Chapter Seventeen: At the Crossroads
Series title: Runaway: A Story About Sirius Black and Remus Lupin
Series summary: During the sweltering summer of 1976, Sirius Black leaves one family, joins another, and falls in love.
Series authors: The Runaway Writers
Installment title: Chapter Seventeen: At the Crossroads
Installment author: expositionary
Word count: 1,480
Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five | Epilogue
Chapter Sixteen: Gwenog Jones' Good Advice
A/N: Huge, huge apologies to everyone for being a day late -- especially to last_radio, who I am inconveniencing hugely and now owe chocolate, or cookies, or something. (The fates seem to have contrived against me these past few days; never underestimate the hassle it takes to prepare for an overseas trip!)
That said: I'm leaving this weekend for three weeks, and, having limited internet access, won't be able to help everyone wrap up the story. So I'm taking this opportunity to give a personal thank-you to all of you wonderful readers and to my fellow Runaway writers, who are all just lovely. It's been loads of fun. ♥ ♥ ♥
*
Sirius and James slouch languorously against a low fence, looking out at the handfuls of wizards and witches wandering across what constitutes as the main intersection of town. Most are indoors today to escape the heat, but Remus is ten minutes late, and James is decidedly not helping matters.
"Let me get this straight, Prongs," Sirius says slowly, tilting his head and squinting up into the mid-afternoon sun, "you are doing bookkeeping. For a Ministry official. During your summer hols. And --"
James frowns and runs a hand through his hair. "Now, don't be a prat about it," he says crossly, "it's not that bad. I like it, it's --"
"-- and you're doing it for free. For free." This, as far as Sirius is concerned, is what makes it Unacceptable. Moony's got a lousy summer job which prevents him from seeing Sirius, too, but at least he knows enough to get one that pays. Not that Sirius has ever really worried or cared about the money, but it's the principle of the thing -- and where is Moony, anyway?
James opens his mouth, pauses, then gives up and hits him.
Once they've managed to get the dust out of their eyes and James' trousers untangled from a splinter in the fence, Sirius is feeling slightly better and James is grinning. "It's a good opportunity, anyway," James says with a shrug. "And they feed me breakfast."
"Yeah?" Sirius arches a sceptical eyebrow. He's trying to keep the petulant note out of his voice, but there's nothing to do at Pen y Bryn these days now that he has to hole up in his room away from the watchful eyes of his parents, and one can only listen to Regulus tinker at the piano for so long before going utterly insane and throwing house-elves across the room. (So he crept out of the house two hours ago, damn the consequences.)
And now James is abandoning him, too. A little nastily, he says, "Does Miss Lily Evans know about your newfound maturity, then?"
At this James drops his eyes and concentrates on scuffing his shoe against the unpaved road. "Uh," he says finally. "Er. See, it was Evans' father who got me the position in the first place, Mum mentioned it to him and I couldn't say no exactly and, uh." Sirius smirks.
"Giving Prongs a hard time about it already?" Remus swings a long leg over the fence, settling himself on the other side of Sirius with a slow smile. "Thought you would be. Sorry I'm late."
Acutely aware of how Remus brushes up against his side as he slides down to sit, Sirius makes a noncommittal sound and says nothing.
"I wouldn't mind giving a go at what James is doing," Remus says, and James shoots him a look of gratitude. "Sounds like you'd learn a lot, do a few things that actually matter, yeah? Although waiting tables isn't bad, and Gwen --"
"Enough about Gwen, already," Sirius growls. That's not jealousy speaking, of course, but can't Remus see that it's bloody annoying, Gwen this and Gwen that and Sirius won't let himself wonder if perhaps that's why Remus was late --
"Shit, Pads," James says suddenly, jumping upwards. He's raised a cloud of dust around him. "Is that your --"
"Yeah," Sirius says shortly. He straightens hastily and offers a hand to Remus, who accepts, and brushes a stray bit of dirt off of Sirius' hip as he stands. Sirius flushes for a moment, but he has other things to worry about.
In hindsight, it was not a good idea to meet on one of the main streets, because there's his father, walking up the street with Mr. Cowell, and Sirius is fully aware that both of his parents think he's up in his room, "thinking over his priorities".
He's attempting to decide which alleyway offers the quickest escape when Mr. Cowell waves and Sirius feels a familiar sick feeling in his stomach. It only worsens when the men make their way over and Sirius catches the look in Father's eyes. (And Merlin, why is it that when he meets friends of the family he never seems to be wearing a bloody shirt?)
"How fortunate to find you here, Sirius," Father says pleasantly, as if their last conversation didn't end in shouting and slammed doors -- slammed doors on Sirius' part, anyhow. It's going to be one of those, Sirius realises: pleasant words in public and a screaming row at home.
"Yes, excellent," Mr. Cowell agrees pompously, sweating a little in his full dress robes. "Your father was just telling me about how you're joining me at the club -- we're all about Transfiguration, I'm sure you've heard of it. Orion says you're quite excellent at the subject; we look forward to having you."
(And there must be some irony in the fact that the first compliment he's ever received from his father came through a second party.)
"That's strange," Sirius says icily, because damned if he's going to play that game any longer. "Because he hasn't said a thing about it to me."
"I was planning to," Father says smoothly, "but seeing as how I couldn't find you around the house to ask..."
"James is going to volunteer in a Minister's office, you know," Sirius continues as if he hasn't heard. "I think I'd rather be doing something like that, something that's important, see. Something that matters."
"Wait a minute," James cuts in perplexedly, "that's not what you --" Remus, thankfully, cuts him off with a barely-perceptible kick to the shin.
Noticing James for the first time, Mr. Cowell nearly trips himself in a flurry to introduce himself properly. His eyes flicker over Remus for a moment, dismissively, and he doesn't even bother to give a nod of recognition. Sirius bites down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood.
"Perhaps I would consider that, son," Father says under his breath, while Mr. Cowell is distracted, "but I doubt that you'd be able to do something that actually matters when you cannot even seem to handle the small responsibilities you have as part of our family. Do not think that I'm unaware of where you have been all morning."
Sirius doesn't respond. There's a roaring in his ears, the feeling of something vitriolic in the back of his throat; he has the presence of mind to be slightly worried, because the last time he felt like this he pushed Regulus down the stairs and if he loses it now Father will --
"You may want to leave now," he says to Remus and James after a few moments, voice surprisingly calm. "I'll find you later."
For a second James looks as if he's going to protest, but Remus mutters something to him -- Sirius catches the words wouldn't want you to get involved -- and then James' eyes widen in understanding.
Sirius feels the deliberate brush of Remus' hand against his shoulder as they walk away, and he swallows, trying not to feel too guilty about the plan which is forming in his mind with cutting clarity. The Remus who occupies the corner of his conscience is giving him that warning look -- but it's not as if Remus has ever had to deal with the Blacks, is it, and Sirius pushes the guilt away.
"So what do you say, my boy?" Mr. Cowell asks, oblivious and supercilious and so obviously pureblood that it makes Sirius sick. "What time can I expect you next week?"
In the angry muddle of Sirius' mind, two thoughts are very clear: what happened the last time he was with his parents in public (what they said in front of James, in front of the Potters), and the fact that what he has now is an opportunity.
"No," he says, looking not at Mr. Cowell but instead at Father, "I don't think I will. I have better things to do than sitting around and making nice with old men who waste their time on things that don't really matter."
Mr. Cowell blinks, and his mouth falls open.
Sirius suspects that he shouldn't have, that the regret will crash down later alongside Mother's screams, but there's only room for now, and for the ugly feeling clawing its way out of his stomach.
"Sirius Black," his father says, slowly, and deliberately, "you cannot continue to walk away from your responsibilities."
"I can," Sirius replies, and does, not looking back.
(He could leave. He could do it, he could. But he still knows, in that place of cold rationality which seems to have deserted him of late, that he won't. That this evening he'll end up slipping in the back door of the house, and endure the crush of Father's admonishments and Regulus' reproaches with gritted teeth, like he has before and will again. Distantly, Sirius wonders if the cycle will ever end.)
Chapter Eighteen: Possibilities, Problems
ETA: And apparently I have Mr. Evans involved in the Ministry. That would be because I am an idiot. *headdesk* Thanks for catching that, and please try to ignore.
Series summary: During the sweltering summer of 1976, Sirius Black leaves one family, joins another, and falls in love.
Series authors: The Runaway Writers
Installment title: Chapter Seventeen: At the Crossroads
Installment author: expositionary
Word count: 1,480
Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five | Epilogue
Chapter Sixteen: Gwenog Jones' Good Advice
A/N: Huge, huge apologies to everyone for being a day late -- especially to last_radio, who I am inconveniencing hugely and now owe chocolate, or cookies, or something. (The fates seem to have contrived against me these past few days; never underestimate the hassle it takes to prepare for an overseas trip!)
That said: I'm leaving this weekend for three weeks, and, having limited internet access, won't be able to help everyone wrap up the story. So I'm taking this opportunity to give a personal thank-you to all of you wonderful readers and to my fellow Runaway writers, who are all just lovely. It's been loads of fun. ♥ ♥ ♥
*
Sirius and James slouch languorously against a low fence, looking out at the handfuls of wizards and witches wandering across what constitutes as the main intersection of town. Most are indoors today to escape the heat, but Remus is ten minutes late, and James is decidedly not helping matters.
"Let me get this straight, Prongs," Sirius says slowly, tilting his head and squinting up into the mid-afternoon sun, "you are doing bookkeeping. For a Ministry official. During your summer hols. And --"
James frowns and runs a hand through his hair. "Now, don't be a prat about it," he says crossly, "it's not that bad. I like it, it's --"
"-- and you're doing it for free. For free." This, as far as Sirius is concerned, is what makes it Unacceptable. Moony's got a lousy summer job which prevents him from seeing Sirius, too, but at least he knows enough to get one that pays. Not that Sirius has ever really worried or cared about the money, but it's the principle of the thing -- and where is Moony, anyway?
James opens his mouth, pauses, then gives up and hits him.
Once they've managed to get the dust out of their eyes and James' trousers untangled from a splinter in the fence, Sirius is feeling slightly better and James is grinning. "It's a good opportunity, anyway," James says with a shrug. "And they feed me breakfast."
"Yeah?" Sirius arches a sceptical eyebrow. He's trying to keep the petulant note out of his voice, but there's nothing to do at Pen y Bryn these days now that he has to hole up in his room away from the watchful eyes of his parents, and one can only listen to Regulus tinker at the piano for so long before going utterly insane and throwing house-elves across the room. (So he crept out of the house two hours ago, damn the consequences.)
And now James is abandoning him, too. A little nastily, he says, "Does Miss Lily Evans know about your newfound maturity, then?"
At this James drops his eyes and concentrates on scuffing his shoe against the unpaved road. "Uh," he says finally. "Er. See, it was Evans' father who got me the position in the first place, Mum mentioned it to him and I couldn't say no exactly and, uh." Sirius smirks.
"Giving Prongs a hard time about it already?" Remus swings a long leg over the fence, settling himself on the other side of Sirius with a slow smile. "Thought you would be. Sorry I'm late."
Acutely aware of how Remus brushes up against his side as he slides down to sit, Sirius makes a noncommittal sound and says nothing.
"I wouldn't mind giving a go at what James is doing," Remus says, and James shoots him a look of gratitude. "Sounds like you'd learn a lot, do a few things that actually matter, yeah? Although waiting tables isn't bad, and Gwen --"
"Enough about Gwen, already," Sirius growls. That's not jealousy speaking, of course, but can't Remus see that it's bloody annoying, Gwen this and Gwen that and Sirius won't let himself wonder if perhaps that's why Remus was late --
"Shit, Pads," James says suddenly, jumping upwards. He's raised a cloud of dust around him. "Is that your --"
"Yeah," Sirius says shortly. He straightens hastily and offers a hand to Remus, who accepts, and brushes a stray bit of dirt off of Sirius' hip as he stands. Sirius flushes for a moment, but he has other things to worry about.
In hindsight, it was not a good idea to meet on one of the main streets, because there's his father, walking up the street with Mr. Cowell, and Sirius is fully aware that both of his parents think he's up in his room, "thinking over his priorities".
He's attempting to decide which alleyway offers the quickest escape when Mr. Cowell waves and Sirius feels a familiar sick feeling in his stomach. It only worsens when the men make their way over and Sirius catches the look in Father's eyes. (And Merlin, why is it that when he meets friends of the family he never seems to be wearing a bloody shirt?)
"How fortunate to find you here, Sirius," Father says pleasantly, as if their last conversation didn't end in shouting and slammed doors -- slammed doors on Sirius' part, anyhow. It's going to be one of those, Sirius realises: pleasant words in public and a screaming row at home.
"Yes, excellent," Mr. Cowell agrees pompously, sweating a little in his full dress robes. "Your father was just telling me about how you're joining me at the club -- we're all about Transfiguration, I'm sure you've heard of it. Orion says you're quite excellent at the subject; we look forward to having you."
(And there must be some irony in the fact that the first compliment he's ever received from his father came through a second party.)
"That's strange," Sirius says icily, because damned if he's going to play that game any longer. "Because he hasn't said a thing about it to me."
"I was planning to," Father says smoothly, "but seeing as how I couldn't find you around the house to ask..."
"James is going to volunteer in a Minister's office, you know," Sirius continues as if he hasn't heard. "I think I'd rather be doing something like that, something that's important, see. Something that matters."
"Wait a minute," James cuts in perplexedly, "that's not what you --" Remus, thankfully, cuts him off with a barely-perceptible kick to the shin.
Noticing James for the first time, Mr. Cowell nearly trips himself in a flurry to introduce himself properly. His eyes flicker over Remus for a moment, dismissively, and he doesn't even bother to give a nod of recognition. Sirius bites down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood.
"Perhaps I would consider that, son," Father says under his breath, while Mr. Cowell is distracted, "but I doubt that you'd be able to do something that actually matters when you cannot even seem to handle the small responsibilities you have as part of our family. Do not think that I'm unaware of where you have been all morning."
Sirius doesn't respond. There's a roaring in his ears, the feeling of something vitriolic in the back of his throat; he has the presence of mind to be slightly worried, because the last time he felt like this he pushed Regulus down the stairs and if he loses it now Father will --
"You may want to leave now," he says to Remus and James after a few moments, voice surprisingly calm. "I'll find you later."
For a second James looks as if he's going to protest, but Remus mutters something to him -- Sirius catches the words wouldn't want you to get involved -- and then James' eyes widen in understanding.
Sirius feels the deliberate brush of Remus' hand against his shoulder as they walk away, and he swallows, trying not to feel too guilty about the plan which is forming in his mind with cutting clarity. The Remus who occupies the corner of his conscience is giving him that warning look -- but it's not as if Remus has ever had to deal with the Blacks, is it, and Sirius pushes the guilt away.
"So what do you say, my boy?" Mr. Cowell asks, oblivious and supercilious and so obviously pureblood that it makes Sirius sick. "What time can I expect you next week?"
In the angry muddle of Sirius' mind, two thoughts are very clear: what happened the last time he was with his parents in public (what they said in front of James, in front of the Potters), and the fact that what he has now is an opportunity.
"No," he says, looking not at Mr. Cowell but instead at Father, "I don't think I will. I have better things to do than sitting around and making nice with old men who waste their time on things that don't really matter."
Mr. Cowell blinks, and his mouth falls open.
Sirius suspects that he shouldn't have, that the regret will crash down later alongside Mother's screams, but there's only room for now, and for the ugly feeling clawing its way out of his stomach.
"Sirius Black," his father says, slowly, and deliberately, "you cannot continue to walk away from your responsibilities."
"I can," Sirius replies, and does, not looking back.
(He could leave. He could do it, he could. But he still knows, in that place of cold rationality which seems to have deserted him of late, that he won't. That this evening he'll end up slipping in the back door of the house, and endure the crush of Father's admonishments and Regulus' reproaches with gritted teeth, like he has before and will again. Distantly, Sirius wonders if the cycle will ever end.)
Chapter Eighteen: Possibilities, Problems
ETA: And apparently I have Mr. Evans involved in the Ministry. That would be because I am an idiot. *headdesk* Thanks for catching that, and please try to ignore.