(Fic) Socks, Family and German Howlers DeathJunke
Title: Socks, Family and German Howlers
Author: Knitterlywitch AKA Madeline
Recipient: Deathjunke
Rating: PG-13
Highlight for Warnings: *Possibly a little knitting techno-bable; If anything is unclear, just ask*
Word Count: about 3000
Summary: Sirius knits socks for Remus the year he is disowned
Author's notes: Just two small ones: One, please, like I said in warnings, forgive me, as a knitter in real life, I don't know if the words I used to discribe the process are clear. Second: due to similar RL experiences last year, writing this fic was very helpful and cathartic. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
The knight bus was warm, almost stuffy as Sirius came aboard.
It had been a horrible month. James hated him, Remus hated him and would never trust him again, and Peter wasn’t talking to him except in the form of howlers written in German. It was entirely his fault. He told Remus’ secret. He nearly killed someone. All in the name of a ‘prank’.
That was why he had gone home in the first place. He was sure that with all that had happened, nothing worse would happen. But it had, his mum and dad threw him out.
His clothes were gone; his textbooks too; his broomstick, he had nowhere to stay and his friends hated him.
“’scuse me, sir,” said the conductor, walking from the front of the bus to where Sirius was sitting, “I forgot to ask you where you was headed.”
“You did,” said Sirius looking up, for a brief second from the heavily cabled brown sock.
“So?” asked the conductor, taking a step closer to him.
“So what?” he asked, trying to avoid the inevitable question.
“So where ya going?”
“The Potter house, Godric Hollow,” he said in a strangled voice, fighting back tears. ‘James will help me, James will forgive me,’ kept sliding through his head, like fingers on rosary beads.
“We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. That okay?”
He gave her a small nod. She walked back up to the front of the bus, leaving Sirius to knit. All that was left to do was the toe on the second sock.
Each stitch was a word as he knit them; James-will-help-me-Moony-will-forgive-me-They-won’t-hate-me-forever-they-will-love-me-again, all the stitches on that needle were knit, switch around; do the next one, Peter-will-forgive-me-he-won’t-hate-me-forever-they-all-will-take-me-back-I-hope-they-do; switch to the third needle, I-am-not-alone-they-will-always-be-there-for-me-Remus-James-and-Peter-always. One round done, then two, then four; mindless. They were done.
“The Potter’s house,” the conductor announced, guiding him to the door.
“Good luck,” she said from the bus, waving, “have a happy Christmas.” Then with a loud pop, the knight bus disappeared.
The back of James’ head became visible; he was still having a conversation with his mother. “It’s probably just aunt Margo, she did say she was taking the knight-“his eyes met Sirius’ and, walking towards him in a very cold, angry voice, he said, “Oh, it’s you. What the hell are you doing here, Sirius? You aren’t welcome; not til Moony forgives you.”
“My dad…he threw me out… my… Phineas Nigellus…his portrait overheard some things… things about Remus…. Remus and I.”
The anger in James’ face suddenly became fear. “They know about Moony’s condition?” Then the anger returned, “You let them find out about Remus’ condition? How could you be so stupid?”
Sirius was angry now too, “I didn’t let them find out about his condition, you stupid arse! I silenced his portrait before he could tell them… they know…other stuff…. about me and him… bad stuff,” his voice lost the heat it had had a moment before, “Please, I understand if you never want to talk to me again, but I need to use your floo or something; I need to find a place to stay. Please, just let me use it to talk to my uncle. Please.” Sirius started to cry. James pulled him into a hug; they toppled over and fell into a snow bank.
Both of them started laughing, until James started to hiss in pain
“OWW!!! Sirius, what’s in your pocket? Something’s stabbing me in the leg!”
“It’s knitting needles; I knit socks for Remus’ Christmas present.”
“You knit? Since when?”
“I learned this fall. Remus taught me. The basics at least.”
“Oh, so that’s what you two poufs were doing when you had his bed curtains closed!”
“Yeah, that’s what we were doing,” lied Sirius, glumly, that hadn’t been the reason at all. But James hadn’t known about that and he wasn’t going to betray Moony’s trust a second time in not even a month “Can we go inside? I’m freezing!”
James stood up and then offered his friend his arm to help him up.
Mrs. Potter came out of the kitchen welding a wooden spoon and wearing a bright pink apron over her dress robes.
“Sirius! I’m glad to see you! I didn’t know James had invited you over for Christmas. James, help him get his trunk upsta- wait, where is your trunk? And your broomstick? What about your clothes? Where are they? And your cloak? You don’t have a cloak! What’s going on, Sirius?”
“His mum and dad kicked him out,” James explained, his voice barely above a whisper. Before he even finished his sentence, his mother had already enveloped Sirius in a neck-breaking hug.
“You poor thing! How can someone’s own parents… I’m appalled! James, show him to your room. Sirius, pick out some dress robes of James’ to wear, they’ll be a little tight in the shoulders, but they’ll do in a pinch; Is there anyone I can floo or owl who might want to help you? An aunt? An uncle?”
“Pretty much every blood traitor this side of the Atlantic,” Sirius muttered, looking at his feet.
“When you’re done showing him, James, can you tell your father to owl everyone and tell them the party is cancelled?” called Mrs. Potter.
“Yeah, Mom,” James guiding Sirius’ every step as he slunk up the stairs like a beaten dog,
“Can I use your shower?” Sirius asked, as his friend led him into his room.
“Sure, I’ll tell Mum that’s what you’re doing,” giving Sirius a half-smirk,
James added, “But if you’re not out of there in a half an hour, I’ll come up here to check that you haven’t tried to drown yourself.”
James closed the door as he left. Alone, Sirius picked out a robe, setting it on the bed while he showered.
After, he changed into the robe and walked down the stairs. They were cold on his bare feet. Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, he entered the Potter’s parlour, which was now filled with people.
Peter and his parents were there; The Prewitt brothers too, along with their sister Molly and her husband, Arthur. She held a baby to her breast and was having a conversation with Sirius’ cousin Andromeda, while Arthur talked to Ted, Andromeda’s husband. Two young redheaded boys, who must have been Molly’s sons, were wrestling with a young girl with bright pink hair, probably Andromeda’s kid, Nymphadora.
A man who Sirius didn’t know, but recognised as his great uncle Marius, a squib who had been disowned was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Hagrid, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick sat together, probably discussing school things.
In the corner, close to the radio was Alphard Black who seemed to be having a rather jovial conversation with Remus’ parents.
And sitting by the fireplace looking absorbed in a cheap paperback novel, was Remus. The firelight brought out something in his eyes. He was so… No, Remus would never forgive him, might as well stop thinking about him that way. Then, Sirius noticed that Remus wasn’t reading at all, and was, in fact, staring at him.
“So,” Clive Potter, James’ father, said, clearing his throat, “Now that Sirius is here, I think we can get started.” He gestured for Sirius to sit down.
Seeing that there were no seats to be had, he simply sat on the other side of the fireplace. Remus briefly looked away from his novel and gave Sirius an exasperated look.
“Now, you all are probably wondering why I called you over here on such short notice.” The room’s silence indicated this was correct. Mrs. Weasley looked at her watch, she looked cross.
“It’s because Sirius’ parents have thrown him out.” The mood of the room seemed to instantly change. Remus looked up from his book and toward Sirius; the expression that he wore did little to betray what he was thinking. The Weasleys gave him a look of sympathy.
Clive continued, “He doesn’t have a place to stay and my wife informed me he was forced to leave without any of his things. I have called you here because most of you have been through this before, either being disowned or being labelled blood traitors and because all of you have a connection to him, whether it is blood or friendship or what have you. We have to find a way to make sure has clothes for school, and textbooks and most important a place to live. Does anyone have anything to offer?”
“Fabian and I just graduated,” said Gideon Prewitt rising from the large candyfloss-coloured sofa, “We could give him some of our old textbooks.”
“And” Fabian added, “We really only need one cauldron; he could have the other.”
“Thank you,” said Sirius, softly; his eyes not quite meeting theirs.
As Gideon sat down, Professor McGonagall, who was sitting to their right, squished in-between Mrs. Weasley and Hagrid, stood up. “If no one else is keen on it, I’d be willing to have Mr. Black live with me, I have plenty of room.”
Professor Flitwick, who was sitting on the arm of the sofa, cleared his throat. “Erm, Minerva,” he said nervously, pulling at the neck of his robe, “I’m not sure if school policies would allow you to… er…. do that.”
“Nonsense, Filius; I’m sure Albus would excuse it,” then she added half-kidding, “I’m also fairly certain I am the only one, with the possible exception of you, Violet,” she said gesturing to Mrs. Potter, “who can handle Mr. Black’s natural exuberance without developing ulcers.”
It went on like this for about a half an hour. The Mrs. Weasley also offered him a place to stay, as did the Pettigrews , the Potters and Remus’ family. She also offered him some robes her husband had outgrown. His uncle Marius, having no magical objects to his name or wizarding money to speak of, instead offered Sirius a motorbike he was unable to sell at his car repair shop, which the younger man accepted happily. Andromeda and her husband had no room for Sirius to stay with them, and they didn’t have money they could just give away, but they said they’d be willing to pay Sirius to babysit their daughter if he wanted.
Someone else offered an old broomstick; another person offered a warm woollen cloak, Dumbledore said he could pull some strings and get a hold of any of the textbooks that Sirius couldn’t get from other people. Uncle Alphard said he’d set up a small trust fund for when he came of age.
Finally, with some things, like where he’d be living, figured out, Mrs. Potter dismissed the meeting and insisted everyone stay and enjoy the food she had made for her now cancelled party. Sirius continued to sit by the fireplace, arms crossed, looking at the crowd, not quite knowing how to feel about them.
Remus walked over to him, holding two small plates of food, one in his left hand, the other resting in the crook of his left arm. “Sirius, can I talk to you?” He held out a hand to help Sirius up.
Sirius nodded and followed his friend up the stairs. The two of them finally sat down on the top of them. Remus handed him one of the plates of food.
“You really hurt me, what you did, with Snape and all,” he said, studying the crucifix that hung on the wall that was only visible from where they were sitting.
“I know I did. I hadn’t meant to, but I guess in this case intentions wouldn’t have meant bollocks to the ministry had they found out what happened. I’d be in jail, you’d be… I really arsed things up, didn’t I?”
“You did, a little.”
“A little, you are the king of the understatements. I arsed everything up and I have no right to ask for your mercy, let alone your trust. But I do miss you, Moony. I miss us.”
“You aren’t the only one, Padfoot.” There was silence for a few seconds, and then Remus asked, “Is that why you didn’t want to live with me?” There was something thoughtful, almost sad, about how he asked this, as though he had wanted Sirius to do it.
“No,” said Sirius, “it was your parents. They know that you and I were?; are?; a couple and they wouldn’t let us have a second alone together.”
Remus smiled slightly, the first smile Sirius had seen cross his face in over a month. “You don’t know my parents that well, Pads. My parents are Ravenclaws; free love and all that. They’re fine with sex as long people use protection, don’t do anything insane and both people want to do it. Mum says it: ‘safe, sane, and consensual.’” The smile now disappeared and was replaced by a look that was a cross between revulsion and puzzled, “It had been uncomfortable to discuss, to say the least.”
“Well, see, that would make it even worse. You and I would be together in your room doing schoolwork or something and your mum would walk on the door and be, like,” Sirius made a knocking noise on the stairs and then made the pitch of his voice higher and adopted a Yorkshire accent, “ ‘Are you boys alright in there? D’you need anything? Snacks, something to drink, condoms?’”
Remus started laughing like a madman. His friend’s impression of his mother was spot on.
Sirius continued, “Your dad would be much worse, though, mate, because he’s French. If the French know anythin’ about anythin’, they know about sex. Your dad, he’d be all like,” now, Sirius put on the odd mix of an RP inflection and south France accent that was Remus’ father’s way of speaking, “ ‘Sirius, Remus, I think it is high time the three of us sit down and talk, man to man, about sexual intercourse,’” by this time, Remus was laughing even harder, his face was red, “ ‘now, I know you lads are probably already engaged in this activity, but, Josie and I thought it was important you knew how to stay safe during, so we bought you this book. Now, if you look on page nine,’” he couldn’t even continue his sentence, he had also broken down into a fit of laughter.
“You’re right,” agreed Remus, trying to avoid catching Sirius’ eyes, knowing that if he did he would start to laugh again, “that is exactly how they’d act. Exactly; I think you made the right decision, mate.”
The last word of Remus’ sentence hung in the air like smoke.
“So am I?” Sirius finally asked, hesitantly.
“Are you what?”
“Am I your mate again? Your friend?”
Remus gave him a sad smile, “’Course you are, Pads. Even when I was cross at you, I still considered you my friend; that was why what you did hurt as much as it had.”
“Do you think we could, you know, be Moony and Padfoot again? Be together again?”
“I don’t know, maybe we could. It would take a while for me to trust you again.”
There was another long silence. Then Sirius remembered the socks.
“I have a gift for you; it isn’t wrapped or anything’, but I made it. Do you want it?”
“You made me something? Was it that hideous scarf with the fornicating deer on it? The ones you charmed to move?”
“Nah, that had been for Prongs. Left it at my parent’s house, sadly. Would have liked to see him wear it. If he ever got with Evans I was going to make her one too. So do you want your gift or not?”
“As long as you promise it isn’t pornographic.”
“It isn’t. Scouts honour.”
Remus narrowed his eyes, “You were never a scout.”
“Okay, on my honour as a Marauder.”
“We have no honour, Sirius. At least you and James don’t. You have no scruples either.”
“Lies and slander. I’ve had scruples…”Sirius tried to look confused for a moment, “or at least I had my inoculations against them… just kidding you, Moony. I promise your gift isn’t pornographic like James’ was.”
His friend sighed, “Fine, let me see it.”
Sirius walked into James’ bedroom and picked up the jeans he had worn there off the floor. He fished through the pockets, then, victoriously, he pulled the socks out. Cleaning the small bits of lint and paper on them with a flick of his wand, he then returned to where his friend was sitting. He handed them over triumphantly.
The other boy looked confused. “Socks?”
Sirius felt hurt. “Well, yeah, but they’re nice socks. They’re cashmere and Merino. They got a little phoenix down in there too, so you don’t have to darn them. And they’re cabled. Don’t you like them?”
Remus gave a little smile, seeming to understand. “I remember you told me in second year only swotty little nancy boys got socks for Christmas.”
Sirius’ grin now mirrored his, “Well, my dear Mr. Moony, you are a swot and by your own admission, you are also a nancy boy, after all, you and I…, yeah, so, therefore they are the perfect gift. Try them on.”
He did. “They are rather nice socks. Warm and everything.” He pulled Sirius into a hug. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks for… you know… being here for me even though you hated my guts.”
“I always will be, you stupid berk. Think we could get, you know, a bit of time alone?” he enquired.
“Sure, one second,” Sirius stood up and walked down about five steps. Then he called out loudly, “Prongs, Moony and I are going to be up here for a bit in the guest bedroom; he’s teaching me how to do fair isle! Tell Peter, okay?”
“Seen!” James yelled back, looking up the stairs at them. Once James had walked away, Remus gave his companion a baffled look. “What was that about?”
Sirius grinned wickedly, as they walked to the guest bedroom, “Long story, I’ll tell you later.”
Author: Knitterlywitch AKA Madeline
Recipient: Deathjunke
Rating: PG-13
Highlight for Warnings: *Possibly a little knitting techno-bable; If anything is unclear, just ask*
Word Count: about 3000
Summary: Sirius knits socks for Remus the year he is disowned
Author's notes: Just two small ones: One, please, like I said in warnings, forgive me, as a knitter in real life, I don't know if the words I used to discribe the process are clear. Second: due to similar RL experiences last year, writing this fic was very helpful and cathartic. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
The knight bus was warm, almost stuffy as Sirius came aboard.
It had been a horrible month. James hated him, Remus hated him and would never trust him again, and Peter wasn’t talking to him except in the form of howlers written in German. It was entirely his fault. He told Remus’ secret. He nearly killed someone. All in the name of a ‘prank’.
That was why he had gone home in the first place. He was sure that with all that had happened, nothing worse would happen. But it had, his mum and dad threw him out.
His clothes were gone; his textbooks too; his broomstick, he had nowhere to stay and his friends hated him.
“’scuse me, sir,” said the conductor, walking from the front of the bus to where Sirius was sitting, “I forgot to ask you where you was headed.”
“You did,” said Sirius looking up, for a brief second from the heavily cabled brown sock.
“So?” asked the conductor, taking a step closer to him.
“So what?” he asked, trying to avoid the inevitable question.
“So where ya going?”
“The Potter house, Godric Hollow,” he said in a strangled voice, fighting back tears. ‘James will help me, James will forgive me,’ kept sliding through his head, like fingers on rosary beads.
“We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. That okay?”
He gave her a small nod. She walked back up to the front of the bus, leaving Sirius to knit. All that was left to do was the toe on the second sock.
Each stitch was a word as he knit them; James-will-help-me-Moony-will-forgive-me-They-won’t-hate-me-forever-they-will-love-me-again, all the stitches on that needle were knit, switch around; do the next one, Peter-will-forgive-me-he-won’t-hate-me-forever-they-all-will-take-me-back-I-hope-they-do; switch to the third needle, I-am-not-alone-they-will-always-be-there-for-me-Remus-James-and-Peter-always. One round done, then two, then four; mindless. They were done.
“The Potter’s house,” the conductor announced, guiding him to the door.
“Good luck,” she said from the bus, waving, “have a happy Christmas.” Then with a loud pop, the knight bus disappeared.
The back of James’ head became visible; he was still having a conversation with his mother. “It’s probably just aunt Margo, she did say she was taking the knight-“his eyes met Sirius’ and, walking towards him in a very cold, angry voice, he said, “Oh, it’s you. What the hell are you doing here, Sirius? You aren’t welcome; not til Moony forgives you.”
“My dad…he threw me out… my… Phineas Nigellus…his portrait overheard some things… things about Remus…. Remus and I.”
The anger in James’ face suddenly became fear. “They know about Moony’s condition?” Then the anger returned, “You let them find out about Remus’ condition? How could you be so stupid?”
Sirius was angry now too, “I didn’t let them find out about his condition, you stupid arse! I silenced his portrait before he could tell them… they know…other stuff…. about me and him… bad stuff,” his voice lost the heat it had had a moment before, “Please, I understand if you never want to talk to me again, but I need to use your floo or something; I need to find a place to stay. Please, just let me use it to talk to my uncle. Please.” Sirius started to cry. James pulled him into a hug; they toppled over and fell into a snow bank.
Both of them started laughing, until James started to hiss in pain
“OWW!!! Sirius, what’s in your pocket? Something’s stabbing me in the leg!”
“It’s knitting needles; I knit socks for Remus’ Christmas present.”
“You knit? Since when?”
“I learned this fall. Remus taught me. The basics at least.”
“Oh, so that’s what you two poufs were doing when you had his bed curtains closed!”
“Yeah, that’s what we were doing,” lied Sirius, glumly, that hadn’t been the reason at all. But James hadn’t known about that and he wasn’t going to betray Moony’s trust a second time in not even a month “Can we go inside? I’m freezing!”
James stood up and then offered his friend his arm to help him up.
Mrs. Potter came out of the kitchen welding a wooden spoon and wearing a bright pink apron over her dress robes.
“Sirius! I’m glad to see you! I didn’t know James had invited you over for Christmas. James, help him get his trunk upsta- wait, where is your trunk? And your broomstick? What about your clothes? Where are they? And your cloak? You don’t have a cloak! What’s going on, Sirius?”
“His mum and dad kicked him out,” James explained, his voice barely above a whisper. Before he even finished his sentence, his mother had already enveloped Sirius in a neck-breaking hug.
“You poor thing! How can someone’s own parents… I’m appalled! James, show him to your room. Sirius, pick out some dress robes of James’ to wear, they’ll be a little tight in the shoulders, but they’ll do in a pinch; Is there anyone I can floo or owl who might want to help you? An aunt? An uncle?”
“Pretty much every blood traitor this side of the Atlantic,” Sirius muttered, looking at his feet.
“When you’re done showing him, James, can you tell your father to owl everyone and tell them the party is cancelled?” called Mrs. Potter.
“Yeah, Mom,” James guiding Sirius’ every step as he slunk up the stairs like a beaten dog,
“Can I use your shower?” Sirius asked, as his friend led him into his room.
“Sure, I’ll tell Mum that’s what you’re doing,” giving Sirius a half-smirk,
James added, “But if you’re not out of there in a half an hour, I’ll come up here to check that you haven’t tried to drown yourself.”
James closed the door as he left. Alone, Sirius picked out a robe, setting it on the bed while he showered.
After, he changed into the robe and walked down the stairs. They were cold on his bare feet. Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, he entered the Potter’s parlour, which was now filled with people.
Peter and his parents were there; The Prewitt brothers too, along with their sister Molly and her husband, Arthur. She held a baby to her breast and was having a conversation with Sirius’ cousin Andromeda, while Arthur talked to Ted, Andromeda’s husband. Two young redheaded boys, who must have been Molly’s sons, were wrestling with a young girl with bright pink hair, probably Andromeda’s kid, Nymphadora.
A man who Sirius didn’t know, but recognised as his great uncle Marius, a squib who had been disowned was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Hagrid, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick sat together, probably discussing school things.
In the corner, close to the radio was Alphard Black who seemed to be having a rather jovial conversation with Remus’ parents.
And sitting by the fireplace looking absorbed in a cheap paperback novel, was Remus. The firelight brought out something in his eyes. He was so… No, Remus would never forgive him, might as well stop thinking about him that way. Then, Sirius noticed that Remus wasn’t reading at all, and was, in fact, staring at him.
“So,” Clive Potter, James’ father, said, clearing his throat, “Now that Sirius is here, I think we can get started.” He gestured for Sirius to sit down.
Seeing that there were no seats to be had, he simply sat on the other side of the fireplace. Remus briefly looked away from his novel and gave Sirius an exasperated look.
“Now, you all are probably wondering why I called you over here on such short notice.” The room’s silence indicated this was correct. Mrs. Weasley looked at her watch, she looked cross.
“It’s because Sirius’ parents have thrown him out.” The mood of the room seemed to instantly change. Remus looked up from his book and toward Sirius; the expression that he wore did little to betray what he was thinking. The Weasleys gave him a look of sympathy.
Clive continued, “He doesn’t have a place to stay and my wife informed me he was forced to leave without any of his things. I have called you here because most of you have been through this before, either being disowned or being labelled blood traitors and because all of you have a connection to him, whether it is blood or friendship or what have you. We have to find a way to make sure has clothes for school, and textbooks and most important a place to live. Does anyone have anything to offer?”
“Fabian and I just graduated,” said Gideon Prewitt rising from the large candyfloss-coloured sofa, “We could give him some of our old textbooks.”
“And” Fabian added, “We really only need one cauldron; he could have the other.”
“Thank you,” said Sirius, softly; his eyes not quite meeting theirs.
As Gideon sat down, Professor McGonagall, who was sitting to their right, squished in-between Mrs. Weasley and Hagrid, stood up. “If no one else is keen on it, I’d be willing to have Mr. Black live with me, I have plenty of room.”
Professor Flitwick, who was sitting on the arm of the sofa, cleared his throat. “Erm, Minerva,” he said nervously, pulling at the neck of his robe, “I’m not sure if school policies would allow you to… er…. do that.”
“Nonsense, Filius; I’m sure Albus would excuse it,” then she added half-kidding, “I’m also fairly certain I am the only one, with the possible exception of you, Violet,” she said gesturing to Mrs. Potter, “who can handle Mr. Black’s natural exuberance without developing ulcers.”
It went on like this for about a half an hour. The Mrs. Weasley also offered him a place to stay, as did the Pettigrews , the Potters and Remus’ family. She also offered him some robes her husband had outgrown. His uncle Marius, having no magical objects to his name or wizarding money to speak of, instead offered Sirius a motorbike he was unable to sell at his car repair shop, which the younger man accepted happily. Andromeda and her husband had no room for Sirius to stay with them, and they didn’t have money they could just give away, but they said they’d be willing to pay Sirius to babysit their daughter if he wanted.
Someone else offered an old broomstick; another person offered a warm woollen cloak, Dumbledore said he could pull some strings and get a hold of any of the textbooks that Sirius couldn’t get from other people. Uncle Alphard said he’d set up a small trust fund for when he came of age.
Finally, with some things, like where he’d be living, figured out, Mrs. Potter dismissed the meeting and insisted everyone stay and enjoy the food she had made for her now cancelled party. Sirius continued to sit by the fireplace, arms crossed, looking at the crowd, not quite knowing how to feel about them.
Remus walked over to him, holding two small plates of food, one in his left hand, the other resting in the crook of his left arm. “Sirius, can I talk to you?” He held out a hand to help Sirius up.
Sirius nodded and followed his friend up the stairs. The two of them finally sat down on the top of them. Remus handed him one of the plates of food.
“You really hurt me, what you did, with Snape and all,” he said, studying the crucifix that hung on the wall that was only visible from where they were sitting.
“I know I did. I hadn’t meant to, but I guess in this case intentions wouldn’t have meant bollocks to the ministry had they found out what happened. I’d be in jail, you’d be… I really arsed things up, didn’t I?”
“You did, a little.”
“A little, you are the king of the understatements. I arsed everything up and I have no right to ask for your mercy, let alone your trust. But I do miss you, Moony. I miss us.”
“You aren’t the only one, Padfoot.” There was silence for a few seconds, and then Remus asked, “Is that why you didn’t want to live with me?” There was something thoughtful, almost sad, about how he asked this, as though he had wanted Sirius to do it.
“No,” said Sirius, “it was your parents. They know that you and I were?; are?; a couple and they wouldn’t let us have a second alone together.”
Remus smiled slightly, the first smile Sirius had seen cross his face in over a month. “You don’t know my parents that well, Pads. My parents are Ravenclaws; free love and all that. They’re fine with sex as long people use protection, don’t do anything insane and both people want to do it. Mum says it: ‘safe, sane, and consensual.’” The smile now disappeared and was replaced by a look that was a cross between revulsion and puzzled, “It had been uncomfortable to discuss, to say the least.”
“Well, see, that would make it even worse. You and I would be together in your room doing schoolwork or something and your mum would walk on the door and be, like,” Sirius made a knocking noise on the stairs and then made the pitch of his voice higher and adopted a Yorkshire accent, “ ‘Are you boys alright in there? D’you need anything? Snacks, something to drink, condoms?’”
Remus started laughing like a madman. His friend’s impression of his mother was spot on.
Sirius continued, “Your dad would be much worse, though, mate, because he’s French. If the French know anythin’ about anythin’, they know about sex. Your dad, he’d be all like,” now, Sirius put on the odd mix of an RP inflection and south France accent that was Remus’ father’s way of speaking, “ ‘Sirius, Remus, I think it is high time the three of us sit down and talk, man to man, about sexual intercourse,’” by this time, Remus was laughing even harder, his face was red, “ ‘now, I know you lads are probably already engaged in this activity, but, Josie and I thought it was important you knew how to stay safe during, so we bought you this book. Now, if you look on page nine,’” he couldn’t even continue his sentence, he had also broken down into a fit of laughter.
“You’re right,” agreed Remus, trying to avoid catching Sirius’ eyes, knowing that if he did he would start to laugh again, “that is exactly how they’d act. Exactly; I think you made the right decision, mate.”
The last word of Remus’ sentence hung in the air like smoke.
“So am I?” Sirius finally asked, hesitantly.
“Are you what?”
“Am I your mate again? Your friend?”
Remus gave him a sad smile, “’Course you are, Pads. Even when I was cross at you, I still considered you my friend; that was why what you did hurt as much as it had.”
“Do you think we could, you know, be Moony and Padfoot again? Be together again?”
“I don’t know, maybe we could. It would take a while for me to trust you again.”
There was another long silence. Then Sirius remembered the socks.
“I have a gift for you; it isn’t wrapped or anything’, but I made it. Do you want it?”
“You made me something? Was it that hideous scarf with the fornicating deer on it? The ones you charmed to move?”
“Nah, that had been for Prongs. Left it at my parent’s house, sadly. Would have liked to see him wear it. If he ever got with Evans I was going to make her one too. So do you want your gift or not?”
“As long as you promise it isn’t pornographic.”
“It isn’t. Scouts honour.”
Remus narrowed his eyes, “You were never a scout.”
“Okay, on my honour as a Marauder.”
“We have no honour, Sirius. At least you and James don’t. You have no scruples either.”
“Lies and slander. I’ve had scruples…”Sirius tried to look confused for a moment, “or at least I had my inoculations against them… just kidding you, Moony. I promise your gift isn’t pornographic like James’ was.”
His friend sighed, “Fine, let me see it.”
Sirius walked into James’ bedroom and picked up the jeans he had worn there off the floor. He fished through the pockets, then, victoriously, he pulled the socks out. Cleaning the small bits of lint and paper on them with a flick of his wand, he then returned to where his friend was sitting. He handed them over triumphantly.
The other boy looked confused. “Socks?”
Sirius felt hurt. “Well, yeah, but they’re nice socks. They’re cashmere and Merino. They got a little phoenix down in there too, so you don’t have to darn them. And they’re cabled. Don’t you like them?”
Remus gave a little smile, seeming to understand. “I remember you told me in second year only swotty little nancy boys got socks for Christmas.”
Sirius’ grin now mirrored his, “Well, my dear Mr. Moony, you are a swot and by your own admission, you are also a nancy boy, after all, you and I…, yeah, so, therefore they are the perfect gift. Try them on.”
He did. “They are rather nice socks. Warm and everything.” He pulled Sirius into a hug. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks for… you know… being here for me even though you hated my guts.”
“I always will be, you stupid berk. Think we could get, you know, a bit of time alone?” he enquired.
“Sure, one second,” Sirius stood up and walked down about five steps. Then he called out loudly, “Prongs, Moony and I are going to be up here for a bit in the guest bedroom; he’s teaching me how to do fair isle! Tell Peter, okay?”
“Seen!” James yelled back, looking up the stairs at them. Once James had walked away, Remus gave his companion a baffled look. “What was that about?”
Sirius grinned wickedly, as they walked to the guest bedroom, “Long story, I’ll tell you later.”