the drums will shake the castle wall
title: the drums will shake the castle wall
summary: Perhaps it should have surprised none of them that Sirius's Animagus form would be a dog, a dog bursting to the brim with enthusiasm, always waiting eagerly to do everything and fetch eagerly after anything. For his whole life, Sirius had been a bundle of nervous energy.
characters/pairings: Remus/Sirius, mentions of Lily/James
genre: drama/angst
rating: PG-13 for slight cursing
word count: 1, 541
a/n: I've played around with my personal need for Sirius to love Led Zeppelin before, but then I got it into my head that he would want to play the drums, and then this happened. Title from "The Battle of Evermore."
Perhaps it should have surprised none of them that Sirius's Animagus form would be a dog, a dog bursting to the brim with enthusiasm, always waiting eagerly to do everything and fetch eagerly after anything. For his whole life, Sirius had been a bundle of nervous energy.
Tap tap tap, he never stopped. One conversation with him would reveal to any stranger that his thoughts leap from one to the other, stray from one tangent to the next, and his body responds correspondingly.
Tap tap tap, and oh how that used to drive Walburga around the fucking bend. She tried to train it out of him, this boundless energy of his, tried to contain him into the polite aristocrat that he was meant to be. Yet another one of many failures with her erstwhile son.
The gracious might say that it was the occupational habits of an engaged mind. The honest would simply call him a fidgeter.
Remus once, off-handedly while impatiently trying to finish an essay in the presence of a Very Bored Sirius (a difficult task, to be sure) , told Sirius that he might as well be drummer with all of that tap-tapping and squirming around.
At the time, Sirius had stared blankly, the picture of Wizarding ignorance. "What's a drummer?" He had asked curiously and once Remus tried to explain, "why would Muggles want to do a mad thing like that?"
Remus had cuffed Sirius upside the head, muttering something about heathens and Ringo Starr all the while. The subject was dropped until Sirius discovered, really discovered in that life-changing sort of way, Muggle music.
That's when it all went downhill.
---
It was precisely one year after they graduated Hogwarts, when Remus and Sirius finally found themselves moving into a tiny cramped flat together in Soho.
The choice to live in a Muggle neighborhood was simple, it provided ease in the form of not having to answer any difficult questions, such as "and why do your official papers state that you're a werewolf, Mr. Lupin?" or "so what are two strapping young Gryffindors such as yourselves doing without girlfriends?"
A lesson learnt quickly two flats into their initial perusal of Diagon Alley. Meddling crones did not make the most appealing of landlords.
The choice to live above a curry shop where the plumbing never worked right, no matter how many fix-it charms you jabbed at it, was regrettably not one within their power.
Remus had brought along his father's old record player, out of habit more than anything else, as all of the records that he had once held dear had been sold along the way.
Out of both curiosity and a need to bring that wholly distracting quirk of a smile to Remus's face, Sirius searched out the record shop around the corner upon their second week in that flat. As he walked in, shoving sweaty palms into jean pockets and trying not to look too out of place, he could hear a heavy beat playing in the background. Led Zeppelin IV, the clerk had supplied, and would he like to purchase it? Sirius eagerly accepted and hurried home with it stuffed under his arm, before placing it onto the gramophone immediately.
It was the beginning of the end.
The album was to remain on a loop for four weeks in a row, until Remus threatened to leave because yes, Padfoot, IV is bloody brilliant but put something different on, for fuck's sake.
Sirius weighed the options of losing Remus and losing his right to listen to his favorite record, and thankfully opted to run down to the shop and purchase I through III instead, with Remus's favorite Beatles album for good measure.
It wouldn't do to have his Moony brassed off at him, after all.
As many band obsessions go, they tend to involve some deeper fascination with one, if not all members of the band. It was typical to fancy the guitarist, but as anyone could tell you, Sirius had never been typical.
And so it was, Sirius with all of his energy and tap-tap tapping, was enthralled by John Bonham instantly. Remus really should have guessed what this obsession would eventually lead to, and yet he still found himself genuinely baffled when he returned from work one day to find Sirius gleefully sitting behind a drum set which took up half of the space in their already cramped sitting room.
"Sirius," Remus begins slowly. "What's this?"
"What does it look like, you dolt?" Sirius says, his wide grin belying any insult. "They're drums, aren't they brilliant?"
Remus rubbed the bridge of his nose, a guaranteed sign that a My Boyfriend is An Idiot headache was forming. "Brilliant is one way of describing them. You know, from the motorbike to those boots tracking mud all over the stairwell and now to a drum set, the neighbors are really going to hate us."
Sirius waved a drum stick-holding hand carelessly. "Nothing a silence charm won't prevent. They won't hear a thing, it'll be perfect."
Privately, Remus thinks that it won't be entirely perfect considering that while the neighbors ears will be saved, his certainly won't.
Still, when the glee in Sirius's eyes combined with his irresistible wicked smile, Remus knew that he'd never be able to say no. He never really could.
An answering smile spread across his face and he hopped up on the countertop, nodding at Sirius. "Go on, then, Pads. Show me what you've got."
At first, Sirius's skills amounted nothing more than that of a toddler cheerfully banging upon a new toy. James thought it was fantastic, as James thought all mad things that Sirius did were fantastic. Peter nodded along encouragingly, and Lily and Remus could only exchange long-suffering glances.
And then the war happened. The beats of the drums provided a welcome escape from the evils of the outside world, evils that seemed to be closing in on them more and more every day. Hours were spent while his friends were away on other missions wasting time banging on the drums with a fierce determination and uncharacteristic display of patience. He never got to be very good, but at least he could passingly play the entirety of "Black Dog" and that's all that really mattered, in the end.
On September 26th, 1980, a glum Sirius tossed his drumsticks aside with the air of a man who has been deeply let down by someone who he held in high esteem, and there in the corner the drums remained untouched. Months past, Remus moved out as their relationship became yet another fatality of a senseless war, and still the drums gathered dust.
The day Sirius was sentenced to prison, a troop of Ministry officials shuffled all of the contents of the flat (threadbare as it was, as it had long since ceased to be a home) into storage.
Twelve years in Azkaban, and while the tapping never stopped, Sirius found himself forgetting the beat which had once captivated him so.
---
"A cottage in the countryside, Remus?" Sirius asks, surveying his new surroundings. "I never took you for the type."
Remus's shrugs in that self-deprecating way of his that's become entirely too pronounced over the years. "It was cheap and so far out that no one else wanted it anymore."
They are still awkward, moving around each other carefully, side-stepping any thread of conversation that could re-open any barely healed wounds. Many years and friends lost stand between them, and yet still they are trying. Some old habits may die hard, and Sirius thinks that perhaps loving someone may be one of those that never does.
He looks around and there are little bits of familiarity here and there. The worn down bookshelf that had once been in their flat, the old tea set that James had broken into a million pieces, only to see it put back together by a laughing Lily.
"I've kept some things," Remus says quietly, as if reading his thoughts. "From before."
"I assumed that you chucked it all."
"I considered burning it, but beggars can't be choosers, Sirius. Even if I could afford to chuck it, I don't think that I ever could let go." The 'I could never let you go' remains unspoken, but explicitly understood.
Remus's countenance suddenly brightens, as if remembering a fond memory. "There is one more thing that I salvaged, Pads."
"What? Don't tell me that you've still got that horrid dress that Prongs made me wear that one April Fools for a dare, because if so, I might have to hurt you."
"No, nothing nearly as good as that." Remus chuckles. "Still, you might enjoy this one more."
Remus nods to a spare room that Sirius hadn't seen yet, and opens the door. There, taking up the entire room, is his old drum set.
"You - "
"Yes."
"You're amazing, Moony."
"I know," Remus says, with a touch of his old Marauderly spirit.
Sirius breaks out into a genuine smile, the type that reaches your eyes, and leans over to give Remus a swift kiss.
"Thank you," he murmurs, and for the first time, thinks that they might really be okay again.
summary: Perhaps it should have surprised none of them that Sirius's Animagus form would be a dog, a dog bursting to the brim with enthusiasm, always waiting eagerly to do everything and fetch eagerly after anything. For his whole life, Sirius had been a bundle of nervous energy.
characters/pairings: Remus/Sirius, mentions of Lily/James
genre: drama/angst
rating: PG-13 for slight cursing
word count: 1, 541
a/n: I've played around with my personal need for Sirius to love Led Zeppelin before, but then I got it into my head that he would want to play the drums, and then this happened. Title from "The Battle of Evermore."
Perhaps it should have surprised none of them that Sirius's Animagus form would be a dog, a dog bursting to the brim with enthusiasm, always waiting eagerly to do everything and fetch eagerly after anything. For his whole life, Sirius had been a bundle of nervous energy.
Tap tap tap, he never stopped. One conversation with him would reveal to any stranger that his thoughts leap from one to the other, stray from one tangent to the next, and his body responds correspondingly.
Tap tap tap, and oh how that used to drive Walburga around the fucking bend. She tried to train it out of him, this boundless energy of his, tried to contain him into the polite aristocrat that he was meant to be. Yet another one of many failures with her erstwhile son.
The gracious might say that it was the occupational habits of an engaged mind. The honest would simply call him a fidgeter.
Remus once, off-handedly while impatiently trying to finish an essay in the presence of a Very Bored Sirius (a difficult task, to be sure) , told Sirius that he might as well be drummer with all of that tap-tapping and squirming around.
At the time, Sirius had stared blankly, the picture of Wizarding ignorance. "What's a drummer?" He had asked curiously and once Remus tried to explain, "why would Muggles want to do a mad thing like that?"
Remus had cuffed Sirius upside the head, muttering something about heathens and Ringo Starr all the while. The subject was dropped until Sirius discovered, really discovered in that life-changing sort of way, Muggle music.
That's when it all went downhill.
---
It was precisely one year after they graduated Hogwarts, when Remus and Sirius finally found themselves moving into a tiny cramped flat together in Soho.
The choice to live in a Muggle neighborhood was simple, it provided ease in the form of not having to answer any difficult questions, such as "and why do your official papers state that you're a werewolf, Mr. Lupin?" or "so what are two strapping young Gryffindors such as yourselves doing without girlfriends?"
A lesson learnt quickly two flats into their initial perusal of Diagon Alley. Meddling crones did not make the most appealing of landlords.
The choice to live above a curry shop where the plumbing never worked right, no matter how many fix-it charms you jabbed at it, was regrettably not one within their power.
Remus had brought along his father's old record player, out of habit more than anything else, as all of the records that he had once held dear had been sold along the way.
Out of both curiosity and a need to bring that wholly distracting quirk of a smile to Remus's face, Sirius searched out the record shop around the corner upon their second week in that flat. As he walked in, shoving sweaty palms into jean pockets and trying not to look too out of place, he could hear a heavy beat playing in the background. Led Zeppelin IV, the clerk had supplied, and would he like to purchase it? Sirius eagerly accepted and hurried home with it stuffed under his arm, before placing it onto the gramophone immediately.
It was the beginning of the end.
The album was to remain on a loop for four weeks in a row, until Remus threatened to leave because yes, Padfoot, IV is bloody brilliant but put something different on, for fuck's sake.
Sirius weighed the options of losing Remus and losing his right to listen to his favorite record, and thankfully opted to run down to the shop and purchase I through III instead, with Remus's favorite Beatles album for good measure.
It wouldn't do to have his Moony brassed off at him, after all.
As many band obsessions go, they tend to involve some deeper fascination with one, if not all members of the band. It was typical to fancy the guitarist, but as anyone could tell you, Sirius had never been typical.
And so it was, Sirius with all of his energy and tap-tap tapping, was enthralled by John Bonham instantly. Remus really should have guessed what this obsession would eventually lead to, and yet he still found himself genuinely baffled when he returned from work one day to find Sirius gleefully sitting behind a drum set which took up half of the space in their already cramped sitting room.
"Sirius," Remus begins slowly. "What's this?"
"What does it look like, you dolt?" Sirius says, his wide grin belying any insult. "They're drums, aren't they brilliant?"
Remus rubbed the bridge of his nose, a guaranteed sign that a My Boyfriend is An Idiot headache was forming. "Brilliant is one way of describing them. You know, from the motorbike to those boots tracking mud all over the stairwell and now to a drum set, the neighbors are really going to hate us."
Sirius waved a drum stick-holding hand carelessly. "Nothing a silence charm won't prevent. They won't hear a thing, it'll be perfect."
Privately, Remus thinks that it won't be entirely perfect considering that while the neighbors ears will be saved, his certainly won't.
Still, when the glee in Sirius's eyes combined with his irresistible wicked smile, Remus knew that he'd never be able to say no. He never really could.
An answering smile spread across his face and he hopped up on the countertop, nodding at Sirius. "Go on, then, Pads. Show me what you've got."
At first, Sirius's skills amounted nothing more than that of a toddler cheerfully banging upon a new toy. James thought it was fantastic, as James thought all mad things that Sirius did were fantastic. Peter nodded along encouragingly, and Lily and Remus could only exchange long-suffering glances.
And then the war happened. The beats of the drums provided a welcome escape from the evils of the outside world, evils that seemed to be closing in on them more and more every day. Hours were spent while his friends were away on other missions wasting time banging on the drums with a fierce determination and uncharacteristic display of patience. He never got to be very good, but at least he could passingly play the entirety of "Black Dog" and that's all that really mattered, in the end.
On September 26th, 1980, a glum Sirius tossed his drumsticks aside with the air of a man who has been deeply let down by someone who he held in high esteem, and there in the corner the drums remained untouched. Months past, Remus moved out as their relationship became yet another fatality of a senseless war, and still the drums gathered dust.
The day Sirius was sentenced to prison, a troop of Ministry officials shuffled all of the contents of the flat (threadbare as it was, as it had long since ceased to be a home) into storage.
Twelve years in Azkaban, and while the tapping never stopped, Sirius found himself forgetting the beat which had once captivated him so.
---
"A cottage in the countryside, Remus?" Sirius asks, surveying his new surroundings. "I never took you for the type."
Remus's shrugs in that self-deprecating way of his that's become entirely too pronounced over the years. "It was cheap and so far out that no one else wanted it anymore."
They are still awkward, moving around each other carefully, side-stepping any thread of conversation that could re-open any barely healed wounds. Many years and friends lost stand between them, and yet still they are trying. Some old habits may die hard, and Sirius thinks that perhaps loving someone may be one of those that never does.
He looks around and there are little bits of familiarity here and there. The worn down bookshelf that had once been in their flat, the old tea set that James had broken into a million pieces, only to see it put back together by a laughing Lily.
"I've kept some things," Remus says quietly, as if reading his thoughts. "From before."
"I assumed that you chucked it all."
"I considered burning it, but beggars can't be choosers, Sirius. Even if I could afford to chuck it, I don't think that I ever could let go." The 'I could never let you go' remains unspoken, but explicitly understood.
Remus's countenance suddenly brightens, as if remembering a fond memory. "There is one more thing that I salvaged, Pads."
"What? Don't tell me that you've still got that horrid dress that Prongs made me wear that one April Fools for a dare, because if so, I might have to hurt you."
"No, nothing nearly as good as that." Remus chuckles. "Still, you might enjoy this one more."
Remus nods to a spare room that Sirius hadn't seen yet, and opens the door. There, taking up the entire room, is his old drum set.
"You - "
"Yes."
"You're amazing, Moony."
"I know," Remus says, with a touch of his old Marauderly spirit.
Sirius breaks out into a genuine smile, the type that reaches your eyes, and leans over to give Remus a swift kiss.
"Thank you," he murmurs, and for the first time, thinks that they might really be okay again.