Bohemian Rhapsody

moment fifteen: here with me (October 31, 1975)

Remus steepled his hands together, and looked at the board in front of him. A rather battered, tatty old thing, the black and white paint faded upon the cloth. The pieces too were chipped, overall, the impression was of aged familiarity. It was, all in all, rather typical of the teenager sitting opposite him, knees bent awkwardly, as if his legs were somehow too long.

"You're taking your time," he hinted.

"I know," said Sirius, beaming up at him, before reaching across the board to take one of Remus' pawns in a move that would leave his own rook clearly open to attack. The chessboard wasn't even magical; but it was Sirius', and despite James' constant attempts to convince them to buy a proper set - "You know, something where the pieces actually match?" - they had gotten used to it after nearly two years of playing with one another.

It had been an apology of sorts: the day after Remus had returned from the Shack, unaware of his own discovery, he had found Sirius waiting on his bed in the dorms, the chess set laid out and an amused grin on his face. "Want to play?" he'd asked, and Remus had accepted. The sight of the taller, scruffier boy and the shorter, more precise one, heads bowed over the chess set had become a common sight in the Gryffindor dorms. James would usually keep a lazy eye on their game, legs curled up under him, and make comments that both would ignore. Peter would go through his homework for the day, marking things for Remus to help him with later on; unlike most Gryffindors, Peter Pettigrew was brilliant at Charms, but god awful horrible when it came to Transfiguration.

Right now, they and other Gryffindors were biding their time in the commons; Peter in front of a mirror he'd summoned, trying desperately to re-arrange his tufty hair for the fifteenth time that night, in addition to retying his tie and smoothing down his dress robes. They were all in dress robes, of course, although Sirius typically had his collar undone and tie askew. Tonight was the night of the Halloween Dinner, and as a special occasion, Headmaster Dumbledore had invited the Head Boy from 1971 - the year before Remus or his other fifth-years had started - back to give a speech. It looked to be a pleasant, if boring formal event.

But for the moment, there was chess. Remus wondered briefly if he should take the obvious choice and remove Sirius' rook from play. It was certainly the logical, methodical thing to do; even if Sirius himself was never logical in the slightest. That was one of the first things Remus had noticed about his friend's playing style; it was reckless abandonment, frenzied, almost manic. Sirius would take pieces and lose them on a whim, with no apparent logic or game plan. It was if the victory was not important to him, but rather half way through a game he would ask himself 'I wonder what would happen if I lost my Queen here?', and did so, as if playing out the possibilities was more important than the ending. Remus followed him, doggedly, playing by proper form and stricture, and after near two years they seemed to have won and lost a roughly equal amount of games. Remus himself preferred to win; he liked the idea that there was something that worked rationally, something he could control, defeat, set aside and leave be. The logic the game demanded was a form of self-discipline, and a cry against the wolf within that he was still a man, and could win as one.

Sirius leaned forward over the board, and reached under the table to lightly pat Remus' knee. "Go on, take me," he said, grinning, and gesturing to the rook.

Remus blushed and pulled back, flustered. He caught a fond glance from James' fellow Prefect, Lily Evans, who seemed far too aware of the dynamics within their little group for Remus' own liking. But she never said anything about Sirius and his gentle flirtation, and often seemed to distract the others - especially James - from making a similar realization. She was technically engrossed in conversation with him now, sitting on the couch facing him, head resting against her hand, nodding enthusiastically at one of James' stories from the weekend's Quidditch match against Hufflepuff.

Feeling a little braver perhaps, with Lily's prodding, Remus swept the rook from the board and looked Sirius squarely in the eye. "See? You're not that big and tough, Sirius, not if I can take you."

Sirius laughed, and spread his hands non-committally. "Remus, you can take me any day of the week and I wouldn't complain," using a pawn to take Remus' bishop. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Lily suppressing a smirk behind her hand, and clutching at James' arm when he looked at her puzzled, imploring him to continue.

Remus looked at the board, and withheld a snort of glee. Sirius' king lay completely undefended, and all he needed to do was move his knight so to trap it. "One day, Sirius, my friend," he said, reaching across the board to make the final move. "I might take you up on that offer. Checkmate."

The other boy cocked his head to one side, and tipped his king over with a finger. "What makes you think that isn't what I wanted all along? Sometimes losing is worth it, you know."

Remus felt a sudden urge to jump up, to mark Sirius for being so defiant and willing all at the same time. Noticing the change in his demeanour, Sirius reached across to cover Remus' twitching hand with his own.

"You all right?", he asked softly.

Remus nodded, tight lipped. He could never give into his feelings for Sirius, or what Sirius offered. Werewolves mated for life, and he had no desire to chain something so full of life and promise to a monster. "I'm fine."

The bell sounded, and the students rose, that Sixth Year Prefect whose name Remus couldn't remember leading them towards the portrait hole. He caught onto Sirius' hand before they left, and whirled the taller boy around, reaching up to button the collar and fix his tie, amused by the somewhat startled look on Sirius' face. I guess this is as much of a claim as I can ever make, Remus thought somewhat sadly, patting the other boy on the shoulder and forcing a smile. "Didn't want people to think I hang round with a scruff, you know."

Sirius laughed, and mock-grabbed the shorter boy in an armlock, ruffling his scalp. "Thought everyone would have known by now that it's Black and Lupin forever, right? Face it, Remus, no matter what my reputation, you're stuck with me."

Remus laughed out loud, and positioned his body, bracing himself against Sirius in the beginnings of a mock tussle, before Sirius quickly let him go. "Hmph," commented Remus, smoothing down his dress robes. "You know better than to mess with me, Black."

"Course I do, Remy!"

As Prefects, Lily and James led the contingent of Fifth Years, and Remus and Sirius followed behind in the group, never moving far apart from one another, Sirius absently tangling his fingers in the other boy's robes. And behind them a little while came Peter, still struggling with his tie, lost in the mass of Gryffindor scarlet and gold.

Sirius Black had always believed he could read people quite well. He knew from the moment his parents had introduced him to the Potters that he and James were going to get along quite splendidly. There was a similar bold streak in both of them, a similar sense of humour, and a tendency towards practical joking that had brought them together, and kept them that way. They didn't always agree on everything, but it never mattered, as long as they could make each other laugh. Sirius had been certain that the day would come when James turned to other, more respectable pursuits, and he had been right - James' day as middle-class rebel were now over, and he was a Prefect. Sirius sometimes wondered if that was all James had been trying to do, to be the rebel and play out his teen angst. It wasn't that James had gone complete over to the other side; it was well known that out of all the Prefects, the best two targets for any prank were the fifth-year Gryffindors, Lily Evans and James Potter. James would invariably congratulate the prankster, and Lily would usually end up on the floor laughing at herself. That was one of the things Sirius first noticed about her; her readiness to laugh. He wouldn't say he knew her, or that they were friends by any means. They had hung round together mostly because of James; she and James would talk about Prefect things, duties and responsibilities, and play 'rock, scissors, stone' in order to see who would deal with the detentions this week, or give the Third Years that talk. And Sirius could tell, that amongst all the friendly banter, something indefinably more was growing between James and Lily.

Something similar had sprung up between him and Remus ages ago, although neither of them talked about it. His first impression of Remus had been accurate as well; he'd seen glimpses of a boy divided against himself, and it had taken him a while to work out why. He had caught glimpses of a lonely fury within the other boy. Remus had never snapped, not quite. He'd come close, when schoolwork or life itself was getting him particularly under the weather - but the moment he'd even come close, a cast iron will had sprung up around him, smothering all emotion, and the two impulses had fought. Sirius had done extensive research on werewolves, and it seemed that Remus lived like that every second of every day. The wolf could only come out physically every full moon, but it still lurked deep within his mind, it and its ravaging hunger, tainting every single thought and need he had. No wonder Remus always seemed so tired. He constantly had to monitor his thoughts, and ask himself, if they were really his anymore.

Right now, Sirius lounged back in his seat, his elbows slung over the back. He was hoping he might look like something in the vicinity of 'devil-may-care-rebel', and from the looks Professor Linitus was shooting him from the row ahead, it seemed to be having the desired effect. Remus was sitting next to him, doing his best to concentrate on the words spilling from the podium at the front of the Hall. Sirius brought his attention to bear fully on the speech, and after a few stirring sentences about 'responsibility' and 'the challenge of youth', Sirius turned off again. It was not that speech was bad; far from it. From what he could tell, the words themselves had been written by a master of his art, someone who knew exactly how to capture the attention of all. It was never the words that Sirius looked upon so disparagingly; but rather the man who was saying it.

The Head Boy of 1970 was a tall lean figure, one of those people whose features seemed to be more angles than soft lines. Even his blond hair, swept back, seemed sharp, and his gaze was pointed. This Lucius Malfoy was a good speaker, of that Sirius had no doubt. He had most of the crowd in the palm of his hand; Sirius purveyed the gathered assembly from his chair, seated as he was two-thirds of the way down with the rest of the Fifth Years. His eyes narrowed as he came to the Slytherin section, to see that great prat, Snape, idolising Malfoy with something akin to worship in his eyes. It seemed appropriate that Snape would promptly fall in lust with someone who could convince everyone except himself of his beliefs.

Sirius felt his respect for the speaker lessen as he watched Severus, enraptured. Surely anyone that he liked couldn't be of value? Snape had always tagged around James and Sirius during their first few years, making trouble, catching them out of curfew, reporting their pranks. Snape had acted as if every time James or Sirius broke the rules it was a personal insult to him. And once or twice, Sirius had caught him watching Remus across a crowded classroom, and felt an ugly jealousy gnaw deep within him.

He shrugged off the thoughts. He just didn't like this Malfoy bloke because the Malfoy bloke was patently hollow, and self-deceiving. Even if Sirius was the only one who could see it. Remus seemed vaguely interested in what he was saying, but then Remus was always too generous for his own good, as if he had something to prove. Which, of course, he thought he did. James and Lily didn't seem quite as involved, but then as prefects, part of their job was to watch the crowd for any misbehaviour, so Sirius supposed that took up the majority of their concentration.

Remus slipped his hand onto Sirius' leg, and patted it lightly, abrading Sirius for his apparent nonchalance and lack of attention. Sirius removed his elbows from the back of his chair, and quickly covered Remus' hand with his own, fingers curling around. He felt Remus tense momentarily and then relax, and allowed himself an inward smile. Remus rarely allowed anyone to touch him, and he seemed to distance himself from Sirius more than from other, as if Remus feared giving into what the sensations might mean. For now at least, Sirius was content to hold his friend's hand and lightly stroke his palm, trying to pour emotion through the fragile touch. I'm here for you, Sirius was saying, I love you. He hoped that Remus would hear, and not be frightened. Just hold on a bit longer. Just a while more.

His researches had led him to a few half-remembered myths about animals running with werewolves, and one thing had led to another, and he and James had ended up scouring the library for everything they had on Animagi. That had been a few months after the discovery, late in third year. They had made numerous late night trips into the Restricted Section, barely escaping Filch - although James' recently-awarded Prefect status had made things slightly easier. Sirius itched to make the attempt, although they still hadn't told Peter, and he would obviously need time to go through the theory and various preparatory rituals. He had faith that James would be able to guide Peter through the transformation; James had become almost as knowledgeable as Remus in his studies, due to the goal that hung before him, and well, Sirius would drag Peter by the scruff of his neck into animal form if necessary. He didn't know exactly how many would be required to help calm Remus' bestial side, but Sirius was determined to have as many as possible.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed the tall form stepping back from the lectern to take his seat, and just managed to join in the audience applause in time. Remus was looking at him with a mixture of fondness and reproach in his eyes, suggesting that he not only expected Sirius' lack of attention, but was reassured by it, like an old friend. Sirius snorted to himself. That didn't necessarily meant Remus liked it, of course. As the students rose from their seats, eager to stretch their legs and return to their dorms under the watchful eye of the staff, Sirius heard Dumbledore's quietly booming voice calling all Prefects to the stage, and saw James and Lily slip between the exiting crowd, heading to the front. They were probably supposed to meet the ex-Head Boy, and exchange the usual pleasantries while he nattered on about their responsibilities. Typical pedantic bullshit that Sirius had no time for.

He gave a gentle squeeze to Remus' hand, feeling a tentative squeeze in return, and jostled his way through the crowd, one arm coming up to land on Peter's shoulder, as they both headed towards the doors with the flow. Peter turned, surprised, and not a little hostile.

"What is it, Sirius?"

"I need to speak to about something, Peter. In private. Do you have some time before bed?"

Peter raised his eyes momentarily, pondering, inwardly marking the fact that Remus was still straggling behind. "Of course."

"Good." Remus finally caught up to them, and grasped hard onto Sirius' hand, keeping himself from being dragged along by the waves of students exiting.

The three young men stood there, not talking, and Sirius turned back to see how James was going. He was on the platform, being over to Malfoy, who was chatting with that daft old Professor, Linitus. Dumbledore politely tapped Malfoy on the shoulder, and Lucius excused himself, turning round to come face to face with messy black hair, and wire-framed glasses over a pleasant, square-jawed face.

Sirius always believed he could read people quite well. Right now, he was certain that neither Lucius nor James were thinking about anyone but each other. And damn, but he had a bad feeling about this.