Fic: An Interlude, with Shakespearean Insults
Word Count: 1738
A/n: Co-written by
dorasolo (the Sirius and the Lily) and
latenightcuppa (the Remus and the James).
Sirius Black, in an ever present attempt to contradict his name, is very rarely serious. It is much more appropriate, he thinks, to be jovial, loud, unkempt, and slightly off kilter. It is who he is, a warmer version of every Black before and every Black to be, equal in intensity to those he claims to loathe. It is times like this, however, that he wishes his family could see him and who he is becoming, because their ire fuels his passion to be more opposite with every day that passes.
And at the same time, he is inexplicably lonely, even at his new home. After James' mum finished congratulating her wayward son on becoming responsible and important and Head Boy at the bequest of a deranged Headmaster, she proceeded to leave for the market, conveniently allowing James to spend time with Lily in his bedroom, doing whatever horrifying and foul thing James and Lily do in James' bedroom. Sirius broods. He has never known a mum to promise to make extra meat pies and disappear to allow shenanigans in a bedroom, of all places. He has never known a mum at all, really, unless one were to count a woman who shrieks at any given provocation including too-short pants and frogs magically appearing in a younger brother's soup bowl.
Sirius disgustedly chews on a blade of grass, disliking the taste, but continuing anyway. His Muggle cigarettes are in James' room being sullied by association, which makes him petulant as he stares at the blue sky in a bizarre moment of complete and total silence. Remus conveniently disappeared when James' mum disappeared, muttering about books, because Remus mutters about books, and potentially writing a letter to Pete. Sirius thinks he probably should also write a letter to Pete, maybe one involving mud and some grass clippings, because when he squints his eyes just so, Pete is just like Regulus but more accepting of being a younger brother. Maybe it is because Pete is simpler than Regulus just because he is not a Black, with all the Black baggage, but maybe it is because Pete genuinely seems to look up to Sirius and James like a brother.
Spitting out the grass in his mouth, Sirius decides he does in fact miss Pete and does in fact wish to write him a letter, so he shouts from his sprawl on the grass for Remus, because Remus is good like that and will come when called. Good dog, Sirius thinks to himself. Har har.
Remus has always liked to think that he is a person possessing of a good deal of grace and dignity, despite how unsavory his dearest acquaintances may seem to those outside their close knit group. He has always considered himself the withdrawn one, the independent one, the only Marauder capable of uttering the words "no, not today" when faced with a decision regarding the fate of the latest Zonko's product.
As of late, he has come to see that this personage, this carefully built image that he has crafted of himself, is really a rather pathetic façade. When presented with the inexorable pull of Sirius Black, Remus the Responsible Prefect becomes Remus the Enabler.
And so when he hears Sirius calling his name through the open window in a voice telling of the fact that perhaps Sirius is in one of his more brooding moods, Remus sets down the letter he was writing with a sigh. His course of action has already been decided for him.
Remus impatiently stuffs his letter and pen under his shoulder and makes his way outside, fighting the inevitable and quite frankly embarrassing urge to make a pot of tea first.
"You bellowed?"
"Can you put this in your letter?"
It is a pile of grass.
"Theoretically, I could, in that I am capable of the act of putting blades of grass in an envelope. Will I? That is perhaps the most pertinent question, Padfoot, and I'm afraid that Pete wouldn't entirely appreciate grass stains all over the letter that I've just written him."
Sirius snorts. "Of course he would. I was thinking about him, after all. Please? The grass? It's not like I can send that to Regulus, and I intend to write a proper letter to Andromeda."
His look clearly says 'I miss my family,' though he will never say that kind of thing out loud.
Remus settles down next to Sirius carefully. This is one of those "The Noble and Pure House of Black" moods that none of them could ever really hope to understand, although Merlin knows they've tried.
"You've caught me out, then. I don't want grass stains all over the letter that I've just written him," Remus says, tone revealing that perhaps he might be willing to compromise, if not outright give in.
Sirius frowns, but puts the grass back on the ground. "Give me the letter, then, can I write something to him?"
Remus raises an eyebrow but hands the letter over anyways.
Sirius smiles, but it is clear he's not settled in his thoughts. "He'll love it, you know. Wormtail likes that kind of thing, Remus. He giggles like a school girl about such things. It is the way of the Pettigrew. Much better than the way of the Blacks. Do you know, Moony, that sometimes I think Bella is going to arrive here unannounced and kill me in a mess of blood and guts and green fire?"
His tone is light, but he's not kidding.
Remus opens his mouth to somehow lighten the mood somehow, in any way possible, but he knows that lightening the mood is not his place. James lightens moods, it's a talent requiring of an inexplicable natural balance of awkwardness and grace.
And so Remus shuts his mouth and shakes his head slowly. "I wouldn't let her." His voice is quiet, but fierce, and almost takes himself by surprise.
Sirius rewards him with a small smile. "I didn't say I'd go without a fight, but I'm surprised I've been confrontation free for so long. It's strange, really, like they don't even care. This sounds daft, with how much I hate them."
"Well, the less of them you see the better, yeah?" Remus worries a piece of a grass between two fingertips and wonders if there's any way to rephrase what he's about to say to make him sound like less of an absolute girl. "They don't deserve you, Sirius. Never did."
"Or I don't deserve them," Sirius retorts, darkly. "I deserve a mum who makes meat pies and conveniently disappears the moment I feel I need my knob polished. Call me selfish."
Remus grimaces. "That was an image of James and Lily that I could've done without. And it isn't selfish, however bizarre the sentiment may be. You know, with using the words 'meat pies' and 'knob' together in the same sentence."
Snorting, Sirius tosses grass at Remus. "Well played, Moony, really. I am impressed. Color me the red color of impressed, even. Is it red?"
"We're Gryffindors. The color of choice is always red, I thought that you knew that. Tut tut, Messr. Padfoot, you should be ashamed."
"Do you think they're just that ashamed of me that they can't even put up a fight when I go?"
"I think that they never had a chance of understanding you, Pads, not just as you are. And that's something that was never going to be helped, not with your family. You can't blame yourself."
Privately, Remus thinks that he's reached a point where every word that he says sounds pre-bottled, like some off-handed cliche meant to lend support and he can only hope that Sirius doesn't hate him too much for it.
"You know, the night I left, I thought that Regulus would drop the cold face for a second. He looked like he was about to, and then the mask went back up and he wished me well. I had thought that the kid might, I don't know... This is all stupid. You are my brother now. James, Pete. I guess Evans can be my brother too, though she lacks the proper bits and bobs."
"Or, more appropriately, she could be your sister. Hair braiding could be involved." Remus looks at Sirius askance and gives him a small smile. "He might come around, you know. Regulus. Some day, he might come around. He's still young. If nothing else, I wouldn't give up hope on him just yet."
"I think there have been too many of Bella's bedtime stories for that," Sirius says, somewhat sadly, but shakes it off with a swish of his too-long hair. "Do you really think Evans will braid my hair, Moony? I do have so many secrets I wish to confess."
He smiles, just a bit, as the storm clouds move out of his grey eyes.
"If you can endure the lecture on your heathen rule-breaking ways, I'm sure that she'd be happy to oblige." Remus snorts softly. "Although I'm not sure how James would take to you spending any large amount of time with his Tiger Lily, he already finds my friendship with her to be suspect."
"Lily and I have nothing in common, unless you consider magnificent hair texture," Sirius jokes, quirking an eyebrow. "Nothing like your love of womanly books. Moony, have I told you lately that you are an avid lover of books of the womanly variety? Because if I have not, I have shirked my responsibilities."
"What's this, then?" Lily Evans appears seemingly out of nowhere, smiling. "Hair braiding? Can it be true?"
"Hair braiding? I was always under the impression that Sirius was going for 'Farrah hair.' Braiding would sort of defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?" James says with a wide grin, as he ambles up next to Lily.
"Are you finished with your trouser snake infestation, then," Sirius retorts, as jovial now as he was troubled twenty minutes ago.
"The work of a trouser snake is never finished, my friend," James says, dodging to avoid a swipe to the head from Lily.
"It's paused," Lily interjects, helpfully. "Rejoining the outside world became very important, especially given the impending return of James' mum. I do hope she bought cakes for us."
"By all means, then, let them eat cake," Remus quotes wryly.