I'll Come to Thee

I'll Come to Thee by Moonlight by Amergin

Remus Lupin took a sip of the tea. Hazelnut flavour exploded on his tongue, and burnt his throat on the way down.

It was the perfect early-summer night. It was still cool enough that he didn't feel it necessary to waste energy trying to beat his ancient air conditioner into submission. And yet, it was warm enough that he didn't need a fire burning in the hearth in order to be comfortable. That would probably not be a good idea anyway, as the room tended to fill up with copious black smoke every time he tried to light the wood.

Remus had inherited the house from his parents when they died. That was fortunate--he shuddered to envision the struggle of concealing his lycanthropy during the full moon should he have lived in a city flat.

The Lupin estate was--well, more of a cottage, really. It was a comely, one-story, five-room abode compete with a small attic. It was located near the eastern borders of Scotland, surrounded by meadows, small copses of trees, a small lake and--a dark shadow on the horizon--the southern edges of the Forbidden Forest. Remus often found himself gazing at it longingly. He found it difficult to believe that his old school was just on the other side....Although he knew that the Forest was at least a hundred miles deep, it pleasured him to think that a part of Hogwarts was so close by.

He took another sip of tea as he turned to page in his book and rubbed his temple in a small, circular motion. He had failed to pay his electric bill last month, so he was now reduced to reading Interview with the Vampire by candlelight. Anne Rice was by no means his preferred genre of book, but after a week of The Iliad, he felt he deserved a break.

Nevertheless, he had a headache.

A drop of hot tea fell from the base of the mug and landed on the page. Remus swore softly and wiped to mug bottom with the cuff of his sleeve. The shirt used to be white, but it was now irreparably stained from being used to mop up countless amounts of spilled tea and wine.

He peeled the page from where it had stuck to the one behind it and blew on it gently. Damn paperback books--the whole thing would be crinkled by morning when it had dried.

At that moment, emerald green flames ignited in the fire grate. It startled Remus so much that he dropped to almost-full mug on the floor. It shattered instantly, sending a puddle of the lukewarm drink spreading steadily across the floor and soaking the hem of his trousers.

A tall figure had appeared in the fire, spinning dizzyingly. A second later, Sirius Black was stepping out of the hearth, brushing his long blue-black hair out of his face.

"Sirius!" Remus couldn't restrain the shock creeping into his tone. "Well, this is an unexpected surprise."

Sirius dropped into one of Remus' dilapidated armchairs, tilting his head back to exhale slowly. He looked quite as anxious and exhausted as he had a year ago, following his escape from the wizard prison Azkaban.

Remus joined him by the empty fireplace, lowering himself onto an archaic ottoman, sidestepping the pool of tea carefully. "What is it?" he asked. "What happened?"

Sirius sighed and brought his head back to its regular position. "It's Harry," his voice was still hoarse from twelve years of disuse. "The third task...the Cup was a Portkey, it brought Harry to a graveyard....Voldemort's back."

Remus suddenly found that his own breath was coming forth in ragged gasps. He licked his lips subconsciously, and his right hand found its way to his face to fiddle with the frame of his wire-rimmed glasses. "Back?" He found that his voice was just as dry as Sirius'.

His old friend nodded wearily. "He killed one of the Triwizard champions--that Cedric Diggory. Apparently he called all the Death Eaters together and, according to Harry, he's got his old body back," Sirius swept a few tendrils of hair from where they had fallen almost elegantly into his eyes. "I'm supposed to stay here with you for a while--"lie low at Lupin's," I believe, is how Dumbledore put it. He's getting the Order back together."

There was a heavy silence. Remus' gaze was fixated upon Sirius' eyes. They were such a deep ultramarine, veiled by hidden pain and masked memories. His stomach lurched and for a moment he thought he was going to vomit. The sensation passed quickly enough, the waves of nausea diminishing into a lingering queasy feeling in his stomach.

"May I offer you something to eat?" Remus stood, vanishing the puddle of spilled tea with his wand. "A biscuit, perhaps?"

Sirius laughed, the sound more like a dog barking than anything else. "There's no need to treat me like one of your students, Moony. Food doesn't always solve everything," he stood as well, grinning. "But I don't deny that it helps."

Remus forced a smile. He found it exceedingly difficult to be cheerful when Voldemort was on the loose, despite Sirius' ever-ready good temper.

Sirius led the way down the short hallway to the kitchen and threw open the fridge door and surveyed its contents cynically. "God, Remus, how do you eat?!" He bent over to view the lower shelves. "Let's see...there's wine--Chardonnay, might I add--stale bread, marmalade, more wine, and--what is this?"

Sirius held up a lump of grey mold wrapped in what appeared to be a length of Saran wrap, an expression of pure revulsion on his face.

"I think it's cheese," Remus muttered, proud that he'd succeeded in keeping a blush off his face. As a student, his cheeks had been prone to flushing red at the slightest chagrin.

Sirius replaced the cheese on its shelf. "Not meaning to sound skeptical, mate, but you need to find yourself a girl."

Remus smiled but shook his head. "Thanks for the concern, but I'm not looking for anyone at the moment."

Sirius pulled a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the refrigerator. "I'll have to hook you up, then, won't I?" He poured himself an Remus glasses of wine. The drink glittered like molten garnet in the flickering candlelight. Sirius himself looked unearthly--- his milky white skin and satin black hair made him seem vampiric; a fae creature pouring blood into a crystal goblet.

Remus startled himself with the eloquent poetry that had sprung into his mind. He did not consider himself a creative person. He was an avid reader, not a writer. He blinked furiously, trying to clear his head.

"All right, Moony?" Sirius' voice broke into his muddled thoughts.

"Of course," Remus accepted the tall glass of wine from his friend an took a long sip. Hopefully the alcohol would relieve the tension gathering in his muscles.

"You looked rather...upset." Sirius lay a hand on the werewolf's shoulder, trying to peer into his eyes anxiously.

Remus choked on a swallow of wine. Coughing violently, he abandoned his glass on the counter, fighting a gag.

"Fine--I'm fine--" Remus gasped. He inhaled deeply, eyes watering.

Sirius was still staring at him curiously. Remus took another swig of wine, trying to calm his rattled nerves.

Sirius emptied his glass in one gulp and exhaled forcefully. "Well, I'm out," he said, yawning. "Think I'll test out that guest bedroom of yours, Moony."

It was only after Sirius had loaded the used champagne flute into the dishwasher, wiped his hands on a paper towel, and retreated across the hall to his bedchamber that Remus allowed himself to move. He moved as though in a daze to his own room, where he undressed and wondered how the hell he had managed to fall for his best friend.

To be continued....