Three O'clock in the Morning

Three O'clock in the Morning

In the real dark night of the soul, it is always three o'clock in the morning. - F. Scott Fitzgerald

Fair Friend

To me, fair friend, you can never be old. - Shakespeare

It was Scotland and it was raining. No, raining was not the right word; it was as though the air had condensed itself into liquid that merely suspended itself above the ground. It was not fog and it was not rain. It was not even right to qualify it as mist. It was a miserable August day as only northern Scotland could make it. And nearly everyone in town was inside and doing something worthwhile (or at least dry) with their time.

Sirius walked down the semi-abandoned pathway on the common, steadfastly looking anywhere but at his companion. He scuffed at the pebbles that decorated the border with his shoe, spraying them in random patterns like a five-year-old child. He did not want to be here, talking about this - especially with him.

"Let's sit down here, Sirius."

Curse that voice, Sirius silently cried.

"Look, the willows cover that bench so it's barely even wet. I still don't know why you wanted to talk about this outside when we could very easily have had privacy in either of our flats."

Sirius turned slowly and dragged himself over to the public bench, which was indeed relatively dry. Once seated, he amused himself by watching a squirrel scurry back and forth across the path in a frenzied circle, as though it were looking for something it could never find. Sirius restrained the urge to throw some food out to the animal. He knew what it was like living off of nature and he pitied the squirrel, though it probably had a better idea of what it was doing than he had ever had.

"Sirius!" his companion snapped.

"What?" Sirius asked slowly, still not facing the other man.

"God, at least look at me! Or have I done something so horrifically wrong that you can't bear to see my face?"

Sirius, once again capitulating, as he always did, turned to look at the other man. He turned to look at Remus Lupin. A Remus Lupin whom he had never met, but was sure he could have learned to love.

This was a different Remus Lupin. This was one without grey hair or lines etched across a face too old for too scant years. A man who laughed long, loud, and often. A boy who had never had to face the fear of becoming a man- eating savage beast. This was a man with a full time job, whose clothes were new, fashionable, and fit well. Here was a person who never forced himself to learn restraint at a tender age, if only as a mercy to those around him. Sitting next to Sirius was a Remus Lupin with smooth edges and mischievous eyes, a man who did not always think twelve steps ahead and two steps behind. This was a man who could have been Sirius's lover; this was a man whom Sirius's lover could have been. But was not.

"Sirius," Remus began again, making an obvious effort to keep his temper in check. "Lily's been talking to me and-"

"Don't get in the middle of this, Remus," Sirius snapped. The last thing he needed was Remus - who so resembled his Moony - to be talking to him about love and responsibility and care and compassion and Lily. There were still nights when he woke up in a cold sweat, chilled in Lily's arms, wanting nothing more than for Remus to sit next to him, telling him that Azkaban was over, that the Dementors would never find him again. Never mind that the men had not been lovers since before Sirius's prison sentence. Sirius found that Moony could give him comfort with a few words or a simple pat on the shoulder. So, it was not surprising that he did not want to talk to Remus about love and devotion to Lily Madeline Evans Black.

Remus lifted his hands, palms out, in shock. "I'm not going to get in the middle of this. This is between you and Lily, no one else."

"Then what did you so desperately want to talk about?" Sirius growled, sounding much like Padfoot.

Remus sighed and spent a few minutes listening to the sound of the rain on the willow trees and watching the crazed squirrel leave its circuitous path in favor of scampering up a tree and hiding from a stray cat. "I don't really know what to say, Sirius. I really don't. I didn't come by today and drag you from the funeral home to make you miserable, but," Remus sighed again, "things need to be said."

Sirius ran his fingers through his hair and removed the tie that kept it in place, allowing the breeze to toy with it, only scratching at it when black strands blew into his eyes and obscured his vision. "What needs to be said?" he asked at last, truly wondering which secrets would be spilled on the common that afternoon. He knew more about Remus than his other self had, thanks mostly to Severus and Sasha, but also to his own ability watch, spy, and wonder.

"You've changed, Sirius."

Oh, so they were supposed to talk about his secrets. Well, Sirius decided, that will not happen today. He would lead Remus in a merry little circle if he were pressed. But he would not bear his soul to a man who did not dare to come out of the closet to him.

"Oh."

"Yes, Sirius, 'oh.' I don't really know when it happened or how we could have missed it, but over the past few months, you've changed. You seem... lost. It's as if you don't always follow what's going on around you, or, at least, you don't care about it. You're distancing yourself from us, your closest friends."

"Us?"

"Yes, Lily, Peter, and myself. You used to tell the three of us absolutely everything. Now, it's 'Sasha this' and 'Severus that' and 'I'm taking Harry and his friends to the movies tonight.'"

"I can't take my own stepson to the movies?" Sirius asked dryly.

"That's not what I'm saying!" Remus pressed his knuckles to his chin in thought. "Look, we remember what you were like. Suddenly, sometime in early summer, you made a complete turn-around. You were so outgoing, so involved in the community, and now you're content to go out to eat once in a while with Severus and Sasha, to walk Harry and Hermione to the movies on Friday, and spend the rest of your time either out here or in the flat researching God only knows what about Archways."

"What do you know about Archways?" the wizard asked suddenly.

Remus's soft brown eyes widened slightly, shocked at the venom in his longtime friend's voice. "Nothing. It's just that Harry asked me if I knew anything about Archways making a significant point in history, saying it was for you. I explained to him the significance of the Etruscan Arch and their use of the keystone, but that obviously wasn't the information he was looking for."

Sirius's lean body sagged with defeat. He hated raising his hopes only to have them quashed, but whenever he heard a whisper of a rumor that might be able to bring him home, back to his Moony and Harry, he dared to dream that his wish might come true, this time.

"Why?" Remus questioned shrewdly. "Is there something important about Archways?"

"No," Sirius lied dejectedly. "There's absolutely nothing important about Archways whatsoever." Unless you were a misplaced wizard trying desperately, desperately to find a way home.

"If you're sure..."

"I am."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Sirius was sprawled along the bench, dressed in his black pants and white collared shirt, still savoring the freedom of being able to sit on a wooden bench on a town common, without fear of Azkaban and the Dementor's Kiss. Remus, on the other hand, fidgeted uncomfortable, twitching with his pale trench coat, obviously trying to find a way to stay dry in the Scottish mist without abandoning his friend in a grey, wet park.

"Sirius?"

The Animagus wanted to curse Remus for breaking the delicate silence of the day. "I just want to know what's wrong. We want to know what hurt you."

Sirius only shrugged indifferently. "What happened happened. You couldn't understand, even if you tried." No one who had never met a Dementor had a shade of a dream of what twelve years in that hellhole was.

"'What freezings I have felt, what dark days seen!'" the history teacher quoted, plainly tried to lighten the serious mood and get Sirius talking.

Tossing his head back, Sirius tried to catch rain on his tongue, but found it impossible as the mist was not true rain. "Something like that."

Remus stared at his friend worriedly. He was fairly sure that Sirius did not pick up on the sonnet reference, but for the usually upbeat man to agree with a seemingly melancholy line made him rather nervous. "What?"

"I said, 'something like that,'" he annunciated.

"No," Remus clarified with a swift shake of his head, flipping water onto Sirius and the bench. "What did you mean?"

"It's rather obvious, isn't it?"

The fair-haired man just stared at his friend blankly.

"Well, you're the one who suggested it!" Sirius protested. "It stands to reason that you would know what you meant!"

"I was joking," Remus said softly. "I was trying to make you laugh. You always teased me when I quoted Shakespeare."

"Shakespeare? He... he wrote plays, didn't he?"

Remus looked as if Sirius had just grown a third head, complete with horns and a forked tongue. "'He wrote plays, didn't he?' 'He wrote plays?'" the mild-mannered teacher sounded astounded and utterly flabbergasted. "Have you lost all of your memories of our English classes at Hogwarts?"

Wisely, Sirius chose not to answer that particular question.

"Shakespeare is only the greatest English-speaking playwright of all time! How can you forget that? Mr. Gallagher drilled him into our heads endlessly; it was the reason you despised him so much! Don't you remember when he forced you to recite Sonnet 87 in front of the entire class in third year?"

Sirius stared as blankly at Remus as his companion had mere moments previously and Remus fell silent as well.

For a long time, the two old friends sat on that wooden bench, side by side. Slowly the mist faded into a murky, pewter grey cloud cover. The wind rattled the rain out of the willow trees and onto their heads. A harried- looking young mother strode quickly through the common, dragging a three- year-old boy and pushing a carriage with a baby of indeterminate age and gender.

Sirius was tempted to transform into Padfoot and chase squirrels, as he was sometimes still want to do. It relaxed him and reminded him of the good times with Moony, Wormtail, and Prongs. Being Padfoot reinforced his freedom to be who he wanted to be and do what he wanted to do. It was only too bad that Remus would not understand if his best friend suddenly became a black Labrador.

The wizard wondered how Regulus was doing at the funeral home. When Remus appeared on their doorstep shortly after lunch, they had both been shocked. Sirius had wondered why this man who so resembled his lover had come to the funeral home. He had not really spoken with Remus earnestly in weeks. His brother had assured him that it would be perfectly fine for Sirius to go to the common and talk to his friend, but Sirius doubted that either brother had expected the anticipated conversation to last all afternoon. It would not make sense for him to return to work for only an hour or so, now, so he decided to stay with Remus. Maybe his friend had something more to say.

Finally, Remus sighed again. "Sirius, I didn't come today to fight or make you miserable, whatever actually happened. I just wanted to talk. Pete and I have been worried about you, Lily, and Harry. The three of you have just become so closed off recently."

"Closed off?"

"You don't talk to use anymore. Lily is just still upset over James... I suppose Harry's talking to you now, but I miss being his favorite uncle. He always used to come to me with everything, but now you're his confidant and advisor, which is fine, but I still feel left out. I really don't know why you aren't talking to us anymore."

"I talk to you," Sirius protested without much emotion.

"Not anymore, you don't." Remus's voice was laced with hurt and it broke Sirius's heart that he had made Remus feel that way. "You smile and nod and tell us about the funeral home and Harry's day with Hermione and his cousins. You talk to us like we're strangers with whom you have to eat dinner. It's like you're building these walls around yourself and we can't get in."

Sirius did not have an answer for that.

Remus ran a hand through his hair and Sirius realized the man was overdue for a haircut. "None of this is coming out the way I want it to."

"What do you want to say?" Sirius asked, moving a hand to rest upon his friend's right shoulder.

Remus stared at the dark grey storm clouds overhead for a moment. "Maybe that I want you to know that I'm here for you, whatever the Hell is going on in your life. I don't think that you're off with another woman, like Lily does, but I do think that something's wrong. Maybe you're talking to Sasha and Snape about it, for whatever Godforsaken reason. I just wish you'd at least talk to me and Pete about it, even if you don't want Lily to know."

Sirius nodded slowly and stood. "Do you want to join us for dinner tonight? Lily is making a nice lamb roast with those vegetables you like."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I think Hermione and Draco are coming over, anyway. One more mouth won't be that bad."