If In The Past

Chapter Three: Lyrio Sapphirius

Dear Remus,

I can't believe I've been in here a week already. I wonder what you're doing right now. It's just after noon; you've probably just finished eating and are getting ready to go out looking for work again. Or perhaps you've found something by now. What are you thinking about me, I wonder. For I'm sure you do, because after a week I will not have become a ghost to you yet. When we were younger, I used to wish I could change your mind, and now I wish that again. I hope that you don't believe I murdered Lily and James, but in a way it doesn't matter because I probably will never see you again.

They brought in Barty Crouch Jr. today. His cell is down the hall from mine, and he hasn't stopped screaming since they put him in it.

I wonder where my wand is now. Thirteen inches, birch, dragon heartstrings...it's probably been snapped.

They say you go mad in Azkaban. I don't think it's happened to me yet, but it's definitely happened to Evan Rosier, whose cell is next to mine. I can't see him, but I can hear him babbling about how Voldemort is going to come and rescue him. Then sometimes he thinks he's free and sitting in his parlor at home.

Memories. I've got to get back to memories. The first time I met you and James, I'll start with that.

I already knew Peter befor we began school, because the Pettigrews were the only other wizarding family in our village. We only saw each other on occasion, though, because our families weren't particularly close and I was basically a loner as a kid. My parents homeschooled me, and for most of the afternoon and evening each day I was left to my own devices. I spent a great portion of that time reading or exploring the unused parts of the house, which were many because our house was meant to accommodate several generations of a family and all their servants. My parents and I rattled around in it like marbles in an empty drawer.

"I've told Marjorie Pettigrew that we'd take Peter and Richard to the station tomorrow," said my mother at dinner on August thirty-first of my eleventh year. Mr. Pettigrew was always at work, and his wife, as you know, suffers from agoraphobia and keeps close to home.

I rolled my eyes. Peter, remember, was at his most clingy when we were in our first year and I had no desire to begin a new school with him sticking to me like a particularly stubborn burr. "Why can't Richard just take the two of them by himself?" I whined.

"Well, I'm sure he could, but he's only a third-year and it makes Mrs. Pettigrew feel better to know someone got them there safely. Honestly, Sirius, don't whine."

"Polaris is late," said my father, pouring himself another butterbeer. "He said he'd be home my five-thirty and it's just after six o'clock." My brother Polaris was coming back home for a few days. He was twenty-two at the time; I was my parents' late-in-life child. He worked at Diagon Alley, but it was going to be closed for a few days for repairs and he had decided to seize the opportunity to visit. He had warned us that his three roommates were coming also. As we were eating dessert, I heard his key turn in the lock.

I don't think you've ever met my brother Polaris. We've never been close, what with the age difference and everything. He's short, stocky, and the only way you can tell we're related is by our hair, which is the exact same color and texture except that his is cut short.

He walked into the dining room with a tall, slender, dark-skinned boy in tow. Two others followed, but I hardly saw them; my gaze was fixed on the tall one.

You would have been mesmerized by this boy too, Remus, I'm sure. He had lush, full lips, and the longest, most curly eyelashes I'd ever seen. His eyes were like liquid chocolate and his close-cropped hair exposed his delicate ears. He seemed to be made entirely of long, sloping, gentle lines, and I stared, transfixed. His eyes met mine for a second and in that second I longed to delve into the deepest depths of his soul and see what lay there, and discover if it was as beautiful as his exterior.

"I missed you too, Sirius," said Polaris sarcastically. I blinked, startled.

"Oh, sorry. Hello, Polaris."

He rolled his eyes. "This is my kid brother Sirius," he told his friends. I scowled at the word "kid", feeling suddenly inferior and inadequate. He introduced his friends to the family. The names of the other two escape me, but I will always remember that the name of the languidly beautiful young man was Lyrio Sapphirius.

We all moved into the parlor, and my parents began the polite ritual of asking each of the young men questions about themselves without being too prying. Lyrio Sapphirius, I learned, worked at Flourish and Blotts along with Polaris. The other two worked next door. Lyrio was engaged to be married in the spring and was moving to Edinburgh then.

After an hour a few hours of this talk, most of which I tuned out, my brother and his friends, tired from the journey, decided to retire. My father assigned me to the task of hauling their suitcases up the stairs and into their rooms. Due to the size of the house, each boy had his own room.

I'd been in bed for about two minutes when I heard one of the friends, whose name I can't remember, come down the stairs and rap on a door across the hallway. "Lyrio!" he whispered. "Could I have that book I lent you back?"

"Certainly," came a rich and melodious voice from down the hallway. I realized that Lyrio's room was a mere three doors away.

I lay in bed, listening to the young man clomp back up the stairs and trying to figure out what it was about Lyrio, a man I had known for only about three hours, that fascinated me so much. It wasn't personality, for he was very quite and I had not yet discovered what sort of man he was. All I knew of him was what I have told you. The thought entered my mind that he fascinated me because he was handsome, but I hurriedly dismissed it. Why should I care if he was handsome? But I did, and therein lay the enigma.

I pondered it a few minutes more, but drew no satisfactory conclusions. I then heard light snoring coming from down the hall. Without knowing why, I walked down the hallway and into Lyrio's room.

He had set down his suitcase next to the bed and taken only a few essentials out of it. The half-moon shown through the open window and onto his ebony skin. I drew a sharp breath. He opened his eyes suddenly and sat up with a start.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing that popped out of my mouth.

"No, it's all right," he said, sitting up even further. He had no shirt, and his chest was small yet muscular. "I'm not angry, only curious. Why are you in my room?"

"No reason," I mumbled, humiliated. He eyed me cynically. "Well, of course I have a reason, but it's awfully stupid."

"Try me," he said, a small and gentle smile upon his face. "I won't laugh."

Behind the melodious rise and fall of his voice was a quality of earnestness, and I decided to trust him. "I thought you were handsome."

"Ah." He looked at me directly. "I must say, I'm flattered. You're going to be quite stunning yourself in a few years."

I blushed furiously, trust vanishing and uncomfortable tension taking its place. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm not propositioning you, only stating a fact."

I squirmed even more at the word "propositioning", vaguely aware that it meant something of a secretive and intimate nature. He continued, "There's nothing wrong with you thinking I'm handsome. I've stared at quite a few men myself."

"What about your fiancee?" I asked, the words leaving my mouth before I could rethink them.

"A person can fancy both men and women, you know."

"I never said I FANCIED you!" I said hotly.

"Nor did I. Calm down, Sirius, I'm trying to be reassuring, not to scare you." He laughed suddenly. "How long have I known you? Three hours?"

We looked at each other in silence for a few minutes. Then I said, "How do you know if you like both men and women?"

"Polaris tells me you're quite a reader. How do you know you like to read? You just know it, don't you? It's the same with everything people desire."

"Does your girlfriend know?"

"Yes. So does your brother."

"You're lucky. I don't really know what I want," I blurted awkwardly.

"Neither did I, at your age. Don't worry about it, you'll figure it out. Now, Polaris tells me you're starting Hogwarts tomorrow. You need your sleep."

"Lyrio?"

"What is it?"

I was trembling but full of a newly awakened desire, anxious but longing. "Can...can I kiss you?"

"No. I'm engaged, I'm nine years older than you, you barely know me, you're my friend's little brother, and it's entirely inappropriate." His face softened suddenly. "Save it for someone you love, Sirius."

I took his advice, Remus. You were the first person I ever kissed.

Your Sirius