day 24
Remus visits his family to escape him, but when he finds Sirius in every corner of the house and a little girl asks a question, he realizes that maybe he can't escape Sirius at all.
Familiarity
Softly, he sat his bag down on the dusty brown carpet and waited.
Ilia was the one who knew it first; shrieking, she came running out of the kitchen and threw herself into his outstretched arms. She had grown, and her hair was longer, but overall Remus put a hand to the base of her skull and couldn’t help thinking she was incredibly small.
He held the little girl for a while and collected her hasty babbling in his arms, sorted out the words, entangled snarls and knots and filled in the blanks where he was supposed to. His oldest brother Dorian and just-married Romula joined them next, and he had to let go of Ilia to shake his brother’s hand and hug his sister back shyly. The subtle swell of her belly pressed gently against his stomach.
“We had no idea you were coming as well! You could have owled us, you know. We’d have brought some cake.” Romula’s long fingers threaded through his hair, bracelets he had worn for fun as a boy now seemed less real in the dull light of the present. Ilia clutched his hand in hers, she was five and he felt grown-up, peeled out of the hollow skins of childhood, left behind.
For a moment, he considered lying about his bag. He could have said he was only stopping by on his way to somebody, but they knew he could apparate (knew there were few people he could be on his way to). “I’m sorry”, he muttered, “I just… it was a spontaneous thing.” It appeared fairly appropriate to say, and Remus didn’t really know how he could express “I had a fight with my boyfriend and flatmate” with harmless yet truthful words.
That frail kind of desperation must have been visible in his eyes, because Romula hugged him again and pulled him into the kitchen, where the rest of his family was seated around the table. They didn’t look surprised, only a bit pleased when they saw him, and he bent down to greet his mother first, whispering something about giving Sirius space into her ear, even though in truth, it was him who’d run away, him who was hiding behind distance. (His mother only ruffled his hair fondly, and smiled. She still looked so young.)
“And I thought you’d forgot about your favourite brother”, Linus grinned as he pulled Remus into a loose embrace that he could still feel on his skin for hours afterwards. He almost jumped when he realized it was one of those embraces Sirius gave as well: personal, rough, and most of all dizzy with youth and disoriented because of the familiarity.
Dorian suddenly grabbed him around the middle (usually the one who always touched him less than Linus did) and yanked him away, crying “I’m Remus’s favourite brother!”, but Linus snatched him back immediately and protested hotly. A quiet little chuckle built up in Remus’s throat and then the bubble burst tenderly, a bit like when James and Sirius had fought about who would help Madam Pomfrey with the bandages after a full moon (and Sirius had won nearly every month).
They all became silent all of a sudden, and Remus bit his lip and looked around. “Wha-what?” he asked nervously, resisting the urge to chew on his reddened nail beds. “You laughed, is all”, Romula said, and Remus struggled to sit up in Linus’s lap. “Well, I.” He flushed a little, looked to his mother for assistance.
“We just didn’t hear you laugh in a long time, Remus”, she said and stood up, brushing her sleeves up her arms. Remus thought about how Sirius also never seemed to be cold, and how the skin on his lower arms became soft and white on the underside like words you broke out of their protection shells at night under the covers. He watched as his mother and Romula started to spread cookery books and recipe folders on the table, listened as his brothers talked about the latest Quidditch game (his mother shaking her age-pretty head because she was still amazed, still unsure about this whole wizarding business). Together with Ilia, he curled up in the corner of the bench and plaited her hair while she told him stories about Betty and Jack from school, her friends whom he’d never met.
It was only when Linus plopped down next to him and asked him how Sirius was that he unwound his gaze from Ilia’s soft locks. “Oh, you know”, he said, shrugged and wished for something to distract him, something to wind him up again, because he felt loose and fraying and it wasn’t good. Linus snorted and poked him hard into the side, and he hissed. “I don’t know, alright? I don’t know.”
“Did you have an argument?” Linus simply asked, quietly, seriously, and for the first time that day Remus realized that Linus was two years older than him. He shrugged again, picking at the skin around his nails, and felt too big for this table and too small for this world.
Linus squeezed his shoulder for a second, then slipped away to help cut the vegetables. Remus didn’t offer because he knew they hated it, but he’d sneak back into the kitchen later to do the dishes, when they would all be watching the game or playing cards in the living room. Slowly, Ilia stirred again now that she felt it was her turn, and Remus wondered if maybe sometimes he was a bit like that, too.
(He thought of standing on platform nine and three-quarters with his grass-stained trousers, an arm in a sling and hair that constantly got in his mouth, trying to figure out why he felt so wrong on the first day already. He also thought of people not noticing.)
Ilia waited for the exact right moment to tell him; she calculated every second like a chess player, a mathematician, the walls and the floor were her graph paper and feelings her numbers. “Remus”, she said, “when people kiss each other, they are in love, right?”
“Well, it depends on how they kiss, I suppose. But in every case, they like each other very much.”
He never asked her why; Ilia would either tell him in a moment, or she wouldn’t at all, even if he asked. She remained silent for a while, chewing on her nail beds, listening to the others talk. Then she leant towards him and whispered something in his ear.
It was the perfect move, the one which rendered him checkmate, and she still had all her pieces. Her whisper was a diagram, and the kitchen full of equations: she’d grow up to figure out the whole world one day, Remus thought and hid his blush in his sleeves. “Yeah, I kissed him”, he finally whispered, and Ilia grinned happily, a theory proven.
“So you like him very much?” she asked. Before Remus could answer, however, Linus put his hands on his shoulders and bent between them to tell them dinner was ready. “Oh and, exactly who do you like very much?” he added and smirked when Remus groaned and buried his head in his arms. (Ilia was silent, though, and Remus thought he hadn’t been that grateful since people had forgotten about his birthday.)
They ate together, and Remus put something away for his dad, who worked for St. Mungo’s and always came home at the craziest times. Darkness shone black and puckered through the windows, like a night in a night in a night, making Remus wish he was home, with Sirius, to say sorry and hide away in closeness and find he’d exchanged his hole-plagued socks with new ones. (He didn’t know what it was about those socks, but he never managed to keep them in one piece for long.) Silently, he cleaned and dried the dishes, then put them away. And in the end, he was afraid of having to fall asleep alone.
While his older siblings watched a muggle football game in the living room and his mother played chess with Ilia, he went out into the corridor and tried not to make any noise slipping into his boots. He left a whispered “bye” hanging in the air (not really aware that he wouldn’t see them until months later, when Romula lost her baby) and thought that Ilia would probably be the one who knew it first as he closed the door softly behind him, his bag in his hand.
Apparating home was easy.
He stood five minutes at the door pretending, and when he finally entered and saw Sirius jump and wipe at glistening tears, he felt like a child, for the first time in his life.
Familiarity
Softly, he sat his bag down on the dusty brown carpet and waited.
Ilia was the one who knew it first; shrieking, she came running out of the kitchen and threw herself into his outstretched arms. She had grown, and her hair was longer, but overall Remus put a hand to the base of her skull and couldn’t help thinking she was incredibly small.
He held the little girl for a while and collected her hasty babbling in his arms, sorted out the words, entangled snarls and knots and filled in the blanks where he was supposed to. His oldest brother Dorian and just-married Romula joined them next, and he had to let go of Ilia to shake his brother’s hand and hug his sister back shyly. The subtle swell of her belly pressed gently against his stomach.
“We had no idea you were coming as well! You could have owled us, you know. We’d have brought some cake.” Romula’s long fingers threaded through his hair, bracelets he had worn for fun as a boy now seemed less real in the dull light of the present. Ilia clutched his hand in hers, she was five and he felt grown-up, peeled out of the hollow skins of childhood, left behind.
For a moment, he considered lying about his bag. He could have said he was only stopping by on his way to somebody, but they knew he could apparate (knew there were few people he could be on his way to). “I’m sorry”, he muttered, “I just… it was a spontaneous thing.” It appeared fairly appropriate to say, and Remus didn’t really know how he could express “I had a fight with my boyfriend and flatmate” with harmless yet truthful words.
That frail kind of desperation must have been visible in his eyes, because Romula hugged him again and pulled him into the kitchen, where the rest of his family was seated around the table. They didn’t look surprised, only a bit pleased when they saw him, and he bent down to greet his mother first, whispering something about giving Sirius space into her ear, even though in truth, it was him who’d run away, him who was hiding behind distance. (His mother only ruffled his hair fondly, and smiled. She still looked so young.)
“And I thought you’d forgot about your favourite brother”, Linus grinned as he pulled Remus into a loose embrace that he could still feel on his skin for hours afterwards. He almost jumped when he realized it was one of those embraces Sirius gave as well: personal, rough, and most of all dizzy with youth and disoriented because of the familiarity.
Dorian suddenly grabbed him around the middle (usually the one who always touched him less than Linus did) and yanked him away, crying “I’m Remus’s favourite brother!”, but Linus snatched him back immediately and protested hotly. A quiet little chuckle built up in Remus’s throat and then the bubble burst tenderly, a bit like when James and Sirius had fought about who would help Madam Pomfrey with the bandages after a full moon (and Sirius had won nearly every month).
They all became silent all of a sudden, and Remus bit his lip and looked around. “Wha-what?” he asked nervously, resisting the urge to chew on his reddened nail beds. “You laughed, is all”, Romula said, and Remus struggled to sit up in Linus’s lap. “Well, I.” He flushed a little, looked to his mother for assistance.
“We just didn’t hear you laugh in a long time, Remus”, she said and stood up, brushing her sleeves up her arms. Remus thought about how Sirius also never seemed to be cold, and how the skin on his lower arms became soft and white on the underside like words you broke out of their protection shells at night under the covers. He watched as his mother and Romula started to spread cookery books and recipe folders on the table, listened as his brothers talked about the latest Quidditch game (his mother shaking her age-pretty head because she was still amazed, still unsure about this whole wizarding business). Together with Ilia, he curled up in the corner of the bench and plaited her hair while she told him stories about Betty and Jack from school, her friends whom he’d never met.
It was only when Linus plopped down next to him and asked him how Sirius was that he unwound his gaze from Ilia’s soft locks. “Oh, you know”, he said, shrugged and wished for something to distract him, something to wind him up again, because he felt loose and fraying and it wasn’t good. Linus snorted and poked him hard into the side, and he hissed. “I don’t know, alright? I don’t know.”
“Did you have an argument?” Linus simply asked, quietly, seriously, and for the first time that day Remus realized that Linus was two years older than him. He shrugged again, picking at the skin around his nails, and felt too big for this table and too small for this world.
Linus squeezed his shoulder for a second, then slipped away to help cut the vegetables. Remus didn’t offer because he knew they hated it, but he’d sneak back into the kitchen later to do the dishes, when they would all be watching the game or playing cards in the living room. Slowly, Ilia stirred again now that she felt it was her turn, and Remus wondered if maybe sometimes he was a bit like that, too.
(He thought of standing on platform nine and three-quarters with his grass-stained trousers, an arm in a sling and hair that constantly got in his mouth, trying to figure out why he felt so wrong on the first day already. He also thought of people not noticing.)
Ilia waited for the exact right moment to tell him; she calculated every second like a chess player, a mathematician, the walls and the floor were her graph paper and feelings her numbers. “Remus”, she said, “when people kiss each other, they are in love, right?”
“Well, it depends on how they kiss, I suppose. But in every case, they like each other very much.”
He never asked her why; Ilia would either tell him in a moment, or she wouldn’t at all, even if he asked. She remained silent for a while, chewing on her nail beds, listening to the others talk. Then she leant towards him and whispered something in his ear.
It was the perfect move, the one which rendered him checkmate, and she still had all her pieces. Her whisper was a diagram, and the kitchen full of equations: she’d grow up to figure out the whole world one day, Remus thought and hid his blush in his sleeves. “Yeah, I kissed him”, he finally whispered, and Ilia grinned happily, a theory proven.
“So you like him very much?” she asked. Before Remus could answer, however, Linus put his hands on his shoulders and bent between them to tell them dinner was ready. “Oh and, exactly who do you like very much?” he added and smirked when Remus groaned and buried his head in his arms. (Ilia was silent, though, and Remus thought he hadn’t been that grateful since people had forgotten about his birthday.)
They ate together, and Remus put something away for his dad, who worked for St. Mungo’s and always came home at the craziest times. Darkness shone black and puckered through the windows, like a night in a night in a night, making Remus wish he was home, with Sirius, to say sorry and hide away in closeness and find he’d exchanged his hole-plagued socks with new ones. (He didn’t know what it was about those socks, but he never managed to keep them in one piece for long.) Silently, he cleaned and dried the dishes, then put them away. And in the end, he was afraid of having to fall asleep alone.
While his older siblings watched a muggle football game in the living room and his mother played chess with Ilia, he went out into the corridor and tried not to make any noise slipping into his boots. He left a whispered “bye” hanging in the air (not really aware that he wouldn’t see them until months later, when Romula lost her baby) and thought that Ilia would probably be the one who knew it first as he closed the door softly behind him, his bag in his hand.
Apparating home was easy.
He stood five minutes at the door pretending, and when he finally entered and saw Sirius jump and wipe at glistening tears, he felt like a child, for the first time in his life.