Once and Together

ONCE AND TOGETHER

The rain had started twenty minutes ago, maybe less, with an unusual wind for such a golden summer as it had been. Sirius had come, just before the rain, and was sleeping in the den, now. He had dozed off in the armchair, and Remus had let him. The man was exhausted, having been on the move for the past year, and for the past two weeks contacting the old crowd while remaining undetected by the ministry.

'I didn't find them quickly at all,' he had said, accepting Remus' offer of a seat. 'You've let yourself forget just how few of the Order are left. I remember. I had twelve years to dwell on it. Where did you get this chair, someone's trash?'

'This was my parent's place; the furniture is old. It'll all be repossessed soon, though, if I'm not careful,' he paused for barely a beat. 'I was dwelling on it those twelve years, too, Sirius.'

'I died that night, with James and Lily,' said Sirius, his voice rising a decibel. 'I went after Peter... the Ministry took me...'

He was obviously suffering some indecision as to what sentiment he meant to express, and Remus realized how foolish he had been, letting the conversation get so worked up, so quickly. He didn't want to say anything bitter to a man who had spent more than a decade in Azkaban prison, so he let Sirius fall asleep, and lit a fire in the grate with his wand. Then he put on a tea.

When the rain started little less than ten minutes later, Remus propped open the kitchen window with a colander. There was nothing sweeter than the sound of rain. Even his old victrola records (La Traviata, L'estro armonica) were only a close second. Some papers on the table wandered towards the toaster, unseated by the wind. He put the bananas on top of them, to keep them still. They rustled discontentedly, as inadequate poetry is wont to do. Remus took the kettle off the burner and poured the boiling water into the teapot. The kettle whistled affectionately.

'Hush,' he said to it.

'Talking to the kettle, Remus?' said Sirius, leaning against the doorframe. He laughed. 'You have been alone too long.'

Remus looked at Sirius, and then back to the tea leaves, saying nothing. The breeze from the window touched Sirius' skin slowly, and he shuddered, looking around.

'What's that cold?' he asked loudly.

'It's just the window,' said Remus, slightly taken aback.

Then he looked up at Sirius, and hastened to shut the window, hanging the colander on its hook.

'Oh, Padfoot,' he said, guiding the man forward and pulling out a chair, 'here: sit down.'

'It's so bloody cold. Everywhere I go: so bloody cold,' he said, sitting, obeying.

Remus put one comforting hand on Sirius's back. 'No, it's not, it's warm,' he said, 'I've shut the window now. And the summer is here,' he added, as an afterthought.

Sirius shook his head to clear it, and seemed to snap back.

'You're right, of course it is.' Sirius looked up at him. 'Did you make a tea for two, Remus?'

Remus nodded in reply. He was straining the leaves from the tea.

'You could have come to live here sooner, you know. It would have been nice to see you more often,' he said.

'I didn't want to be cooped up in here with you, Remus,' he said. 'I was locked away for so long, it felt good to move, get to blood going.'

Remus pushed a mug of tea to Sirius, who took it between his hands, and then he sat down, finally, and sipped his own tea. It was stronger than he'd hoped.

'You don't want to be here?' he asked.

Sirius grimaced.

'That's not what I meant,' he said, taking in a mouthful of tea. 'Good tea,' he commended, 'just right.'

'Thanks.'

Sirius finished his tea first, and sat politely as Remus finished. He almost blushed under Sirius' scrutiny. It put him in mind of the days long past, when they had taken turns quietly staring at one another, or walking too close in the halls, hoping for touch. There was no way to make up for that lost time, in the 70s, afraid of who they were. It was almost too late when they'd started a relationship, only a year or so before that fateful Halloween.

'Where am I to sleep?' Sirius said distantly.

'You can sleep wherever you want. Would you like me to make up the guest bed?' Remus stared at the ring of liquid in the bottom of his mug.

'You wouldn't make me sleep alone, would you?' Sirius said quickly.

A relieved smile trespassed across Remus' face.

'Of course not, Padfoot,' he said.

They left the mugs on the table and went to bed.

Remus found a pair of navy-blue, flannel pyjamas for Sirius, and stole only a glance as the man changed. Sirius had gained very little weight in the year since he'd escaped from Azkaban, but he'd grown stronger and lost the look of frailty. There was the trace of a six-pack across his abdomen, and there were no signs of recent self-mutilation, Remus was delighted to note.

'You used to wear these when you were, what? 20?' Sirius pointed out. He had left his top button open, where one of his favoured tattoos was visible.

'You remember, do you?' said Remus.

Sirius wasted no time, closing the distance between them. He put one hand on the side of Remus' face, the man's stubble scratching at his palm, and kissed him mercilessly.

'It's been thirteen years,' he whispered hoarsely into Remus' hair. 'I can't go much longer.'

They lay down, and Remus yearned to be even closer than chest-to-chest.

'Right there with you, old friend,' he said.

Sometime after midnight, but long before sunrise, the rain stopped. Water dripped from the eaves, and a slender last-quarter moon emerged, visible from the window. Remus woke to the moonlight on his face, and opened his eyes slowly. Perhaps the moonlight had woken him, or the discontinued sound of rain, but Sirius' warmth was absent from his back. He turned over. Sirius sighed.

'Awake, Remus?' he asked.

He was sitting against the headboard, with his arms around his knees. His hair, trimmed to shoulder length not long ago, seemed especially wild, never the less, and his voice was slow, toneless.

'I'm going to ask you the same,' Remus replied, awkwardly sitting up and moving to Sirius' side.

He smoothed Sirius' dark hair from his face, and he felt Sirius' thoracic cavity expand momentarily with one laughing breath.

'I never sleep for more than an hour at a time,' he explained. 'I don't like staying in one place.' 'You have nightmares, don't you?' asked Remus.

'No.'

'You do, don't you,' he said, 'and when you wake up, you're still afraid -'

'I don't need you to coddle me, Remus,' Sirius snapped.

'Clearly you need someone to,' he said.

'No, I don't. I'm not in ruddy need of attention; I just have some problems sleeping.' He seemed ready to cry with frustration. 'And if you have some way of solving them, by all means, go ahead. Otherwise -'

'OK.' said Remus.

'What?'

'OK, let's go.'

Remus pushed the covers aside violently, and struggled out of the bed. He grabbed Sirius' hand, and Sirius stood willingly, but looking a little dazed.

'I too tired...'

'Just come.'

He led Sirius from the room, and down the stairs, where Remus grabbed a set of keys from the hooks on the wall, and finally out the door and onto the front walk. The grass glistened with left-over rain, and the walk was gritty and damp beneath their bare feet. Remus continued to lead Sirius, down the walk and to the driveway.

'A car?'

'An artefact of my father's; he was a muggle. He taught me to drive it the summer before our sixth year,' Remus said, unlocking the passenger door and urging Sirius in. 'I don't really have a license, so I rarely use it.'

He buckled Sirius' belt, and shut the door softly, so as not to disturb the neighbours. The car was an old Bentley. He got in the driver's side, and pumped the gas pedal three times, then turned the key in the ignition. The car started, and he backed out of the driveway.

'Do you want the radio, Sirius?'

'No, 'salright thanks, Moony.'

They sat in silence until the city began to fade away, giving way to country road, Sirius with his feet on the dashboard, Remus glancing to the left from the corner of his eye frequently. Finally it was Sirius who spoke.

'When I said that I didn't want to be cooped up with you,' He said, 'I just meant that...'

'I know, Padfoot.'

'I never asked: how were those twelve years for you?'

'Bitter, long, and lonely,' said Remus. 'Now try to get some rest.'

They drove in silence once more, and Sirius gave in to his sleep deprivation, dozing off quietly. A tiny patch of condensation appeared on the window, where his mouth was close to the glass. It rained lightly once more, drops of water spotting the windshield and making scar-like lines on the windows. It cleared up as they passed through the small town of Kingsmere. Remus switched on the radio, turning the volume down low, and found a pleasant oldies station. He had always enjoyed muggle music; they had no enchantments on their instruments, but they managed to write such beautiful melodies.

Barely an hour before dawn, Remus pulled into a gas station on the side of the highway. It was 24 hour self-service, and he looked around furtively, before tapping the gas tank with his wand and muttering 'libertatis': he had no muggle money to pay. When he climbed back into the car, Sirius was awake.

'Where are we?' he asked, his tongue heavy.

'No where, really. How do you feel?'

'I love you, Moony, tha's how I feel.'

Remus leaned across the car and kissed Sirius briefly on the mouth. He sat back down and did up his seatbelt. He pumped the gas pedal three times, and Sirius turned away, putting his face in his hands, and began to cry. Remus turned the key in the ignition and the engine started. The radio, too, started up, but Remus switched it off. He began to drive again, down the nearly deserted highway. The horizon was quivering with the expectation of sunrise. Sirius' sobs began to quiet, and not ten minutes later he was asleep again, arms curled into his chest like a puppy.

Remus took his eyes off the road for a moment, and wiped the wet tears from Sirius' cheeks, with the sleeve of his pyjamas.

Fin