Remus set his sheaf of papers on his lap with a sigh. His entire half of the bed was covered in parchment. More orders, Sirius thought bitterly. More places he wasn't allowed to go, more dangers his friends were facing while he did nothing. "He has a right to know what he's up against," he added. Remus ran a hand through his graying hair. "He's strong, yes. Stronger than any of us were at his age. But he's still just a boy, and there are limits to everyone's strength." I know." Sirius threw himself into the chair beside the bed with a frustrated sigh. "But at least telling him," he leaned forward, intent and focused, "that's something I could give him. Something I could do for him, rather than twiddling my thumbs while you all risk life and limb." Remus fixed Sirius with a hard stare. "Don't. You've done plenty. Moping about and feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to make anyone feel better." "Wanna bet?" Sirius shot back, feeling just as petty and peevish as Remus had accused. "You know better." "Yeah." But the sour churning in Sirius' stomach wouldn't abate. The idea that Peter was still out there, roaming free while he, Sirius, was caught in this miserable excuse for a house (not home, no, it had never been his home) made him feel worse than trapped. Another few months in this forsaken place, trapped with his mother's hatred and Kreacher's constant nattering, and it would do what twelve years in Azkaban had failed to do -- drive him mad. He lowered his head to his hands, trying to shore up his strength. "I can't stand this. Being here with her." "Hush now." There was a rustling of paper and a softly murmured 'Evanesco', and then Remus was tugging Sirius forward. Sirius fell onto the bed, and was immediately wrapped in Remus' arms -- bony and pale, but full of quiet strength. "I'm here," Remus said, and the kiss he placed on Sirius' forehead was light. "You're not alone." "But you're gone so much and I --" Sirius stopped himself. He sounded petulant and needy, even to his own ears. He shifted into a more comfortable position, and lowered his head to Remus' chest. The steady thump-thump of Remus' heartbeat reassured him as completely as ever. "I'm here now," Remus replied softly. "No matter how often I leave or how moody you get -- they can never tear us apart again. We'll always be together here,” he said, and placed a hand over Sirius' heart. "Remus." Sirius glanced up, trailing thin, searching fingers across Remus' slightly sunken cheeks. "If anything happens to you -- and I wasn't -- I don't --" "Hush," Remus said again, and brushed another kiss across Sirius' forehead. Sirius felt the warmth clear to his toes, blossoming inside him with a force no spell or charm could ever achieve. "Nothing's going to happen to me," Remus added. His lips twisted in a wry smile that made him look at least a decade younger -- like the boy that had captivated Sirius all those years ago. "Why're you smiling?" Sirius asked, tracing the smile with a desperate touch. "Because I remember this argument." Remus tightened his arms around Sirius. The bed creaked and groaned with them. "When we were with the Order before..." Before James and Lily died. Before Azkaban and twelve long years of exile and shame and misplaced guilt. "I always told you not to worry," Sirius murmured. "But I always did," Remus replied. "In your own way, you're as reckless as James ever was." "I miss him so much." "I know." Remus' voice was just as soft as Sirius'. "So do I." Sirius tried to scoot even closer to Remus' warmth, tried to burrow even further into his embrace. Only here, like this, did Sirius feel any measure of peace. "Harry's got a lot of James in him." "I know," Remus replied. "And it terrifies me as much as it pleases me." "We've both missed so much of his life." "But we're here now when he needs us the most." "Ah, Remus," Sirius smiled, scraping his lips across the stubble of Remus' jaw. "How did you get to be so wise, old friend?" Remus' eyes crinkled around the corners. "You should know by now that I've never been wise. Especially where you're concerned." "And I'm grateful every day for it." Sirius dropped his head back on Remus' shoulder. "Not nearly as grateful as I am to have you back." "Will you tell me one day?" Absent-minded fingers toyed with the frayed collar of Remus' shirt. "Only if you do the same," Remus replied softly. "One day." But not today -- and not now, in this circle of warmth and love. One day they'd both speak of those missing twelve years. One day. "I do feel bloody useless, though," Sirius grumbled. "Well, you're not." "I just as good as killed them, you know." Remus lifted his head and raised an eyebrow. His eyes were hard and flat. "Is that what you think?" "Well, I --" Sirius faltered under the weight of that stare. "You really think James and Lily would have blamed you for trusting a man they both trusted?" "I --" "They made their choice, the same as you. The same as Peter." "Don't." Just hearing his name carved fresh scars into Sirius' soul. "Don't speak of him, don't speak his name." "His day will come," Remus said, and his eyes were once again warm and sympathetic. They were once again Remus' eyes, not the eyes of a stranger. "He'll pay, as Voldemort will." "We couldn't save them." "No," Remus agreed sadly. "We couldn't." "I should have trusted you." "And I you." Their lips met once in brief apology. "But that's past, and we both had our reasons, feeble as they may seem right now. We gave our enemies twelve years, and that's enough penance." "As I said, wise,” Sirius replied, and was silent for another long handful of moments before he spoke again. “We won't be able to save Harry either, you know." Sirius heard the catch in his voice and tried to quell the fear. "That choice was taken from us fourteen years ago." "But we can prepare him." Remus' voice was just as soft. "We can give him the tools and weapons he'll need." How dispassionate they both sounded, how practical. As if it was the most natural thing to speak of James and Lily's fifteen year old son, his godson, using such terms as weapon and tool. No weapon would be strong enough, no shield, no protection, for what Sirius feared was in store. Harry might triumph over Voldemort, whether by luck or by skill (although Sirius couldn't, for the life of him, see how), but what would be left of Harry when all was said and done? Already he'd suffered more than any child should. He voiced this aloud to Remus, who simply gave a rueful smile. "When and if that day comes, we'll be there, as we were for each other. We'll be there for him, and we'll help him pick up the pieces." "We'll be here," Sirius repeated, and clung to that hope as tightly as he clung to Remus. "We'll be here." Outside their door, the world was silent, waiting with bated breath to test their promise.
|