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A breeze drifted through Remus’s threadbare cotton shirt as he caught his balance on the top step of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. The ancient wood groaned under his sudden weight. Beyond the stoop, the July sun was setting, casting long shadows across the courtyard. It was a peaceful scene, almost serene, but Remus’s heart pounded, eyes swiveling, as he surveyed the area. A squirrel scampered across the sidewalk; a crow cried out from a nearby tree. Remus gave one last look around, took a steadying breath, and eased the front door open.
The Ancient House of Black freaked him out a little, though not as much as it had the first time he had stepped through the door (and into a massive cobweb) three days prior. Remus would never admit how uncomfortable the place made him, especially not to Sirius, who was forced to stay here. Nevertheless, it was all too easy to feel like a scared twelve-year-old boy in this place, waiting for the overbearing mistress of the house to find you to punish. Pull yourself together, Remus.
The floor creaked ominously as Remus took a step forward, eyes searching in the dark hall. Slowly, the shadowy figures came into focus: a troll’s leg umbrella stand, a large coat rack, the portraits that muttered on the walls.
At the very end of the hall, a small creature crouched, its large pointed ears trembling slightly, eyes shining in the dark. The elf was muttering in a low, almost bullfrog-like voice as he wrung his hands together.
“Hullo, Kreacher,” Remus said quietly, creeping closer. The hair was standing up on the back of his neck as he felt the portraits on the wall follow him with their eyes.
“The werewolf speaks to Kreacher,” the elf muttered. “He is talking to Kreacher like an equal.”
Remus stepped around the elf, glancing up the stairs. Sirius was presumably in his old bedroom, which of course had to be on the top floor. Why did these stuffy wizards like their stairs so much?
“...Kreacher will pretend he cannot hear the werewolf, oh yes, Kreacher is old and no one will blame him if he claims he is deaf…”
The stairs groaned as Remus began to climb. A cockroach scurried over his shoe.
“...oh, what would my Mistress think of this Dark Creature daring to enter the Most Noble House of Black, making the halls defiled with his filthy presence…”
The croaking voice died away as Remus climbed the stairs two at a time, trying to put as much space between him and the offending elf downstairs as possible. So Kreacher didn’t like his presence. Remus didn’t much like Kreacher’s presence either, so it was only fair.
What Kreacher did all these years after his mistress died, Remus could only guess. The air was thick with dust and cobwebs. The very wood beneath his feet seemed almost alive, so full as it was of bugs and mice and other horrible things. A cacophony of noise graced his ears as he climbed: groans from the stairs, rattling from the pipes, buzz of the doxies, those suspicious noises coming from the second floor bathroom closet, and a strange thumping coming from what used to be Walburga’s bedroom.
As Remus drew closer to the bedrooms, a stream of swearing in Sirius’s voice joined the symphony of sound, accompanied by scrapes and dull thumps. Remus reached the landing. His fingers brushed the top of the bannister, leaving a groove in the dust, as an exasperated “Heaven help me,” drifted through the open door, followed by a loud thump.
Remus followed the noise to Walburga’s bedroom, a muffled “fuck” greeting him at the door. The room was strewn with knick knacks, bottles, books, quills, parchment, and more clothes than Remus felt he had ever seen in one place. The closet door was open, a glacier of clothing spilling out of it.
The colorful glacier wiggled. Remus drew his wand. He was fairly certain Sirius was under there, but knowing the Noble House of Black, it was best to err on the side of caution with these things.
“Sirius?” he asked cautiously. The clothes pile wiggled again, and a dragon leather boot popped out of the mess, followed by a hand, and a muffled “help.” Choking back a laugh, Remus stuffed his wand back into the holster on his belt, grabbed the hand and tugged, pulling his friend from the abyss.
Sirius Black, once too handsome for his own good, stood blinking dazedly, his feet trying to find solid ground amidst the mass of clothes. His hair was sticking up in odd angles, full of bits of what was possibly mouse bedding and lint. His lavishly embroidered vest was twisted around his slight frame, the silk shirt underneath escaping his striped pants.
Sirius straightened his vest and ran a hand through his hair, frowning as bits of lint fell down. “Merlin help me, I don’t have dandruff do I?” he asked Remus as a greeting, his bottom lip sticking out into a slight pout.
Remus burst out laughing.
“What?” Sirius asked incredulously, grinning slightly as his friend’s laughter coaxed one out of him.
“Notorious Mass Murderer Sirius Black,” Remus waved his hand as though making a headline, “Almost Dies via Mother’s Closet; Worries About Dandruff.”
“It would seriously put a damper on my fantastic hair if I had dandruff to ruin it!” Sirius protested, patting his hair gingerly as Remus dissolved into fresh peals of laughter.
“Oh yeah,” Remus said sarcastically, “all those witches that are lining up to date you are going to run away, now that you have terrible hair.” The laughter died on his lips as Sirius avoided his eyes chewing his bottom lip. The twinkle, so quick to appear in Sirius’s eyes, had disappeared just as quickly. The all-too familiar haunted shadow crossed his face; his mind clearly far away.
Remus kicked himself for joking about Sirius’s situation. Sirius was so put out about the whole runaway convict thing; any reminder sent him to the bottle these days. Remus searched frantically for a new topic to pull Sirius out of his depressive stare. “What’re you up to anyway?” he asked.
Sirius looked up, the haunted look still darkening his features. “Oh, yeah,” he said quietly, “I, erm, I need somewhere to keep Buckbeak, and my dear dead mum’s room is the biggest bedroom so….” he shrugged.
“So you decided to clean out the closet?” Remus finished.
“Yeah! I thought it might be best if I just took everything out of the closet first, but she must’ve put like five extension charms on this closet because it never bloody ends.”
Remus climbed over the massive hill of clothes to peer into the closet. “Merlin,” he murmured. Sirius was right. Even with the entire bedroom full of clothes, the closet was still about half full.
“Why the fuck she needed all those clothes I’ll never know,” Sirius muttered. “She was always wearing the same damn outfit every time I saw her.”
“I don’t know Sirius, you never know when you might need a,” Remus pulled out something at random, “an aggressively yellow erm….what the hell is this?” It was a truly hideous yellow piece, covered in embroidered circles of clashing colors, complete with rubies sewn at seemingly random all over.
Sirius snorted. “She probably bought it because of the rubies,” he said, grabbing the piece. “How do you even wear this?”
“No idea,” Remus said. “But you know what kind of fashion icon I am,” he winked.
Sirius attempted to pull on the yellow atrocity, chasing the other sleeve as it fluttered away. Both arms clad, Sirius turned in a slow circle with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Eh?” he said, adjusting the strange tendrils of fabric. “How about that for a fashion icon?”
“I don’t think you’ve got that on right,” Remus snorted. There was an odd….tentacle of fabric fluttering near Sirius’s crotch.
Sirius looked down at the offending piece of fabric, then looked back at Remus with a mock-hurt expression. “That’s the best part, my good sir,” he said, picking up the tendril and swinging it in slow circles. “Makes you wonder what’s underneath,” he added with a wink.
“Oh my god.” Remus rolled his eyes.
“You’re just jealous,” Sirius teased, swinging faster.
Remus ducked out of the closet. “I need a drink.”
“Yes please,” Sirius said, smacking Remus with his extra appendage as he passed. “What’re you having?”
“Whatever you have in your kitchen,” Remus replied over his shoulder.
“Just shitty whisky.”
“Two shitty whiskeys it is, then.”
Remus hurried down the stairs, almost bowling over Kreacher who was skulking on the first floor landing.
“Sorry, Kreacher.”
“Oh my poor Mistress! Whatever would she think, her good for nothing son ripping through her private possessions. Kreacher should stop him, oh yes, Kreacher should put an end to what the outcast is doing with the werewolf…”
Kreacher’s voice faded into the background as Remus reached the dingy kitchen. His shoes made horrible squelching noises as he crossed the sticky floor to the pantry, throwing it wide. A sad sight greeted him: a few cans of beans, a box of tea leaves, three slices of bread, and a bottle of cheap whiskey.
Sighing, Remus reached for the whiskey. Grocery shopping was hardly his favorite thing to do, but Sirius wouldn’t last long on these meager victuals. Turning his back on the sparse shelves, he surveyed the cupboards, trying to remember where Sirius kept his glasses. Taking a wild guess, he squinted his eyes and opened a cupboard, head ducked and shoulders hunched in case something came flying out of it. Nothing did.
Relaxing his shoulders, he took in the dusty selection of glasses. Most of them bore the Black Family crest. Not wishing to put Sirius in a more foul mood, Remus searched the cupboard until he finally found a pair of plain short glasses.
The glasses were filthy; his fingers left greasy marks behind, disturbing the dust. Remus shuddered involuntarily, setting them on the counter next to the bottle of whiskey. He pulled out his wand and muttered “scourgify.” The dust vanished from the glasses.
“Hmmmm,” he surveyed the glasses, a slight frown furrowing his brow. His mother’s voice echoed in his head. Magic will never be as good as good old-fashioned elbow grease.
As if following orders, Remus picked up the glasses and carried them to the sink, where a sad little bar of soap sat near the silver tap. He turned the tap, letting the cool water wash over the glasses. Grabbing the soap, he worked up a lather. His mind grew quiet at the monotonous task as he rubbed the rims with his soapy fingers, washing away the years of neglect and bad feelings.
His fingers grew numb under the icy water as he watched the water fill the glasses and overflow into the sink. The pipes protested above his head. Sighing, Remus turned the tap and dumped out the water, shaking the glasses to dry them. Of course there was no towel. His shirt was probably cleaner than any towel in the house, anyway.
The wet spot on Remus’s shirt turned his belly cold as he climbed the stairs again, carrying the two glasses and bottle. Why so many bloody stairs?
Reaching his destination, he peeked into Walburga’s room. Sirius was leaning against a dresser, staring out the window, still wearing the ridiculous yellow thing. Of course he hadn’t done any work while he was gone.
Sirius looked up as Remus cleared his throat, a slightly guilty expression spreading over his features. “What took you so long?” he asked, reaching for the bottle.
Remus held up the glasses. “These were quite filthy,” he said, frowning as Sirius pulled the bottle from his fingers.
“Who cares?” Sirius asked, uncorking the bottle with a pop and taking a swing directly. “We don’t need bloody glasses,” he said with a wink.
“Alright Mr. On The Run,” Remus took the bottle back. “I happen to like using manners, thank you very much.” He gave himself a generous pour, doing the same for Sirius. “I also like to know how much I’m drinking,” he added, raising his glass to Sirius before taking a sip.
“Oh yes, I forgot how boring you are,” Sirius said with a mock yawn.
“Forgive me,” Remus said sharply, shoving the other glass into Sirius’s hand. “So sorry you only have boring friends left.”
“Moony, I didn’t mean it like that, you know I didn’t,” Sirius pleaded.
Remus turned his back on him, looking around at the mess. “We have a lot of work to do,” he said shortly, the dull chink of glass on wood behind him replying.
“Moooooony,” Sirius said in his whiniest voice. “Come on, don’t be like this.”
Remus turned to face him, crossing his arms. “Like what?”
“Like a sour-puss?”
“You’re one to talk.”
Sirius turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving Remus alone, the amber liquid growing heavy in his hand. He drained his glass, surveying the mess in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he crossed to where the bottle sat, and poured himself another drink. Merlin, Sirius could be infuriating. Downing his drink, he poured himself a third.
He raised his glass to his lips, then lowered it thoughtfully. Best not to get too wasted, or he’d probably end up wearing god-knows-what from a dead woman’s closet, bar hopping with Sirius. Then they’d get arrested, originally for Statute of Security, but then Sirius would be recognized, get the Kiss, Remus would be in Azkaban for life for being Sirius’s friend, and he would have to listen to Sirius’s stupid whiney voice saying “Mooooonyyyyyy” every time a Dementor drifted past. Not worth it.
He slammed his glass down, pulled out his wand, and began sweeping all the books that were strewn everywhere into a neat line by the door. A record player drifted into the room, nearly knocking into his floating books.
“What the-”
Sirius stepped through the doorway, wand out like a baton, directing the record player. A record was already on the turntable, spinning around in frantic circles as Sirius’s shabby wandwork made the entire contraption wobble dangerously.
With a soft thump, the record player landed on the bed. Sirius flicked his wand, and the tonearm floated down onto the spinning record, sending crackles through the air. A tinny, much-too-loud power chord blasted out of the speaker.
“I’m an alligator!” Sirius sang along in a ridiculous voice. “I’m a mama-papa coming for you!” He strummed an invisible guitar as he wiggled his hips, staggering towards Remus. “I’m a space invader, I’ll be a rock ‘n’ rollin’ bitch for you!”
Remus shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, turning back towards the books.
“Keep your mouth shut,” Sirius was head-banging, bits of fluff flying everywhere. “You’re squawking like a pink monkey bird, and I’m busting up my brains for the words. Come on Moony, you know the words!”
“Sirius, I haven’t heard this song in so long.”
“Oh come on, I remember the words! Moooooonyyyyy.”
Remus rolled his eyes, smiling. Together, they struck a ridiculous pose, singing, “Keep your ‘lectric eye on me babe, put your ray gun to my head.” Finger guns went up, crossing their wrists as they pointed them at each others’ heads. “Press your space face close to mine love,” Sirius’s finger gun unfurled as he stroked Remus’s cheek with his middle finger. Remus slapped his hand away, rolling his eyes.
Sirius jumped across the room, spreading his stance wide, his arms showcasing the ridiculous getup he was sporting as he swung his hips. “Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!”
The interlude blared from the bed as Sirius bowed low, twirling his hands as the tendrils of his sleeves tangled. Remus took another drink.
“Ah, my dear old mother,” Sirius sighed happily, dropping his hands to his sides and wiggling out of his yellow getup. “What would she do if she knew I was blasting muggle tunes in her bedroom?” He crossed to the dresser, taking a deep drink as he gazed out the window at the night sky.
“Kreacher downstairs gives you a good idea,” Remus said darkly, sipping his shitty whisky.
“Has he been bothering you? Little bastard.”
“It’s fine, Sirius. Don’t worry about it.”
“Hey, Moony, c’mere,” Sirius said in a much different voice. He pointed outside.
Remus was at his side at once, peering out the window. “What is it?”
“Look at the sky, I think…yes there’s another one!”
“Another what?” he asked, his stomach swooping.
“Here, come on.” Sirius turned and practically sprinted out of the room.
Utterly bewildered, Remus followed him as Sirius crossed his bedroom floor, threw open the window, and climbed the fire escape ladder up to the roof. By the time Remus reached him, Sirius was already stretched out on the roof, his hair spread across the shingles.
“Come here,” Sirius said, lifting his head to look at Remus and patting the spot next to him.
Remus sat. The roof was still warm.
Sirius gave his arm a light smack. “You’re supposed to be looking at the sky you nutter”
“What exactly are we looking at?” Remus asked.
“I saw a comet,” Sirius explained, his eyes bright. “I think there’s a meteor shower tonight.”
Remus laid his head down, gazing up at the heavens. Sirius’s chest rose and fell deeply, a contented sigh escaping his lips.
“Never gets old,” Sirius whispered. “The night sky is so beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Remus breathed. “It can be.”
A slight breeze teased their hair as stars streaked across the night sky. They lay side by side, each lost in his own thoughts amid a comfortable silence. Companionable. Bittersweet. A reminder of all that they had and all that they had lost.
“Moony?”
“Hmmm?”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too, Pads.”
“Moony?”
“Hmmm?”
“Should’ve brought the whole bottle.”