were ranked," Sirius could barely bring himself to say it out loud. "We were last in the league!"
To Sirius' horror, Remus laughed. "That's it? That's your nightmare? Here I was, imagining your dead body being picked at by carrion creatures and it's about your bloody Quidditch rankings?"
Sirius wasn't listening. "There's still time. This could be a portent. I must take this seriously, I must prepare." He threw back the blankets and scrambled out of bed.
"Where are you going? What the--come back to bed. Wait." Remus stared in amazement as Sirius climbed into his dressing gown and walked out of the room muttering to himself about strategies and tactics. "It was only a dream!"
* * * * *
By the time morning arrived, Sirius was a good deal calmer. Remus walked into the kitchen. "Morning, sleepyhead."
"Morning yourself." Remus yawned. "Did you stay up all night?"
"No." Sirius flipped the contents of his flying pan. "I fell asleep on the sofa."
"You should have come back to bed," Remus said, pouring himself some tea. "I couldn't get back to sleep."
"Sorry," Sirius replied. He slid the food onto a plate and sent it to the table with his wand. "I made omelets. I know they're your favorite."
"Thank you. And I'm not angry." Remus glanced down at the piping hot, delectably fluffy omelet, stuffed with mushrooms and peppers and cheese. "I meant I'm not used to sleeping without you."
Sirius smiled as he sat down across the table. "I know what you meant."
"You're not cross with me, are you?"
Sirius shook his head. "Some League Cup nerves, I expect. Bound to happen sooner or later. Pity it was sooner."
"No more panic?" Remus ventured.
"No more panic," Sirius said resolutely.
"Good." Remus dug into his omelet. "This omelet is fantastic."
Sirius glanced at the window. "The Daily Prophet hasn't arrived yet, has it?"
Remus checked the time. "Not yet, no. Why?"
"Oh it's--" Sirius coughed. "I know you like your morning paper with your tea."
"It's all right. Perhaps the owl is running a bit late. I can catch up with the news later after work."
"I wouldn't want for you to start the day off on the wrong foot though--" Sirius was interrupted, thankfully, by the owl arriving at that very moment. "And here we are! Fated." Remus picked up the paper while Sirius busied himself with clearing the table. "Any, ah, interesting news? Articles? Bits and bats?"
"Not really," Remus replied. "Enchanted chickens... ten ways to effectively de-gnome a garden... and some silly bloke with some Quidditch team."
"I see." Sirius tried not to sound disappointed, but failed.
"Do you now?" Remus passed him the paper and Sirius blinked. There was a photo of himself winking cheekily at the camera while the rest of the Chudley Cannons zoomed around the background on broomsticks.
"My, isn't that a dashing fellow," Sirius said.
"You're worse than a peacock," Remus said affectionately, and took back the paper. "I'll mount it in a place of honor on my office wall, where all the girls can giggle about it when they pass."
"You'd better." Sirius threw him an even cheekier wink.
* * * * *
"Hullo, hullo, hullo, for I am here!" Sirius announced himself dramatically at the door to Lily's office. It was a fairly large and imposing office, very clean and dust-free. Shelves ran along all the walls of the office, stocked with things as mundane as textbooks to things as mysterious as swirling clouds of gold dust trapped in jars. Sirius longed to stop and peer at everything for hours but Lily, who sat at her Spartan mahogany desk at the end of the room, would never approve of it.
Lily took the barest glance up from her work. "You're not a miniature squid."
"I'm glad that confusion's cleared up." Sirius threw himself into the uncomfortable chair in front of her desk. "This chair is awful, by the way."
"Perhaps if you were a miniature squid, it might be more comfortable." Lily's voice was as pointed as her quill working furiously over papers.
"Even if you repeat a bad joke a dozen more times, I highly doubt I will a, spontaneously morph into a miniature squid because I only morph into a dog, thanks, and b, understand what the devil you're talking about." Sirius spotted a clouded round crystal ball on Lily's desk and leaned forward to touch it.
"Don't touch that," Lily said sharply.
Sirius retracted his arm. "Your resemblance to Professor McGonagall grows more unnerving every day."
Lily put down her quill. "Perhaps next time I should let you touch the prophecy sphere and watch you go insane instead. Would you like that?"
"Prophecies? Oh, Lily." He shook his head reproachfully. "You shouldn't leave those lying around any old where. They're liable to lead to spontaneous bouts of insanity!"
"They're only a danger to idiots, luckily," Lily replied dryly. "Not that it isn't a joy to see you, always, but why are you here?"
"One old friend can't visit another?" Sirius leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head. "I was in the Ministry doing some last minute paperwork for the game tomorrow--"
"The Department of Magical Games and Sports is upstairs, or didn't you notice the large sign at the top of my door saying, 'Department of Mysteries'?"
"Prickly, prickly," Sirius said. "I can read, thank you. Sometimes I can sound out words with more than three syllables while I'm at it. As for my paperwork, I finished it ages ago, and I thought I'd pop by."
"This isn't some kind of practical joke, is it?" Lily glanced around the office suspiciously. "James isn't going to pop out of a bottle naked with a feather duster again, is he?"
"You wound me with your words." Sirius put his hands over his heart for effect. "I was going to ask some sensitive, thoughtful questions about how you're holding up now that Harry's left, but I see now I needn't bother for you have a heart of coal."
Lily cracked a tiny smile. "I'm fine. Harry's fine--he owled us yesterday night about how much fun he's having."
"You seem to be holding up much better than James. Last I saw him, he was sobbing inconsolably. I tried to comfort him, but you know he gets. I was at a loss."
Lily actually chuckled at this. "James will find a way through this. He was a wreck for weeks after Harry first left for Hogwarts, and he got through that. I didn't enjoy the weeks of him tearing up over old picture albums of Harry though..."
"What a bore," Sirius said fondly. "I, on the other hand, am too exciting for words! How's about you and I fly away together on an Axminster carpet to Tahiti." He gave her a seductive leer. "I'll bring the firewhiskey, and you bring the naughty negligee."
"I don't think Remus would entirely approve. He is a mite territorial." Lily sounded amused.
"Ah, it was worth a shot." Sirius shrugged. "But if you won't run away with me for an exotic adventure, how about telling me what exactly it is you do here?"
"I've already told you all I could. It wouldn't be much of a Department of Mysteries if there weren't any mysteries, would it?"
Sirius sighed, regarding all the inscrutable odds and ends in the shelves lining Lily's office wistfully. "You are the deliverer of crushing blow after crushing blow. I don't know if I've still the will to live, knowing our love can never be, and my burning questions will remain evermore."
"I have faith in you," Lily said. "If you're so anxious for an exotic adventure, why don't you run away with James? Or Peter? I understand he's already somewhere far, far away."
"Albania," Sirius replied gloomily. "Not that exotic, if you ask me. Rather dreary, in fact. And Peter doesn't look nearly as good in naughty negligee as you do."
"There's always James," Lily reminded him. "But what is Peter doing out there again? Has he got another new job?"
"James has flat out refused to wear it anymore on account of my 'not respecting him the morning after' or some such rubbish. As for Peter, he's now a part of the Cartographer's Guild. He updates maps with minute elevation changes. So boring I think I fell asleep while he was talking about it ages ago. I might fall asleep talking about it now."
"You fall asleep while a lot of people talk," Lily pointed out.
"But never you, my sharp-tongued beauty." Sirius grinned and stood. "I assume you're going to throw me out of your office now in order to return to being unspeakable and mysterious-like."
"You assume correctly." Lily returned to her paperwork. "Oh, and Sirius?" He turned. "I know that broom James is bent on getting for Harry is nowhere near the price he says it is. And I know you had something to do with the whole idea."
"I," Sirius hovered in the doorway uneasily, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"A lifetime of constant indulgence is not what I want for Harry. I hope you know that, Sirius," Lily said. "Look at what it did to James."
Sirius smiled weakly, "I don't think he turned out all bad."
Lily sighed. "I know he's your best mate. But if you could just think about my point of view every now and then--I'm not always wrong."
Sirius nodded, wanting to escape as soon as possible. "Admonishment received."
Lily shook her head and smiled a little. "Just remember not to have too much fun in France, now. I hear the ladies are saucier than I and Remus might not approve."
* * * * *
"You're home early," Sirius said as Remus entered the bedroom.
"I left a little early to help you pack." Remus shook his head at the explosion of socks, robes, cloaks, and hats covering the floor of the bedroom. "I know you're still hopeless at it."
Sirius heaved a sigh of relief. "I'm no use at these organizing and packing spells, and I have no idea what to take at all, which doesn't help..."
"You're going for three days," Remus said as he surveyed the room critically. "You don't need to bring half of England with you for three days."
Sirius flipped open all of the drawers in the room in an attempt to be helpful. "Only a quarter of England, then?"
Remus began sending all of Sirius' clothes through the air, folding them before fitting them neatly into the open drawers. After he was finished with that, there were three sets of clothing plus pajamas on the bed, and those he whisked into the trunk. "Voila."
Sirius smiled sweetly up at Remus. "Have I ever told you that you're my favorite?"
"Other than James?" Remus tipped the trunk closed and put it by the door.
"James is but a pale shadow of the wizard you are."
"I believe thanks are in order, then?" Remus said. Sirius bounced on the edge of the bed eagerly and Remus leaned closer.
"Thanks could be arranged." Sirius said against Remus' neck.
"Then I think," Remus put a hand square on Sirius' chest and pushed him onto his back. "Hot dinner it is!"
Sirius got up on his elbows, miffed. "With no dessert first?"
Remus paused to think. "Nope! All I want in this world is a hot dinner. Right now. Chop chop!"
Sirius fell back onto the bed sulkily. "Dinner. Philistine."
* * * * *
Sirius' filet mignon served with a side of potatoes au gratin were--if he said so himself and he did--magnificent. The texture of the beef was heavenly and the cheese flavor unexpectedly smoky and rich.
"I much prefer it when it's your day to cook," Remus said around a mouth full of half chewed steak. "I still don't know how to make anything passable unless it involves chocolate."
"'Passable' is not a word used to describe this gustatory celebration," Sirius said.
"I must admit it all tastes French to me." Remus winced at the scathing look Sirius gave him.
"I thought a French inspired meal would be fitting, seeing as I'm leaving England's tender embrace for a mistress with far finer cuisine," Sirius said snobbishly.
"You know I'd cook for you if," Remus touched his wand woefully, "if I could make anything that didn't still have a rubbery texture."
"It's not important," Sirius said, too busy savoring his steak to care one way or the other.
"I'll bake a cake for tomorrow morning, to see you off."
"A cake for breakfast?" Sirius squinted at Remus. "Oh dear. You are going to miss me, aren't you?"
"It'll be fantastic," Remus swore. "Cakes I can bake."
"This is true," Sirius said. "Once I start eating your cakes, I can't stop. They're addictive, as if you put something besides love into them."
"To what end, might I ask?"
"I don't know what goes through that twisted mind of yours and I don't want to." Sirius finished the last bite of his potatoes with a sigh of great contentment.
"You're going to have to be up awfully early," Remus mused. "Which means I will have to be up awfully early. Unless you have another nightmare, in which I will get no sleep at all."
"You talk as if I'm having these nightmares for the single purpose of annoying you. I can assure you that is far from the case, as they're far more bothersome to me than to you. As for getting up so damn early, it's because the trip is stupidly difficult and involved. I have to floo to the south of England, then fly myself over the channel, and then Apparate myself to Paris. It's ridiculous." Sirius took a vicious cut into his steak.
"I can see you feel very strongly about this."
"I do. And this is because I do not understand how a rock that makes you immortal and endlessly rich can be invented, but not some sort of floo direct connection between England and France."
"I don't know about you, but everlasting life does hold my interest for a spark or two," Remus said, smiling faintly.
"Overrated," Sirius waved Remus' point away. "If you've lived life right, you shouldn't need more of it."
"Not everyone can live so confidently with themselves as you do, I'm afraid."
"Then how do they live with themselves?" Sirius demanded. "If you're not the hero of your own story, what are you? The supporting character? The arch-villain? The hero of somebody else's story?"
Remus laughed. "But then where is your tragedy, Sirius? Every hero needs proper tragedy, otherwise he's not a proper hero."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why must all heroes be tragic? Why shouldn't they go on to lead happy, ordinary lives after they've finished all their heroics?"
"Because that doesn't make for good drama," Remus said. "Which is more compelling: the man with nothing to lose who throws it all away for a cause, or the man who has everything to lose and still throws it all away from a cause? Heroism is about greatness. Greatness is about sacrifices even the good aren't willing to make."
"I don't know if I agree with you," Sirius said. "Heroes can be great without tragic circumstances. Take me, for example."
"Not the heroes I like," Remus said. "I think the greatest heroes are the ones that give up the things that are most difficult to part with. Because it's the right thing--the only thing--to do."
"You're going to say something like, 'give up their lives for righteousness', aren't you?"
"Sometimes a life." Remus was strangely thoughtful when he reached over and took Sirius' hand. "A past, present and future--you'd be surprised at how difficult those things can be to part with."
* * * * *
For the third night in a row, Sirius woke with a start. "Brilliant," he said. "And wide awake, too."
"Awake again?" Remus groaned mightily.
"Thestrals."
"What?"
"Thestrals," Sirius repeated sourly. "I know you're going to ask what happened in the dream and I thought I'd save you the trouble: I had a bad dream about Thestrals."
"Are Thestrals--" Remus was struggling to wake up. "Those horses. With wings?"
"Not quite Pegasus, but you get excellent marks in Care of Magical Creatures. You can only see them if you've seen death. I've never seen them myself--only etchings in a book once. A very long time ago, at that."
"Macabre."
"That's not the worst of it." Sirius shivered and felt strangely cold. "We were in some kind of very small, very cold room together. Trapped, I think. I couldn't find the door."
"I'm sorry. That must have been unnerving, to say the least," Remus rubbed Sirius' arm, and it helped a little. "But why are you dreaming about steeds of death?"
"I don't know." Sirius pondered. "Lily mentioned something about a miniature squid today. Reminded me of the giant squid at Hogwarts, which is where I saw the etchings. I don't know how the giant squid leads to Thestral etchings, but it just does."
"Lily?" Remus said. "You saw Lily yesterday? How is she? I keep inviting her over for dinner but she's rather in demand these days."
"Same as usual. Busy, irritable." Sirius shrugged. "Does anybody really change?
"It's too early for philosophical questions," Remus said. "When do you have to be up?"
"In an hour--might as well get up. I need to floo before the rush anyway."
"I'll get up with you."
"No, stay in bed." Sirius got out of bed and fumbled in the dark for his robe.
"I'm up," Remus said. He flicked on the lights. "I'll get started on that cake for you."
"Remus--" Sirius started, but had already left for the kitchen.
Half an hour later, Sirius was dressed and ready. The beautiful aroma of fresh cake greeted him in the kitchen. Remus put the finishing touches on a round chocolate cake covered in blue and white icing. 'Bon Voyage!' was written in squiggly red letters across the top. "I tried to write, 'The Chudley Cannons don't need luck tomorrow because they have you', but it didn't quite fit," Remus said.
"It's perfect," Sirius said.
Chapter 2: The Man in the Mirror