The Door Through the World by amuly - Part 2 1/2

The Door Through the World
Amuly
Summary:
Growing up under the stern hand of Walburga Black was nothing less than torture for young Sirius. Until one day, he found a small, forgotten door, hidden in a store room. It was through this door that Sirius discovered a whole other world, and a whole other life.

Chapter 1
Chapter Text


The house that Sirius Black grew up in was big, and cold, and dark. It was full and whispered secrets and sneering voices and uninterested gazes that slipped right over Sirius and onto the next guest or account ledger. The only time the focus turned on Sirius was if he did something wrong: spoke out of turn, or broke an important family heirloom, or dirtied up some part of the house after coming inside. Those times weren't good. Sirius did his best never to be the focus of attention in his house, but sometimes he couldn't help it. Sometimes he just shouted too loud or raced around a corner too fast or forgot to wipe his shoes before coming inside. Those were bad times.

Today, Walburga Black was shouting. Sirius knew exactly why: he had run in the house and straight into Mr. Malfoy. That was a  bad  thing to do. Mr. Malfoy was a Very Important Friend, and Sirius knew he was always to be “respectful” to him. “Respectful” meant that Sirius was supposed to never, ever talk to him except to greet him with a “Sir”, and a “Thank you,” when Mr. Malfoy said the meanest of things to him. Today, Sirius hadn't done any of those things. Instead, he had stolen a new toy from his little brother, Regulus (a  really  wicked toy motor that Sirius himself had been begging for for  ages ), and raced through the house as Regulus chased him down. That was when he had veered around a corner without looking, gaze instead cast behind him as he laughed at Regulus' inability to catch up. The next thing he knew, he was slamming into something pointy, solid, and indignant.

Now Sirius was racing through the house for an entirely different reason. Walburga was looking for him, to twist his ear and haul him in for punishment from their servant, Kreacher; or even worse: from Walburga herself, with her paddle or  cane . Walburga's punishments were the worst – once they even sent Sirius to hospital with a fractured arm – but Kreacher's certainly weren't a day at the toy store. So Sirius was looking for a place to hide himself, for a place where he wouldn't be noticed for hours and hours, maybe even days. Hopefully long enough for Walburga's rage to subside.

Throwing an arm out, Sirius swung himself around a corner and started up the servants' stairs up to the fourth floor. It was a tiny, cramped passage: one his mother never deigned useable for the likes of herself. Sirius only hoped he could avoid Kreacher on his way up. Then maybe he'd be safe.

The stairwell let out on the far end of the fourth floor, down near some rarely-used storage rooms. Sirius ducked into the third one – ducking into the first was a baby mistake, one Sirius had learned years ago not to make – and shut the door with as quiet and quick a click as he could manage. He hurried further into the room, trying not to disturb the dust that covered everything. It wouldn't do any good for Walburga to catch sight of his trail if she happened to open the door (or, more likely, send Kreacher up to open the door for her).

Scurrying his way further back, Sirius squeezed his skinny, seven-(almost eight, less than a month) year-old frame between boxes and unfinished portraits, stacks of newspapers and furniture. He climbed under a gigantic armchair, protected by the dusty white sheet covering it. Sirius sneezed, just once, as his nose sifted through all the little dusty tumbleweeds beneath the chair, sending them all flying in every direction. Pushing aside the sheet, Sirius poked his head out from under the chair and looked around.

To his surprise, he found himself in a small alcove of the room he had never been in before – and he spent a disproportionate amount of his time hiding in dusty old rooms. But this place was... new. He must never have noticed it before because of how far back it was, how hidden the little alcove was. Crawling out from under the chair and standing upright, Sirius glanced behind him. He couldn't even  see  the front of the room: the boxes were stacked too high, and the furniture in careful, interlocking piles well above his head. It was a good hiding place. Sirius grinned as he wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Turning around, Sirius once more inspected the space that he had spotted from under the chair. It was a small little niche in the corner of the room, just big enough for him to walk two or three small steps into. Against one of the two walls that came together to form the triangular space was a door. A great, big, ornate door: one that took up almost the entire wall it rested again. Sirius cocked his head, curious. There shouldn't be a door there. What could it lead to? The loft? But that was a whole two more floors above him.

Sirius shivered in anticipation, grinning wider.  This  was a  secret  door. This might even be something his mother or father didn't know about. Maybe it was filled with old treasure, for past generations of Black's. Or maybe – and it was this thought that had Sirius scrambling forward to test the handle – maybe it was a place where other little boys, just like him, had hidden over the years. Maybe he'd find old journals or photos or trinkets, from generations of little Blacks who had found themselves before this door before, on the run from their parents just as Sirius was now.

The handle was an ornate metal one, with filigree all over its dulled, but obviously once bright, length. Biting his lip, Sirius tried it. The handle moved smoothly down, the tumblers sliding past each other with no resistance. Sirius took a breath, then pushed the door open. He didn't look back as he stepped inside.

Chapter 2
Summary:
Sirius explores this new world a little more, and discovers the strangest thing yet.

Chapter Text
The sun shone brightly down on Sirius, causing him to lift a hand to shield his eyes. He squinted, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the light. As he waited with one arm thrown over his eyes to see what was around him, Sirius took a deep breath. The first thing he noticed was some strange in the air. It took him a moment to place it. It was... odd. Fresh, and lighter, but more different than just that. Salty?

A flood of memories rushed back as Sirius recalled a holiday on the seaside with his family over two years ago. Orion had been visiting some client or work associate or something, and Walburga had insisted him and Regulus come along and play with the man's daughter. The little girl had cried when Sirius asked if he could use her paints. Sirius hadn't spoken to her again the entire trip. As a result, he spent most of the “holiday” sitting on the front porch of the beach house, watching other children run on the sand, screeching as the surf lapped at their bare toes, their white skin growing red as the day wore on. Sirius hadn't gotten to go out in the sun. Or on the sand, much less the ocean. But he could remember the smell of it. And that's what he was smelling now. The ocean.

Lowering his arm from his face, Sirius blinked a few times as he squinted around him. Wherever this place was, it was old. Really old. There were piles of rubble in front of him, apparently fallen from the buildings and walls he could see in various states of decay. But Sirius wasn't interested in some old, deserted buildings. He was interested in the sea . And now that he knew what was out there, he could hear it: waves gently breaking on the sand. Somewhere... to his right.

Sirius set off, picking his way carefully through the piles of rubble the same way he had the boxes and abandoned furniture in the storage room. Within just a couple minutes he realized he could spot the sea in glimpses through some pillars and trees that were in front of him. Hurrying over a roughly circular clearing on the ground, Sirius pushed his way through some cypress trees that were between a pair of pillars and then: he was there. It was there. The sea.

It was definitely the sea, too. The air was salty, and the water went on and on forever, until it climbed up to reach the downward-slopping sky at the very end of Sirius' vision. Sirius gaped at the vast expanse of water, watching little bits of white appear on the crests of waves before it foamed and collapsed onto the shore, like a weary swimmer throwing himself prostrate on the sand.

With hardly a second's thought Sirius shucked off his shoes and socks, tucking the latter carefully into the former. He didn't need to receive a beating from mother just because he tracked some sand into the house. Then he rolled up his trousers equally as carefully, tucking them all the way above his knees so there wasn't the slightest chance of them getting wet. Within a minute of discovering this secret sea, Sirius was wading out to his ankles in it, wriggling his toes into the sand and delighting in all the new sensations.

The water was warm – warmer than Sirius could ever imagine the Channel or any other British sea being. He didn't question it, though, just like he didn't question a sea being on the opposite side of a door in his house, or anything else about this place. Sirius was never one to look good fortune in the face, because of how easily he knew it could slip away. Best to just enjoy it while it was still here.

Experimentally Sirius wriggled his toes in the wet sand, staring down at them through the sea foam and receding tide. It was squishy, yet solid. He wasn't sinking into it very far when he stood still, but the slightest bit of movement from his toes seemed to turn the immediate surrounding sand to liquid, making little quicksand pits around his toes. The moment he stopped, however, and stood still, the wet sand solidified again. Bending oh-so-carefully down, so as not to ruin his clothes, Sirius poked a finger into the sand. It gave easily when the water was rushing over it, but as soon as it was dry it went solid again. Sirius gaped. No one had ever told him anything about sand, except that it was messy. This was like nothing he ever imagined.

Sirius grinned viciously. What if... Sirius bent down and hurriedly started piling sand on top of sand, creating a little mound before the waves slid back up the beach. He stepped back again, to watch as the waves crawled their way back up the sand to his little obstacle. When the waves retreated, his little creation had vanished into almost nothingness. Sirius cocked his head, then turned back and looked at the beach. If he was going to build anything it'd have to be further up, then. Up where the waves couldn't steal it away.

As Sirius looked back up the beach and contemplated his sandcastle-building prospects, his eyes drifted around to take in the rest of the scenery. He had been so focused on getting to the sea before that he hadn't stopped to really look around. But now that he did...

There were ruins all around him. Great marble buildings, that obviously once stood with a quiet, ostentatious grandeur all along the beach and inland from there. To his right was a building almost completely intact: its walls were only crumbling a bit, the spaces where doors and windows once were carved out still almost perfectly square and straight. It might have been a villa – a beach villa, and at that Sirius laughed. He had never thought about it, but he supposed those ancient empire-builders must have loved a vacation at the beach just as much as the modern ones did. Beach-front property. Very wealthy, indeed.

Just in front of Sirius was a flat space that he had thought was empty at first, but upon further inspection he realized it once was something. A... a fire pit, maybe? It was a big, empty circle, with tiled marble stones all around it. And pillars: half-completed pillars, full pillars, and then just spaces where the stone used to be, all around the circle. Maybe it used to be a fountain, or a reflecting pool? Or a very, very small ice rink.

Curious, Sirius retrieved his shoes and socks from the edge of the beach and found himself a large piece of stone to set himself down on as he pulled them back on. That done, he turned around and made his way to the empty spot in front of him, peering at it. The soil inside was packed hard, but there was some sand on top. And... something distending the sand caught Sirius' eye. He bent down and wiped at it. It was just another piece of rubble. Out of instinct more than anything else, Sirius plucked it from the otherwise empty circle and tossed it up and down in one hand. It obviously wasn't supposed to be there, so Sirius would just take it with him.

Peering around some more at this curious place, Sirius saw a crumbling wall in front of him. It was across a path of some sort. As Sirius got closer he amended his assessment. Not a path: it used to be some sort of road. Though the grass was sprouting up between stones and nature gradually taking back its claim to the land, there were still enough traces of the human touch to make it obvious that this was once a main street. There were cobblestones all around, and just in front of Sirius two large stones, high up above the main road. Automatically Sirius leapt to one, then the other, then to the other side of the street. It only occurred to him once he was across that he might have done the exact right thing: it was a zebra crossing. A really old zebra crossing! Sirius beamed at the big stones, fingers running over the rock in his hand. Impulsively he spun around and tossed the rock as hard as he could over the wall in front of him. He was just about to turn around and see where the old road might take him when the sound of the rock clattering to the ground reached him, followed almost instantly by a loud “Ow!”

Shocked, Sirius spun around, eyes casting wildly around for the source of the noise. It wasn't Kreacher, or his father, and certainly not his mother. It sounded a bit like Regulus, but older. More Sirius' age.

But there was no one. The ruins around Sirius remained still and quiet. As Sirius stood, thinking, the sounds of rubble shifting caught his attention. He turned. It was coming from the other side of the wall. Of course! That was where he had tossed the rock!

Looking up, Sirius could see a hole in the wall a head or two above him. There was rubble all along the bottom of the wall, presumably from the wall itself, making for an easily footstool. Sirius wasted no time in climbing it, scrambling unsteadily up the precariously balanced fragments of rocks and mortar.

Sirius' fingers scratched and burned as he clutched first at the rubble at his feet, then at the crumbling wall. It was more out-doorsy stuff than he was used to. Walburga never let him play outside. She said she didn't want him to get “fisherman's hands”. Sirius wasn't exactly sure what climbing a tree had to do with fishing, and how that would lead to those “fisherman hands”, but he wasn't allowed to do these things nonetheless.

But now, Sirius was in this special place. And somehow he knew that Walburga wouldn't find out about it, or about anything he did in the special place. Everything else in his life Walburga's disturbingly acute gaze would fall upon, but not this place.

Finally reaching the hole in the wall, Sirius grabbed on and hauled himself high enough to peer through. He was standing on his tip-toes, fingers wrapped tight around the crumbling bits of wall around the hole. “Hel-”

Sirius stopped. There was another boy there! His sandy locks appeared first, then the rest of his head as he seemed to be hauling himself up in the same way Sirius had. If he didn't look so different, Sirius might have thought for a moment that there was a mirror on the other side of the hole. At least, he knew the expression on his face matched the expression on the other boy's: shocked, and surprised, and very, very curious.

The other boy spoke first, after Sirius' aborted greeting. “Hello.” He pulled himself a little higher, peering at Sirius curiously. “Who are you?”

Sirius frowned. Who was he? “Who're you?” Sirius shot back. “'nd what're you doing in my place?”

“Didn't know it was yours,” the other boy remarked. “Just found it today. In my dad's shop.”

Sirius cocked his head as he examined the other boy's honest expression. “I did, too. Not in your dad's shop. In my house. Did you go through a big, fancy door, too?”

The other boy shifted a little, fingers scrambling at the stone. Little pieces fell to the ground where he disturbed them. Sirius' own fingers were getting tired, and his legs straining from standing on his toes for so long. “Not a big fancy door. Just a normal door in the back room. Never seen it 'fore.”

Sirius nodded. “Me, neither. For my door.” Frowning down at the pile of rubble he was standing on, Sirius came to a decision. “Hang on. I'll come over to you.”

With that, Sirius threw himself off the rubble and to the marble street below him. He landed only a little awkwardly, stumbling but catching himself in time to save himself from falling over on his own face. He could hear little noises of stones over stones on the other side of the wall. That other boy must be climbing down as well.

The wall wasn't that long. It was, at some ancient time: Sirius could tell by the way the stones in the ground kept going for a ways. But it had crumbled to the point that it was short enough to throw a leg over within a dozen feet or so. Sirius fell over himself a bit climbing to the other side, but once he was there he dusted himself off and looked up.

The other boy was standing a few feet away from him, below his hole in the wall. He might have been the same height as Sirius – maybe a little shorter. Sirius' first thought was that they'd have to stand back-to-back and measure. Or maybe, if they couldn't decide since there was no one else around, measure each other against one of the walls with a piece of stone or shell or something and compare lines.

The next thing Sirius noticed about the boy was his clothes. They looked like the delivery people's clothes, except not a uniform. Sirius frowned and thought, trying to figure out what his brain meant. They were like... not fancy, like his. They weren't layered, either. The other boy was just wearing a pair of trousers and t-shirt. And trainers . Sirius stared wistfully at the trainers. Walburga had never let him have a pair.

Suddenly self-conscious, Sirius tugged at his waistcoat and button-down shirt. He must look funny to this other boy.

In his nervousness, years of etiquette training took over and caused Sirius to stick out his hand. “My name's Sirius Black. It's a pleasure to make your a-quant-ship.”

The other boy stared at the hand, assessing it carefully. Then he took a step forward and reached out to shake Sirius' hand. “'s Remus. Remus Lupin.”

Sirius grinned at the other boy's shy smile. He had freckles all across his nose. Sirius liked that. “Do you know where we are?”

The other boy – Remus , Sirius reminded himself, playing with the name in his mind – shook his head. “No. I was trying to hide, and found the door. Then I was here.”

Sirius took a jarring step forward. “Me too! Trying to hide, 'mean. From my mum. And Kreacher.” A sick sensation of dread welled up in Sirius as he thought about the reprisal he was going to receive as soon as he went back. He glanced behind Remus. There was a bench and another portion of the crumbling wall there, but Sirius knew that on the other side was where he had come in. And where he'd have to go back, soon enough.

Remus peered at Sirius, turning around to follow his gaze, then back to Sirius. “Is your door over there?”

Sirius shrugged. “Yeah. Guess. But I-” he stopped, thinking. He had a few minutes more before he was really missed. He could stay. Just for a little bit longer. Decidedly he pushed the sick feeling down, deep down, all the way to his shoes. He didn't have to think about that yet. “Who're you hiding from?”

Remus' face as blank for a moment, very still. Then he shrugged, canting sideways a little. “Shop noise. The cousins. Mum. Dad. Customers.” Remus' eyes slid to the side of Sirius, just for a second. Like he was looking for his door, the same as Sirius had just done.

Sirius gaped. Everyone ?! “Were they all gonna hurt you?” he whispered.

“No! Not... not Mum. Not Dad.” Remus shook his head, his sandy blonde fringe flopping in his eyes. With a huff he pushed it away. Sirius liked that, too. This Remus was funny. “They're all just loud. And there's always customers around, in Mum and Dad's shop. Just wanted peace and quiet.”

That was weird. Sirius couldn't imagine living like that. In his house, it was always peace and quiet. Too much. And he was always the one getting in trouble for “disturbing” it. It was like Remus came from opposite-land. For all Sirius knew, he really did. Remus certainly looked opposite of Sirius: light-haired and a little tan, quiet and shy, with his plain clothes and trainers .

The scared feeling seized Sirius' stomach again, tightening like Walburga's sharp-nailed grip. It had somehow managed to escape from his shoes. “I probably gotta go...” he murmured, eyes on the rubble beneath his feet. Then an idea seized him, like sunlight at dawn slicing between the townhouses and into his bedroom window: all soft-colored and warm. “Hey!” He grabbed at Remus' wrist, holding it tight. For just a moment Remus flinched, whole body tensing. But then his eyes widened – not scared, just surprised – and Remus left Sirius hand on his wrist, staring back as he waited. “D'you wanna meet here again? Tomorrow?”

Remus' eyes stayed wide, but he quickly nodded his assent. “Sure. I can come after lunch, probably.”

Sirius' grip tightened around Remus' wrist. “Okay. After lunch. Maybe we could play hide'n'seek?”

Remus' smile was bigger this time, but still reserved, held back. Sirius found it so curious to watch: a smile that flickered at the edges, not because Remus was pretending, but because he was keeping it from getting bigger. Sirius could tell the difference; he'd spent his whole life watching Walburga and Orion and all the relatives do the fake-flickery smiles. Remus' was just the opposite of that. “Yeah,” Remus agreed, quietly. “But I get to hide first.”

“Wicked.” Sirius beamed. “I like to seek.”

An odd sensation filtered up from Sirius' hand to his brain. He looked down. Remus was curling his fingers loosely around Sirius' hand, where he could twist them and reach, caught as his wrist was in Sirius' grip. They fluttered gently against Sirius' hand before both boys let go. Sirius stared down at his hand, then back up at Remus. “Tomorrow,” Remus repeated. “After lunch. Right?”

“Yes,” Sirius replied, almost too-fiercely. “Yes. Tomorrow. After lunch. We'll play hide and seek.”

Reluctantly Sirius turned away and set about scrambling over the low section of wall again. Perched on top, one leg thrown over and one dangling behind him, Sirius looked at that boy, Remus , one last time. He was squinting up at Sirius, freckles scrunched up in his nose and hair blowing in the slight breeze. “Tomorrow,” Sirius repeated. “Promise!”

“I promise!” Remus called after him.

With that reassurance, Sirius threw himself the rest of the way over the wall and hurried off back to his door, and his house. And Walburga.

Chapter 3
Summary:
The boys get to know each other through the time-honored tradition of tag.

Chapter Text
Sirius' feet swung inches above the ground as he waited on the bench. The stone was cold and rough against his palms, and gravel skittered beneath the soles of his loafers with every pass. His stomach was churning, nervous and doubtful and maybe even a little scared as he waited.

They hadn't set a time or anything, Remus and him. It was just “after lunch”. In Sirius' house that meant one thirty, on the nose. Now it was just gone two and no Remus. Sirius tried to rationalize it, to think of any reason Remus wouldn't show; any reason besides that Remus broke his promise. Maybe “after lunch” didn't mean the same time for Remus. Maybe his family ate lunch really early, like eleven thirty, and he had already come, waited, and left. Or maybe he was eating lunch right this moment, and wouldn't show for another hour or two (or maybe, just maybe, he didn't want to show up again. Maybe he didn't like Sirius and didn't want anything to do with him, because Sirius was too loud or too messy or broke everything around him even when he tried very, very hard not to).

“Sirius?”

Sirius' head jerked up from where it had come to rest: bent low, angled at the ground. Remus was standing in front of him, toeing awkwardly at the marble stones beneath his feet in a pair of worn-out boots that looked a size too big at the bottom of his legs. He was wearing tattered old corduroys that were patched up at the knees and sewn up messily at the hem – so they could be let out later as he grew, Sirius presumed. He had trousers fitted like that of his own. But the stitches on his were done by the family tailor, and looked just like Orion's expensive trousers. One of Remus' trouser legs was even hanging down in the back, where the stitch had dropped.

Jumping to his feet, Sirius started forward across the chipped and spotty marble ground. Then he stopped, hesitated, and started forward again. He stopped again. Remus' head turned to the side as he watched Sirius do his little dance of uncertainty. Without any airs to put on or propriety expected of him, Sirius didn't know how to interact with the other boy. It had seemed easier yesterday, once they had got started talking. Maybe it would be easier again if Sirius could just figure out how to get past all the awkward introductions.

“It's a pleasure to meet you. Again.” Sirius fumbled a hand out to Remus, taking a step forward so they were close enough to touch.

When Remus smiled, his nose scrunched up again, squishing his freckles into his face. Sirius noticed for the first time that Remus had missing teeth, his mouth lousy with gaps. His front teeth were coming in: two big things, reminiscent of that rabbit Sirius had read about when he was smaller. Abruptly he felt more at ease. He and Remus weren't all that different. Sirius ran his tongue over the holes in his own mouth. They both lost teeth, just like every other kid out there.

“Hullo, Sirius.” Remus replied, sticking his hand out and shaking Sirius'. Both boys pulled their hands back to themselves quickly: Sirius bringing his in to tug at his waistcoat, Remus pulling ratty, orange sleeves over his fingers and shoving the whole mess into his trouser pockets.

Sirius glanced over Remus' shoulder, then around, then up at the sky. It was nice out. Sunny and bright. Not like the weather at home, where it was grey and cold (as always, it seemed). Sirius wondered about it, just as he had last night when he was lying in bed, replaying the day's events in his head. Wondered, but didn't question. The weather was just how it was, just like the rest of this place: it existed, it didn't make sense, and Sirius did his best not too think too hard about it. This place, the weather, Remus... Sirius was treating it all like the little clear squiggles he would see in his eyes on occasion: not thinking too hard about it, not looking directly at it. If he did, this place, Remus , might disappear. Just like the little squiggly lines.

“Hide and seek?” Sirius put forth. Remus nodded, amber eyes bright. “I call 'it' first,” Sirius reminded Remus of their agreement yesterday. Then he winced. He always got yelled at when he insisted on stuff at home.

But Remus was smiling, still. He did that a lot. Sirius liked that. “Yeah. Whatch'ya count to?”

Sirius didn't know there was an option. He didn't even know if there was a normal amount to count to. “Thirty?” he offered.

Remus' eyes grew careful, calculating, as he turned slowly around without moving his feet. He looked and looked around him, peering at the great big world they had. “Fifty?” was Remus' counter-offer after a minute.

Sirius shrugged and nodded. “Okay.” He turned, caught sight of the bench he'd been sitting on earlier, and pointed at it. “Bench is base.”

“'kay,” Remus agreed. Then he stared at Sirius, expectant. Abruptly Sirius realized what he was waiting for.

With one last glance at Remus and his funny freckles and dusty clothes, Sirius turned around to the wall next to the bench. The stone was cool and rough beneath his hands as he pressed them to it, eyes squeezed shut. He could cheat – he always did when he and Regulus played – and look or listen hard to Remus, but he didn't want to. So Sirius kept his eyes tightly shut and counted loud, loud enough to drown out whatever soft noises Remus might make that would give away his location. “Fifty! Forty-nine! Forty-eight! Forty-seven!”

**

Sirius skidded to a stop, stones his running had disturbed rolling along for several seconds after he had gone still. His heart was racing in his chest, lungs heaving empty and full as he tried to shush his body and listen . Everything was quiet where he was. The sound of the ocean was faint, calm and dulled as it was blocked by several rows of crumbling buildings and neglected horticulture. But Remus was out there. Somewhere. Sirius had almost caught him, just a minute ago.

The lighter-haired boy had been originally hiding in one of the mostly-intact buildings on the seashore. Sirius had spotted one booted-foot peeking out from the inner corner of some sort of shallow hole in the middle of the house (or rather, the building Sirius thought of as a house, since it had rooms that reminded him of bedrooms and kitchens and sitting rooms in their size and layout). Sirius had jumped in, headless of his own safety, and tried to tag the other boy out. But Remus had been too fast for him, jumping up and pulling himself out of the little rectangular hole (was it a bathtub? Sirius giggled at the thought) and dashing off, out of the house. By the time Sirius had followed him out into the sunlight, there was no sign of Remus.

First thing Sirius had run to check was the bench. But it was empty. Then Remus had probably dashed off the opposite direction: toward the side of the world he came from, and the woods.

Sirius was standing in front of the woods now. They were dark. And deep. And dense. He couldn't see more than a row of trees inside it: the undergrowth was so thick, and the trees grown so close together. Words from a poem flittered through his head as he tried to peer into it, tried to sort of Remus had hidden in there or not. ...silent, dark, and deep... miles to go before I sleep. Woods were dark and deep. Miles to go before you sleep . Would Remus have gone into there? They hadn't said the woods were out of bounds, or the ocean, for that matter. But Sirius had kind of figured they were.

Suddenly there was the whisper of rubber soles against marble behind him. Sirius spun around, already knowing he was too late. Sure enough, Remus was throwing himself onto the bench, grinning over at Sirius triumphantly.

Sirius hurried over to him, frowning. “Were you hiding in the woods?”

Remus shook his head.

Sirius' eyes narrowed. He might have been. Sirius couldn't know if this other boy was a cheater or not. Regulus was, whenever they played. He was always hiding in Walburga's room or Orion's study: places that Sirius refused to go for any reason, but that Regulus was more comfortable with. More welcome in. It was why Sirius cheated with keeping his eyes open and listening close with Regulus.

“ Were you?”

Remus shook his head, then stopped. Peering up at Sirius from the bench, he seemed to consider something for a long moment, eyes darting over Sirius' face as he looked and looked. Finally, he stuck out his hand to Sirius. “Promise.”

Automatically Sirius shook Remus' hand, and he nodded. Right. Remus hadn't been cheating, then. After all, Remus had promised like that yesterday, that he would come back after lunch today, and he had. So Remus wasn't a cheater, or a liar. He kept his promises.

“Okay. My turn!”

As Remus went to turn around on the bench and close his eyes, Sirius started forward and tugged at his thin sleeve. Remus topped turning and looked up at him, big eyes blinking once as he waited. “Woods and sea out-of-bounds, yeah?” Sirius instructed. Remus nodded. “And our houses! No going out!” Again, Remus nodded.

Sirius smiled, bigger than he ever did at home. Remus smiled back. Then Sirius released Remus' sleeve and started off, backing up as he continued to shout out instructions: “Okay. Fifty! And count loud, so I can hear! And no peeking! Okay! Go!”

Remus' voice was clear, but not really all that loud, as he started counting. “Fifty. Forty-nine. Forty-eight.”

Hurrying onto the main road, Sirius glanced around. Directly behind him was his house: no go. To his right was the blank circle he had seen on his first day. That was no good: it didn't have anywhere to hide. Then the ocean, past that. So he had to go toward Remus' side of the world, if he was going to hide anywhere.

The first building on his right was the house that Remus had been hiding in first of all. Briefly Sirius considered hiding in the exact same spot as some sort of super-smart double-trick thing , but he decided against it. Mostly on account of he wanted to look around some more, to find some new places.

There was a building with great big arch entryways in it just across from the bench and the wall where Remus was still counting - “Thirty-nine. Thirty-eight. Thirty-seven.” – but that was too close. So Sirius hurried down the road, taking care to step as much as he could either on the patches of grass that had recaptured the land, or the solid, complete stones. He didn't want any crumbling, shifting pavers to give him away.

“Thirty-two. Thirty-one. Thirty.”

Sirius hurried down the strip of land that once was a street, glancing frantically around. A row of half-broken columns and rectangular spaces with overgrown flowers on his left: no. On his right, an area paved with great big marble slabs, completely cleared and open: no. Then, on his left, just passed the... maybe a garden, in an age ago?... it was another house! “Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen.” Glancing quickly ahead of him, Sirius only had a moment to register that there was another wall with a door in it in front of him – different from his but oh-so-similar. Then he was darting into the house and scrambling around for a hiding spot.

Glancing around, Sirius realized why Remus had chosen the hole in the middle of the house he picked. All the little rooms around the house were traps: one way in, one way out. If Remus found him, Sirius wouldn't be able to dart past him without getting tagged out. But Sirius didn't want to copy Remus, even if it was a different house. So then, maybe... Sirius frowned deeply as he looked around. So. Then.

Ah! An opening caught Sirius' eye, toward the back of the house. Some of the walls were crumbling away there, but there was a big open space, kind of like a garden, maybe. There were those pillars all set up in it, kind of like the thing that looked like a garden that Sirius had seen outside. Climbing over a wall, Sirius positioned himself behind it, back to the entrance of the house. In front of him was plenty of open space to run from Remus: both from the crumbling outer wall of the house and from the fact that the garden itself seemed to be originally designed to open up the back of the house to the outside.

Sirius settled in, crouching on the balls of his feet, to listen for Remus. His fitted trousers didn't exactly make for the best crouching clothes, but he was okay. There was a cool breeze filtering through the cracked and broken walls of the old building, and the sun coming through the open roof was bright and warm. The sound of the ocean waves breaking on the shore was faint, but still audible in the quiet of the world. Sirius couldn't hear Remus anymore, but he didn't know if it was because Remus was done counting, or if he was just far enough away that Sirius couldn't hear him anymore.

It wasn't too terribly long later that a new sound came to Sirius' attention, faint at first but most definitely there . It was the skittering of stones and the very, very soft susurrus of feet over marble. Turning around without coming up from his crouch, Sirius peered through a crack in the wall he was sequestered behind. He had a clear view of the entrance to the house from his position. Sure enough, a second later Remus stepped inside, looking around carefully. Sirius noticed that he had slipped his shoes off at some point. Tricky. This Remus was really, really smart. Obviously.

Remus was stepping closer by the second. He was methodically peering into each room – stepping inside, turning around, then stepping back out – and thusly making his way over to where Sirius was hid. He'd have to make a run for it soon, or Remus would be too close.

The next time Remus stepped into a room, Sirius threw himself up from his crouch and darted through the space between walls and pressed himself against the outside of the house. He waited for a second, heart pounding, as he listened. He couldn't hear Remus, which was probably good: it meant the other boy hadn't started racing after him. As quickly as he could while being careful not to make a sound, Sirius hurried around the side of the building, back in the direction of the bench. Years of hiding from Walburga and Kreacher, of staying quiet and out from underfoot at all the “dinner parties” his parents insisted he attend, had made Sirius very good at this.

As he reached the main road, Sirius got ready to run. It was almost a straight shot from there to the bench, with just a few piles of rocks and debris in his way. But those were easily avoidable. He just had to get past the house he had been hiding in, then he could-

“Tag.”

Sirius blinked, stopped. Blinked. He turned to his right, staring in disbelief at the other boy who was standing there with a small, proud smile quirking at his lips. “Tag,” Remus repeated.

Sirius stomped at the ground, shocked. “How'd you do that?!”

Remus shrugged, hand dropping from Sirius' arm where he had tagged him out to fiddle with his too-long sleeves. “Dunno. Heard'ya.”

Sirius glared down at Remus' feet. “Should've done that,” he observed. “Taken my shoes off. That's smart.”

Remus' lips quirked higher at the compliment. “'s how I always do it, when I'm seeking. Don't you?”

Sirius pictured a dozen instances when he had tried playing hide-and-seek with Regulus, and how Walburga or Kreacher had always stepped in with vicious fingernails or evil grins and put a stop to it barely into the game's infancy. He shook his head. “I'll do it now, though. I'm copying.”

Remus seemed to accept this as the compliment Sirius meant it as, because he nodded and started back with Sirius to base.

As they walked, Sirius peered over at Remus from beneath his mess of silken black hair. He grinned at how serious the boy looked, then jammed his shoulder in Remus'. The other boy looked startled, but then smiled when he seemed to realize Sirius meant the gesture affectionately. “I'm going to catch you, this time,” Sirius threatened.

And then Remus said something absolutely brilliant . “Haven't yet.”

Sirius' laugh echoed off the old, broken walls and bounced all around the boys as they made their way back to the bench.

**

The water in the pool was cool as it flowed gently over Sirius' sore feet. Visible through the slight distortion of the water were Remus' feet, just next to his. Their shoulders bumped and hands brushed as they shifted and squirmed around on the edge of the pool, feet kicking lazily at the water.

“I always win when I play against Regulus.”

Remus turned toward Sirius without taking his feet out of the water. Their feet brushed under the cool, faintly blue liquid with the movement. “Your friend? From-” he stopped, and Sirius didn't rush to offer up a name to where he was from. Remus was nice, and fun. But Sirius knew he'd never be allowed back home, in his house filled with proper clothes and serious faces. Remus' clothes were more low-class than Kreacher's, even.

“My little brother,” Sirius explained instead. “I always find him, and he never finds me.”

Remus shifted away from Sirius, who abruptly and acutely felt the loss. “Sorry.”

“No!” Sirius slammed his shoulder into Remus, grinning as a shy smile flickered into existence beneath a fringe of blonde hair. “'s fine. Just weird.”

Gingerly, like he was uncertain of how to proceed with the gesture, Remus nudged his shoulder into Sirius'. “'cause you were hiding from someone littl'r.”

Grimacing, Sirius thought back to all the times he had ran and hid from Walburga or Kreacher, and how sometimes, once in a lucky while, he managed to succeed. “'ve hid from Kreacher.”

“Kreacher?” Remus' freckles scrunched up into his face as he wondered at the name. “Who's that?”

“Our servant.”

“Oh.”

Abruptly Sirius remembered that not everyone had servants, did they? He hesitated, wondering what to say to explain things, to make sure Remus didn't hate him. Because it was obvious from the way Remus dressed and talked that he wasn't from a family like Sirius'. And Walburga was always saying stuff, wasn't she, about how the poor people wanted their money, and were all covetous and greedy and jealous of them, and that's why there was never anyone else around besides the other wealthy Families, because everyone else was just trying to get their money.

But that wasn't Remus. Sirius liked Remus; he know Remus didn't want him for his money. But he might get upset that Sirius' family had loads and loads.

“Why'd you hide from a servant?”

Sirius blinked. Remus had spoken before he had figured out what to say to diffuse the situation.

When Sirius glanced over to his right, he saw that Remus was peering at him, genuinely curious and confused. “Aren't servants 'posed to, you know: do what you tell them?”

Sirius pouted. “Kreacher does what my mum tells him.” And that's usually to punish me . But Sirius didn't want to talk about that. He didn't want to talk about any of that stupid home stuff with Remus. The other boy was obviously there for Sirius to play with, for Sirius to forget about his stupid house and all the stupid, mean people inside. Out here, it was always summer and never winter without Christmas. This place was for him and Remus to play in, Sirius knew. So they should do that.

“D'you know how to swim?”

Immediately Remus slid out of arm's reach of Sirius on the cool deck, shaking his head vigorously as eyes widened to take up half his head. “No! Don't!”

And with that Sirius was laughing again, thoughts about dreary, scary old Grimmauld Place pushed to the back of his mind. “No! I didn'... look!” Sirius stood up, feet wet and dripping onto the cool deck around the pool. “I meant, see the thing? At the bottom?”

Sirius pointed toward the bottom of the pool, where a shimmering scene was laid out. It was some sort of... Sirius didn't know the name for the type of art it was. It was all tiny tiny pieces of different colored stone glued together, or something, making a big, giant scene that took up the center of the deepest part of the pool. Sirius could see it was some sort of pattern of squares and triangles and stars, wrapping up into itself and repeating endlessly in even bigger patterns of shapes and colors. But he wanted to go down to it, to trace it, to feel the little pieces of stone beneath his fingertips, all smooth from the gently flowing water it was hidden beneath (and it was kind of like buried treasure in plain sight, with the glints of maybe gold and ruby and emerald that shown out from under the water).

Remus was edging closer to him, looking at the design himself. “Uh-huh.”

“I'm going to touch it. Sometime,” Sirius announced. “We'll have to learn how to swim. Because I don't know how.”

Remus nodded. “Okay. We'll learn.”

Sirius turned to look at Remus, to smile at him, and found himself already being smiled at. They stayed that way for a long moment, two boys smiling at each other beneath bright sun beside the ancient pool. Then a worry started niggling at the back of Sirius' mind, growing and growing until he could't ignore it any longer. He turned away from Remus, looking behind him. There was the archway that they had come in through to find the pool. Beyond that was the road, and beyond that Sirius' wall, with Sirius' door in it. And beyond that... home.

Sirius shivered, wrapping his arms around him. “I gotta go.”

Remus accepted this as he did everything, and nodded. “Okay. Do you want to play tomorrow?”

Immediately Sirius nodded. Yes. Yes, of course he did. “After lunch?”

“Okay.”

Sirius had to leave first, hurrying to the bench where he had left his shoes and socks. Remus stood with him, waving goodbye and Sirius opened the heavy door back to his house.



Chapter 4
Summary:
Remus introduces Sirius to fairytales.

Chapter Text
Sirius' tears felt dusty on his cheeks where they were starting to dry. He sniffed loudly, scrubbing at his face for the thousandth time as he did his best to stop crying. It was okay. He was okay. Sirius wrapped his arms around himself and rocked on the cold, wood floor, his eyes focused as best they could through blurry, itchy tears on the great big door in front of him. He was okay. His bum didn't hurt that much, really. He'd stop crying, soon. And then he'd get to see Remus, and they'd play, and everything would be okay. He'd be okay. Just as soon as his eyes stopped stinging.

It was only a few minutes later when Sirius decided he was collected enough to venture through the door. He couldn't leave Remus waiting, after all: he had promised . They were going to meet after lunch again today, and already Sirius was running late. First he had the incident with the dishes which had got him in trouble in the first place. Than had come the running, and hiding. And Walburga. And all this time he had wasted trying to stop crying. He wouldn't be surprised if Remus had gone and left by now, getting sick of waiting.

Another sob escaped Sirius' throat as he reached up and wrapped a hand around the door lever. He hoped that wasn't true. He hoped with all his might that Remus was still there, on the other side of the door. With one big, deep breath to push back the last of the tears, Sirius pushed the door open and hurried inside.

The moment Sirius rounded the wall to their bench, he let out a cry of joy. Remus was sitting there cross-legged, head bent over a book splayed open in his lap. Or at least it was, until Remus heard Sirius' cry. Then his head jerked up, expression smoothing into a smile the second he saw Sirius.

“Hullo!” Sirius called, hurrying across the small section of loose stones to settle on the bench on Remus' right. Before Remus could say more than a happy “Hello” in response, Sirius stuck his hand out and grabbed the book Remus was reading. He kept his thumb on the page, because Sirius wasn't mean . He didn't want Remus to lose his place, after all. “Watch'ya reading?”

“It's fairytales,” Remus explained. “I'm on 'Hansel and Gretel'.”

“'re they?” Sirius queried. He'd never heard of them before.

Apparently he had just said something quite unimaginable , because Remus took the book back and clutched it tight to his chest, amber eyes gone wide. “You've never heard 'Hansel and Gretel'?”

Sirius shook his head. Fairytales weren't exactly standard reading in his house. His tutors had him translating the Aeneid or Timeaus more often than not. No time for fairytales.

“Oh, they're...” Remus shifted, bringing his feet down to the ground, then back up under him, like he was getting so excited he didn't know whether to stand up or sit down. Making a frustrated noise, Remus finally just opened up the book and flipped back a few pages. “I could read it to you. If you want. It's short.”

Sirius breathed in sharp. Suddenly he felt tears pricking at his eyes again, though he wasn't sure why. “Okay,” he whispered. “Read.”

They shifted together on the stone bench, until Sirius was leaning against Remus' side and peering down at the book in his lap. Remus started reading, voice clear and steady. “ Next to a great forest there lived a poor woodcutter who had come upon such hard times that he could scarcely provide daily bread for his wife and his two children, Hansel and Gretel. Finally he could no longer even manage this, and he did not know where to turn for help...”

**

The sun was lower in the sky when Remus had finished. Sirius stretched, big and long, before relaxing back into Remus' side. He traced at one of the well-worn pages with a careful finger. “What happened next?”

Remus shrugged, closing the book. “Dunno. Doesn't say.”

After Remus had closed the book, Sirius let his head slide into Remus' lap, so he was staring up at Remus outlined in the late-day sunlight as he talked. Sirius considered this information, then nodded. Even if there was more, he wouldn't be able to hear it today. It was getting late, and Walburga would be looking for him to eat his dinner, take his bath, and go to bed. Maybe, if Sirius was quick enough, he'd be able to catch Regulus alone for a minute this evening. He'd love the story of Hansel and Gretel. After all, it was about a brother and sister escaping from their evil, evil mum. Regulus wasn't a girl, but that was okay: it was close enough.

“Gotta get back.”

Remus nodded, but made no move to shift Sirius away. Eventually Sirius sighed and hauled himself up, re-buttoning his cuffs where he had undone them listening to Remus read. He scuffed his shoes on the ground as he stood, shifting and hesitating in front of Remus. “See you again?” he muttered.

“Yeah.” Remus' answer was immediate, which made Sirius' heart leap and dance. “Definitely.”

With that promise extracted, Sirius hurried off back to the house. He ran the story of Hansel and Gretel over and over again in his head as he went. He was going to tell it to Regulus as well as he could, as close to the way Remus had. It wouldn't be perfect, nor anywhere as good as Remus. He read stories like... like... Sirius' chest hurt as he swung open the door to his house. Remus read the story like Sirius imagined other kids' mums read them stories at night. He didn't know for sure, but felt so.

Carefully Sirius made his way out of the empty room where his secret door was, being sure not to dirty himself more than he could help it, or snag any of his clothes on the odd corner he squeezed past to get out. The grandfather clocks around the house were just chiming as Sirius stuck his head out the door of the room, checking the hallways for Kreacher or Walburga. Seven o'clock. Time to get washed up for supper, than. He'd have to tell Regulus the story after, then. That was fine. Time enough after supper for that.

**

“Sirius?”

Choking back sobs, Sirius wiped his face hurriedly and tried to school his features. If Walburga or Kreacher caught him crying they'd just end up hurting him more. “Give you something to cry about”. And he didn't need anymore of that. Not tonight.

“Sirius, can I come in?”

Wordlessly Sirius nodded. It was just Regulus, peering through Sirius' door, opened a crack. Just as wordlessly Regulus entered, pushing longish black hair that matched Sirius' out of his eyes awkwardly. He shifted by the door, biting his thumbnail before yanking it out of his mouth and making a face. Sirius knew that face. Walburga put something on their fingernails, something spicy, so they wouldn't bite them or suck their thumbs. Regulus was having a harder time stopping the nervous tick than Sirius, and still had to submit to the spray every morning, noon, and night.

Coming to a decision, Regulus shut the door with a soft click before padding hurriedly over to Sirius' big bed and climbing up. Automatically Sirius opened his arms to his little brother, pulling him into his chest even as he tried to stop his chest from heaving with sobs and the tears falling from his eyes. He pressed his cheek to Regulus hair, smoothing a hand to his little brother's back. It was as if all the comfort Sirius gave to Regulus rebounded and came back to him. He had figured out years ago it was his best way to calm down after evenings like this one, when there was no one to comfort him besides a little, wide-eyed brother who couldn't really do the job properly.

As Sirius calmed down, hand running up and down Regulus' back, it occurred to him that he hadn't shared the Hansel and Gretel story with Regulus. In fact... Sirius' heart raced. Maybe he should tell Regulus about the Door, and the World. Regulus could escape there with Sirius. For whatever reason Sirius didn't like the idea much – the World felt like his and Remus', a special place just for the two of them, that no one else was supposed to know about. But Sirius had done things more distasteful than share a special secret to keep his little brother safe before, so he could do this.

Regulus spoke when Sirius was still lost in thoughts of Remus and sunshine and their perfect, self-contained world. “You shouldn't've done that.”

Shocked, Sirius pushed Regulus off his chest and gripped his shoulders tight. Regulus was staring up at him with big, scared eyes. They looked just like Sirius' – in color and shape, at least. But Sirius always thought there was something different between the two of them, something deep and unchangeable. When Sirius looked into his own eyes in the mirror, he saw something rumbling and restless, something waiting to come out and run, run, run. That something was always absent in Regulus' eyes when Sirius looked, and in its place was a sort of dullness, a timidity. Never before had Sirius noticed it more than he did now, though he didn't have the words to put name to it. “What?”

One of Regulus' hands snaked up to his mouth before he jerked it away. “Talking back to Mum. You shouldn't've done that.”

Sirius' indignation was such that his sobs stopped and tears dried up almost instantly. “She called me dumb! In front of Bellatrix and Lucius and everyone!”

Regulus shrugged, looking down at Sirius' duvet. “You picked up the wrong glass.”

“Oh, bollocks that! Who cares ?!” Sirius knew what the right glasses were. He'd been in etiquette classes since he could remember. He just wanted a sip of plain water instead of sparkling, and didn't feel like asking Kreacher to get him a new glass. It was just a sip . “And Mu- Walburga shouldn't call me stupid! That's not right!”

Regulus shrugged, big grey eyes nervous and sad. “But. Sirius. Mum-”

Sorrow and guilt and a complete, utter feeling of aloneness overwhelmed Sirius as he watched his little brother betray him. Regulus was saying he deserved it! That Walburga had been right to beat him until he limped back to his bedroom and cried and cried. “Get out!” Sirius shoved at Regulus' shoulder for good measure, though not hard enough to do any damage.

“But, Sirius. If you tried harder, maybe Mum-”

“Out, out, out!” Sirius lashed out, hands flying at Regulus as he slapped and scraped. Regulus cried out and fell off the bed, before picking himself up and scrambling out of the room. Sirius reached next to him and threw a pillow at Regulus' retreating back for good measure, then threw himself down and buried his face in his remaining pillows.

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair . Walburga was mean, and wrong, and Regulus just took her side! Saying if Sirius tried harder, like he didn't try hard. He did! He just always messed things up. He broke a plate, or drank out of the wrong glass, or talked back because his mouth moved faster than his brain half the time.

It didn't matter. It didn't matter why Sirius always messed up, why he always disappointed Walburga. What mattered was that Regulus didn't take his side, didn't care. After all, Sirius always stood up for Regulus, always protected him. He'd taken more than one beating for his little brother before, even if there had been other times when he had tried to blame Regulus for the broken vase or lost pocket watch or ripped trouser knee. But to have Regulus try and tell Sirius to behave, when there was no Walburga or Kreacher around to act like a good son for... Sirius shoved at his mattress with curled fists, thrashing and lashing out until his exhaustion caught up with him, and he fell asleep where he was.

**

Sirius was waiting for Remus for over an hour the next day. It was because he was early, Sirius knew. The moment he could escape the table “politely” he had, rushing straight to door with hardly a glance over his shoulder to check on Regulus or watch out for Kreacher.

The stone of their bench was cool through Sirius' light button-down shirt. He had already abandoned his shoes, socks, and waistcoat right next to his door as soon as he had come in. He didn't want to get in trouble with Walburga for messing up his very expensive clothes, after all. Plus it was always easier to play with Remus if he had less clothes on, like Remus did. Maybe Sirius could get Remus to give him some of his poor clothes one day, so Sirius could change into them instead of having to worry about his stupid suits with their fancy stitches and cut and whatever else Walburga was always going on about.

“Sirius?”

Sirius shot into a sitting position quick as could be, smile spreading uncontrollably over his face as he caught sight of Remus, stepping onto the marble stones that marked this little intact area behind the crumbling wall. “Remus! I've got a game!” Leaping up from the bench, Sirius hurried over to Remus and grabbed his bony wrist in one hand. “With Hansel and Gretel,” he continued. “I thought we could be them. After the witch. Because I bet they had load of adventures fighting evil magic creatures in the forest around their house, and we've got all this space, and we could be them and fight the monsters after the witch.”

Remus' expression was a little overwhelmed, but mostly attentive as Sirius spoke. When he paused for a breath, Remus wrinkled up his nose and cut in. “But Gretel's a girl. We're both boys.”

Sirius waved this objection aside. When he had woken up that morning, he had to revise his plans to fit Remus instead of Regulus. If it had been him and Regulus playing, he'd have just made Regulus be the girl – he was the little brother after all; he had to do whatever Sirius said. But since Remus was just the same as Sirius, he couldn't do that. Luckily, Sirius had come to an ingenious solution over a breakfast of cold oatmeal and burnt toast (Sirius suspected Kreacher ruined his meals just because he hated him).

“We swap! Hang on.” Sirius ran back to where his clothes were folded neatly by his door. Remus followed him, watching curiously as Sirius set to work. First he shucked off his belt, then used it to tie his waistcoat around his hips. Then, Sirius took his socks and pulled his longish hair into pigtails, positioning the long black socks so that they looked like pigtails themselves. With a flourish he turned to Remus, making sure the waistcoat fluttered as close to a skirt as he could. Once Remus had taken in the whole effect, he started laughing: quiet, little noises he tried to hide behind his hand, but definitely laughter nonetheless.

Sirius bounded over to him, striking poses and twirling around as he did. “See? I'll be Gretel first, then you can be. Isn't it brilliant?”

Remus nodded, very seriously (but not really, because Sirius could see his eyes were smiling). “You look very nice, Gretel.”

Sirius wobbled as he tried to curtsey, the way he'd seen his cousins do before. “You too, Hansel. What evil monster are we fighting today?”

Remus frowned, thinking hard. Then his eyes lit up. “Ever heard of a werewolf?”

Sirius shook his head, mock-pigtails slapping his cheeks lightly. “No. Is it like a wolf?”

Remus nodded, eyes wide and serious. “Except it's normally a human. But one night out of the year, when the moon is full, it turns into a blood-thirsty monster wolf!”

Clutching at Remus' arm, Sirius drew him closer. He pitched his voice a little higher, like a girl, and asked: “Isn't it a full moon tonight, Hansel?”

Taking time to look to the sky, and then down at a watch that he didn't actually have, Remus nodded. “It will be. In just an hour.”

“That gives us time to get weapons!”

With that, the two boys separated and started to hunt around the ruins for weapons. Sirius had to stop every few steps to clutch at his makeshift skirt and pull it up again from where it had started to fall. He was definitely trading off being the girl to Remus as soon as possible. The skirt was just too hard to walk in.

Sirius went first to the pool they had found in one of the buildings, because he recalled a few metal pipes lying around somewhere in it. As he walked past the water, he caught a glimpse of himself reflected in it. Sirius paused, cocking his head and peering in. His sock-pigtails almost looked like real pigtails, distorted as they were in the gently-flowing water. Sirius scrunched up his nose and laughed, the sound echoing off the high walls surrounding him. He looked pretty , with the pigtails. It was funny.

The pipes were where Sirius remembered them being a few days ago. Sorting through them, he decided on one that came up to his shoulder, but wasn't too thick. Some of them were so big and heavy he couldn't even lift them. And that wouldn't do much good in defeating that wolf-monster Remus had decided they were fighting. Experimentally Sirius hefted the pole, spinning it around a few times and hacking at the air. The metal was dull grey, but not all rusty like some of the older pipes he had discovered in the more remote areas of his family home before, even though it was almost certainly older than anything the Blacks had ever owned.

“Sirius?”

Remus' head appeared through one of the archways that were the entrances to the pool house. He was holding onto a branch and... some rocks? Sirius peered at it, curious. “What's that?” He pointed at the stick-thing with his metal pole. Because he felt proper tough, doing that.

Remus held it up for Sirius' inspection, tugging lightly at the rubber band he had wrapped around the back. “Slingshot,” Remus explained. “Like David against Goliath. You just...” Tongue sticking out from between his teeth, Remus tucked all but one of the little stones in his trouser pocket. He then placed the one stone in the rubber band, then pulled back with one hand, the other holding the stick steady. Sirius stepped back as Remus aimed for some spot over on the other side of the pool. He let the rubber band go with a twang, followed a moment later by the click of the rock bouncing off the far wall.

“Wicked,” Sirius breathed. “Let me try!”

Obligingly Remus handed over his slingshot and dug a single rock out of his pocket for Sirius. Without hesitation Sirius tossed his pole the ground, snatching up the slingshot and the rock. He aimed carefully at the far wall of the pool house, just as Remus had. Unfortunately, when he let the rock go his fingers got all tangled up in the rubber band or something, because the rock fell to the ground just a foot in front of him. Sirius pouted down at it.

To his credit, Remus didn't laugh. He just bent down and picked up the rock, then held it out to Sirius. “Do you want to try again?” he turned his head a little sideways, as if he wanted to ask something else but wasn't sure if he should.

Determined, Sirius snatched the rock up and nodded. “Yeah. Move.”

But again, the same thing happened. The little rock clicked over the tile at Sirius' feet, like it was making fun of him. Remus said nothing, and only moved to give Sirius the rock back. Sirius growled, low in his throat, and ignored the bitter taste of disappointment choking him in the back of his gullet. He could do this. It was just a matter of putting the little rock in the rubber band, then pulling it back while holding the stick steady. Then all he had to do was just... let... go...

The stone clicked to the floor in front of him. Wordlessly, Remus picked it up and handed it back up to Sirius. Just as wordlessly, Sirius tried it again, ignoring the tears starting to build up behind his eyes. He could do this. He could.

Four, five, six tries later, and the stone was still falling to the ground at Sirius' feet. On the fifteenth try, the stone cracked. Before Sirius could throw the slingshot to the ground and run off, Remus was there with a fresh rock clutched between his fingers. So Sirius put it in the slingshot and tried again. And again. And again.

Sometime around try number forty-eight, vision blinded by tears and fingers shaking with exhaustion and shame, something happened. Sirius' fingers slipped, or moved different, or something . The rock shot across the room, clicking against the back wall. Sirius dropped the slingshot in shock.

“You did it!” Remus' voice was right in Sirius' ear. He had come up next to him while Sirius was still staring after the rock in shock. He turned to see Remus smiling warmly at him. “Want to fight the werewolf, now?”

Sirius felt... he didn't know how he felt. Happy. Even with the tears in his eyes and his fingers shaking and sore, he was so happy . Remus had let him keep going, even when he could have just taken over and shown Sirius how to do it. No one had ever done that for Sirius before. No one had ever had the patience to wait and watch as Sirius tried and failed at something, until he succeeded on his own. It was always Walburga snatching away whatever it was and doing it for Sirius herself, doing it right , she would say as she sneered down at him. Even Orion, who never really spoke one way or the other at Sirius, would just do things for Sirius instead of letting him figure it out. But Remus hadn't done that. He'd let Sirius do it himself.

“Yeah,” Sirius said. Then he shook himself and picked up his pole, hefting it like a real warrior. He grinned, chest puffed out and feeling big and brave... skirt and sock-pigtails notwithstanding.



Chapter 5
Summary:
Sirius and Remus do battle and make a map.

Chapter Text


“Like what?”

Remus closed his book, squinting up at the sun as he seemed to mull over Sirius' simple question. “Like... the sea is in the east.”

Sirius blinked, then looked at the wall on his right. Beyond that he knew lay the sea – he was starting to get to know their little world as well as he knew his own house. “How do you know?”

“Because that's where the sun rises,” Remus explained simply. “Sun rises in the east, sets in the west. So then the forest is the west. And, since it goes North, South, East, West, and that's east and that's west, then my wall is north, and your wall is south.”

Sirius watched as Remus sketched a little compass rose into a patch of dirt which had managed to rise up and push aside the marble slabs beneath their feet. It made sense, Sirius realized. “You knew that just 'cause of where the sun comes up,” he wondered. “That's brilliant.”

Remus shrugged. “ That's easy. There's harder stuff.”

“Like what?”

Remus' shoulders brushed Sirius' as he leaned back, deep in thought. “Like, there's stuff with currents that you can figure, how to sail across the world using the stars and wind.”

“Show me.”

Without a thought, Sirius was leaping to his feet and grabbing at Remus, trying to get him to run to the seashore with him. Remus let himself be dragged, after closing his book and taking careful note of his page. When they reached the shore, Sirius stopped before the top of the waves, pointing out toward the boundless horizon. “What do you see?”

He turned to look at Remus, who was squinting out at the horizon. The way he was looking, like... like there was more going on in his eyes than there were in Sirius'. Like when he looked at the world, there were labels and notes and numbers, all scattered across his vision, telling him things that Sirius didn't know. It was like when Remus looked at things, the world conveniently pulled up a card catalogue for him, and Remus only had to flip through it. Maybe that's why he was quieter than Sirius, and took longer to answer things: because he was flipping through that card catalogue that the world was giving him.

“It's low tide,” he said at last.

“How do you know? What's that mean?”

Remus pointed at the sand line. “See how the wet sand goes all the way up there? But the waves are only coming up to there? That means it's low tide. It'd come up all the way to that top line if it was high tide. And it means we don't want to sail now. You want to catch the high tide as it's going out.”

“We should learn to swim,” Sirius mused, looking out at the horizon. The sea breeze whipped at his hair, and he pushed the black locks absently from his face as he tried to see out as far as he possibly could, straining to catch sight of any land on the other side. None was visible. That only served to encourage Sirius. “Or build a boat. And sail out there until we hit the other side.”

“We might find the place where the sky meets the sea. Or discover New Worlds.”

“What do you think would be in them?”

Remus' mouth quirked as his eyes scanned the horizon. “One-footed people. They don't have heads, only torsos with eyes and mouths on them. And they only have one leg, so they hop everywhere they go.”

Sirius' eyes went wide. “What? Who told you that?”

Remus shrugged. “Read it somewhere. Adventure books, 'pose.”

Sirius' eyes narrowed as he scanned the shoreline, wondering at what he could do with that information. Great big one footed people, with no heads... there could be an invasion. Or they could find themselves washed up on the island of these people, two stranded adventurers... Sirius' gaze stuttered and stopped when it reached the side where his wall was. He hadn't spent much time staring at the place where his wall met the sea, but now that he was, he realized it was just as impassable as the rest of the wall, or the great big sea itself. Sirius frowned. “Hey, look.”

They wandered over to the juncture, waves tickling their feet whenever they drifted too close to the tideline. Sirius was the first to try out the natural and man-made boundary. There was the wall, which went much too high to ever hope to climb. Then there was the sea, which was great and vast and possibly endless. But where they met, Sirius had kind of figured he'd be able to just... walk around. After all, the wall had to end somewhere, and it didn't go into the sea forever.

But right where the wall ended and touched the sea, great, massive piles of jagged and terrifying-looking boulders extended from the wall far, far into the sea. Sirius carefully stepped to the end of the wall, trousers rolled up so they wouldn't get wet with seawater. With one hand on the wall, Sirius tried to touch one of the boulders. It was so slick with water his hand slipped right off, and Sirius almost overbalanced and face-first into the sea. A hand clutching the back of his shirt stopped him just in time. Sirius glanced back, shooting a grateful smile over his shoulder.

“D'you think we could get around?” Sirius pondered as he stepped back and stared at the boulders.

Remus shook his head. “No. And don't think we're 'posed to.”

Sirius snorted. “So? Not about if you're 'posed to or not. That makes it better half the time, doesn't it?” Even as he spoke the words, Sirius knew they were wrong. It wasn't that he wanted to be a good boy and obey the rules – he got enough of that at home with Walburga. This place was about breaking all those stupid rules, leaving them behind the second he stepped through that door. But at the same time, it was like this place has its own set of rules – rules even Sirius was reluctant to break.

“Come on.” Sirius nodded over his shoulder, without waiting for Remus to reply to his last outburst. “Let's go look at the forest. I bet you can tell me all sorts of brilliant adventure stuff about it.”

**

Sirius shook the sand off him, blinking up blearily at the shore above him. Where was he? How did he get there? Oh no! The ship! The storm! It all came flooding back to him.

“First mate Remus! Remus! Are you safe?”

Sitting up, Sirius looked around the beach. Ah! There was Remus, just coming to next to him. Scrambling over on hands and knees, Sirius grabbed Remus' shoulders and shook them. Oh. A bit too vigorously, as he ended up conking Remus' head into the sand. “Oops. Sorry. You alright?”

Wincing, Remus reached a hand back and touched his head. “Yeah. 'm fine. Keep going.”

With that confirmation Sirius threw himself back into character. “Remus! Wake up! We survived the storm, but our ship is gone!”

“Oh no,” Remus murmured, pretending to be groggy. “What're we going to do, Captain?”

With steely, brave gaze, Sirius surveyed the new land before them. “We'll have to find shelter. And see if there's any animals or people here. Do you know where we are?”

Slowly Remus got to his feet, aided by Sirius. Out of his pocket he pulled a small pocket watch-cum-compass and held it out in his palm. He studied it very intently, scanning his hand back and forth as Sirius looked on. “It looks like the storm washed us somewhere not on the maps!” Remus wondered.

“What's that?!”

Gripping Remus' shoulder tight, Sirius pointed out into the ruins. From there great, big people were coming. No: not people. They were... monsters! They looked like a gigantic leg, cut off at the top of the thigh. They had a whole face pressed into the smooth, meaty part of the thigh, which were all dead-set in an angry expression. They hopped to walk, their giant feet making thump-thump-thumping noises on the ground. Bravely, Sirius drew Remus behind him and pulled out his sword (definitely not the pipe he had defeated the werewolf with a few days ago), brandishing it at the monsters. “Back!” Sirius shouted. “Or I'll stab all of you! Through the leg!”

At his back, Remus pushed forward, moving Sirius aside. “We came in peace!” He held his hands out, empty of weapons. But Sirius knew his first mate of course had his trusty pistol tucked away in the back of his trousers, just in case. And he could be ready to draw it in just a second . “There was a storm, and our ship wrecked! We just need food.”

“Foreigners! Intruders!”

The one-legged tribe hopped forward menacingly, teeth barred and looking ready for a fight. Sirius brandished his sword again, and they hesitated. “I'll do it! I'll stab all of you until you're dead!”

The leader of the one-legged monsters growled, then shouted so loud his voice echoed through the ruins behind him: “To the death!”

With a shout equal to that of the one-legged leader, Sirius ran forward and started hacking at the monsters. Behind him, First Mate Remus drew his pistol and started firing, shot after shot landing true between the eyes of the armless, headless monsters. Sirius laughed, cutting his sword back and forth, felling the monstrous leg-people as easily as he'd push aside his bedroom's curtains in the morning.

But then, oh no! Sirius was turning to shout something brilliantly clever at Remus, when he saw one of the monsters sneaking up behind him. Sirius' heart raced, his breath catching in his throat. With every ounce of strength he could muster, Sirius mightily swung his sword, cleaving a pathway through the monsters and to his loyal first mate. Finding breath in his lungs again, Sirius managed to call out a warning. “Remus! Down!”

Immediately Remus crouched to the ground, spinning around at the same time. And, oh, that was brilliant . Remus was the best at playing. Almost at the same time, Sirius drew back his sword for a mighty blow and Remus carefully aimed his pistol at the attacking leg-monster. They struck him as one, Sirius with his sword and Remus with his gun. The monster fell to the ground in a moment.

Sirius and Remus shared a victorious, adrenaline-filled look before they remembered the fight going on around them. But the leg-monsters were retreating, hopping back to ruins with their metaphorical tail between their metaphorical legs. The leader was the only one left standing on the beach, expression solemn as he gazed at all the corpses Captain Sirius and First Mate Remus had left scattered in their wake.

“We Legarians surrender to you, oh superior Sirius and Remus of the two-legs!”

The leader bowed – oh, wait, no, knees don't bend that way. The leader bent backwards... sort of bowing? And then Sirius was bursting out in a fit of giggles and calling time-out. “How does he bow?” he asked Remus. “Like...” and then Sirius tried to bend backwards at the waist, imitating the picture in his head. He just ended up overbalancing and falling down into the sand, laughing some more.

Remus joined him, grin just a fraction more subdued. Sirius knew it wasn't because Remus was any less happy – he just smiled smaller than Sirius, for some reason. Even though they hadn't known each other very long, Sirius had already figured that much out.

Humming happily to himself, Sirius tossed his lead pole down to the sand next to them, then threw his hands behind his head and stared up at the evening sky. “You know what we should do next,” he thought out loud. “We should make a map . Like a pirate map. Or like we were explorers going around the world and figuring it out.”

Remus let his head roll in the sand to look at Sirius, eyes squinting in the red light from the sunset. “I could bring pencils. And paper. Do...” then Remus stopped abruptly, and his eyes kind of... shut down. Like they were closed, except they were still open.

“Remus? Remus?” Sirius rolled over onto his side, looking at Remus. Tentatively he stuck his hand out and Remus' shoulder. “Remus? What is it? What's wrong?”

“You said you couldn't come tomorrow.”

Sirius heart clenched at the thought, and a tendril of fear made itself re-known in the pit of his belly. “Right,” Sirius mumbled. “Right. I have... stuff.”

What he had was was his mother and father's anniversary party. Normally Sirius might be left alone for such a grown-up event, but Walburga said he was getting old enough now to attend and be a good, proper example of what she and Orion had created: the next heir to the Black family fortune. So now Sirius had to go and suffer through an evening in even stiffer clothes than normal, itching and twitching and probably making some sort of terrible mistake halfway through that had Walburga dragging him out of the dining room, talon-like fingernails digging into his arm so hard they left bruises for days after. Then it was just a matter of whether Walburga would take the time herself to punish him that night, or if she'd just have Kreacher do it.

“Stuff,” Sirius repeated, eyes unfocused even as he looked down at Remus.

His self-pitying was broken by a hand touching his cheek gently. Sirius blinked and saw Remus was smiling up at him, in his cautious little way. “But you can come the next day, right?”

Sirius found himself smiling back. “Yeah. After tomorrow, I'll come. And we can make the map.”

**

Sirius' right arm and shoulder were so sore from the night before – and the wall that he had been thrown into – that he had to use his left to drag open the heavy, ornate door to his and Remus' world. He wanted to cry some more even as he pulled down on the lever, but he had so much the night before that there didn't seem to be any tears left in him. Then Sirius managed to pull the door open a fraction more, and sunlight filled this eyes and the spaces before him. Sirius breathed deep. His aches and pains even seemed to fade as he stepped forward and shut the door behind him.

Remus was waiting for him at their bench, already sketching something on a piece of paper he was holding on a clipboard. Sirius grinned, Grimmauld Place well and truly left behind with the closing of the door, as he hurried over to Remus. “Hey.”

Remus looked up, smiling fast at Sirius before bending his head back to his work. Impatient already, Sirius flicked at the clipboard. “Where'd you get this?”

“Nicked it,” Remus replied oh-so-casually. Sirius' respect for him reached impossible levels.

“Really? Cor. From where?!”

Again, that overly casual shrug from Remus. He didn't even look up from what he was sketching. “Backroom at the store. 'm always stuck there anyways, when I get tired from all the other... from the noise.” Before Sirius could ask about that – and he really wanted to, since Remus' home life sounded so utterly alien from his own – Remus looked up and smiled again: quick as a camera flash. “Ready?”

Sirius nodded, leaping a step back as Remus started gathering up his things. “Yup! Do you know how to make maps? 'cause you said about the east and west with the sea and forest, and those are map-things. Seen a few in Orion's study, 's'all.” Sirius explained in a rush. He'd never really learned maps, but he liked to stare at the expensive ones, printed on thick parchment and extensively detailed, that lined his father's study.

“I read books,” Remus explained. “Yesterday, and before. I looked some things up. Like, you put the rose compass on all the maps.” At the bottom of the page, Sirius could see Remus had draw a little compass indicating north, south, east, and west in a pinkish-red color. He nodded. That made sense.

Remus continued, pointing at something else. “And then there's the key. Maps have to have a key. So when I draw the two little lines, that means roads. And then when I draw these little cotton-candy things, that's trees. And the little squiggles mean water.”

Sirius squinted down at the key. That looked like a lot of work and brains.

Coming to a decision, Sirius scooped up spare papers and pencils from Remus, leaving him just with his clipboard and single pencil. “Here. Since you know the most about maps, you're in charge. And I'll be your 'ssistant.”

Remus' smile was almost embarrassed, but definitely more pleased, at Sirius' orders. Sirius smiled back, because he had made Remus smile. “Okay,” Remus nodded. “Assistant Sirius, let's start at your door.”

So Sirius trailed after Remus, holding onto his spare papers and the like and ready at a moment's notice to replace Remus' pencil or hand him a new sheet of paper. And Remus started doing very serious map work, like counting out the length of Sirius' wall with paces, from end to end. And then he added a little line at the bottom of his map, next to the key. “That's a legend,” he explained. “It says how far stuff is. So, like, this page'll be as wide as the wall, which is five-hundred steps.”

Sirius nodded. That made sense. After all, maps were used for exploring, and the pirates or conquistadors or whoever needed to know how far away things were when they were looking at maps.

About halfway through the map-making, both Sirius and Remus looked up at the sun, that each other. They were hot, and sweaty, and it was getting late. Sirius peered over Remus shoulder at the perfectly laid out (if maybe a little bit squiggly and kind of drifting to the right in this weird, undefinable way) map, then back at Remus. “Lemme just do the rest,” Sirius suggested.

Wiping a hand on his face, Remus nodded. “Yeah. That's a lot of work.”

And so Sirius practically ran through the rest of the world, Remus laughing and stumbling after him as Sirius rapid-fire sketched things on the map. The old garden, the abandoned house, the stones laid out in squares and lines like there used to be a house there. And finally Remus' wall and his door, which Sirius had never really had a good look at before.

Standing in front of it, Sirius stuck a hand out and tentatively stroked down the rough wood. It was... different, from his. He could see each of the boards of wood separate from each other, and all these lines squiggling in the middle of them. And the wood itself wasn't smooth: there were bits and pieces sticking up, like his hair when he just woke up in the morning. Even the handle was different: a round door-knocker looking thing, rather than the curved, polished lever that was in Sirius' door.

“Done?” Remus questioned, breaking through Sirius' contemplation. His neck craned as he looked over Sirius' shoulder at the now-completed map.

The difference between the two bits of the map was obvious: Remus' all painstakingly measured, but a little bit off and odd in spite of all its careful detail. Sirius, on the other hand, had the luxury of making things look right, disregarding how they measured out in the big scheme of things. So even though his side of the map was less detailed and neat, his buildings were lined up in nice rows and didn't have that weird slant that Remus' buildings did. Of course, they didn't have the detail, either. And the sizes and distances were probably all manner of off.

“Come on.” Sirius shoved his shoulder into Remus. “We should hide this somewhere. Maybe at the bench?

Remus nodded, contemplative as they walked back to their bench in the dying sunlight. “We could put it under the bench for now. But we should have a... a box. To keep stuff safe in.”

Sirius grinned. “Like a treasure chest! Our very own one. And we could keep things in it, brilliantly secret things, like our treasure map, and... and stuff. That we find.”

“Costumes,” Remus suggested. Sirius' eyes lit up, brain firing all sorts of directions as he wondered at the sort of bits and bobs he could collect from around the house and secret away to their treasure box.

“Yeah,” Sirius breathed. “Costumes. And weapons! And treasure.”

As they reached the bench, Remus took the completed map from Sirius and carefully rolled it up, then produced a rubber band from somewhere and slid it over the middle of the map. Then he put it under the bench, tucked away in a back corner so it wouldn't get wet or blow away before they could get a treasure chest to keep it in.

They said their goodbyes, both boys turning to head to his own door for the night. But then a thought occurred to Sirius and he stopped, spinning around on one polished shoe. “Hey! Remus!” When Remus was satisfactorily turned around and paying attention, Sirius waved his hand around. “We should come up with a secret handshake. Sometime.”

Sirius couldn't tell if it was the late afternoon sun or if it was excitement for his idea, but Remus' eyes definitely shown brighter. “Yeah!” Remus agreed. “Yeah. We'll do that. Next.”

After dinner that night, Sirius spent the time before his bath searching around for costumes and boxes that wouldn't be missed. Arms laden with scraps of old clothing, curtains, sheets, and even a pair of old boots from goodness knew where, Sirius went about setting up a little box for himself outside the Door. He hid it beneath an old desk covered in a sheet, and then covered the box itself in another sheet for good measure. When he finished, he beamed at the invisible box beneath the desk. Now he didn't have to be careful not to ruin his trousers or waistcoat or shoes when he played with Remus. He could just change into these clothes, and not have to worry about Walburga's keen eyes finding a grain of sand caught in his trouser cuff and having to answer impossible questions.

When Sirius went to bed that night, his arm and shoulder were already feeling better.

Chapter 6
Summary:
Remus helps Sirius with his maths; Sirius saves Princess Remusa from the evil witch.

Chapter Text
With a growl Sirius threw his books, pencil, and papers across the clearing. Of course, Remus chose just that moment to appear, starting backwards at the movement and eyes wide as they tracked Sirius' pencil rolling gently toward him. Sirius threw himself back on the bench and crossed his arms, not saying anything as he watched Remus lean down and pluck his pencil from between a seam in the marble pavers. Then Remus went and picked up everything else – his papers, his book – and carried them all over to the bench. He sat down on Sirius' left without saying anything, just fiddling with the pencil for a little bit before he looked down at the papers.

Sirius watched him out of the corner of his eye, then more raptly as Remus put pencil to paper. In minutes, Remus had filled up a scrap sheet of paper with what looked like all the answers to Sirius' homework, then continued on to start writing... something else. Some sort of numbers table. Curling his bare feet under him on the bench, Sirius leaned over and watched.

When he was finished, Remus handed the sheet of paper with the tables on it over to Sirius. “Hasn't your teacher ever show you the patterns?”

Staring down at the paper, Sirius slowly shook his head. It looked like Remus had written the times tables. But they were... different. They were organized all weird, except they were organized in this way that made some kind of perfect sense that no one had ever told Sirius about, and he'd never found out on his own. Absently he corrected Remus: “I've got a tutor.”

For a moment Remus was silent as Sirius continued to pore over the table. Then, tentatively: “Like... to help you out? After school?”

Sirius shook his hair out of his eyes as he looked up. When he saw the expression on Remus' face, he suddenly realized what Remus was saying. Oh . Right. Most kids went to primary school, with a single adult teaching a whole bunch of them at once. Sirius knew this, in some abstract corner of his brain. He had just never met anyone who went to a primary school before.

He squinted, twisting his lips to the side as he considered how to explain the difference. “No. I... I don't go to primary school. I have tutors that come to the house and just teach me and Regulus. Not even at the same time. So, it's not like I'm tutored 'cause I'm dumb...” Sirius frowned down at the table Remus had handed him. “But maybe. 'cause I didn't think of this.”

Remus shrugged. “You're not dumb. I just... I like puzzles and patterns. When the other kids are playing footie, I like to do that. Like. Fiddle with numbers.”

When Sirius saw that Remus was sad about that for some reason, he tapped his shoulder into Remus'. Remus looked up, sun catching in his eyes. Sirius grinned. “Yeah, but you play with me. And our world is way more brilliant than any ruddy playground.”

Remus' nose scrunched up, just a little bit, as he smiled. That was enough for Sirius.

“What's primary school like?”

And then the smile was gone, replaced with something... nervous. Sirius thought maybe he'd seen that expression before, or felt whatever emotion was behind it, but he couldn't quite place it. For a long moment Remus thought, like there was a right way to explain it to Sirius and he just had to figure it out. Maybe there were secrets Remus didn't want to tell him about it. “It's... loud.”

Sirius laughed, but Remus shook his head and peered earnestly at him. “No, really! There's all these kids, bigger'n littler than you, and they're all making noises all the time with screaming and talking. It's like being in Mum and Dad's shop, except times a million. And there's loads of kids around all the time.” Again, that flicker of something across his face, that expression Sirius recognized but didn't, in some corner of his brain. Remus shrugged. “But my teacher's nice. Ms. Franklin. She teaches us fun tricks for maths and grammar. And she makes everyone be quiet for reading time every day, which is nice.” A smile spread across his face, and Sirius watched, enthralled. “She even lets me stay inside, sometimes. When we're supposed to go outside and play.”

“Do you have friends?” Sirius rubbed his chest, other hand gripping the stone bench tightly as he watched Remus. To think: he went to a school with loads of other kids, and he didn't even want to play with them. It was... impossible, in Sirius' mind. He'd give anything to play with some kids that weren't his mean big cousins or his lame little brother. It was why he liked playing with Remus so much – well, part of it.

“Not really.” Remus shrugged one shoulder. “But it's okay. I don't like the other kids very much. They don't-” His eyes went sad. But then a moment later he grinned, and Sirius smiled back because it was so unexpected. “They're not like you,” he explained. Sirius' chest tingled at that. “'cause, you're loud. But not like them,” Remus continued. “And you play right.”

Sirius laughed and punched Remus lightly in the arm. “'course I do! Who plays different?”

Remus grimaced. “Lots of kids.” Then he looked curiously at Sirius, almost... hungry. Or something. What he asked next certainly wasn't something Sirius would have associated with whatever expression was on Remus' face. “What's having a tutor like?

Sirius thought about this for a moment. Thought about Ms. Antonia, and her mean, sharp eyes. The way she wrapped her knuckles against the table and stared at him over her glasses every time he got a question wrong, or took too long to answer. “Awful,” he grumbled. “She's always...” the thought for a moment, trying to flip between his life and how Remus' must be. “She's always watching me. Like, there's no other kids to answer, or for her to look at. So I have to answer every question. And she knows as soon as I don't know something.”

Remus seemed to consider this, but Sirius could tell he didn't believe it was that bad. In fact, Remus looked like he wanted his own tutor. Sirius shuddered. He couldn't imagine anyone wanting that.

“But if you have questions, you can just ask her, can't you? Without all the other kids around.”

Sirius shrugged. “Not really. When I used to ask questions she'd yell at me.” Sirius didn't ask questions much anymore.

Silence grew between the two boys, and Sirius mulled over what Remus had said about primary school. Then he looked down at the paper in his hand, the patterns of numbers so clearly laid out, and he had an idea. “If you were my tutor, I'd like you. That'd be the best.”

Remus gaped for a moment at Sirius, then snapped his mouth shut and scrunched up his nose. “Really?”

Seeing how pleased Remus was with this off-handed thought, Sirius eagerly pursued it. “Well, because you knew the patterns right away. And that was... when my brain saw it, it like, lit up. Like you knew just what my brain needed for everything to make sense. You should be teacher when you grow up.”

Remus shrugged shyly, staring pointedly down at his toe scuffing the marble beneath the bench. “I want to go to uni. Mum and Dad thinks I could go. I'd be the first in my family ever to go.”

Sirius groaned. “Everyone in my family goes. I have to go, even if I dun'wanna.”

“Donch'ya? Wanna?”

Sirius thought about this, tilting his head back to look at the sky. Clouds raced across the bright afternoon sun, moving more noticeably when he looked at them next to a reference point, like the wall crowding in Sirius and Remus on two sides behind them. In his head, he pictured the next ten years speeding by, just like those clouds. He'd have Ms. Antonia for two more years, then he'd go to boarding school at eleven: Hogwarts Preparatory School for boys, just like his dad and his uncles and all his male cousins. Then it was seven years of being trapped in stuffy uniforms with a bunch of boys just like cousin Lucius, all pointy edges and mean, calculating eyes. Then university with the same types of boys... but he'd be away from home. In just two years, he wouldn't be living with Walburga and Kreacher anymore. And by the time he was uni, he'd barely have to see them even on holidays. He might even be taller than the both of them by them, if Orion was anything to guess his height by.

“Maybe,” Sirius finally conceded. “I want to leave home, and do stuff the way I want to. And I could do that at uni.” Fast as quicksilver, Sirius' mood changed and he grinned, bright and big, at Remus. “Maybe we could be flatmates! In uni! We'd go to the same one and get a flat together. That'd be brilliant.”

Remus grinned, freckles scrunching up into his nose. Sirius liked it when that happened: it meant Remus was smiling big; it meant Sirius had done something extra good, said something extra nice, for that to happen. “I'd help you with your maths. If you did my chores.”

Sirius nodded, quite solemn. Maths was hard enough that Sirius would be willing to do all the chores if Remus helped. He stuck out his hand, and Remus did his. The backs of their hands pressed together before coming apart, circling, and pressing against each other again. Then their hands slid back and their fingers meshed, just for a moment, before they pulled away. Remus beamed at him.

“Ready to fight the witch?” Remus asked, changing the subject.

Sirius nodded. Definitely. And this time, Remus was going to be the girl, and Sirius got to be the hero saving the day. With a flourish Sirius reached beneath their bench and pulled out his pipe, brandishing it proudly. “Yup! Get up in your tower, princess.”

Remus laughed and ducked his head, but accepted the sheet from Sirius so he could wrap himself up in it, like a dress. They even had bits of tarnished jewelry Sirius had found a box of in the loft of his house and brought in. Remus put on a few rings – many sizes too big, so he had to curl his fingers to keep them from slipping off. Sirius placed a tiara on his head. Or, at least: a fancy headband that sort of looked like a tiara. He spun Remus around once, laughing as Remus almost tripped over his dress and had to fling a hand up to clutch at the tiara. Then Remus was hurrying off, to the back house where he could climb up a half-broken wall and wait for Sirius to rescue him.

Sirius set about arming himself, preparing for a gruesome battle. After all, it was the Evil Witch he was facing: she was going to be really tough to defeat. So Sirius tucked Remus' slingshot into the back of his trousers and wrapped the pouch they had made from an old piece of rope and sackcloth. It was filled with stones picked out to fly perfectly from the slingshot. He tucked two sticks into that belt, for daggers, and then hefted his great big pipe, aka sword. He was ready. He was going to defeat the Evil Witch and save Princess Remusa from her tower.

He started forward, darting from cover to cover, looking out for the Evil Witch. She was bound to be around here somewhere, just waiting to surprise Sirius and beat him, throw him to the ground and stomp on him with her tall shoes and pointy nose and sharp eyes and...

Sirius shook himself. He could defeat her. He had to defeat her. He had to save Princess Remusa.

Just as Sirius was thinking maybe he'd be able to rescue the princess without ever seeing the Evil Witch, she appeared. He was just starting to climb over the collapsed wall, or rather, the craggy mountains, when he spotted her. She was waiting for him the garden: the garden of poisonous roses and thorns. She was chopping the rose part off her roses, just leaving the thorns all around like some sort of intentionally malicious vine. And Sirius knew the thorns were all poison, because that had been how the Evil Witch had captured Princess Remusa in the first place: by giving her a poisoned rose.

“For the Princess!” Sirius shouted, then hurled himself over the wall and started slashing with his sword.

It was a fierce battle. The Evil Witch was much taller and nastier than Sirius, with her evil talons for fingernails and chomping, yellow teeth: like some sort of monstrous London sewer rat, the kind the servants talked about like there was no way they were real. At first she reached for Sirius, lashing out with her talons and gnashing her teeth in her mad way. But Sirius blocked her blows, slashing his sword this way and that as they danced around her poison garden. Then the witch opened her mouth, and the words started spilling out.

They were magic words, of course. Evil, evil magic words that wrapped around Sirius and bound him up. His pole sword dropped to the ground and the thorny vines crawled in and swept it away, swallowing it into their deadly depths. Sirius struggled against the words, reaching with straining fingers to his trouser pocket. If he could... just... reach it...

Aha! Sirius' fingers finally grasped the slingshot in the back of his trousers. With a single violent movement he managed to toss the Evil Witch's words off of him, just for a moment. But it was long enough for him to grab a stone and load it into the slingshot. He took aim and fired.

Direct hit! The Evil Witch went down, screaming and trashing as Sirius' special stones, give to him by Princess Remusa, burned through her evil skin. But she wasn't dead yet. No, for that Sirius would have to screw up his courage and get close. Dropping the slingshot to the path, Sirius drew one of the daggers out of his side and advanced on the still-thrashing Evil Witch. With a single, mighty blow, he struck the Evil Witch through the heart with his dagger.

Her scream echoed off the crumbling walls around them. As the light faded from her eyes, so did the magic behind her spells. The thorny roses all around them wriggled with their dying throes before giving a sort of last, pathetic movement and then collapsing to the ground as one. The green faded from them, and they shriveled up: lifeless, dead things, without the magic of the Evil Witch to sustain them. The invisible bonds that were nipping at Sirius, trying to restrain him after he broke free, fell away and dissipated. With one last gurgle the Evil Witch fell back, body dissolving into a bubbling acid puddle on the garden path.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Sirius tucked his dagger back into his belt. He turned to look at the castle. The path was now clear for him: all the thorns were cleared away, and the roses were blooming again. Bending down, Sirius retrieved his slingshot and sword, tucking the first into his trousers and holding fast to the second, just in case the Evil Witch had one last trap waiting for him.

“Princess Remusa! Princessa Remusa!”

Sirius waved his sword above his head, hollering at the top of his lungs at the tower Princess Remusa was held captive in. “Are you there? Princess Remusa!”

“I'm here. Who is there?”

Sirius stifled a giggle at Remus' pitched high voice. Swiftly he made his way into the building, climbing the many winding stairs up to Princess Remusa's tower (which consisted of him stamping around in a circle for a few moments, imagining a spiral staircase in his head). When he had decided he had probably climbed enough stairs to reach the top, Sirius finished his stomping facing the wall where Remus was perched, looking down at him.

Sirius opened his mouth to call out, then shut it, then opened it again. “Oh, wait: time out!” Remus cocked his head and peered down at Sirius curiously. “Are you Rapunzel or Sleepy Beauty?”

Remus considered this for a moment. “Well, I'm not asleep,” he though out loud. “But I don't have loads of hair. You can just come get me down.”

“Okay. Time in.” Sirius pretended to stab his sword into the ground, then dropped it off to the side. “Princess Remusa! I am Prince Sirius, and I've come to rescue you! I killed the Evil Witch!”

“My hero!” Remusa clasped her hands to her chest in a swooning sort of way. Sirius grinned. “Help me down and we can ride off to my kingdom together!”

Sirius hurried forward to hold his hands up to Remusa. After a silent count of three shared between them, Remusa jumped, breaking her fall in Sirius' arms. Both boys spared a moment to laugh at their ungracefulness, then went back into character. Princess Remusa pushed her tiara out of her eyes and fluttered her eyelashes at Sirius.

“Thank you so much for saving me, my Prince!” Then Princess Remusa leaned forward and kissed the air around Sirius' cheeks.

Even though Remus hadn't actually kissed him, Sirius' cheeks flamed hot at the gesture. His eyes dropped to their feet, where Remus' makeshift dress was still visible, fluttering in the edge of his vision. “'welcome,” Sirius mumbled.

“Come on.” Remus' voice was quiet, and not really Remusa's anymore. Sirius chanced a glance up and met Remus' eyes. He was looking kindly at Sirius. “You saved me.” For just a second, Remus' amber eyes got very, very sad. Sirius' hand fluttered up, brushing gently at Remus' elbow from some sort of innate gesture of comfort. “You always save me, here,” Remus whispered. Sirius didn't know why, but those words seemed so very important, suddenly. Then, between one blink and the next, the spell was broken, and Remus' eyes were smiling softly at him again. “Let's go to my kingdom together.”

Sirius smiled back and nodded. Right. He had defeated the Evil Witch, and saved the Princess. Now they'd ride off together, and celebrate with great big parades and feasts and crowns and everything. Because Sirius was a brave knight, and a hero.

**

Sirius was still imaging himself back at Remus' castle, with the bards singing songs about him and the swooning over him and the king thanking him for saving his daughter when he was seated at the dinner table that night. So distracted was he that he didn't hear Walburga's question.

“Sirius Orion Black. You answer your mother when she speaks to you!”

Sirius' head jerked up, entire body recoiling at the tone in Walburga's voice. He shivered in his seat, mouth flapping as he searched for a reply. “Pardon me?” he finally settled on.

“I said,” Walburga sneered, long-nailed fingers curling around the bottom of her wine glass, “Ms. Antonia thinks some of her tutelage is finally getting through that thick skull of yours. You'll be sure to thank her next time you see her.”

Unthinking, Sirius rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. It hadn't been Ms. Antonia who had showed him the patterns in the numbers, it'd been Remus . And it wasn't his fault he didn't get it: it was Ms. Antonia's. “Sorted it on my own,” he grumbled. “Dunno why I got to thank Ms. Antonia.”

“What did you say?”

As Walburga rose from her seat, lips pressed so tight they were white with lack of blood, eyes flashing as she loomed over the entire table, Sirius cowered in his chair. Oh. That hadn't been good. That'd been a mistake. A really, really bad mistake.

Chapter 7
Summary:
Remus teaches Sirius what a real birthday party should be like.

Chapter Text
The stupid, formal clothes landed on the covered furniture in a heap, crumpling into messy wrinkles. A moment later Sirius was there, grumbling his way through folding them. He didn't want to fold the stupid nice clothes, and make them neat, but he had to. If he didn't, Walburga would beat him. Again.

Finally, finally Sirius was in his tattered play-clothes, and his nice clothes were folded, and he was ready to go . He yanked open the door and hurried through it, reluctant to spend a moment longer in cold, dark Grimmauld Place.

At the last minute Sirius decided to be quiet as he entered the World, snicking his door shut gently behind him before creeping over the crumbling roads, stepping on the soft dirt and grass when he could, doing his best to avoid disturbing loose stone at any other time. He managed to reach their stone wall undetected, Sirius was fairly certain.

His subtly was confirmed when Sirius peered around the corner of the wall, spotting Remus with his head bent over one of his books. Sirius couldn't be certain, but he thought maybe Remus looked kind of sad. It was probably because Sirius hadn't been able to come yesterday, even though he said he would. He had just forgot, was all. About the party and all. “Remus!”

Remus' head jerked up at the sound of Sirius' cry. But after surprise and recognition flittered across his face, the same sadness overtook it again. Sirius frowned and hurried over.

“Hey.” He nudged his shoulder into Remus' ducking his head to try and cast Remus' downcast eyes. “Alright?”

Remus shrugged, fingers running pages over them incessantly, like a flip book. Sirius knew that's what Remus did when he was upset. Without thinking Sirius stuck a hand out and placed it over Remus', stopping the distraught movement.

“Sorry,” Sirius tried again. “I forgot I had to go to my party, yesterday.”

Remus didn't say anything for a moment, and Sirius worried that maybe Remus was really angry at him, that they were going to have a fight and then Sirius wouldn't be able to come back. He detangled his hand from Sirius' to rub at his other shoulder, an expression Sirius found nauseatingly familiar flickering across his face. But before Sirius could ask – who hurt you? How could anyone hurt you? Where are they so I can hurt them worse? – his head turned, just a little, toward Sirius. “Party?”

Sirius groaned, throwing himself off the bench. He stared up at the sky, limbs spread all akimbo on the cool, uneven marbles beneath him. “Uck, yeah. Right terrible. My ninth birthday.”

Remus made a weird sound, causing Sirius to twist his neck up to look at him. The expression on Remus' face was utterly baffled.

“How could you forget your birthday?”

Sirius shrugged. “Don't like to think about it. 's never any fun.”

“Why? How?”

Sirius knocked his head back on the marble, closing his eyes against the sunlight. Red spots danced behind his eyes. They cheered him up a bit. He could pretend they were party balloons, or something. “Always is. All the cousins and aunties and uncles come over, and I have to sit and accept all the presents and watch my manners, and Walburga...” Sirius stopped, trailing off. He didn't want to tell Remus about how Walburga would stand over his left side, hand gripping his right shoulder and ready to dig in with her nails the moment he looked too bored or tired or said anything out of line.

“'s just always awful.”

Remus was so quiet for so long that Sirius opened his eyes and craned his neck again to look up at him. “What?” Remus was staring at him with an expression Sirius had seen before but never sussed. “What?”

“Don't you get cake? And presents?”

Sirius shrugged. “There's food, but it's never anything messy. And it's all fancy desserts that the grown-ups like, not good stuff. Even the ice cream has fruit in it.”

Remus smiled and wrinkled his nose. “Ew.”

Sirius nodded in agreement. Definitely ew. “And the presents aren't wicked things, like toy cars or swords or anything. It's always expensive clothes, or pocket watches, or rings, or...” he threw himself backwards again as he recalled his latest terrible gift from Uncle Malfoy. He was certain the mean man did it on purpose . “Or bone china tea sets .”

That got Remus actually laughing, just a little. Finally he slid off the bench and joined Sirius on the ground, stretching out next to him on his belly. “Really?” he asked.

“Really,” Sirius moaned.

They fell silent for a moment, Sirius soaking in the sun like old Ms. Callidora's cat. He could feel Remus next to him, lying quite still like he was good at doing. Remus could be the stillest of anyone Sirius had ever seen. Sometimes Sirius envied that quality of his. If Sirius could only go still like Remus did, maybe he wouldn't get in trouble so much at home. Maybe he wouldn't break things or spill juice onto his formal shirt and receive a lashing with Orion's belt.

“You thought I wasn't coming.” Sirius spoke before he even had the thought, but when he did he realized he was probably right. Remus had been looking all sad, like he thought Sirius was gone and wasn't coming back. Unless he had other reasons to be sad. Reasons having to do with his sore shoulder.

To Remus' credit, he punched Sirius in the arm and grumbled: “Shut it. Tosser.” Sirius grinned and didn't bother opening his eyes.

It was because he was right. Remus had been scared something had happened. With the way their schedules were, Sirius was almost always there first, and always had more days to spend in their World than Remus did. Between primary school and helping out in his parent's shop, Remus could only sneak away a few days a week when school was on. But Sirius had all the time in the world. His school was a tutor who only bothered him a few hours every day, and God forbid he even mention the word “work” to Walburga. She'd wash his mouth out with soap. Or worse.

So as it stood, Sirius was almost always the one waiting for Remus, playing around their World before he showed up. Once Sirius had even managed to scare Remus by jumping out from behind his door as he shut it. Remus had laughed and tried to tackle Sirius to the ground, but Sirius had been too fast and ran around the entire world twice before Remus gave up and panted out a truce. So when Sirius didn't show up yesterday, even though it was one of the days Remus could be there, Remus must have gotten nervous. Remus had missed him. Sirius held onto that thought with the ferocity of a scientist coming to his great Eureka moment.

Of course, that still didn't explain the shoulder. But maybe Remus had just been roughhousing with some of the blokes at primary school and got himself shoved into a tree or something. Wasn't like Remus was the biggest of boys – Sirius could certainly manhandle him easily enough.

“D'you still want to be the princess today?”

At this Sirius finally cracked open an eye, letting his head list sideways as he looked at Remus. “'s my turn, isn't it?”

Remus shrugged one shoulder. “But it's your birthday. Was yesterday. You should get to pick.”

Sirius beamed. Oh. That was the sort of stuff that happened to normal people on their birthdays? That was brilliant! No wonder people liked them. “Okay! No, wait: I've got a better idea.” Sirius' eyes glinted. He knew a way to be the girl and be the hero. “Let's do Cupid! I'll be Psyche.”

Remus grinned, and Sirius basked in the warmth of more than just the sun. He knew he was being clever, and Remus always liked cleverness more than anything else. With Psyche, Sirius got to be the one to have an adventure while Remus waited, and still use up his turn of being the girl. It was the perfect plan. And Remus'd have to agree, since it was his birthday .

Birthdays really could be brilliant. Sirius had never known that before Remus.

“Okay,” Remus agreed. “But we're together first, remember? And I'm invisible.” Remus rummaged through their costume box, finally pulling out a cloak. “Here. When I have this on I'm invisible.”

Sirius nodded, rolling up to his knees to look through the box himself. He'd have to wear the girl clothes again, but that was okay. When they were playing ancients they both ended up dressing like girls anyways, with the togas and such. Remus started sorting through the props they'd need, like an old box for the bag of grain and some scraps of fabric for the golden wool. Now Sirius just had to figure out how to do his hair. He needed to be beautiful enough to make Cupid fall in love with him, after all.

**

Sirius was still fiddling with the sleeves on his play-shirt when he stepped into their meeting area a few days later. There were great big holes in the shirt, to the point where one of the holes went from his elbow to his wrist, and his hand kept slipping out through it. He could just rip it off, or let it slide out, but Sirius fancied himself a bit of a pirate in the shirt, and pirates had big, billowy sleeves. Not vests.

So intent was he on fixing his shirt that Sirius didn't even look up to greet Remus as he rounded the wall. It wasn't until Remus said “Surprise,” in his shyest voice that Sirius looked up. And promptly found himself amazing, incredibly, unbelievably surprised.

In their little space, Remus had decorated. Like a real birthday party. He had strung colorful paper chains all at the top of the walls, wherever he could reach. And their bench was covered in a blanket, with a whole spread on top. There were two muffins, one of them with a candle poking out the top, and both were heaped with piles and piles of icing. And there was even a card propped up against the candle-impaled muffin, with Sirius' name written carefully on it.

Remus was standing just in front of the display, hands wringing at each other as he waited, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet. “I dunno how you spell it,” he started. “I thought it was like the star, but I never asked. I hope it's right.”

Sirius stopped. Just... stopped. His whole body stopped right there in their little meeting place shadowed by two walls, because his brain had stopped, and his heart had stopped. Only, really, his heart wasn't stopping so much as going a million times faster than it should, than it could , because he just couldn't feel everything that he was feeling. It was all this pressure in the middle of his chest, all different sorts of thoughts and words and feelings that he didn't... he couldn't... And they all wanted to get out, right then and there. So he was going so fast that he was still, and stopped, because he couldn't even find the space within himself to consider thinking about how to respond.

It was Remus – of course, it should be – that got Sirius slowed down and started again. “Sirius? Is it okay?”

Then Sirius moved, and it was to grab Remus and tug him tight to his chest, hugging him like he never, ever wanted to let go. “You're my best friend,” Sirius whispered. “You're my best friend forever . We're going to go to uni and get a flat together and be best friends forever because you're my best friend.”

When Sirius let Remus go for air his face was flushed between the light spattering of freckles. He looked down, then up, then down again as he finally replied: “You're my best friend too, Sirius. You're my only friend.”

Before any more feelings could beat at the inside of Sirius' chest he held out his hand, and him and Remus went through the motions of their secret handshake. Sirius turned to the spread on the bench and examined it more carefully, now that he was closer. “Walburga always makes me open the card, first,” he thought out loud.

“Let's eat, first. Oh, no! First-” and Remus produced a tattered old matchbook from somewhere in his trousers. Sirius watched, fascinated, as Remus carefully ripped a match out and struck it against the back, lighting it on the fourth or fifth try. Then he carefully lit Sirius' candle, and starting rushing through “Happy Birthday”.

When he was done Sirius didn't even know what to do. He looked down at the candle and then up at Remus for prompting. This was something entirely out of his depth, for once. “Blow out the candle,” Remus instructed. “And you have to think of something you wish for. But you can't say it out loud, or tell me after. Or tell anyone . Otherwise it won't come true.”

Screwing up his face, Sirius thought. What could he wish for, at the best birthday he had ever had? Then he looked across at Remus waiting for him to blow out his candle, and he knew. I wish me and Remus stay best friends for ever and ever and ever. And that we get a flat together one day and I never, ever have to go back to Grimmauld ever again .

Sirius blew out the candle in one go, and Remus cheered. There was a tingle across his skin, maybe like magic setting to work. Sirius could only hope he had done the wishing part right.

The muffins were delicious . The best kind of dessert: so sweet Sirius thought his teeth might fall out and his blood jump right through his skin. And the cake part of it was so gooey and thick that Sirius found himself almost unable to finish the dense, rich dessert. But he definitely managed it, even if his stomach was left feeling big and full. It was the best birthday dessert he'd ever had; it was probably the best dessert ever he'd had in his entire life .

When Sirius said as much to Remus, the other boy grinned and licked the last bit of sticky cake off his fingers. “Mum made it, for the customers. I nicked two this morning and saved them all day.”

Sirius licked the cupcake wrapper. “Your mum's brilliant .”

Once the cupcake had settled in his stomach and wrapper all but devoured, Sirius turned his attention to the card. He took a moment to look at his name, spelled out perfectly in Remus' careful handwriting. It wasn't as fancy as Sirius' – born from years of painful calligraphy lessons – but it was nice, and neat, if simple. It was like Remus.

“Did I spell it right?”

Remus was sitting close to Sirius, peering down at the card as he asked.

“Yeah,” Sirius reassured him. “Yeah. Just like that. Like the star.”

Never before had Sirius been eager to open a card before, but that was just the sort of day it was. Remus had given Sirius a birthday party entirely unlike any other he'd had before: someone fun and nice and about him instead of about the Blacks. And then Remus had given him desserts that were actually yummy instead of gross puddings or ice cream with fruit in it. So even though Sirius had never been excited about a card before, now his fingers slipped and tore at the paper with nervous anticipation.

When he tugged the card out of the envelope, Sirius grinned. There was a drawing on front, and glitter. Some of it transferred to Sirius' hand even as he was just holding the card. He marveled at it, turning his hand in the sunlight and watching the way it glinted at different angles. “It's the time we played Prince Ali and the magic carpet. See? There's you and me on the magic carpet, fighting the sorceress above Baghdad.”

Sirius grinned, touching the drawing lightly. The glitter was a trail flying behind the carpet – Sirius supposed it was meant to indicate magic. Inside the card were the words “Happy Birthday, Sirius! Sincerely, Remus” written in Remus' careful penmanship. Sirius closed the card and placed it down on the bench, smoothing out the edges.

“Thank you,” he whispered. In that moment, Sirius realized why people said thank you, what they were supposed to mean when they said it. All his life he'd memorized a dozen, a hundred different instances when he was supposed to reply with “thank you”: when someone passed the salt, when Mr. Malfoy said something mean to him, when Walburga let him go to bed after dealing with him. But now, suddenly, viciously, Sirius knew what it felt like to be thankful.

“Thank you,” he repeated, looking Remus in the eyes. “This is the best birthday I've ever had.”

Remus shrugged, fingers fiddling with his cupcake wrapper. “It's not much. Next year I'll know, and we'll do something really brilliant. Have a whole week of adventures just about your birthday. Big feasts with the whole court, and magicians and jugglers and acrobats from all over world and time.”

Something occurred to Remus. “What about your birthday? We have to do something for it.”

Remus shook his head. “I'm already nine. And I don't turn ten for months. It's all the way in October.”

“You have to tell me when it's coming up. Because I want to do something just as brilliant as you. Promise!”

Remus smiled, ducked his head. “Okay. Promise.” They shook on it with their special secret handshake. Rocking forward onto his ties, then back again, Remus nodded at their costume box. “Want to play? I read a whole new book about constellation myths: Orion and Castor and Pollux... I was thinking we could be Castor and Pollux.”

Sirius winced. He had a great-uncle Pollux. He wasn't very nice. “I call Castor,” he declared. Remus voiced no objections, so they set to work picking out their costumes.

**

Late afternoon found Sirius stepping back through his door and into Grimmauld Place, card from Remus clutched close to his chest. As he was changing back into his normal clothes, Sirius took one last, long look at the card. Then he put it in the bottom of his clothing box, covering it with his dirty clothes. Then came the top of the box, a sheet over that, and the whole thing got tucked under its desk with a sheet over that . Satisfied the present from Remus was well and truly hidden, Sirius spared one last look at the door before making his way out of the dusty room.



Chapter 8
Summary:
Stargazing.

Chapter Text
 The night air had just enough chill in it that the two boys decided it'd be best to drag one of the blankets out of their costume box before heading down to the beach. Since Remus had brought the telescope in the first place, Sirius was left with carrying the blanket. It dragged in the grass between the ruins, catching on a piece of broken pillar here, a half-decayed wall there. Sirius almost fell backwards once, and had only been saved because the cheap fabric of the blanket tore at the last moment. Remus turned around at the noise, toes curling in the empty circle of dirt he was standing in. “Alright?”

Sirius nodded, gathering up as much of the material as he could into his arms. Then his hair fell in his eyes, and he tossed his head back to try and see. What he saw was Remus grinning at him.

“Oi!” Sirius grumbled. “I've got all the-”

Sirius snapped his mouth shut when Remus tucked his telescope in the back of his trousers and hurried to him, arms out. Between the two of them, they managed to scoop up all the blanket and successfully carry it the last few feet down to the beach.

Once there, both Sirius and Remus shook the blanket out, as high as the could, and let it fall to the sand. It was big enough that they could both lie on top of it and wrap it around themselves, so the two boys proceeded to do just that. There was some squirming and adjusting as they rolled themselves up like meat pies – Sirius took a moment to figure out how to keep the most amount of his body covered as possible while still retaining use of his hands, while Remus tugged the telescope out of the back of his trousers. Finally, finally they were settled, and Remus went still beside Sirius.

Above them, the stars were shining brighter and clearer than Sirius had ever seen them. Not that Walburga had allowed much time for star gazing, but the few times Sirius had crawled out of his bed and tugged back the curtains to look at the night sky, it had all been almost completely obscured. Between the London city lights and the trees and buildings on all sides of Grimmauld Place, Sirius had only been able to see the brightest of stars, and only if they were in the exact right spot.

Of course, he had spent a good part of his tutoring learning maps of the night sky, thanks to his family's predilection for naming everyone after stars. Naked eyed, Sirius could pick out all the main constellations. Of course, there was really only one that mattered when it came to his family. “There's Orion.” He pointed to the clear constellation, a little ways up from the horizon. He waited as Remus trained the telescope on the easy-to-spot constellation. Sirius shivered a little as he looked at it, then wrapped the blanket tighter around himself.

His father, Orion, was no great hunter. At least, not in any way that Sirius had ever been able to ascertain. Walburga was more to be feared and raced away from than Orion, but there was something Sirius thought his father and his stellar namesake had in common: they were both cold, distant, and unreachable. Orion hardly ever spoke to Sirius: not at dinner, not when he came home from work, not at family engagements. Sirius had only been called into Orion's office twice, and he didn't much like to think about those two times. The only two times Walburga and Kreacher had found themselves unwilling to deal with Sirius themselves.

“Aren't you up there?”

Sirius shook his head, then realized Remus wouldn't be able to see him with his eye glued to the telescope. “No. Down further... no, further...” Sirius watched as Remus slowly scanned downward with his telescope, eyes flickering back and forth between the end of Remus' telescope and the night sky as he tried to mentally trace the line of sight. “To the left just a little... do you see it?”

Remus' mouth was turned down in a frown as he shifted the telescope minutely around. “No, I- oh! Is it bright?”

Sirius grinned. “Wicked bright. Brightest star in the sky. Even in the Iliad: παμφαίνονθ᾽ ὥς τ᾽ ἀστέρ᾽ ἐπεσσύμενον πεδίοιο / ὅς ῥά τ᾽ ὀπώρης εἶσιν, ἀρίζηλοι δέ οἱ αὐγαὶ / φαίνονται πολλοῖσι μετ᾽ ἀστράσι νυκτὸς ἀμολγῷ, / ὅν τε κύν᾽ Ὠρίωνος ἐπίκλησιν καλέουσι. / 30λαμπρότατος μὲν ὅ γ᾽ ἐστί, κακὸν δέ τε σῆμα τέτυκται... ”

Sirius trailed off as he reached the “Orion's dog” bit. He never did like that part very much. Brightest star in the sky, and still just a possession of great, cold Orion.

When he thought to look over to Remus, he found the telescope resting on his chest, the other boy staring at him with great big eyes. “What was that?”

Sirius flushed. Right. Remus didn't have the same tutors as him – didn't have any tutors at all, actually. And apparently private schools weren't teaching Ancient Greek. “Nothing,” Sirius mumbled, inexplicably embarrassed.

“No, really. That was...” Chancing a glance at Remus' face, Sirius found he was looking at him like... like he was a superhero, or something. “What language was that? And how'd you remember it all?”

Sirius shrugged, feeling a little bit better once he realized Remus didn't think he was trying to show off. “It was the bit from the Iliad about my star, in Greek. Learned it ages ago. Greek 'n Latin are all they make me do,” Sirius complained. “Well, that and maths.”

“What's it in English?”

Hardly with a thought, the words slipped from Sirius' tongue: “ Him the old man Priam was first to behold with his eyes / as he sped all-gleaming over the plain / like to the star that cometh forth at harvest-time / and brightly do his rays shine amid the host of stars in the darkness of night / the star that men call by name the Dog of Orion. ” When Remus continued to stare at him, Sirius grew uncomfortably and needlessly pointed out: “That's me. Sirius: Dog of Orion.” He wrinkled up his nose. Even with Remus staring at him like he really was the brightest star in all the sky, Sirius still didn't find being called “Orion's Dog” any more palatable.

“Yours is too, you know,” Sirius pointed out, trying to change the subject. When Remus' eyebrows wrinkled together, Sirius explained. “Your name. It's ancient.”

Remus' expression immediately brightened until he was actually smiling. Sirius noticed he had lost another tooth – almost far enough back that it was invisible. Sirius only had the last molars left to lose. “Yeah! It is! Have you ever heard of it? Romulus and Remus? It was in the Aeneid, you know. Mum read it to me when I was little.”

Sirius nodded. He'd read the Aeneid. In the original Latin, even: Arma virumque cano . Sirius could recite whole passages of it by heart – much to his dismay. Then he glanced over and realized Remus had gone silent since he confirmed he'd heard of Romulus and Remus before. “I want you to tell it,” Sirius announced in a rush.

Remus shrugged, lifting the telescope back up to his eye and scanning the heavens again. “You already read it.”

Rolling over so that he was hovering over Remus, Sirius yanked the telescope away and stared down at a shocked Remus. “But you tell everything better. Even the stuff I've heard before.”

Sirius' face was close enough to Remus' that his hair brushed Remus' cheek. He couldn't quite see Remus perfectly in the light provided only by the moon and stars, but Sirius thought Remus' face darkened. He knew his lips for sure parted, because he could feel the moist air from Remus' breath on his chin. “Tell me,” Sirius repeated.

“Okay.”

Grinning, Sirius set the telescope down on Remus' stomach and moved off him, so he was curled up at Remus' side, leaning on his elbow as he waited. Remus' eyes stay trained on the sky for a long moment, then he licked his lips and started to tell Sirius the tale of his namesake and his twin, being raised by the she-wolf and founding Rome. When his voice faded away, Sirius plucked at his sleeve. “But you don't have a twin. Do you?”

Remus shook his head. “When I was really little, Mum used to say I was going to get a little brother. Then she got sick, and Dad said she couldn't have babies anymore.”

“Oh.” Sirius' mind flickered back to his own little brother, and how they barely spoke to each other since Sirius started coming here to be with Remus. Maybe that was wrong. Maybe he should spend some more time with Regulus. After all, Remus spoke about a little brother like it was something he wanted.

“What's having one like?”

Sirius had forgotten that Remus knew about Regulus. He thought about this for a moment. Briefly he thought about comparing having Regulus to having Remus, but he stopped himself. How he and Remus was, that was... it was different. It definitely wasn't like having a brother. Sirius wasn't sure if that was because Remus didn't grow up with him all these years and so it might be like that, years down the line when he and Remus still knew each other. But Sirius' stomach kind of squirmed at that idea. Being with Remus was different from being with Regulus, and Sirius suspected it'd always feel different.

“Having a little brother...” Sirius thought some more. “It's annoying,” he finally admitted. “It's like... he's supposed to be your friend, and you're supposed to be on the same side all the time, but you're not. Even when it comes to your parents or getting in trouble, you're usually fighting each other instead of your parents. Which doesn't make sense. We should be... brothers should be together. But we're not.”

In the dark and chill of the night, a single warm hand reached out and took hold of Sirius'. It squeezed, and Sirius squeezed back.

That was just one way having Remus was so different from Regulus. Remus understood when Sirius needed him to talk and play, and when he needed his stillness to calm himself. Regulus was always pestering, always poking and prodding at Sirius, and saying the exact wrong thing. Remus might not know all the things that happened to Sirius like Regulus did, but somehow, in spite of not knowing him better, Remus understood him better.

Sirius squeezed Remus' hand back, and they went back to staring up at the stars.

**

A few days later after dinner, Sirius noticed Regulus hurrying off to his bedroom, a sort of sullen worry tugging his lips into a frown. Deciding to put his plan of “Be a Good Big Brother” into action, Sirius trailed after him.

When he got to Regulus' room, Sirius didn't bother knocking as he entered. Regulus' door was cracked open and anyway, it wasn't like Sirius had never seen him naked before or anything. They'd taken baths together up to just a few years ago.

Regulus jumped at the intrusion, spinning around in his desk chair toward the door. When he realized it was Sirius, however, he just pouted and turned back to his desk. “Go 'way, Sirius. 'm doing homework.”

Okay, so, Sirius could do that. He could help. Operation “Be a Good Big Brother” was going to turn out just fine. “Lemme see,” Sirius stepped into the room. “You having trouble? I can help.”

Regulus' eyes were wary, but he moved his hand away from the paper he was working on long enough for Sirius to look over his shoulder and gather what he was doing. “Oh, maths. Let... I know this. Oh, I know a shortcut to this!” Sirius grinned. It was something Remus had taught him with factoring things. Remus called it the “birthday cake” method; Sirius called it “upside-down division”. Either way, it had helped it immensely – not only when it came to prime factorization, but also with getting common denominators for fractions.

“Here, look.” Without asking permission, Sirius grabbed the pencil from Regulus' hand and started sketching out the upside-down division. “Okay, so you take a number, like twenty-eight. And you got to look at the primes, okay? Only the primes. So what's a prime that goes into twenty-eight?”

Regulus looked skeptical, but thought about it for a moment and finally said: “Two.”

“Right!” Sirius scribbled the two next to the twenty-eight, on the outside of the upside-down division box. “So then you take two out of twenty-eight – divide it, I mean, not subtract – and watch'ya got? And think about it like halves, since that's easiest with twos.”

Regulus' expression was slowly closing down as he watched what Sirius was doing, but after a long moment of quiet he mumbled. “Fourteen.”

“Right! So then what's a prime that comes out of that?”

“Two. But-”

“Shh! We're almost done.” Sirius waved aside Regulus' protests and kept writing. “Okay, so two comes out, and that gives you seven, right? And then seven's prime, so you're done! All the stuff on the outside is your factors. So you've got two twos, so that's two squared, and then the seven, so...” Sirius wrote “22x7” below the work with a flourish. “See how brilliant that is? You can do this when you get to fractions, too. See-”

“But that's not how Ms. Antonia does it!”

Sirius stopped, mouth hanging open as he stared down at his little brother. Regulus was close to tears, expression fiercely angry as he glared up at Sirius. He snatched the pencil out of Sirius' loose grip and clutched it to his chest, like a weapon. “It's not how Ms. Antonia does it,” he repeated.

Sirius waved a hand over his shoulder, still not sure what had gone wrong in the two minutes since he started helping Regulus with his homework. “But this is better. And it's the same answer.”

Regulus shook his head. “I have to do it the way Ms. Antonia showed me.”

Sirius laughed. “No you don't.” Regulus was being stupid. Of course he didn't have to do it the was Ms. Antonia showed him. This was maths. So long as he got the right answer, it didn't matter how he got to it!

“No!” To Sirius' immense shock, Regulus stuck one hand out and shoved at Sirius' chest, sending him stumbling back a few steps. The other hand still clutched the pencil protectively. “You never do things right,” Regulus cried. “That's why Mum's always so mad at you, and Ms. Antonia calls you stupid.”

Sirius' chest burned where Regulus had pushed him, even though his little brother hadn't managed to put much force behind it. Tears swelled in Sirius' eyes, blurring his vision. In his attempt to ignore them, he let hot anger well up within him, taking over his reactions. “ You're stupid!” he shouted back.

“Not-uh! I do things right!” Regulus brought his fist down on his homework. “Ms. Antonia says so! You're always the one who does them wrong.”

“I was trying to help, you stupid prat!” Sirius shouted back. “Go... go bugger yourself!”

Regulus gasped, eyes going wide. Sirius abruptly realized what he'd said, and all the anger drained out of him. Regulus was going to tell Walburga he cursed. And Walburga didn't let them curse – it was “common”. Sirius' tongue curled up in his mouth at the very thought of what sorts of punishments Walburga might inflict on him for this.

“Sorry! Sorry. Don't tell Walburga. Please.”

Regulus pointed one small finger at the door. “Leave me alone!”

Praying that meant Sirius could avoid punishment, he complied immediately with Regulus' order and fled. So much for having a little brother. Remus was better off without one.


Chapter 9
Summary:
Sandcastles are tricky things.

Chapter Text
Sirius poked his head up from behind his fortress to take a look at what Remus was doing. When he saw Remus' fortifications already reached all the way to the house next to the beach, Sirius gasped. “How'd you do that so fast?!” he shouted over the noise of the ocean breaking next to them.

Remus' head appeared from behind his sandcastle walls, hair blending in almost perfectly with the sand all around him. “What?”

Sirius gestured at the sandcastle wall, which extended from the old house next to the beach all the way down to the waterline. He was even starting to build a tower on the wall! Meanwhile, Sirius' sand was alternatively melting and crumbling beneath his careful, dedicated fingers. It was barely tall enough in one section to cover him, and certainly not so for its entire length.

“Truce?”

Sirius' reply was immediate. “Truce! Come help!”

Remus had to scramble all the way into the surf just to get around his wall, and then trudge almost all the way back up the beach to get to the small section of Sirius' that was barely standing. While he walked, Sirius found between his sand and Remus'. Was it different , somehow? It looked like a different color. Maybe Remus had better sand on his side of the beach.

When he reached Sirius' wall, Remus immediately stuck a hand out and tore a chunk of sand from the wall.

“Hey!” Sirius shouted. “That's my wall!”

Remus shook his head, sand melting between his fingers. “That was too wet. It was melting. And this,” Remus went over to another section of Sirius' wall and tapped. It almost immediately started to sift apart. Sirius grumbled. “This section's too dry. It's super specific,” Remus explained, “lemme show you.”

So that was how Sirius found out that there was a specific ratio of water-to-sand that he needed to use if he wanted his sandcastle to have any sort of good, solid structure. He also needed to dig out a foundation for the wall, which needed to be filled with water. As Sirius helped it take shape, he marveled at how much better Remus' method was.

An hour – maybe even more – later, Sirius and Remus stopped, sweaty and sandy, to check their work. Sirius' wall was starting to look like an actual wall now. Sirius grinned and slung an arm around Remus' sandy shoulders. “Brilliant!” He then wrinkled his nose and pulled his hand back to himself, glancing down at how completely and utterly covered in sand their skin was. “Ew. I'm going in the ocean.”

“Careful!” Remus called out, but he was already following behind Sirius to the sea. It was an impossibly warm day out, considering it was approaching November back home. But Sirius had already figured out that seasons didn't really work in their World the way they did at home. In fact, the only rule the weather seemed to follow in their World was that it was whatever they needed it to be that day. When they talked about making mud pies or have epic battle scenes in the pouring rain, the weather obliged. When they wanted to build a fire and sit out under blankets together, there was a nip in the air. And when it was freezing cold at home and all they wanted was a scorching summer day, they got a day like today.

The sea water was cold, but not like the Channel. Remus seemed almost to read Sirius' mind as he laughed and splashed water on his chest. “Once I went in the North Sea with my cousins. It was so cold my lips turned blue in a couple minutes. And it was summer !”

Sirius laughed. Remus had family in the oddest places, like the North. Sirius' family didn't even associate with families from the North, much less have anyone in their own family from there.

“D'you think you can do the rest yourself?”

Sirius nodded, wiping the last clump of sand off his chest. Remus was watching him, finished cleaning off and left with water glinting off his chest and trousers with wet patches all over them. Sirius grinned, mischievous, as he bent down as if to rinse himself off some more. But then he leapt up and heaved great big handfuls of water at Remus, laughing hysterically at the shock that paralyzed Remus. He stood there, dripping wet from head to toe, as Sirius raced off back up the beach, to behind his wall.

“Sirius!”

Sirius laughed and dove behind his wall. His water bucket was still there, mostly full. A good thing, because he was going to need a ton of sandballs pretty soon, if Remus' shouts of indignation were anything to go by.

“Sirius! Sirius! I'm... I'm declaring war on you!”

“Okay!” Sirius giggled as he started carefully applying the right amount of water to his sand and forming them into balls with his hands. Carefully he smoothed out a section of sand to use as a bullet... dispensary... thing. What was it the royals had? Some sort of place just for all their weapons. Probably had a whole word for it, or something. Whatever it was, Sirius had one now, filled with a rapidly-increasing amount of sandballs.

When Sirius decided he had about a million sandballs in his armory (or at least a hundred), he peeked his head up about his walls. Remus' side was relatively quiet... except... Sirius gasped. Remus had built two more towers! And they even had little windows in them, like all the castles had.

Grumbling, Sirius set back to work. He could beat that . He'd build five towers on his castle. And they'd be twice as high! He'd even build stairs to go up to them, they'd be so tall. And he'd be able to fire sandballs down onto Remus' head easy. Setting to work, Sirius started building up a tower the way Remus had showed him. When he finished with that, he built another. And another. He didn't manage to catch anything more than the briefest of glances of Remus the whole time, mostly when he ran to the end of his wall to gather up more water in his bucket.

By the time the first shot was fired, Sirius had almost forgotten they were waging war. In fact, the sandball that struct his head was so unexpected that he glanced around for a good fifteen seconds, wondering what part of his painstakingly constructed wall was collapsing onto him. Then another ball crashed to the ground less than a foot from him, and Sirius gasped with abrupt comprehension.

“Blaggard!” Sirius shouted. He didn't even know what the word meant, but he'd heard a pirate say it once. It sounded wicked. “You'll pay for that!”

Remus' voice was faint and tinged with laughter as he shouted back. “Prove it!”

Sirius grumbled and started gathering up his weapons. He'd added a few cannonball-sized sandballs to the armory since he started, though he wasn't quite sure how effective they'd be. He didn't have any way to propel them, and they'd probably end up falling apart as soon as they left his hands. While that remained a problem, Sirius hefted up two regular-sized sandballs, one in each hand, and shouted: “We'll see who'll win, King Remus!” With that, Sirius jumped up from behind his wall and flung the two balls, one after another, at where he thought Remus was.

Of course, Remus was on the exact other end of his castle, and managed to nail Sirius in the cheek before Sirius even realized his mistake. Sirius groaned and dropped behind his fortification as Remus' laugh followed him. “I'd get new archers if I was you, King Sirius!” he shouted. Sirius groaned again. Remus was even better at shouting castle-y insults than he was!

By the time the sand had settled, Sirius' castle was horribly, horribly mangled. One tower was almost completely destroyed, another had the top sheered off. There were two gaping holes in his wall, and the whole thing was probably a good six inches lower than it was when they started. His ammo was out, including the cannonballs (which, indeed, had proved entirely ineffective). He crouched behind his crumbling wall and grumbled as he tied a ripped-off piece of his trousers to his finger.

“King Sirius! King Sirius! You give up?”

Sighing, Sirius stuck his hand above his wall, piece of trouser securely tied to his index finger. A sandball hurtled over his head, as expected. After it landed he shouted: “I surrender! You win!”

There wasn't a noise from Remus' side of the beach, which Sirius found odd. Cautiously – because as he had learned today, Remus was above dirty tricks to achieve victory – Sirius poked his head up from behind his wall. No movement from Remus' side. That was odd.

Then something tackled Sirius from behind, crashing him into his precariously surviving wall. Sirius cried out, but his surprised laughter at Remus' antics spoiled his attempt to be angry. “I win!”

Remus' eyes were bright as he settled on top of Sirius, beaming down at him. He had sand in his hair and sticking to his chest, back after their quick bath in the ocean thanks to Sirius managing to land a few shots in their heated battle. Sirius grinned, swiping at the sand as Remus seemed content to stay seated on top of him. Sirius didn't mind. Remus was light enough for it not to be a bother. And he had won, after all.

**

It was nearly a week later before Remus had said he'd be able to meet again. Something about a school Christmas play and rehearsals being mandatory, much to Remus' chagrin. The day they had agreed to meet again was a weekend, so Sirius had off from his tutor the same as Remus had off from school. However, Sirius was still expected to wake up in the morning at the same time and join the family for breakfast, just like every day. Because of that, he managed to get to the world long before Remus was probably even up.

Sirius grinned as he changed into his junk clothes. He was going to spend the whole morning building up even more fortifications. Remus had managed to defeat him last time, but Sirius had been studying since then. It turned out, there were lots of books in his family's library on stuff like battle tactics and wars in castles and stuff. He hadn't found anything on building sand structures, but that was why he was here early. He'd build everything back up, then build more and better : weapons, towers, everything . Maybe he'd even manage to build those towers with stairs this time.

Hurrying through the door and down to the beach, Sirius built up his plans in his head. First he'd have to repair the damage from last time. But that shouldn't take very long: no more than an hour, at the absolute most.

When he reached the dirty circle just above the beach, Sirius stopped cold. He was looking down at the part of the beach where his and Remus' castles were, but... nothing. There was nothing there anymore. But... how could that be? They'd built it up, way up over the tideline. Hadn't they? And there was so much of it, there was no way the ocean had taken it all away so fast.

But no: there was nothing. Not bumps for the walls, not even dug out places where Remus' moat had been. Sirius threw himself down the beach, stumbling and racing to it. He stared at the little road that ended at the beach, where they had drawn their literal lines in the sand. Nothing. There was nothing anymore. Nothing left. Collapsing down onto the beach. Sirius shoved his hands into the sand, and started to cry.

When Remus found him there an hour later, Sirius had dried his tears. Because big boys didn't cry, and they definitely didn't cry over something as stupid as a sandcastle. But when he heard Remus' footsteps behind him on the path, and some small noise of dismay that escaped Remus' throat, tears burned hot and real at Sirius' eyes again. He choked them down, wiping his miserable face against his sleeve. He couldn't cry over this. More importantly: he couldn't let Remus see him cry over this.

“Sirius?”

Sirius grumbled something.

Remus fell silent, but Sirius could feel him at his back: watching, considering. After a moment or two, while Sirius did his best to get his sniffling under control, Remus clambered to set himself down next to Sirius on the sand. Their shoulders bumped. Remus didn't move to put any more distance between them, so they stayed touching.

“It's okay,” Remus said after a while. “We can build another one. Or play something else.”

Somehow that easy reassurance just served to make Sirius angry. “I don't want to do something else!” he shouted. “I wanted to keep playing castle! We worked so hard, and now... it's all gone.”

There was a long pause, like Remus was letting Sirius' words float away before he filled the air with new ones. His arm slipped around Sirius' back, and Sirius found himself curling up into Remus, letting Remus comfort him. “Maybe it's a good thing,” Remus mused. Sirius' head was tucked just under Remus' chin, and his lips tickled Sirius' hair as he talked. “If you think about it like, the sea took away the castles because we weren't supposed to spend anymore time on it. We were supposed to do something better. Because the sand stuff's never going to last forever. And the sea was telling us we should do stuff that would be better, like the buildings here and all.”

“I don't want to do something different,” Sirius grumbled. But his eyes were already feeling dryer, his chest a little less desperately hurt.

“Maybe the sand's like when you're drawing a picture, and you do it in pencil first. Then you can erase and make mistakes and change it. But then when you go to do something really important, you do paints. Because those are permanent. Maybe that's what the sea was doing: taking away our pencils.”

Sirius listened to Remus' breathing after he finished, head shifting with the gentle rise and fall of Remus' chest. He was pressed so close he could even hear Remus' heartbeat beneath his ear: a reassuring, steady thing. Something permanent. Like paints.

Sirius must have drifted off for a little bit, because when he opened his eyes again the sun was noticeably shifted towards afternoon. He moved away from Remus, untangling himself from Remus' arms and chest. The other boy just watched him move, eyes patient, unquestioning.

“I have to go soon,” Sirius said. Gone too long, and Walburga would eventually notice.

“Okay.”

Impulsively, Sirius pulled Remus into a hug, clutching him tight to himself. Remus hugged back, nose settling in the crook of Sirius' shoulder. “See you,” Sirius mumbled when they separated.

“Tomorrow,” Remus promised. “I can be here tomorrow. And we'll play something new.”

Sirius nodded as he pushed himself to his feet and brushed sand from his clothes. Tomorrow they'd start something new, and it'd be okay. So long as Remus said it, it would be.



Chapter 10
Summary:
Sirius and Remus play some new games.

Chapter Text
The world was so much more quiet down here. Not completely silent, but definitely muffled. Sirius wondered if this was how it was inside Remus' head. Not less active, because Sirius could still see everything and hear some. But quieter. Calmer.

Sirius broke the surface of the water, breathing deep as he shook water from his hair. Next to him, Remus was just dropping down into a crouch, submerging himself in the shallow end of the pool. Sirius tapped his head to get his attention.

“What?” Remus rubbed at his eyes with wet hands, blinking to try and get all the water from them. Sirius noticed his eyelashes were still wet and clumped together in pretty little brown triangles.

“Do you want to play something?”

As Remus pondered this, he let himself float backwards a bit, toes keeping himself steady on bottom of the pool.

They had decided today, with the sun sweltering high over head and shining fiercely, that they should try to go for a swim in the pool. Of course, since neither of them actually knew how to swim, this had just resulted in them splashing around the shallow end of the pool, sticking their heads under the water and resurfacing when their lungs deigned themselves in need of a reminder that they weren't fish.

When Remus had suggested them try and go for a swim, Sirius had frowned and felt a little flare of shame spark in his chest. He didn't have what anyone might consider “normal” swimwear: rather, it was clothing designed to cover as much skin as possible while still looking somewhat like it was beach-worthy. He had settled on protesting by fibbing just a little in telling Remus that he didn't have any swim trunks. Remus had just laughed and started stripping down to his pants. After a brief moment of stomach-flipping confusion, Sirius had realized that Remus intended them to wear their pants in lieu of swimwear. Sirius had ducked his head in embarrassment at his naivety and quickly followed suit. Their clothes were waiting for them in a windowless window ledge, plenty far away from their splashing and general carousing.

“We could play Marco Polo.”

Sirius waved his hands lazily through the water, watching with fascination the different eddies and mini-Charybdis’s he could make. The pool had some sort of minimal current flowing through it (which was probably why it had never gone all gunky and gross like that old broken down fountain that occupied a far corner of Grimmauld Place's backyard). The current made it so that the water flowed fundamentally differently than any other water Sirius had been in: it wasn't completely still, like his bath, but it wasn't a quick-moving, strong current like the ocean. Sirius thought he could try out different splashes in the water for a long time before he was satisfied that he had it sorted.

Finally he lifted his head and cocked it at Remus. “What's Marco Polo?”

Remus' expression shifted quickly from ponderous to excited. “Oh, it's brilliant. I shut my eyes, and call out 'Marco'! Then, you have to say 'Polo', unless you're underwater, and then I have to find you and try to tag you out. Oh, and if you get out of the water and I think you are, I get to call “fish out of water!” and you have to be it.”

Sirius nodded his understanding. So it was like water-tag, only with a couple more rules. That could be fun. “You be it first,” he decided. “Because you know the rules.”

Remus nodded, unfazed. “Okay. I'll close my eyes and count to twenty.”

Even as Sirius nodded, he was looking around and strategizing. Neither of them could go into the deep end, so that was out. Sirius supposed he could cling to the edge of the pool and drag himself around the deep end, but that'd be kind of cheating. Plus Remus wouldn't be able to save him if he slipped, and the marble floors around the pool were pretty slippery when they were wet. So his smartest route would probably be to go to the opposite corner from where Remus was, which would be the spot just before the pool dropped off to the deep end and agains the far wall. Then, as Remus got closer, Sirius would just have to keep on hurrying ahead of him, as best he could in the odd bouncing-walk they'd both adopted for moving around in the water.

“Eighteen, nineteen, twenty. Marco!”

Sirius grinned. Calling out to the person who was It where you were seemed to totally opposite of everything he had ever learned about tag. It was bizarre, but kind of fun and exciting. “Polo!” he called back.

When Remus turned to perfectly face him, Sirius felt a little nervous. He had a feeling he wouldn't feel as sure about Remus' direction when he was It and had his eyes closed. Remus might be really, really good at this.

Sure enough, to Sirius' immense dismay, Remus closed in on him quickly. Sirius found himself boxed in at the front corner of the pool, only managing to get as far as Remus' starting point before he could himself unable to go any further. Remus was so close to him, hands stretched out and eyes closed, face tilted slightly up as if he was almost sniffing Sirius out. Sirius quivered with suppressed laughter against the corner of the pool. He could try and get out, but he was certain Remus would hear him. And he didn't want to become It because he was almost kind of cheating. So Sirius just made himself as small as he could pressed up against the corner, and did his best not to giggle hysterically as Remus continued to inch forward.

“Marco?” Remus called out one last time. His right hand swept an inch from the tip of Sirius' nose.

“Polo,” Sirius whispered. Remus moved forward the final foot, and Sirius found himself plastered between Remus' soft, warm skin at his front and the hard, cold marble of the edge of the pool behind him.

Remus laughed, opening his eyes and looking to Sirius'. They grinned at each other, Sirius doing his best to stop quivering from some sort of nervous excitement that had taken over him. This was definitely a good game. They'd have to play this loads .

“You're it.”

Sirius laughed for real this time, because he could. He shoved at Remus' chest playfully. “You're too good! I'm never going to catch you, am I?”

Remus' grin was quick but brilliant. “You gotta try.”

Sirius scoffed. Of course he was going to try. It'd be no fun if he didn't. But he definitely didn't think he'd be able to catch Remus.

They separated and Sirius turned into the corner, closing his eyes. “One, two, three...” The sounds of Remus splashing away from him were loud for a moment, and then... quiet. Sirius grumbled to himself. If Remus was already about to get so quiet, there was no way Sirius would be able to find him. But then again, he'd still have to say Polo. So Sirius could find him that way.

Turned out, Sirius really should have paid more attention Remus' little rule about having to reply “Polo!” “ except when under water ”. That addendum was apparently Remus' key to winning the whole thing. Sirius called out Marco and received a “Polo” back for his efforts twice through the whole thing. After an hour (or it felt like an hour, at least) of hands held out in front of him and throat getting sore from yelling “Marco!” so many times, Sirius finally conceded defeat, opening his eyes and staring around for Remus. He was under water, of course.

When he came up for breath it was so quick that Sirius had to splash and head toward him a couple times before Remus realized they weren't playing anymore. He grinned victoriously, rubbing his eyes again as he tried fruitlessly to dry them. Sirius glared daggers at Remus and made sure to dunk him under the water once when they swam together. Remus laughed and combed his hair back with his fingers, still smiling. Sirius grumbled and headed out of the pool. It was easy to smile when you won.

“Sirius!” Remus climbed out after Sirius, looking a little worried. Sirius bit back a grin and waited at the edge of the pool for Remus to join him on dry land. “Sirius, don't be mad. Sorry. I play loads with my cousins, and-”

The moment Remus was standing on his own two feet, Sirius' hands shot out and shoved him back in the pool. The look on Remus' face! Total shock. Sirius laughed and danced around on the marble, making faces as Remus resurfaced, gasping for breath and coughing water out his nose.

“Ah! There. Now we're even.”

As Remus got back to the edge of the pool, Sirius realized he was studying Sirius' ankles carefully. Quick as could be, Sirius darted back from the edge of the pool and toward the archways of the building. Remus laughed and leapt up to make a half-hearted grab for Sirius' legs, but Sirius was already well out of range by then. Splashing the water in disappointment at his attempted revenge being thwarted, Remus started to haul himself out of the pool again.

As Sirius went to reach for his clothes, Remus stopped him and nodded out of the pool house. “Wait. Let's go dry out for a bit.”

Sirius blinked, pondering this for a moment. Wet fingertips brushed the fabric of his trousers as he looked at Remus, dripping wet with nothing covering his skin except a small strip of barely-there modesty provided by his skivvies. Sirius nodded. “Okay.”

Across the road from the pool house were the foundations of a completely destroyed building, by what Sirius couldn't fathom. With all that was left being the foundations, the entire floor plan of the building was exposed to the sun. The old stones that once supported the building provided the perfect place for two little boys to spread out like geckos and dry out in the sun.

Sirius traced his fingertips along his stomach was he squinted up at the sky, eyes staring at the sun before snapping shut, filled with water, before repeating the process. He'd been told – he wasn't sure when – not to look directly at the sun. Now Sirius took every opportunity he could to stare at the big ball of fire. Which, he had learned, was actually a star just like all the others in the sky.

“D'you think there's aliens?” he asked Remus, still staring at the sun.

Somewhere to his left and a little further down, by his thighs, Remus replied. “Definitely. What with all the planets and stars and all, there's gotta be. Not on the Moon or Mars or anything, but somewhere.”

“I was thinking...” Sirius stared up at the sun some more. When his eyes could take no more he snapped them shut. Miniature red suns danced behind his eyelids. “I was thinking about our sun. And how like, if there're aliens, then they see our sun as one of their stars. And then I was thinking about constellations, and how our star might be in a constellation for some aliens. Or how my star might have aliens on planets around it.”

Remus giggled. “D'you think if they met you they'd make you their king?”

Sirius laughed. He hadn't thought of that. Wouldn't that be brilliant. One day they came down on their spaceships and took Sirius away from his home, from Walburga and Kreacher, form the whole Earth , and just sped him away to their home planet.

Sharp as a knife, Sirius felt something he'd never felt before when fantasizing about escaping Grimmauld. He felt reluctance. That feeling had everything to do with the other boy lying just a few feet away, close enough to reach out and touch. Sirius would miss Remus horribly if he ever got saved from Grimmauld, if he ever got swept away. Well. If the aliens ever came to make him king, Sirius would just have to make sure they knew Remus was his co-king.

“You'd be my co-king,” Sirius announced.

Remus took this in stride, as Sirius knew he would. “Okay. And if we ever get sucked back in time to the Romans, you can be my co-emperor. We wouldn't fight like the original Remus and Romulus did.”

Sirius nodded. Of course they wouldn't. They'd be brilliant co-emperors together.

“I was thinking about something.”

Those simple words coming from Remus always made Sirius tingle all over, like a grand adventure was just on the horizon. After all, Remus' ideas were almost always brilliant . Even if he did sometimes have ideas like Marco Polo, where he was the best and Sirius was simply awful.

Sirius practically held his breath as Remus continued. “When I was floating around under the water, I bet that's how astronauts feel. Like, in space. And how we bounce-walked around: that looks just like the videos of those American astronauts when they landed on the moon. Did you-” Abruptly Remus' voice cut off, and he made some sort of sad sound. Sirius' brows drew together, quick as a flash as he wondered at Remus' abrupt nervousness. “I mean... I know... It's not. It's not wicked. Astronauts. Only I like them.”

Sirius laughed. “Who said that ?! Astronauts are so totally wicked!” Eyes still closed, Sirius felt Remus' hair brush against his thigh as he turned his head, and a relieved gush of air warm his skin. Sirius had no idea who gave Remus the idea that astronauts were for nerds, but they were obviously the stupid type. Astronauts were brilliant . Of course he'd seen the moon landing! Everyone had seen it! And it was brilliant . Sirius hoped England started their very own astronaut program soon, or maybe started training with the Americans. Maybe he could be an astronaut, even. If he somehow figured out how to become one without Walburga knowing. Maybe he could train to be one in secret, and Walburga wouldn't even know what he was doing until he blasted off. After all, it wasn't like she could chase after him into space .

“I saw them walking around,” Sirius confirmed. “You're right: they were bouncing just like us.” Abruptly he scrambled upright, realizing where Remus was going with this. “D'you think we could pretend to be astronauts?! What... what were their names, do you remember? Walburga doesn't-” Sirius cut himself off. He didn't like to tell Remus too much about what Walburga did or didn't let him do, or really about anything that she did. Remus was so much better than everything at Grimmauld, Sirius wanted to keep the two perfectly separate, like they could never, ever overlap in a million years. “I forgot,” he finished lamely.

If Remus noticed Sirius changing his explanation halfway through, he gave no sign of it. He sat up with Sirius, little droplets of moisture that had yet to evaporate sliding down his chest. “Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins. I was thinking, we should do like, fairytales. Except with space things. Like, there's an evil alien, right? And he kidnaps up the astronaut princess...”

**

“Come on, Astronaut Princess Remusa! The alien's knocked down, and we have to run!”

Sirius' hand closed around Remus' wrist, skin sliding against skin in the water. Remusa was very seriously focusing on Sirius, shooting the occasional glance over his shoulder to the Deep Space area, where Sirius had just kicked the gigantic alien monster into.

They hopped around their space ship, the no gravity making it slow-going. When they got to the sliding doors Sirius pushed Remusa ahead of him, then dove through himself just as they slid shut. There was a gigantic explosion behind them a moment later, which pushed Sirius and Remusa to the floor of the space station. When they got to their feet a moment later, Sirius spun around and looked out through the window in the sliding doors. The bomb that Sirius had sent after the evil alien into deep space had blown up, and blown up the evil alien with it! There were blood, guts, and pieces of gross green alien skin floating in big globs all through deep space.

Sirius' eyes shown with excitement as he turned back to Remusa. “You're safe, Princess! The evil alien will never be able to hurt you again!”

Remusa fluttered her eyelashes at Sirius, hands clutched to her chest. “Thank you, Sirius! You saved my life!” Then she floated forward and kissed him on the cheek.

Sirius froze. Remusa- Remus. Remus had kissed him on his cheek. He wanted to say something, but that would mean moving his mouth, but that would mean moving his cheek, and Sirius didn't want to move it. Not yet. Because Remus' lips had been there, wet and smooth and if Sirius just held completely still for the very rest of forever he could keep the perfect outline of Remus' lips on his cheek, somehow. He could still feel them, like they were still there.

“Sirius?”

Blinking, Sirius saw Remus – definitely not Remusa, definitely Remus – flushed and nervous, chewing his lip as he looked up at Sirius. “I... um...”

Several things happened in Sirius' head at once. The first was the immediate knowledge that Remusa should do that more. And Siria should do it to. They should end every single story like that. All the time. Second, Sirius' brain kindly informed him that Remus was about to say something that would amount to them not doing this again. So finally, Sirius came to the almost instantaneous conclusion that he'd have to do something, right quick, to make sure Remus didn't apologize.

“You're welcome, Princess.” Sirius said in his most astronaut-y voice. Then he leaned forward and kissed Remusa on the cheek, just as she had kissed him. It was wet. And soft. And smooth. Sirius wondered if it tingled for Remus just like it had for him. Sirius hoped so. Otherwise he was doing it wrong.

When he pulled back, Sirius realized that it must have felt the same for Remus, because he was smiling that big, ridiculous smile he only got sometimes, and only ever when Sirius did something absolutely brilliant. Sirius beamed back, eyes flickering between Remus' lips and shining, amber eyes.

Chapter 11
Summary:
Sirius is sad with Remus, then he's sad without him.

Chapter Text
The sun was most definitely making its very last appearance over the treeline as Sirius tried to avoid saying goodbye to Remus. He scuffed his foot on the marble stones beneath his feet, curled his hands around the bench, and just generally avoided how Remus was staring at him sidelong. Remus knew Sirius always had to leave in time to get cleaned up for dinner, and it was definitely that time already, if not a little bit later. But Sirius didn't want to leave. Not yet – not ever, really.

“Can we play house while I go?” Sirius whispered. Next to him, Remus stopped scratching out story ideas on a spare bit of paper and looked up.

“D'you wanna pretend you're going to work?”

Sirius nodded, feeling miserable and sorry for himself. The only way he could convince himself to go back to Grimmauld Place right now was to play house. Remus would be his wife Remusa, and Sirius would gather up his things and act like he was heading out for work. Remusa would give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him to work hard and that she'd be waiting for him when he came “home”.

Sirius didn't sniff. His eyes didn't tear up. They didn't . But sometimes, it was better to pretend this World he had with Remus was home, and Grimmauld Place was just something to be endured. It was better to think of Remus as his family, instead of the people waiting for him on the other side of his door. And Remusa's kisses always helped. They always made everything just a little bit more bearable.

Sometimes Remus asked for the same thing in return, for Siria to send him off to work with a kiss on his cheek. But it wasn't as much as Sirius asked for it, and it was only on days Remus seemed really, really sad. Those days weren't often, much to Sirius' relief. He couldn't stand the thought of sending Remus home to something just as bad as he had to go back to every day. Remus' home had to be better than Sirius'. There couldn't be two Walburga's in the world: nothing was that cruel.

“Come on, honey.” Just like that, Remusa was tugging at Sirius' arm, encouraging him to get up from their kitchen table. “You'll be late to work if you don't hurry. And you wouldn't want your boss to get angry.”

Sirius' laugh ended up coming out more a mixture of a sniff and a sob, but he stood up. Remus didn't really know about what happened in Grimmauld, because Sirius didn't like to talk about his house or Walburga or Kreacher. He didn't want Remus tainted by Grimmauld or all Sirius' bad feelings over it. But Remus was smart: he knew Sirius never wanted to go home. And sometimes Sirius let things slip, on accident.

“Okay, love,” Sirius replied. It'd been Remus who first told Sirius about the funny nicknames that husband and wives had for each other sometimes. He himself had never heard Walburga or Orion address each other by anything other than their names. Sometimes even by their last names.

Remusa helped Sirius gather up his briefcase and hat and walked with him to the front door. Once there, Sirius turned to Remusa, eyes pleading.

Just as always, Remusa leaned in and pressed a kiss to her husband's cheek. Sirius let his eyes close, focusing on the soft, warm press of Remusa' lips to his skin. Though when she started to pull away, a great, big loneliness rose up in his chest, clawing inside and begging him to do something to stop it. On impulse, Sirius grabbed his wife's wrist and stopped her, eyes looking straight into hers. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

Remus jerked in Sirius' grip, but before Sirius could pull away and apologize he – she, Remusa – was kissing back. It was just their lips pressing tight against each other, puckering up and moving their heads a little like Sirius had seen on the telly before. When they pulled away, Remus' face was bright red, his lips slightly parted as he panted for breath.

“I-”

Sirius cut his wife off with a little, lopsided grin that hid how much Sirius' stomach was doing flip-flops just then. “I'll see you after work,” he promised.

Remus tried to become Remusa again, Sirius could tell, but he was still bright red and looking a bit dazed. “Okay. Dear. Have... have a good day. At work.”

As Sirius went through his door and closed it behind him it was with a lighter heart than he had returned back to Grimmauld Place with in a long time. Remus was utterly brilliant at making Sirius feel better about everything. So long as Sirius had Remus, everything'd be okay.

**

Sirius sniffed as he pulled the duvet tighter around him, curled up in the center of his big, empty bed. All the lights were off. All the lights were off. Sirius had ended up being late for washing-up, which meant he had been late to dinner. After she was done punishing him, Walburga got it in her head that if Sirius was a big enough boy to defy her and her schedules, then he was a big enough boy to go to bed without a nightlight.

And so Sirius sat up in his bed, trembling and tugging the duvet even tighter, if that was even possible. His room was so dark. Pitch black. Pitch black for Sirius Black. If he could make it over to the curtains and open them, maybe a little bit of light would filter in from the street. But to do that, he'd have to move from the center of his bed and walk over to the window. He couldn't do that. First he'd have to get near the edge of the bed, where anything could reach up and grab him. Then he'd have to actually step onto the floor . And who knew what would happen then?

Sirius trembled. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut and go to sleep, but he didn't want to close his eyes and miss something moving in the dark. If he just stared a little harder, spread his eyes a little wider...

What was that? Sirius' head whipped to his right, to where he thought he had seen something. Anything? As quick as he could confirm that he still couldn't see further than the nose on his face, Sirius turned his head forward again. If he kept his head forward he could see the most, and something couldn't sneak up on him. Probably.

He was so scared . And there was nothing he could do about it. Morning was hours and hours and hours away. He couldn't open the curtain to let some light in lest something grab at his ankles. And of course turning on any lights in the room was out of the question: even if he could reach any of them from the center of his bed (which he couldn't), Sirius was sure someone would notice. Kreacher, or Walburga would come storming in and snap the light off. After snapping something at him.

Tears started filling Sirius' eyes as he trembled. His mind cast about for some way to make it better, some way to make himself not so horrifyingly scared . It landed on the one bright point it always did, the one bright point in Sirius' whole, stupid life: Remus.

Maybe... Sirius choked down tears, wiping at his eyes. Maybe he could pretend with Remus. Like they were on a spaceship and the lights had gone out, and they needed to get to the reactor room and fix it. Remus could be the Captain this time, because Sirius was too scared to be in charge. Remus would know what to do. Remus would protect him, and take care of him, and fight off all the things in the dark that Sirius was scared of. Because Remus always made everything better, even – especially – the things Sirius couldn't make better himself.

All Sirius had to do was blink, and Remus was there. For a moment Sirius felt something squirm uncomfortably in his stomach at doing this. Whenever they played together, they always pretended with people who weren't real: Captain Hook or the Evil Witch or Mission Control (who Sirius supposed actually were real, but he didn't know them). Playing with a pretend-Remus seemed... wrong. Like he was cheating. Or being creepy. But then Sirius thought he saw something flicker to his right, and he was clinging to pretend-Remus with all his might.

“It's okay,” Remus whispered. “There's no monsters out there.”

“How do you know?” Sirius whispered back. He wished Remus was actually there, that he could actually feel Remus' hands on him, holding him tight. Sometimes Remus would stroke his hair when they were sitting on the bench together, or hugging when they were playing. Sirius wished Remus was doing that, for real, right now. But he would just have to pretend he was.

Sirius imagined Remus' breath stirring at his hair as he spoke. “Because I've got night-vision goggles on. I can see in the dark, and there's no monsters.”

“We could play like we're thieves, and in the forest hiding from the Sheriff.”

Remus nodded against Sirius' head. They both knew that game. It was one of Sirius' favorites, because he got to be a dashing bandit in it. “I can take first watch.”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah. You watch for the Sheriff and wolves, and I'll sleep. Then you'll wake me and I'll take second watch.”

Suddenly, it was loads easier to fall asleep. With Remus right there, holding tight to Sirius and watching into the night with his night vision goggles, no monsters could attack Sirius. He wasn't quite as scared anymore, so long as he kept imaginary Remus in his head, right there on the bed next to him, watching and protecting him for the whole night.

**

The next morning after tutoring Sirius found himself, for the first time, reluctant to go through his door to the other World. He had managed to fall asleep with pretend-Remus' help, but now he felt weird about it. It wasn't just that he had pretended about someone he actually knew, though that was a big part of it. But it also made him wonder if maybe Remus wasn't actually real. Maybe the whole World wasn't real. Maybe Sirius had just made it up, because he was scared and lonely and wanted someone to play with. It didn't feel that way: Remus seemed loads realer when Sirius played with him in the World than he had last night, but maybe... maybe.

Sirius wandered through the halls of his house, avoiding Walburga's floor, as he thought. He kept to the center of the hallway, taking care not to stray too near the perfectly clean walls or the expensive vases and family relics that dotted the edges. Normally if Sirius was unsure about something he'd ask Remus about it, but obviously that wasn't an option for this particular problem. Maybe... Sirius stopped, cocking his head at the door he had managed to wind up in front of. It was Regulus' room. There was a sign on the door in Regulus' painstaking – if not particularly nice-looking – calligraphy that read:

Do Not Enter

Without the Express Permission of

Regulus Arcturus Black

Sirius rolled his eyes at his little brother. Yeah right.

Sirius knocked on the door, then opened it without waiting for a response. It wasn't like Regulus ever did anything interesting on his own: Sirius had only ever seen the favorite son do his homework or practice his calligraphy or other stupid stuff like that to please Walburga.

Sure enough, Regulus was bent over his desk, writing what looked to be a thank-you note. It occurred to Sirius that Walburga had taken Regulus with her to visit some relative or another, when she had decided Sirius would have been too embarrassing to bring along. Regulus was probably writing a thank-you for their “hospitality” or whatever nonsense. Just like a good boy.

“Oi! Regulus.”

“Go away, Sirius,” Regulus grumbled, not even looking up from his thank you. “I'm working.”

Sirius ignored Regulus, instead hopping onto his bed and bouncing around. Regulus put down his pen and looked frustrated, face screwing up like he wanted to tell Sirius off but wasn't sure how. Sirius didn't give him the opportunity. “I got a question, a serious one,” Sirius explained. “I'll leave if you answer it.”

Regulus glared at him. “You're messing up my sheets. Kreacher just did them this morning.”

With a heavy sigh Sirius threw himself back on the bed, messing up the sheets even more. He heard Regulus squeak in protest. How Regulus managed to get along with that awful, mean, nasty man Kreacher, Sirius would never know. But Kreacher seemed to like Regulus, just like Walburga did. When he was littler Sirius thought it was unfair, but now he didn't mind. After all, Remus liked him , and Remus was worth a hundred Walburgas, a thousand Kreachers.

“'course Kreacher just did them this morning: that's when you woke up,” Sirius grumbled. Then he kept going, because he really did need someone to talk to about everything that was a tangle in his head, and Remus wasn't a possibility. “Do you ever play pretend?”

When Regulus was silent for a moment, Sirius lifted his head from the rumpled sheets and looked over at him. Regulus was staring at Sirius, little frown pulling down eyebrows and mouth. “You mean like make-believe?”

Sirius nodded.

“Not anymore. I did. Once. But then Kreacher saw me and told me that little masters didn't do that, because it was for babies and poor people.”

Kreacher . Sirius wanted to... wanted to... he didn't even know what he wanted to do to Kreacher. He wanted him to go away and never return, and then disappear forever so he never bothered another family ever again. He wanted to make it so no one in the world had to look at Kreacher's stupid, mean, ugly face ever again. For “babies”. And “poor people”. Kreacher was awful.

But Sirius didn't say any of this, because he still wanted to talk to Regulus and insulting Kreacher would just make Regulus throw him out. It happened all the time. Instead he just glared at Regulus hard enough to make sure he knew that Sirius hated Kreacher with all his might. Then he went on. “Well, do you ever think something isn't real? Like maybe you just pretended it? Like, what if Kreacher wasn't real and you had just been making him up in your head this whole time?” Mentally, Sirius basked in the thought. If only he'd been making Kreacher up in his head this whole time. Then again, if he was , then he had a really scary brain.

Regulus just looked confused, now. “But he's real. You see him. Mum sees him. Everybody does. I know he's real.”

Sirius bit his lower lip. And there was the problem. No one else had ever seen Remus – well, his family had, but Sirius only knew about them because Remus told him. And he had cards and stuff from Remus, but maybe he just did those himself and pretended like they were from some made-up kid named Remus.

“How else do you know things are real?” Sirius wondered, only half-asking Regulus. He could touch Remus, but then again, he could pretend to touch Remus, too. There were things Remus knew that he didn't, but maybe Sirius had just read about them and then forgot? For all he knew, his time with Remus could just be really vivid, brilliant dreams. Maybe he was stepping into a brick wall every time he went into the World and knocking himself out.

Okay, that was silly. Sirius laughed, startling Regulus who he had forgotten was even there. Sirius refocused on him. “How do you know?” he asked again.

Regulus thought for a moment, features which were so similar to Sirius' held so differently, somehow. Sometimes Sirius thought if they switched bodies they'd end up looking just the same as they did now. Their outsides were identical, but it was the insides... something about the way they moved their bodies and their faces made Sirius and Regulus so very different.

After a moment, Regulus shrugged and answered simply: “If you know it is.”

Sirius pondered this. Maybe. Maybe it was that simple. He knew Remus was real. He knew the Remus last night wasn't. So maybe Regulus was right. “Thanks,” Sirius murmured. When surprise flickered across Regulus face, Sirius felt the smallest flash of guilt. Even though Regulus was a great big ponce and cared too much about pleasing Walburga and Kreacher, they were still brothers. He'd have to help him out more, spend some more time with him. Tomorrow.

“Cheers.” Sirius hopped off the bed and hurried out, headed for his Door. Now that he'd at least firmed it up in his own mind that Remus was real, he felt okay about playing with him again. He still felt a little weird about using a pretend-Remus last night, but he could ignore that. The thought occurred to Sirius that maybe Remus even did the same thing: played with a pretend-Sirius when he got lonely.

For some reason Sirius' entire body felt flush with the thought. Something about Remus playing with a pretend-him when he was at home... Sirius squeezed his eyes shut tight and rubbed at his face, standing in the middle of the hallway. That felt weird. And embarrassing. Kind of in the same way Sirius was embarrassed last night when it first occurred to him to play with a pretend-Remus.

Sirius shook his head and started walking again, careful as he rounded corners and padded down stairways not too move to fast or step too loud or touch any of the precious, expensive things that littered his house. He definitely wasn't going to ask Remus if he thought about him or played with a pretend-him when he was at his own house. He'd just keep the whole thing to himself. And only ever use a pretend-Remus when he really, really needed him, like he had last night.

Chapter 12
Summary:
Sirius gives Remus a tenth birthday to remember.

Chapter Text
The glow from the torch illuminated all around Sirius, but he knew the light didn't go any further. He had stuck it under the duvet when he had first found it, to test if Walburga or Kreacher would see the glow. Thankfully, the piles of linens and the thick duvet muffle the light enough so it was like it was even there. But it lit up the space under the covers brilliantly.

Sirius was working hard, long into the night. The torch was clenched in his mouth, angled down onto the paper he had in his lap. It was Remus' tenth birthday tomorrow – or rather, it had been Remus' birthday three days ago, on Thursday. But Remus had to do school stuff Thursday and Friday, and then have a family dinner Friday night for him, and then his mum had a birthday party for him Saturday with all his mates from school. Sirius had pouted when Remus told him this, but Remus had assured him that they weren't really his mates, just all the kids from his class. He'd even look upset as he said it, which shouldn't have made Sirius happy, but it did. So tomorrow, Sunday, Sirius and Remus were celebrating his birthday officially. And Sirius had some brilliant plans.

He had searched high and low in his house for the past two weeks, looking for some sort of fun craft supplies to make Remus' card out of. He still had Remus' cards from his own ninth birthday, squirreled away in his little shoebox. It was brilliant: colorful watercolor pictures and glitter scattered everywhere. But Sirius didn't have that sort of stuff in his house. There were some oil paints that he and Regulus were supposed to use when practicing their art lessons, but they were expensive and only Ms. Antonia had access to them. And there was certainly nothing like glitter or colorful cardstock anywhere in his house.

Instead, Sirius had to make do with his fountain pen and some cream-colored paper that were standard issue in his and Regulus' rooms. They were supposed to write thank-yous or “correspondences” to important people on them. Well: Remus was an important person. The most important. So Sirius really wasn't even using the materials incorrectly.

He had thought about doing some sort of drawing, but Sirius wasn't nearly as brilliant at it as Remus was. What Sirius was good at was making letters so fancy they looked like they deserved to be read by the Queen herself. So he decided to do up Remus' letter like Remus was the most important person in the world, deserving of all the most expensive, fancy things. He had already done the front of the paper all up: little swirls and scrolls and whatnot all around the edges, like it was gilded or something. Then he made a fancy border around it, double-lined, even. The envelope he had designed for it had Remus' initials done in Sirius' absolute best calligraphy, and set up in that silly out-of-order way he had learned: RLJ, Remus John Lupin.

The only problem now was trying to figure out what to say . Sirius took the torch out of his mouth and rested it on his thigh as he thought. He had decorated the inside of the card all nice and pretty, too. But the space where he needed to write something was blank. He knew he should say “Happy Birthday”. That much was easy. But he wanted something... special. Something that would make Remus feel as good as he made Sirius feel. Something that told Remus how important he was to Sirius. But the words for how Remus made him feel, or how important he was to Sirius, just weren't in Sirius' head. It was like they all resided in his chest, in that floaty, tingling feeling he got whenever he stepped through the door, in the way everything just lightened and became better . Sirius wasn't even sure if there were words for that sort of thing. He'd certainly never heard or read them.

Maybe... Sirius glanced around, even though he was cut off from the rest of his bedroom, under the covers. Maybe books could do it better, could tell him what to say. One passage in particular came to mind.

Torch kept carefully dimmed beneath his covers, Sirius scrambled out of his bed and over to his bookshelf. He snatched down his copy of Metamorphoses and hurried back to his bed, throwing the covers over himself. Safe back in his self-enclosed world of light, Sirius set to flipping through the text for the poem in his head, two lines in particular floating around in there. When he found them, he copied down the Latin on the left side of the the card, then translated it on the other side.

Te quoque, Amyclide, posuisset in aethere Phoebus,

tristia si spatium ponendi fata dedissent.

qua licet, aeternus tamen es, quotiensque repellit

ver hiemem, Piscique Aries succedit aquoso,

tu totiens oreris viridique in caespite flores.

Phoebus for thee too, Hyacinth, designed

A place among the Gods, had Fate been kind:

Yet this he gave; as oft as wintry rains

Are past, and vernal breezes sooth the plains,

From the green turf a purple flower you rise,

And with your fragrant breath perfume the skies.

Biting his lip, Sirius stared down at the card, wondering if he should say something else. Something besides “Happy Birthday” – something explaining why that passage came to mind when he was thinking of Remus. But he found he couldn't, just like he couldn't put words to that feeling in his chest earlier. So he just settled with writing:

Happy Birthday, Remus.

Sincerely,

Sirius Orion Black

He stared for a moment at the whole thing, going over it one more time. It wasn't perfect, and it didn't do what Sirius wanted to do in the sense of making sure Remus knew just how important he was. But it would have to do, because Sirius couldn't make it any better.

Sirius folded it up, then scurried over to his desk. Quick as could be and with the torch shoved under his nightshirt to dampen the glow, Sirius melted some wax onto the seal of the envelope. Carefully, just as he'd been taught for years and years, Sirius pressed his seal into the center of the wax and held it there as he waited for it to cool. It was finished in a matter of seconds. Sirius hurried back to his bed and snapped the torch off. He hid the envelope under the pillow he never used, then turned over and curled up under the duvet. Tomorrow was going to be brilliant. He only hoped Remus liked his present, and his card.

**

To Sirius' surprise, Remus was already waiting for him when he rounded the wall to their bench the next morning. Sirius threw out his arms in frustration, present and card clutched in one hand. “Why're you here already?!”

Remus was already hurrying over to Sirius, smile big and eyes shining. “Skipped breakfast. Didn't want to wait.”

“Won't you get in trouble?”

Remus laughed. “No. 's'alright. Just told Mum I was meeting a mate.”

Sirius didn't question Remus' parents' leniency. He had figured out a long time ago what when on in the Lupin house and what went on at Grimmauld Place were two very different things. Even if Remus did sometimes get the sad, scared expression Sirius knew his own face carried whenever he thought of Grimmauld Place, it was never to do with his parents. Remus' parents seemed to love him very much.

Remus' eyes were flickering to the present in Sirius' hand, even though he was polite enough not to actually come out and say anything. Grinning, Sirius held the presents above his head and held out one arm to Remus. “Happy Birthday!”

Without a moment's hesitation Remus stepped into Sirius' arm, giving him a big hug. Sirius squeezed him back as tight as he could with one arm. He kind of wanted to give him a kiss, too, but they weren't playing anything. It'd be weird if one of them wasn't a girl, after all, and if it wasn't part of the story.

When they broke apart Sirius lowered his arm and stuck it out to Remus. The other boy grinned and took them, peering curiously at the square-shaped present wrapped in one of Sirius' spare junk shirts (he'd been too afraid to venture over to Walburga's rooms, where he supposed she must keep all the stuff she used to do up presents). Then he looked at the card, and his eyes went wide as he admired it.

“Did you buy this?”

Sirius shook his head, grinning as he watched Remus stroke his fingers softly over the calligraphy on the front, then turn it over and rub at the wax seal on the back. At least all those stupid lessons had finally come in real use. “No. Made it.”

Remus' eyes widened more, and he looked up. Sirius imagined his gaze was admiring. “Wow. Sirius, this is brilliant!”

Sirius shrugged, real casual-like. “It's nothing. Learned all the fancy letters ages ago, so.”

Gingerly Remus stuck a finger under the seal on the back, tearing the envelope open with little damage. Sirius hoped that meant Remus liked it enough to keep it. He didn't want to be the only one who kept little trinkets collected over time from the other boy. And of course, he liked to imagine Remus thought about him when he wasn't around, even when Remus was all the way back home in wherever-he-lived.

Silent as a church mouse and expression giving nothing away, Remus read over the card. He examined the front, the inside left, and the inside right. Then he looked left again, and right. After a moment Sirius realized he was trying to match up his translation to the Latin.

“Do you...” Sirius knew Remus couldn't read Latin, but he thought that'd be okay. It was supposed to be a proper, fancy card after all. And all Sirius' life he'd been taught that the upper class learned their Greek and Latin. “Do you not-”

“Thank you.” Remus' eyes were bright, his smile soft but totally, completely happy as he finally looked up from the card at to Sirius. “Thank you, Sirius. It's the best. And I've never heard of H... Haykinth?”

“Hyacinth,” Sirius said. “And Apollo. It's actually really sad: Hyacinth ends up getting killed on accident, but then Apollo is really sad so he makes him into a flower. I don't mean... You don't die, or anything. Or I don't. I just... dunno.” Sirius flushed, embarrassed. He hadn't really thought about the rest of the myth until just then. It had just been those lines that had appeared in his head as he tried to find the words to express how he felt about Remus. “I just thought it was pretty. And.”

Remus' smile hadn't waned as he listened to Sirius' explanation. “I think it's pretty, too,” he replied. Sirius' heart jumped, grin spreading across his face with joy.

“Oh. Good.”

Turning his attention to his wrapped present, Remus tugged the cloth from around it. Sirius took it from him – that was one of his play shirts, after all. When Remus saw what was inside he gasped, mouth dropping open in shock. “Sirius! This is... “

Sirius shrugged. It was nothing. It was just some notebook he'd gotten back for his own tenth birthday a few months ago. Walburga had told him to thank the person loads in his thank-you letter, since it was apparently wicked expensive. Something about ivory inlays and real gold leaf on the cover. Whatever it was, Sirius didn't need it. There were a million more expensive things all around his house – one fancy journal wouldn't go missing.

He told as much to Remus, who shook his head. “It's... it's brilliant, Sirius. But, I don't-” Remus' face crumbled as he glanced up at Sirius. “The present I got you-”

Oh. Sirius realized what Remus was on about. He shook his head vigorously. “No, Remus! The present you got me was brilliant! I've never had a pair of jeans before!” They were brilliant. Sirius would wear them all the time if he possibly could – they made him feel like some sort of Hollywood movie star or tough guy or something.

Remus was still upset. “But they were just an old pair of mine. They weren't-”

Sirius shrugged. “And this was just a'old journal of mine. Not like I was going to use it. And 'sides: you're always the one with the brilliant ideas. Now you've got something so you can write them all down in own place, instead of us using scraps and losing them all the time. And if you can keep track of everything in there, then all our adventures can be way more brilliant. So it'll be like a present for me, too.”

Remus still looked skeptical, but he finally smiled just a bit. “Thanks.”

Sirius shrugged, all casual again. “Yeah. 's'alright.”

Remus hugged Sirius, then, and Sirius kind of wished they were playing again so Remus would kiss him. He'd have to suggest something like that for today. Maybe something having to do with birthdays...

But when they separated, Remus' eyes were already gleaming with that look that Sirius knew meant he had a totally brilliant idea. Sirius grinned, waiting. When Remus looked like this it meant he had something new to tell Sirius about, something exciting and brilliant. “We could play detective.”

Remus was already turning to the bench to gather their supplies, so Sirius hurried after him. He accepted the dress they had managed to acquire at some point and tugged it on over his clothes. It was a generally understood rule that whoever's birthday it was got to be the boy, no matter whose turn it was.

“I saw these old movies, old American ones, with private detectives. Kind of like Sherlock Holmes, except they weren't as brilliant. And there was always some girl who would mess things up and turn out evil or something.”

Sirius frowned. Before he could even say anything Remus hurried on. “But we won't make you evil! You'll just come to me in my office with the crime, and then team up with me. You won't be evil. We'll stop the bad guy in the end.”

As Remus spoke, he had tugged on a jacket and hat. Sirius grinned at the too-large coat sleeves hanging down over his hands. They didn't hang quite so long on Sirius when he wore it – he was a good three inches taller than Remus by now. He had thought about arguing once that he should always play the boy because of that, but then he figured it wasn't fair. He also figured that one day Remus might end up taller than him, and Sirius didn't much want to have to always be the girl.

“The house can be my headquarters, and then the whole place'll be the city. The other house can be a pub or something where we go talk to people for clues. And the pool can be where you saw the murder.”

Sirius pointed at the notebook clutched tight in Remus' hand. “What'll you do with that?”

Smiling, Remus pulled out a pen and tapped it against the cover of the journal. “It's my notepad. Private eyes always have one, for writing down clues and stuff.”

That made sense. Just as Sirius was about to turn to head to the house with Remus, he saw Remus bend down and reach under the bench for their box one more time. Frowning, he opened to ask what Remus had forgot. But then he saw Remus tuck his birthday card carefully away, nice and flat at the bottom of the box. Sirius' words died in his throat as he watched.

Remus was definitely keeping the stuff Sirius gave him, just like Sirius did. Which meant Remus thought about him when he wasn't here, too. Sirius brain kind of stopped working at that, stalling as he stared and stared at the box where his card was hidden, safe.

“Come on.” Sirius blinked, refocusing on Remus standing in front of him. “I gotta go to my office and sit and look busy. Then you come in and tell me all about the crime. And be all scared and stuff.”

Sirius swallowed, nodded. “Right. Okay. You go. I'll go to the pool and see the murder, and you be busy, and I'll run in and ask for help.”

A quick smile exchanged between them, and then they were office in opposite directions, Sirius crossing the street ahead of him to the pool house, Remus hurrying across the street on their right to the house. As he walked, Sirius faded away and Siria took his place. She was just going to the pool house for a quick swim today, before she went home alone. Because she didn't have a husband or anything. And of course she didn't know the wonderful Private Eye Remus, yet.

Chapter 13
Summary:
Remus is late; Sirius is insecure.

Chapter Text
The stone skittered forward as Sirius kicked it, bouncing over broken cobblestones and patches of grass before coming to rest a few feet in front of him. When Sirius' stride brought him just behind it, he kicked it again, watching its path with downturned gaze. It came to a stop in one of the two parallel ruts in the road, worn into the stones by millions of wagon wheels hundreds, thousands of years ago. Sirius let the stone rest there, picking another one out mentally as he walked and kicking that new one forward.

Three, four kicks and the new stone disappeared into a pile of rubble, vanishing into the broken off chunks of pillars and walls. Sirius let it go, eyes already casting about for something else to kick.

The stepping stones were just ahead of him for the crosswalk across the road. With hardly a change in pace Sirius stepped up onto one, stretching his legs almost as far as they went to step from one to another. It wasn't so long ago that he had to jump from one stone to the next at the crosswalks scattered around the roads in their World. Now he could manage without jumping if he stepped just right and stretched his legs far enough. Another year and he'd be able to walk normally, Sirius figured.

Sirius stepped off the stepping stones and onto the sidewalk and kept walking, head down. He didn't want to look up because he knew what he'd see in front of him: Remus' door. Shut. Just like it had been for the past two days.

There was a sizable rock in front of Sirius. He lifted it, feel the weight bend his wrist and the smooth marble under his fingers. There was the slightest hint of doric fluting on one side of it. In one smooth motion Sirius pulled his arm and let lose, hurling the rock at Remus' door.

It bounced off and fell to the ground utterly anticlimactically. Sirius continued his walking, head down to avoid looking at Remus' door.

It'd been two days. Two days since the day Remus had promised they'd meet up again. They'd done the secret handshake and everything. Really, it had been over a week since he'd seen Remus, but he knew that with school and all Remus was going to be busy that week. So Sirius had asked, like he always did, when they'd see each other again. And Remus had replied with Friday after school. But now it was Sunday, and Remus still hadn't shown.

Sirius should have known something like this would happen. It was because Remus didn't like Sirius as much as Sirius did him. It was because Remus didn't need Sirius like Sirius did. After all, it had been Sirius who had initially asked if they could meet up again, after the first time they met years ago. Maybe Remus wouldn't have even have wanted to meet again after that: maybe he had already figured out that Sirius was rotten, and a loser, and didn't want to be associated with him. But he had agreed because he was polite, so they met again.

And every time after that first meeting, it was always Sirius who made plans to meet the next time. At first it was just because he was happy, because he was excited to see Remus again and play with him. So he'd speak first, whenever they were about to head off back through their own doors. “Tomorrow?” “When next?” “I can't come tomorrow, how about Wednesday?” &c. Remus never asked those question; it was always Sirius prompting the next time they'd play.

Now Sirius rushed to ask because he was scared: scared Remus didn't really want to play with him anymore, scared that maybe Remus just kept coming back out of a sense of obligation, or politeness, or – even worse – pity. If Sirius didn't make the plans, ask Remus when they'd see each other again... Sirius was scared Remus wouldn't. That he wasn't really interested in being friends, and he'd be happy to just... let things go.

Sirius stopped walking, looked around. He was standing in front of Remus' wall now, not too far from where Remus' door was. Anger welled up in Sirius' chest, like the sea at its most vicious, storm-churned. His foot lashed out, kicking at the wall. The solid, unyielding impact that jolted up Sirius' leg was like oxygen to a fire. He kicked, punched, scratched at the cold stone. It wasn't fair ! Sirius had one good thing in the whole wide world, a single person who he thought cared about him and wanted to play with him and make everything better when it hurt, and even that wasn't real. Remus didn't really like him. Remus didn't really want to play with him. If Sirius stopped coming, Remus wouldn't give it a second's thought. He'd probably be happy for the peace and quiet.

Sirius' fists twinged, then stung. He pulled them away from the wall, examining the cuts and scrapes all down the outer edges. Still angry, Sirius cast about for something else to hit, to hurt. There were more broken pieces of road and wall around here, probably from the old house that had been reduced to no more than its foundations. Snarling, Sirius started snatching cricket ball-sized pieces and hurling them at the wall. They impacted with a satisfying thud most of the time, even chipping pieces of all the wall away some of the time. Maybe... maybe if Sirius hit hard enough, and long enough, the wall could come down. Everything else in this place was coming down around him. Why not Remus' wall, too?

His shoulder ached with the motion, his fingers stung with the graze of stone against his cuts. Still, he slung rock after rock at Remus' wall, until he fell down to the ground, eyes too upset for tears and body aching with some terrible, heretofore unknown disappointment.

The sun moved, slowly but surely across the sky up above him. He knew that eventually he'd have to go back home to Walburga and Kreacher. But just for a few minutes more, he'd let himself lie here on the ground. Just a few minutes more of mourning.

“Sirius?”

The sound of Remus' voice, so close behind him, cause Sirius to jump and twist around. With the sudden motion came instability, and Sirius found himself awkwardly falling backwards among the stony rubble.

Standing before him was Remus, hands fiddling with each other and expression nervous. Maybe even contrite. But that'd probably be too much to hope for.

Sirius first instinct – his absolute first one, before his anger and pride and everything else caught up to him – was to run up to Remus and throw his arms around him, to apologize for ever doubting him and go back to playing all their games like nothing had ever happened. But Sirius clamped down that reaction before he could even twitch a pinkie, and instead lay there on the ground, uncomfortable and accusing as he stared up at Remus.

“I need to go home,” Sirius grumbled finally. Pushing himself to his feet, Sirius dusted off some of the dust and dirt from the road and started walking away from Remus. He'd never pick Walburga over anything else, but he could just hide out in the store room or his bedroom until dinnertime. It wouldn't be much harder avoiding her in Grimmauld Place than it was here.

“Sirius...”

Sirius didn't want to hesitate. He tried really hard not to. But just the sound of Remus' voice was enough to tug his body back, like he was a puppet on strings. Remus obviously saw the small movement, because he took it as an invitation to hurry forward and wrap his hand around Sirius' upper arm. Sirius kept his head turned away as Remus spoke.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stay away. Thursday Dad said we were going to visit Aunt Carole, and I couldn't get away to the shop to tell you. We just got back ten minutes ago.”

Sirius didn't care about Remus' explanation. He didn't. Because really, it didn't matter why Remus had gone, or that it wasn't his fault and couldn't be helped. What mattered was Remus was never the one to ask if they were going to see each other again, and that Remus obviously didn't need Sirius. So Sirius tugged his arm out from Remus' grasp and started walking away, back to his door.

“Sirius!”

“I have to go!” Sirius shouted over his shoulder. Now would be when he should ask Remus when they'd meet again, when he'd make plans not to lose the only friend he'd ever had. Staring resolutely forward, Sirius pressed his lips tight together and kept walking. He'd come back, sure he would. This World was too easy of an escape from Walburga and her hideousness not to. But he wouldn't force Remus to, out of a sense of obligation or pity or anything else.

**

Sirius couldn't say he was especially surprised to see Remus walking up to their bench to the next day. After all, this place was Remus' too. And Sirius had made sure to come after Remus would be out of school – no reason to actively avoid him. But what was surprising was how Remus walked straight up to him and shoved something in his hands. Sirius blinked and stared down. It was a book.

“Thousand and One Nights,” Remus explained. “It's Arab. It's about a woman who marries a man who's going to kill her in the morning. So she starts to tell him a story, but doesn't finish it. Since he wants to hear the end, he keeps her alive that day. The next night, she finishes the first story and then starts another, but doesn't finish it. This goes on for a thousand and one nights, with a thousand and one stories. At the end of it the king doesn't execute her because they're in love.”

Sirius's fingers strokes at the book. The spine was cracking and the glue melting and some of the pages starting to slip out. It was obviously a well-loved book back at Remus' house. He chanced a glance up at Remus, who was staring down at him with eyes pleading.

“It's... I'd never. Because our stories. They don't end. Like the king and his bride.”

“Oh.” Before Remus could say anything else, or Sirius could allow the emotions flittering around in his chest to solidify into something horrible and girly, he shoved the book back into Remus' hand. “Pick one, then. Or should we start at the beginning?”

Remus shook his head. “We can do them in any order. I was thinking The Young King of the Black Islands. You could be the king.”

Rising slowly to his feet, Sirius circled around Remus as he was flipping through to the story. He leaned his chin on Remus' shoulder, skimming over the text once Remus had settled on a page. “Is there a girl?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius didn't turn his head to look at Remus, but he could feel his own breath tickling Remus' cheek as it fluttered back to touch his lips. Sirius swallowed. “Can you play her?”

“Yeah.”

Remus shifted beneath him, and Sirius moved back to let him turn around. Remus' eyes were cast down for a moment at his book before they flickered up to Sirius'. “Could...” Remus stopped, licked his lips. Sirius found his gaze focusing on that and not much else. “We could start out as Scheherazade and Shahryār, the bride and King. I'll be Scheherazade.”

“Okay.”

And then Scheherazade leaned up and kissed her king sweetly on the mouth, almost like an apology. Little did Shahryār know that his new bride was apologizing for how she would be tricking him over the next one thousand and one nights, as she tried to save her own life. As Shahryār lifted his hands from his side to wrap around his new bride, he too was apologizing in advanced, for ever doubting her loyalty to him.



Chapter 14
Summary:
Escape.

Chapter Text
Sirius wanted to slam the door behind him as he stepped into the bright sunshine of their World. Wanted to, but his body trembled at the thought of Walburga finding him, and his hands were too slippery with fear-sweat to get a good grip. Instead he nudged it closed, back sliding up against it as he rested, cringing and exhausted and scared.

It was there that Remus found him who knows how long later, as he was walking toward their bench. “Sirius?”

Turning his head to the door, Sirius pressed his cheek there, trying to cool it against the cool veneer of the wood. Everything still hurt, even if it didn't actually hurt. It just hurt knowing it had happened, that he had been so stupid as to mess up again and get onto Walburga's bad side. And at Bellatrix's engagement party, no less. He was lucky Walburga had waited for the next morning to deal with him. He was lucky he was still alive.

He could see Remus' hurrying toward him, dropping his books or whatever he had to the ground. Sirius whimpered and tried to hide his face, hide his tears. Sometimes, telling himself “just one more year” until boarding school wasn't enough. Sometimes, Sirius didn't think he'd be able to survive another day at Grimmauld, much less another year.

“Sirius? Sirius, are you okay?”

At the first touch of Remus' hand to Sirius' shoulder, Sirius flinched and moved away. Remus had unwittingly touched one of the welts from the belt. Remus stepped back, hand still hovering in the air as he watched Sirius. “Please, talk to me. Please, Sirius.”

Sirius shook his head. He couldn't talk. Not yet. He'd just end up crying and sounding like a big girl's blouse. He'd be fine. He just needed some time, just a few minutes to breathe and collect himself and wait for everything to stop hurt.

“Sirius, please. You're... I'm scared. Are you hurt? Do you want me to leave you alone?”

Sirius started to nod, to tell Remus to leave him alone. It'd be much better if he could just have this time to himself. But then he thought about how Remus wanted to take care of him, wanted to do whatever Sirius wanted him to do. And suddenly Sirius wanted nothing more than a cuddle and a cry.

He turned into Remus, burying his face in Remus' shoulder. Remus didn't even flinch: he just wrapped his arms around Sirius and held on as Sirius gripped Remus' shirt and cried. He cried and cried as he thought about how he would always mess up, how he'd never be good enough for his mum or big and brave and sure enough to fill his father's shoes as head of the Black house. He cried at the sneering disappointment that was the only expression Sirius ever saw his mother wear outside of a horrifying, blood-chillingly mad rage. He cried at how Regulus had just slid his eyes away and made himself scarce when he realized what was happening, how his little brother never, ever came to his defense, even though Sirius had to his before.

Then Remus started murmuring in his ear, and the things he said just made Sirius cry harder. They were all things about how brilliant he was, about how he was the best at playing pretend and how no other kid Remus had ever met could come up with stories and act out parts the way Sirius did. He told Sirius about how nice he was, and how wonderful his presents always were. Remus admitted that sometimes he was jealous of how much Sirius knew, all the Latin and Greek and ancient myths that Remus was just now discovering and struggling to catch up on. And Sirius just cried harder, and clung to Remus' shirt, and didn't even flinch that much when one of Remus' hands accidentally brushed one of his welts.

When Sirius was too tired to cry anymore – because it wasn't like he could ever be done crying, with... everything – he pulled away from Remus, shaking his head. “'m okay.”

Remus shook his head but didn't stay anything. Instead he tugged a sleeve over his hand and used it to wipe at Sirius' facing, drying his tears. Sirius waited, doing his best not to cry again in the face of such tenderness. When he lost that battle, Remus simply pressed his cloth-covered hand over one of his eyes and absorbed the tears even as they escaped. He did the same to Sirius' other eye, neither boy speaking as slowly but surely Sirius regained control of himself.

When Remus spoke, it was slowly and quietly, like he was taking care to choose each one of his words. “You don't have to tell me,” he said, “if you don't want. Sometimes it's... Sometimes you don't want to. But I'd listen, if you wanted. And I wouldn't make fun. Promise.”

Half-laughing and half-sniffing, Sirius stuck his hand out to Remus for their handshake. Remus' smile was wobbly as he went through the motions. His fingers lingered for a moment at the end, curled around Sirius', before he let go. “We can just sit. I can read to you. If you want.”

Sirius shook his head, taking as deep a breath as he could around his stuffy nose and sore throat. Great. Now more parts of him hurt than before, thanks to all that stupid crying. Of course, a lot of parts of him felt better, too. Thanks to Remus.

“It's Walburga,” Sirius explained. He refused to look at Remus. “My mum. She... I did something stupid at my cousin Bella's engagement party last night, and-”

“What'd you do?”

Sirius shrugged. That wasn't really the point, but Remus didn't know that. So he told him: “Got into a fight with Lucius. Another cousin. He was teasing Regulus, making him eat... stuff. Garbage.” Sirius wrinkled his nose up at the memory. “I shoved him. Lucius said some things. So I hit him. And then I hit him again. And then...” Sirius winced. “I threw him in a pool. And threw a chair after him.”

Chancing a glance at Remus, Sirius saw his mouth hanging open. Sirius' stomach clenched. Remus thought he was bad, too. Remus wasn't going to want to be his friend any more, and-

And then Remus laughed, freckles folded into his skin the way they did when something was really, really funny. Sirius blinked, then risked a small smile in response.

“That's mad!” Remus said. “And brilliant! You really threw a chair at him?!”

Sirius shrugged. “Well. Kinda... like. Pushed. Across the floor. And into the pool.”

Remus grinned, then nodded firmly. “Well, he was being a prat, wasn't he? Picking on your little brother. You had to protect him!”

That was how it felt at the time. But obviously that wasn't right. The entire party had been ruined. If Bella had been the type to cry she might have, at all that. But instead she turned to Walburga and said something . At that, Walburga had turned white . Sirius had never seen anyone make her look like she made him feel all the time, but somehow cousin Bella had managed it. Then Walburga's cool, calculating demeanor had returned. She politely made all the excuses and apologies and promises to pay for the damages. Then she took both boys in one steel-fisted grip each and practically dragged them from the Lestrange house. The punishment had waited 'til morning, because Walburga had apology letters to write and phone calls to make.

“Your mum got mad, didn't she?”

Sirius turned his head down, looking away from Remus. He nodded, biting his lip to keep himself from bursting into tears again.

“It's not right.” Remus' grip was gentle but firm on Sirius' arm. “It's not. Mums shouldn't be like that. Sirius-”

“I just don't...” Sirius gasped through a fresh sob, shaking his head. “I can't. It's a whole seven months before boarding school, and there's hundreds of parties before then. I can't... I'm going to keep messing up, and it's going to get worse and worse...”

“Come with me.”

Sirius' heart stopped. Those three words... it seemed so easy . But it couldn't be. He had Regulus to think about, and all his stuff, and if they did it but then Walburga caught him, everything would be a hundred thousand times worse.

His jaw worked, trying to explain all this to Remus. But Remus just took his hand and held it tight, looking up into Sirius' eyes. “Sirius. You could be brave. Like Oliver Twist. Or Jack Dawkins, or...” he grinned, eyes teasing just a bit. “Or Wendy.”

Sirius snorted. “Why do you get to be Peter Pan?”

Remus' smile was kind – something Sirius didn't realize smiles could be until they met. “Because I'm taking you away.” Then Remus turned serious again, tugging on Sirius' hand insistently. “You could run away, and my parents would take you in. We'd get your brother, too. I promise.”

Sirius' hand trembled in Remus' grasp. But then Remus just gripped it harder, held it to his chest, and the trembling stopped. “Promise?” Sirius whispered.

Remus released Sirius' hand only long enough for them to do their handshake, then tucked it right back in his own and didn't let go. “We can go right now,” Remus said. “Just walk through my door. We'll tell my parents you're my pen-pal. You took a train. And we'll tell them all about your mum and all, and get Regulus saved, too.”

Sirius shook his head. “Not today.” If they were going to do this... and didn't Sirius' head just light up at the possibility? They might actually do this. All Sirius had to do was gather some things: a few pairs of clothes, his shoebox he kept in the storage room on the other side of his door that had all of Remus' birthday cards and presents to him from over the years. Since he was going to be leaving Regulus, just for a little bit, he should probably say goodbye to him, too. He couldn't actually say goodbye, because then Regulus would know what was going and would probably tattle on him, but he could do something nice for Regulus. Give him something.

“Tomorrow,” Sirius said. “I need to do some things, but... tomorrow.” And then he looked Remus square in the eyes. They were gleaming with hope, so just for right now, just for this day, Sirius let himself believe. Maybe, maybe. Maybe he'd be able to escape, and live with Remus, and save Regulus, and never, ever have to get beaten by Walburga again. Maybe he wouldn't have to wait seven months to escape her vicious fingernails and biting belt. Maybe he'd be gone tomorrow.

**

“Regulus?”

The cold metal of the locket was pressing into Sirius' hand as he squeezed it tight. He was nervous. He couldn't tell Regulus what was going on, but he didn't want to leave his little brother without a single reassuring word. So he settled for this, and only hoped that Regulus would realize what it meant after he had gone.

Regulus was hunched over his desk, dark hair in his eyes as his pen scratched something carefully out. Sirius craned his neck to look as he edged further into the room, but Regulus had another paper over it before Sirius was close enough.

“What do you want?”

Sirius swallowed, locket warm in his palm, now. It felt practically hot , with how sweaty and fevered his skin was. “I want...”

Regulus was peering up at Sirius, eyes narrowed as he scrutinized his big brother. Sirius suddenly felt so, so bad for Regulus. He looked like he was trying to do a tiny imitation of Walburga's condescending look, but he couldn't even remotely achieve it. He was just too small, and sweet, and – if Sirius was being a bit mean to Regulus – not quite as sharply, fiercely intelligent. Sirius should have tried more, to make sure Regulus had never saw that stare as something to be emulated.

His hand squeezed around the locket. Well, now he was doing something about it. In just a little while, he'd get Regulus out of here and bring him to live with Remus and his family. And everything'd be okay, after that. Regulus would start being a good little brother, and Sirius could be a brilliant older one. And Remus would get the brother he always wanted, and – most importantly of all – they'd all be safe, out from under the vicious, omnipresent heel of Walburga.

“I brought you this,” Sirius said, holding out the locket by its chain. The silver photo locket hung down, swinging in the air.

Regulus looked down at it, eyebrows furrowed together. “That's yours.”

“Yeah,” Sirius confirmed. He stepped closer, pushing the locket at Regulus. When Regulus didn't take it, Sirius set it on the desk. “It's got yours and mine picture in it. Walburga gave it to me when you were born.”

Still looking at Sirius like he was expecting to be the butt of a nasty prank, Regulus gingerly picked at the locket. The clasp popped open, revealing the two photos inside: one of Regulus as a tiny, wrinkly baby; the other of Sirius, barely older than a babe himself. Regulus glanced up at Sirius, eyes more soft but still suspicious. “Why're you giving me it?”

Sirius shrugged as casually as he could. He couldn't give anything away. “Just came across it. Thought you might like it. Brothers, and all.”

Slowly Regulus seemed to allow himself to believe Sirius' answer, because he dropped his gaze from Sirius' face and turned it on the locket. He lifted it in one hand, turning it over in his palm once before snapping it shut.

“Thanks. Sirius.” Regulus hesitated, glancing back down at his desk. The chain of the locket hung between his fingers, swaying in small little lines through the air. “I gotta...” he nodded at the desk.

“Sure.” Breathing deep, Sirius looked over Regulus one more time. Black, silky hair, pointed nose, grey eyes and high cheekbones. They looked so much alike. And now, maybe, when Sirius stole Regulus away, they'd actually get the chance to be alike, instead of Regulus always getting tricked and scared into being a miniature embodiment of everything Walburga thought was proper and right and good. Sirius' gaze dragged over Regulus one last time, then he nodded. “Okay. Bye.”

As Sirius left Regulus' room and returned to his own he realized his hands were shaking. Determined, Sirius balled his hands into fists and then forcibly relaxed them, repeating the movement over and over again. He could do this. He and Remus could do this, together.

**

The overnight bag was heavy in Sirius' hand, the leather stiff and underused cutting into his palm. He waddled to the bench with it in one hand and his shoebox tucked up under his other arm. His arms were still bruised and sore from his beating two days ago, but he could bear a little discomfort now. After all, in just a matter of an hour – or maybe even less – Sirius would never have anything to complain about ever again.

Contrary to their normal routine, Remus was already waiting for him. He didn't look quite as nervous as Sirius felt, but there was an underlying edge to his smile that belied his outward calm. He rose from the bench as soon as he saw Sirius, one hand outstretched as he took the heavy duffle from him. Sirius stretched his hand out, flexing his fingers in relief.

The boys shifted where they stood, looking uneasily everywhere but at each other. Sirius thought about breaking the silence, but then he realized that maybe Remus was having doubts. Maybe Remus didn't want to take him and his brother in anymore; maybe Remus had decided it'd be best just to let Sirius rot in that house with Walburga for the rest of the year – for the rest of his life.

So then it was Remus who broke the silence, except of course it wasn't to tell Sirius to take his bag back and turn around. “Ready?”

Taking a breath, Sirius nodded. Yes. He was ready. He could do this.

The walk to Remus' door wasn't very long, but it seemed that way to Sirius. Every step he took alongside Remus came coupled with a thousand doubts and worries and hopes. What if Remus' parents kicked him out? What if they phoned Walburga and told her all about what her terrible, pathetic son did? What if Remus got tired of Sirius, and turned him out after just a couple months?

What if it worked? What if Sirius never had to see that horrible, mad woman ever again, and managed to save Regulus from her vicious insanity, too? What if he and Remus got to live together, to grow up together?

They were at Remus' door. The shoebox slipped under Sirius' arm an inch before he stopped it, squeezing tighter on the cardboard. They were going to do this. He was going to go through that door and escape Walburga's talon's forever. Sirius felt like he might be sick, or his head might float away from dizzying happiness.

“Come on.” Remus' hand was light on Sirius' arm.

Sirius let Remus start forward first, taking a moment to straighten his back and jut out his chin. It made him feel braver than he was, more ready to follow Remus through the door. In front of him, Remus lifted the door handle and yanked it open and went through.

Sirius gaped. Remus had gone through a stone wall. But...

Scrambling forward, Sirius touched his hand to the wall. It didn't give, it didn't disappear. It was still stone.

Fear and doubt gripped his belly, but Sirius refused to give up. Not yet; not when he was so close . “Remus! Remus!” He pounded on the stone with his free hand, heart thudding in his chest with fear. “Remus! Come back!”

A moment later Remus appeared through the stone wall, practically falling on top of Sirius. The boys separated, Remus looking between Sirius and the wall in confusion. His eyes looked hurt. “Do... You don't have to. I just thought-”

“No!” Sirius pointed at the wall, horror slowly seizing his heart with the revelation. “No, I can't! It's stone. I can't get through.”

Remus blinked, turning from Sirius to the door again. “No it's not. There's my dad's shop store room, right there.”

Oh no. Sirius' entire future felt like it was crashing down around him. He was stuck, he was stuck, he was stuck with Walburga for the next seven months, 'til the end of time. And he couldn't survive it, he just couldn't, he couldn't wait around for that long and do everything right. He'd do something wrong, he'd bollocks things up again and Walburga would finish him, she'd kill him next time...

“Sirius! Sirius!” Remus had dropped the duffle at Sirius' feet and was shaking his shoulders desperately, trying to make eye contact. “Sirius, please. What do you see?”

Slowly Sirius refocused on Remus, tuning out the soul-destroying mantra's circling in his head. He realized his breathing was going fast. Too fast. He tried to stop it, to slow it down, but it was like he wasn't getting enough air. If he slowed it down he'd die. “It's,” he gasped, “stone. Stone. It's stone. Nothing...”

He couldn't breathe. Sirius dropped to his knees, then back, as he tried to regain control. “Wait, Sirius! Please. We can try. You can hold my hand. Come on. Hold my hand.”

Blindly Sirius took Remus' hand and let himself be tugged up by the smaller boy. He stumbled over rocks and cobblestones as Remus dragged him forward, to his door. Some small portion of Sirius' mind registered Remus going through, and then... nothing. Remus' hand slipped from Sirius' for a moment, and the other boy was gone. Sirius stumbled backwards, would have collapsed back onto the stone-littered ground if it weren't for Remus dashing back through his door and enveloping Sirius into a fierce hug.

“No, come on. We can make it work. Look, what if-” and then Remus was trying to pull Sirius through again, this time while staying practically wrapped around Sirius, every inch of them touching. Sirius let himself be manhandled, mind still stopped short or spinning to fast or something, because he couldn't think anymore – he couldn't do anything anymore. All he could do was let Remus try to drag him through the door again.

It didn't work. Remus ended up falling backwards through the wall while Sirius was left staring at the cold, unyielding stone. A moment later and Remus was back, eyes expressing some sort of horrible, ruined emotion Sirius had never seen before.

Sirius sat down on the ground in front of Remus' door and cried.

Remus was with him in a moment, arms around him and holding Sirius tight. Sirius let himself cry, ignoring everything Remus was saying and doing besides the feel of his arms around him and the soothing, if not just a little heartbroken, tone of his voice. Sirius cried and cried for everything, for everything in his life that was wrong. He cried over Walburga not loving him, nor Orion. He cried for all the punishments he had received and the more that were sure to come. He cried for Regulus, who was already going rotten, who Sirius wouldn't be able to save now. And he cried at the thought of having to endure that and so much more for seventh whole months. He didn't think he could.

When it was late and the sun was low in the sky, Remus took Sirius' chin in one hand and wiped at his tears with another. He took Sirius' hand and led him to the pool, cleaning him up by dipping his sleeve in the water and pressing it to Sirius' stinging red eyes. He disappeared for a little while, during which time Sirius stared at the mosaic at the bottom of the pool. It looked so nice and calm down there. If only he could live down there forever. Or in this World forever. But apparently it didn't want him to escape Walburga. It had made that point very clear this afternoon.

Remus returned a few minutes later and collected Sirius, holding his hand as they walked back to Sirius' door. Sirius still had the presence of mind enough to realize that Remus had gathered up his duffle and shoebox and put it next to his door for him. The sight of them – the thought of Remus doing that, packing up his things so he could go back to Walburga – made Sirius want to burst out into a fresh torrent of tears.

Then Remus' face was buried in Sirius' neck as he hugged him tight, tight: as tight as he could. Sirius relaxed and hugged back, tears still threatening but not quiet as violently.

“You have to go back,” Remus whispered.

Sirius knew. He knew. So he stepped away from Remus, gathered his things, and went back.



Chapter 15
Summary:
Sirius heads off to boarding school after a long goodbye to Remus.

Chapter Text
Sirius watched from around a corner as Kreacher set the last of his bags by the door. This was it, then. In just a few hours the could come and take him away from this wretched place. A tingle of nervous excitement blazed through Sirius from head to toe. There was only one thing holding him back – one reason why he couldn't be completely, unreservedly excited about the whole thing.

Hurrying himself away from the commotion at the front door, Sirius made his way up to the fourth floor storage room. He had a few things to give Remus before he left, and of course, they needed to say their goodbyes and plan when they'd meet up again. Sirius wouldn't be at boarding school all the time, after all. He'd have to come home for Christmas and Summer holidays. And he wanted to make sure he and Remus would meet up with each other every chance they got.

When he stepped through the door he was surprised to find the skies an overcast grey and the finest mist of rain coming down. Tucking his supplies for Remus under his shirt, Sirius hurried over to their bench. Remus was already waiting, huddled miserably with one of their costumes tugged over his head and a big, brown tote bag tucked under his feet under the bench.

“Remus!” Sirius waved a hand at him, gesturing for him to come here. Remus leapt up in a moment, shrugging the costume shirt off and picking up his bag. Sirius waited for Remus to get to him, then reached out and linked their hands. Remus' was cold and wet from the rain, but Sirius still felt a surge of warmth as soon as it was linked with his own. “Come on,” he said. “Let's go to the house.”

They hurried across the street, picking their way over fallen walls and loose cobblestones. None of the houses had roofs, but this one had something that was close enough. When they entered it both boys headed straight for the back, to a room that Remus had decided looked like a kitchen. In there was a small, covered alcove – an old stove or countertop or something. It protruded from the wall and offered just enough space for both boys to cram themselves beneath it with legs tucked up to their chests to keep them out of the rain.

When they were safely ensconced beneath the stone overhang, Sirius turned to get a good look at Remus for the first time – for the last time, too. Last time in a while, at least. His hair was soaked and smushed down onto his forehead – the costume shirt didn't do him much good, then. Touching a hand to his face, Sirius felt that it was cold and damp. Instinctively Sirius moved closer to Remus – the inch or so that he could – and wrapped an arm around him, rubbing up and down in an effort to share his warmth. Remus leaned into him, face pressed to Sirius' chest as Sirius wrapped his other arm around Remus' front.

“How long have you been waiting?”

“Bit,” came Remus' muffled reply. A fierce shiver going through him told Sirius maybe it had been longer than just a “bit”. “Didn't want to miss you,” he explained.

Even though Sirius knew they didn't have much time, he allowed himself a few more minutes of rubbing at Remus, trying to get him warmed up to more human temperatures. When Remus stopped feeling absolutely frozen to the touch and no longer shivered quite so harshly, Sirius released him from his tight grip. He didn't move to put any extra space between them, though.

“I have stuff for you,” Sirius said. “For when I'm gone.”

Remus shook his head, hands still shaking a little as he dug into the big tote he had managed to cram into the space on his left between himself and the wall. “Tell me when you'll be back, first. We're going to meet the very first day when you get back, so we don't miss each other at all.”

Imitating Remus, Sirius tugged all the items out of his shirt and fumbled through them for his schedule. He had made sure to get it from Walburga in advanced, so he and Remus had been able to coordinate. Walburga had thought maybe he was showing an interest in coordinating his breaks with the Black “social calendar”. Sirius hadn't dared correct her.

The crumpled bit of paper was a little damp in Sirius' hand, but all the typeface on it was still clear enough to read. “Half term break is first during Michaelmas term – that's this one. That's October twenty-first to the thirty-first.”

Next to him, Remus dutifully wrote down everything Sirius was saying in his notebook. It was the one Sirius had given him for his tenth birthday. Sirius continued: “So then the term ends December nineteenth and winter hols start. Then Easter term-”

“Wait, wait.” Remus' tongue was sticking out of his mouth just a bit when he wrote. Sirius waited for him to catch up. When he did Remus turned to Sirius and tapped his pencil on the notebook page. “When do we meet, then? Because it'll take you ages to get back, even if you leave right in the morning, right? So do we meet the twenty-first or the twenty-second?”

Sirius thought about this for a moment. Remus was right: it was going to take ages to get to the school today, so it would take just as long to get back. Then of course he'd have to see his family, probably give a report to Orion or something about how he was doing in his classes. Still.

“Let's meet the twenty-first. At night. Can you?”

Remus nodded, eyes sad. Sirius didn't like that – he didn't want Remus sad today. It wasn't like he was leaving forever: they were still going to be best mates, and see each other. And all the time Sirius spent away from Remus, even though that part'd be terrible, would also be time he wasn't under Walburga or Kreacher's vicious gazes.

“I'll meet you at night,” Remus promised. “I can sneak down to the shop. October twenty-first. Nighttime. And then December nineteenth, same time.”

Sirius nodded, still staring at Remus. He was trying to take a picture with his mind. Remus, with his golden hair a shade more brown than normal from the damp. His amber eyes were big and sad, but staring up at Sirius with... something. Something good, Sirius knew. He was shivering, and smaller than Sirius, but not by much. Would he be taller next time they met? Would Sirius? Maybe Remus would be taller than Sirius next time – and wouldn't that be funny? Maybe Remus would get a new scar on his knee, or finally lose that last baby tooth still stuck in his mouth. Remus might get a haircut, or might not and have longer hair when they saw each other again. So much might change between now and the end of October: it was months and months away. But there was one thing Sirius knew wouldn't change: Remus' eyes. Those eyes had been the same since the day they met, and Sirius knew they'd be the same months from now, years from now. If they didn't see each other again until they were old men, Sirius would be able to recognize Remus by his eyes.

They went through the rest of the schedule together, making plans to meet for half-term break in Easter term and summer term, as well as Easter hols. Remus had insisted they plan out all the breaks in advanced, just in case Sirius couldn't make it for the first one or something. With schedules done, Remus closed his notebook slowly and Sirius tucked the slip of paper into his trouser pocket. They shifted awkwardly next to each other, knowing the end was soon. All that was left was to exchange going away presents and their goodbyes. Sirius didn't want it to end. But then again, he didn't need to give Walburga any new reasons to punish him. Especially since she seemed particularly eager to dole out a few more strident reminders to Sirius about what kind of behavior was expected of him and the consequences if he didn't adhere to such behavior while he was away.

“Got my new uniform,” Sirius said, breaking the silence. “I look like a right prat it in. More than even usual.”

Remus laughed at that. He'd seen Sirius' normal clothing, on occasion. He thought it was horribly constricting and all-around terrible looking. “'ve got one too, you know,” he put in. “'s red and gold.”

Sirius grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Those are wicked colors. Mine's green. And silver.” He wrinkled his nose. The same color as everything in his house. Sirius was beginning to realize that going to this boarding school wasn't going to be much different than being at home. He just hoped he'd meet some kids there who he wasn't related to. Maybe they'd be okay.

Remus shifted to his left after a second, hand disappearing into his tote. Sirius felt a pang at the sight, but he knew they were going to have to leave eventually. He reached under his shirt and tugged out Remus' present.

“Here,” Remus said. “You can't open it 'til you get to school, though. Promise.”

Sirius took the thick, heavy envelope from Remus, feeling at it curiously. It wasn't hard enough to be a book – at least, not one with a cover. Sirius bent it, feeling at the thickness curiously. Remus' hand appeared, pressing down onto Sirius' own. Sirius looked up to see Remus smiling and shaking his head. “Nope. Promise. Not until you get to school.”

Sirius rolled his eyes but grinned. “Okay. Promise.” They shook on it, Sirius feeling a little wobbly halfway through when he realized this might be the last time they did their secret handshake until he came back for half-term break.

“This is yours,” Sirius said, ducking his head so Remus wouldn't see how sad he suddenly felt. “It's just... You can't open it until school, either. Not if I can't open mine.”

Remus grinned and agreed readily. Really, Sirius was just nervous Remus wouldn't like it. He'd given Remus another present he'd gotten ages ago and didn't like very much: a fancy writing set. Actually, it wasn't that Sirius didn't like it, it was just that he had dozens of them and didn't think he'd ever go through them all, even if he became the next Arthur Conan Doyle. As it was, Remus was sure to put it to better use that Sirius: Remus always had the best ideas for stories and the like. And now he could use it with his notebook instead of all those old, chewed up ballpoints he had on him all the time.

“I have to go.” Sirius whispered the words. He didn't want to go. Except, he did, a little bit. He wanted to go because going meant he'd be heading off to boarding school, which meant escape Walburga for giant chunks of time. But he definitely wasn't looking forward to a school filled with Lucius' or Bella's, and he definitely wasn't looking forward to not seeing Remus for months and months.

“We can play house.” Remus whispered back. The rain was stopping, if it ever had really gotten going in the first place. The whole World was just horribly damp and overcast now, though not actively trying to get the boys wet.

Sirius pressed his hand to Remus' ankle, squeezing at the strip of skin there. He didn't look up when he spoke. “What'd we do?”

Remus had the perfect answer – he always did. “You're going on a business trip. A long one. And you'll miss me, but you have to go. And you'll come back.”

“The coach is here,” Sirius said to his wife. Remusa nodded, and the two of them crawled out from their cramped shelter. They gathered their presents and schedules up, tucking them into tote bags and pockets as they readied themselves to say goodbye. They held hands as they walked to the front door – Sirius' door.

Sirius turned to Remus – Remusa – not sure what to do. He knew what they normally did, but this was so much more... it was so much longer. His heart was beating hard in his chest, and his stomach felt like it kind of wanted to eat itself, or him, or maybe it didn't want to eat anything and actually wanted to vomit. It all hurt and confused him.

“Don't make another best mate,” Sirius warned. Then he remembered they were playing, and he corrected himself. “Don't find another husband. I'm coming back.”

Remusa grinned – a sad, crooked thing that didn't reach her eyes. Those eyes that Sirius would definitely, definitely remember forever. “Don't you find another wife,” she fired back.

Sirius shook his head. “Never. Never ever.”

With no other way to express and the conflicting feelings churning in his gut and heart and brain and everywhere, Sirius leaned down and kissed his wife. Remusa kissed back, hard. Sirius stumbled a little with the force of it, hands coming up to grip at Remusa's shoulders. Remusa's hands were clutching at his chest as he continued to mash their mouths together, lips pressed tight against each other and themselves as they kissed and kissed and wished to never, ever have to let go.

They did part, too soon, Sirius chasing after Remusa's lips for a second before he realized they needed to stop, that he needed to leave.

“I'll see you on the twenty-first,” Remusa reminded him.

“Twenty-first,” Sirius repeated. “Twenty-first. I'll see you.”

With his heart pounding in his chest, Sirius opened his door. He stared after Remus, feeling like there was something more to do, something more to say. But he couldn't find the right actions or words, so after one last look he clutched Remus' envelope close to his chest and stepped back to Grimmauld Place.

**

It was just a half hour before lights out when Sirius finally was settled enough to pull Remus' envelope out of the bottom of his trunk. His cheek still smarted where Walburga had managed to find an excuse for one last ring-wearing backhand, but that didn't impeded the grin that spread as Sirius tugged a thick sheaf of papers out of the yellow envelope.

The top paper was in Remus' handwriting and started with “Dear Sirius”, so Sirius figured he was probably supposed to read that first. Legs dangling over the edge of the bed, Sirius settled in and started to read.

Dear Sirius ,

You better not be cheating and reading this in the car. Put it away if you are. I'll wait .

Sirius snorted, eyes tearing up a little. Trust Remus to tease him first thing, and to question his integrity. Sirius poked at the words a little bit, like he might have if Remus had said them in person.

Okay. You better be in the dorms.

You sure?

Right then.

Sure?

Just fooling. So, here's your present. It's copies of all different stories I looked up over the summer that we could do. There's stuff from Grimm, Sherlock Holmes, Jules Verne (if you've never read him, I think you'll like him loads), Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradbury, Arthur C. Clarke, some Captain Britain comics, Hollywood movie scripts, and loads more. I even wrote out a whole table of contents and everything. I made the copies on my dad's mimeograph in the store. I don't think he'd mind. There should be enough to keep you reading for the whole year, I reckon. But only if you read one a night. No more! So you're not allowed to cheat on this, either. I'd make you secret-handshake me, but I can't do that through paper.

Beneath was scribbled a little imitation of two hands slapping against each other. Sirius grinned, tapping the paper with the back of his hand. “Promise,” he whispered. “One a day.”

Okay, now that I've made you promise, I know you'll only do one a night. Come back with loads of ideas for stuff we can pretend!

Sincerely,

Remus

PS: Don't even think about reading those American comics. I'm not going to be Robin.

Sirius was beaming so hard down at the paper and re-reading it a dozen times that he didn't notice anyone walking up to him. Then the paper was snatched out of his hands and the copies sitting in his lap went flying to the ground, spreading out everywhere like spilt milk. Sirius gaped before jumping to his feet, eyes blazing.

In front of him were a group of boys, one of them looking his age at the front. He was the one holding onto Sirius' letter, looking a bit confused and glancing at the older boys around him. “Go on, Snape. Read it.”

The greasy, nasty looking boy cleared his throat and started to read: “'Dear Sirius, You better not be reading-'”

“Hey! Stop it!” Sirius darted forward, trying to snatch the letter out from that ugly little boy's hands. But someone grabbed him, tugging him back. One of those mean-looking older boys, sneering down at him. Sirius assessed him quickly. He didn't look like anyone he was related to. Figuring that was good enough for him, Sirius leveled a swift elbow to the boy's stomach, then stamped down as hard as he could on his foot. The older boy snarled and his grip loosened, just long enough for Sirius to break free and scramble forward again.

That Snape boy was still reading. “'Okay, you better be in the dorms...'”

“Give it back!” Sirius snarled, flying at the other boy. He didn't even try to slow down, instead throwing his entire weight into the smaller boy and knocking them both sprawling backwards into the legs of the older boys. Without thinking Sirius let his fist fly, landing a solid blow on his cheek. If there was one thing he'd learned over the years from his dear mum and servant, it was how to inflict pain.

The paper crumpled between them as Sirius snatched at it, still scratching and clawing with his other hand at that greasy git beneath him. That boy, Snape, was crying and shouting, trying to get away. For just a moment Sirius wanted to continue going at him, to hurt him even more, but then he remembered all the copies strewn about on the floor around him, and thought about how Remus' eyes must have been shining with excitement as he worked on copying them, one by one on his dad's pilfered mimeograph.

With one last punch Sirius crawled off the boy, Remus' letter crumpled but mostly intact, held tight to his chest. He didn't even spare a glance for the older boys as he scrambled around desperately for the papers, just trying to gather them up into a single pile again. He'd sort out the order later, when there weren't so many other boys around.

As Sirius reached for another paper a foot came down, hard , on his hand. Sirius cried out, trying to pull away. The foot just pressed down harder, the rough sole scraping the top of his hand, the weight slowly crushing the bones and tendons between it and the hard wood floor. Sirius kicked and shouted, trying to reach his tormentor. But all the other boys were laughing, and too far away to reach. The foot pressed down harder.

“Hey! Ger'off him!”

The pressure on his hand abruptly ended and Sirius yanked his hand back, clutching it to his chest. Ow ow ow ow . It hurt. It hurt so much. It was throbbing and searing. He couldn't move it.

Sirius looked up to see what had happened. There was another boy standing there, looked to be his age. He had messy black hair and glasses, which he was glaring behind at the older boys. “What're you doing, pickin' on 'im?! You're proly three stone biggr'n'im, you fat arse! That weight might'a worked for Churchill, but you'nt got his cigar size, if you know what I mean!”

The older boy sneered, tugging his uniform trousers up in some sort of dismissive movement. Sirius hand still throbbed where it was clutched to his chest, but the pain had dulled just a fraction. Maybe it wasn't broken, then. He couldn't imagine what Walburga would do to him if he got a broken hand on his first night at school. Probably break his other hand, just to show him.

Just when Sirius thought this other bespectacled boy was going to be joining him in the infirmary that night, the overhead lights flickered three times. That was apparently some sort of signal, because the older boys backed off with one more snarl and headed to their beds. One of them hacked and spit at Sirius. It landed on top of one of Remus' copied papers.

“Hey, you all right?”

Sirius started, spotting the messy-haired boy a moment later. He was standing above Sirius, holding a hand out.

“Can you get up?”

Sirius shook his head. He wasn't thinking about his injuries – he was thinking he had to collect all Remus' papers before lights out. Otherwise the older boys would probably end up stealing them away in the middle of the night, and then Sirius would have nothing of Remus' with him for a whole half a term. But the other boy must have thought Sirius was badly hurt, because he dropped down to his haunches with something close to horror on his face.

“Oh, no, do you need to go to the nurse? 'm not sure how yet – I'm first year, too. I could ask when they come in for lights out.”

Wiping his eyes with his good hand, Sirius shook his head again. “No. No. 'm fine. I just have to pick these up.”

“I'll help.”

“No!”

Possessively Sirius' good hand darted out, grabbing every paper within reach. The other boy held out his hands, eyes wide behind his glasses. “Oi! I was just trying to help. It's going to take forever with that bad hand.”

Glancing down at his hand still cradled to his chest, Sirius could see it was already swelling, and was red and scraped from the underside of the older boy's shoe. Cautiously Sirius looked over at the other boy, eyes narrowed. He seemed like a decent bloke. No Remus, certainly: he was too loud and bossy for that. But he'd stood up to the other kids for Sirius, even though he was just a first year.

“Yeah,” Sirius finally muttered. “Okay.”

They set to work in silence, collecting all the papers into two piles. When Sirius reached the piece the older boy had spit on he wiped it on his trousers until it was dry enough, then set it on top the pile with the rest of the papers. It still seemed readable, which was all that mattered.

They were done shortly – much faster than if Sirius had tried to go at it alone. The other boy collected his and Sirius' piles together, then presented them to Sirius. “Do you want me to put them somewhere for you?”

Sirius nodded over at his trunk. When the other boy set them in there, Sirius held out Remus' letter to him, too. James took it without comment, smoothed it out, and put it on top the stack.

“Your mum?” he asked. When Sirius stared at him, utterly confused, the other boy nodded at the closed trunk. “The care package. From your mum?”

Sirius laughed. Walburga? Send him with something? Sirius laughed again, shaking his head.

The other boy tried again. “Mate, then? From back home?”

Slowly Sirius nodded. Sure. Remus was a mate. From back home... kind of. Close enough.

“Well, I'm James.” The other boy stuck out his hand. Then, after a moment's consideration, stuck out his other hand. Cautiously Sirius took it with his good left hand. James pumped it up and down once. The handshake didn't have the same reassuring feel of his and Remus' secret handshake, but it still felt good. Comfortable. Like maybe this James bloke wasn't so bad.

“Sirius Black,” he offered.

James grinned crookedly. “Alright then, Sirius Black. We'll stick together, yeah?” He leaned closer, lowering his voice as he spoke. “And we'll get that Snape git back tomorrow, yeah? Think of something right rude to do to him.” He winked, and Sirius found himself grinning back. Just a little.

“Right then! Night!” With a slap to Sirius' shoulder James was off, dashing over to his own bed just as the door was opening to let in the adults. Sirius scrambled to get his pajamas on with one hand, and somehow managed it by the time the adults came to check on him. He even managed to force his throbbing hand down to his side and uncurled it.

As Sirius pulled the sheets up to his chin and listened to the boys sleeping and shifting around him, he whimpered. Just a little. Then he imagined Remus' small, warm body laying in his bed next to him, keeping watch on the big boys throughout the night. He was able to fall asleep after that.

Chapter 16
Summary:
Sirius is back at Grimmauld for a holiday, and can't wait to see Remus.

Chapter Text
It was late – much later than Sirius had intended it to be. But he'd had to wait for the entire house to go to sleep before he could sneak over to the fourth floor storage room, and since Walburga had insisted they host a party the day Sirius came home for half-term the household bedtime had been much later than usual. So late, in fact, that Sirius had to fake sleeping for over two hours as the adults continued to mingle and chat and eat little tiny sandwiches off little tiny trays.

But now the last of the guests had gone and Walburga was locked away in her bedroom, performing her night time rituals that Sirius couldn't even begin to comprehend. Kreacher was probably still skulking around somewhere, cleaning up dishes and polishing tables. But Sirius had spent eleven years avoiding Kreacher, so he knew he could manage to sneak two stories up and six doorways over.

Sirius wasn't even sure Remus would be there. He told himself it'd be okay if Remus was already gone – it was terribly late, and Remus was already sneaking out in order to meet Sirius as late as they had previously planned it, which was early compared to the current hour. Still, even as Sirius braced himself for the possibility that Remus wouldn't be there, he felt excitement clawing at his chest, begging to be let out. Remus would be there. Remus would be there no matter how late, no matter how long Sirius made him wait. Remus would be there.

Sirius hurried through the dark, moonlight streets of their World. He had never been there so late – even the night they had looked at the stars together had been hours earlier than this. It might have been scary, if it were any other place. But it wasn't. The light given off by the stars and moon just bathed the streets in an almost liquid white glow. If Sirius stared hard enough, he thought he might see fairies darting in and out of the woods, or Dark waiting to teach him how to switch on the night.

As he rounded the wall to their bench, Sirius thought for a moment that Remus hadn't waited. The bench was empty except for a dark lump: there was no silhouetted figure of a little boy sitting under the moonlight, waiting for Sirius. His heart dropped to his feet, and his steps stuttered. An odd rock skittered across the marble stones at his jerking movement, the noise loud in the still of the night. Then Sirius realized that the lump on the bench was Remus, curled up and just twitching awake at the sound of his approach.

“Si'us?” he murmured.

Nervous energy running through him like electricity, Sirius ran up to Remus and tugged him upright in his seat on the bench. Remus had covered himself with their costume dress, tugging it up to his chin like a blanket. Without even waiting to absorb anything that was different – was his hair a little bit longer than the last time? His shoulders a little broader? – Sirius clutched Remus' shoulders and swooped down for a kiss.

Remus was so relaxed and sleepy beneath him that his mouth fell open, a little whimper escaping it. Sirius gasped at the sensation, the feeling of wet and good and... what...

Sirius pulled away with a gasp, head buzzing with a hundred different things until it just stopped working, it shut down from being so overwhelmed. Remus was staring up at him, head rolled listlessly back, mouth still hanging open, eyes half-lidded. Sirius swallowed. Choked. Swallowed again.

“Love. Home,” he finally sputtered out. Because he was finishing their game. Because he was giving his wife Remusa a kiss when he came home from his business trip.

“Time out,” Remus whispered.

Sirius blinked, and nodded. Of course, Remus wouldn't want to play. Not yet. They had to catch up on everything, first. They could play tomorrow, or the next day. Right now they should just be themselves so they could talk. Sirius didn't know why he had thought continuing the story like that had been a good idea.

“I have something for you,” Sirius said immediately. Rummaging through his trouser pocket, Sirius dug out the glossy paper he had been looking for. It was a photo of him and James sitting on James' bed together. James had a Polaroid camera his mum had gotten him for his birthday that year, and insisted on taking photos of everything and everyone, and having everyone take photos of him. This had been just a spare Sirius had out of dozens stuffed in his trunk. He thought maybe Remus would like it – not because it had him in it, or anything. Because it was a picture at the boarding school. And so that when Sirius told him about James, Remus could know what he looked like.

Remus took the photo from Sirius, looking at it in the dim light of the moon. “Who's that?” he asked, pointing at James.

“That's James. He's a mate.”

For a moment Remus was silent, staring at the photo. After a moment he nodded. “Oh.”

Throwing himself down onto the bench next to Remus, Sirius let his shoulder nudge into the other boy forcefully. “Oi. Not like you. Just a mate.” Remus flashed a smile at that, and Sirius grinned. He knew Remus would worry about that. But what he'd said was true: James was a mate, a great mate. But he wasn't a mate like Remus. Being a mate with James was as different as being a mate with Remus and being a brother to Regulus. Worlds apart.

Still, Sirius felt a small thrill of satisfaction to know that Remus had been worried. Because Sirius had been thinking the same thing every time him and James played a prank or helped each other with their homework: was Remus meeting other blokes? Was he getting along without Sirius? Was he replacing Sirius?

Sirius jabbed a finger at James in the photograph. “He helps me play pranks on Snivellus – that's this right rotten boy that goes there. James is a right laugh: you'd like him. Always teasing the teachers and making paper airplanes. You know his dad and him built a model rocket, once? He says the first time they had a go at it, bloody thing exploded everywhere! But then they got it sorted, and now him and his dad build rockets every time he goes home. Well, he's a first year, like me, so he dunno's if they do that yet, but they're supposed to.”

Sirius stopped poking at the picture and let Remus tuck it into his pocket. “Did you make any mates at your school? That grammar school one?”

Remus shrugged one shoulder, not really looking at him. Sirius frowned. That was suspicious.

“Hey, Remus? What? It's okay if you didn't. I'm your friend. Your best mate ever in the world. Right?” Then Sirius froze. Oh. What if Remus had made a friend, but a good friend? One that he liked better than Sirius? One that wasn't as loud and didn't mess things up all the time, one that could eat a meal without spilling something or play pretend without trying to take charge and making things turn out the way he wanted them to?

“Kind of,” Remus started. Sirius' throat constricted. Oh no. Then Remus said: “But it's a girl.”

That stopped Sirius' worrying cold in its tracks. Then rewound, rebooted, and started it in a whole other direction. Wait, what? Remus had a girl for a friend? But... how? “'re there girls at your school?”

Remus shrugged. “Yeah. Boys and girls. Her name's Lily. She's nice. Reads a lot, and all.” Leaning a little closer, Remus finally looked at Sirius. “Promise you won't tell something?”

Sirius stomach churned. Did Remus have a girlfriend ? Was Lily his girlfriend? Did he kiss Lily? Ew, no. If Remus kissed Lily, and Sirius had just kissed him, then that meant Sirius was kissing some bird he'd never even met before!

Somehow Sirius must have nodded his head and gone through their secret handshake even in his state of shock because Remus was pressing his lips to Sirius' ear and whispering: “She protects me from bullies.”

Oh. Oh . Sirius laughed, loud and echoing among the decaying walls and steadfast buildings. Remus looked at him a little strange, and a little hurt, but Sirius was too relieved to care just yet. Lily was just like James, then! Her and Remus met because she stood up to some bullies, and now they were mates just like him and James. Remus wasn't dating her. And now that Sirius heard it again in his head, he realized how silly that sounded. No, Remus wouldn't have a girlfriend. Not yet! And certainly not some bird he just met.

With Remus still looking a little hurt, Sirius finally calmed down enough to reassure him. “No, no, not that. I thought she was your girlfriend!”

Remus' nose wrinkled up immediately at that, then he burst out laughing, too. Sirius couldn't see his freckles in the moonlight, but he imagined they were all scrunched up into his face just like they had been that summer. “Ew, no! No!”

“Bullies are rotten, aren't they?” Sirius commiserated.

Remus nodded. “Yeah. But Lily: she's tough . And scary! Once, this boy was trying to get me to eat mud-”

Heat flared up in Sirius' chest. His eyes went wide and he gripped at Remus' thigh. No one did that to Remus!

But Remus was already shaking his head, putting his hand over Sirius'. “No, it's okay, listen. He was trying to get me to eat mud, and then Lily saw and she ran up and hit him. Then she started yelling at him: all sorts of things! Sirius, you haven't ever heard curse words like this, I swear. And she yelled so much at the boy that he started crying! It was brilliant.”

Sirius grinned, some of that worry over Lily and girlfriends rising up again in his gut. But Remus didn't seem to be getting all gooey and dreamy over Lily. In fact, if Sirius had a good long think about it, the way he sounded talking about Lily was pretty much the same as when Sirius himself talked about James. So that would be okay, then. Because Sirius knew that James was brilliant, but he wasn't Remus. That meant that Remus could think Lily was brilliant, but she wouldn't be Sirius for him. Then it was all alright.

“You should get a picture of this Lily bird,” Sirius suggested, squeezing Remus' thigh lightly. “With you in it. Then I could have one of you and your guard dog, since you've already got one of me and mine.”

Remus laughed at that. Then his eyes lit up and he stroked his fingers over Sirius' hand – just the lightest touch, but Sirius knew he was excited from just that. “Did you open my present? Did you like it?”

Immediately Sirius turned to Remus and enveloped him in the tightest hug. “It was brilliant !” he breathed.

The next morning after the older boys had knocked all of Remus' painstakingly organized pages to the ground, James had come over to Sirius' bed and asked him if he could help with it. Sirius had been reluctant, but then he figured that so long as James didn't ask to be included in any of it – because the stories were something Sirius and Remus did together, and no one else – then he could use the help. After all, if he tried to do it himself, he might spend the entire term getting them back in order. So that afternoon he and James had set to work, reordering all the papers. Luckily most of the stories had come from different places: pulp zines, comic books, old novels, picture books, and more. This made all the stories look sufficiently different from each other that it was easy to separate them by story, and then the page numbers at the bottom of most of them made putting the stories in order easy. There were only a handful Sirius had to sort out himself with a little bit of critical reading, but for the most part he and James had managed to get the daunting task done in the afternoon.

“I'm only reading one a day,” he promised as he pulled back. “Sometimes not even, with homework and playing pranks with James. But I've read loads. Especially Asimov and Bradbury. They're brilliant.”

Remus' eyes gleamed. “Did you read the robot ones?”

Sirius nodded. “Some of them. I like Robbie loads. Do you want to play robot? I don't know if I want one of us to be a robot though, because that's no fun. Maybe we could be a team investigating the robots? Like Susan and Robert, you know?”

Remus nodded. He shifted, turning away from Sirius for a second. Sirius craned his neck to see what Remus was doing. By the time he realized Remus was grabbing something off the bench on his left Remus was already turning back to him, grin on his face. “I've got some stories just like that planned out,” he said. He flipped open a page, fingers stroking over the ink scratches, almost invisible in the dim light of the moon. Sirius noticed a few ink blotches around the page – at least, he thought he could see some.

“Did you use mine? The-” The words died in Sirius' throat, his excitement over seeing Remus' reaction to his present overwhelming him. He might have been just the tiniest bit nervous, too. What if Remus hadn't like it? What if he had just kept on using his old ballpoints because he liked those better than the fancy calligraphy set Sirius had gotten him? What if he just thought it was Sirius being all rich again, rubbing his wealth in his face.

But then Remus' leg twitched, knee sliding against Sirius' firmly, and Sirius knew he was excited. “I loved it,” he breathed. As Remus exhaled the words Sirius drew a sharp breath, as if he could inhale the gratitude and... and all those words: “I loved it”. Sirius wanted those words, coming from Remus, kept in his lungs, inside of him, forever.

“I felt proper fancy,” Remus continued, fingers skittering excitedly over the pages. “I felt like a proper writer, with the pens and the scratching sound they made. And all the stories I made, it was like I was writing real mysteries for you, like it was old times and...” Remus breathed sharply, little noises bubbling up from his throat like he couldn't contain them. Sirius pressed his knee harder against Remus', skin and head buzzing with shared enthusiasm.

“Mysteries?” Sirius finally pressed, when it seemed that Remus' excitement had ground his ability to express it to a standstill.

“Mysteries.”

Sirius' eyes widened. Whoa . That was brilliant. “ Real mysteries?” he asked. Because if they were mysteries like the ones Asimov wrote, then... wow. Remus was loads smarter than absolutely anyone Sirius had ever met.

Remus shrugged, ducking his head a little. Sirius watched the fringe of Remus' hair fall into his eyes, knowing that if he could see colors right now in the dim light of the moon he'd be able to spot a tell-tale stain of red on Remus' cheeks and nose. “Not like Asimov ,” Remus mumbled. “Just... just mysteries. You know.”

Unthinking, Sirius reached his hand up and brushed the fringe of hair out of Remus' eyes. He smiled when Remus smiled and peered cautiously up at him. “I bet they're just as good. I bet I won't be able to solve them, and you'll have to come in and be the hero of the whole thing, even if I'm playing hero.”

Remus shrugged, shoulders still hunched bashfully. “I'll give you loads of time to figure it out,” he promised. “And hints. And I'll only come in at the end if you really, really, really can't get it.”

“Deal,” Sirius promised. They shook hands, the sound of their secret handshake echoing off the ancient stones around them.

A yawn cracked Sirius' jaw, and suddenly he realized how utterly exhausted he was. He groaned, jabbing his forehead into Remus' shoulder just a bit.

“You should go to bed,” Remus advised. Then he yawned, too, then laughed. “I should go to bed, too.”

“You'll come tomorrow?” Sirius asked. “Promise.”

“Promise.” They did their handshake again, only this time Sirius held onto Remus' hand at the end and clutched it to his chest. He pressed his forehead into Remus', and they just sat there for a moment, resting against one another. As Sirius felt himself dropping off to sleep he finally extracted himself, dragging Remus with him as he stood. “Tomorrow,” he said again.

Remus nodded. And then they were off to their separate households. But they had the whole week to play together, and Remus had a whole host of stories planned out for them. And after that, just another half-term and Sirius would be home for Christmas hols. It looked like everything in Sirius' life was finally, miraculously bearable. Maybe even more than.