Little Spaces

I.

Remus hates seeing Sirius like this. Every autumn; every January; Sirius is not Sirius for a time, not really. Yes, he is expansive and laughing, he makes jokes in the classrooms and serves detentions and plots new uses for Dungbombs. Yes, he winks at all the girls, and quirks his eyebrow at all the boys. He is almost a caricature, characteristically exaggerated.

But when it is just the four of them, James, Peter, Sirius, and Remus, Sirius moves sharply. When he speaks, his fingers are flexed past straight, bowed inward and trembling; his hands move in short, abbreviated gestures, as if in a very small space. He sits near the door, on the edge of his chair. Every so often, his head jerks spasmodically to look over his shoulder, and he breathes again to see that nobody is there.

Remus hates seeing Sirius like a spring wound too tightly.

II.

Remus shakes his head in horror. He cannot believe it is true, not this, not like this. The picture of Sirius on the front page of the Prophet dances from side to side, laughing in a horrible high-pitched way as it tries to escape the borders of the photograph.

It is true, they tell him. True, and they are so very sorry. It is not true, he whispers, and thinks of a spring wound too tightly coming unbent with violent force. The picture has stopped laughing and now stares out of the page, madness in its eyes. Its hands twitch occasionally, as if wringing the neck of a rat.

Remus throws the paper across the kitchen and sits in his chair, shaking his head slowly.

III.

Remus has never been to the Black family home before. He turns to the dog standing at the gate and says "come on". The dog's hackles are up, and as it walks down the path it looks from side to side as if it expects the plants to lunge and bite. Remus thinks that, considering the location, this is not unlikely. Crossing the threshhold, the dog's belly is nearly touching the ground.

The dog blurs and is Sirius, who stares warily at the walls. Remus watches his eyes widen in horror at the sight of the portrait on the wall, sleeping. "Shh!" hisses Sirius, and Remus complies, allowing Sirius to pull him through the doorway into the kitchen.

The dog hesitates like a man, and the man cringes like a dog, and Remus wishes he'd still never been to the Black family home.

IV.

Remus has always liked Christmasses. Even when he didn't have anyone to spend them witrh, he liked Christmasses. This, he thinks, is one of the best of them. Better even than India in '87. He watches across the table as Sirius waves a hand, pantomiming a brilliant Bludger hit from his fifth year for a rapt Fred and George. His eyes are a little too bright, and his smile a little too wide, but this is nearly Sirius.

Remus follows Sirius's eyes as Harry opens his present, s . Every autumn; every January; Sirius is not Sirius for a time, not really.ees the anxiety that turns to relief when Harry is pleased. Remus sees Sirius's hand twitching toward the bottle of Ogden's later, and sees him change his mind and take a Butterbeer instead.

This Christmas, Remus decides, is one of the best.

V.

Remus can't stop himself from smiling as he ducks a streak of red light and casts a counterjinx. There, at last, across a dim room, Sirius is really Sirius again. He laughs like a sane person, moves quickly and loosely, and has a purpose. This is Sirius useful, moving in an open space. This is Sirius seeing only real threats. This is Sirius unafraid.

This is Sirius falling.

Remus nearly can't stop himself from crying as he grabs Harry.