Good Day, Sunshine

Good Day, Sunshine

by Minnow

1. Heatwave

Later, it turned out to be the hottest summer since records began. But in mid-June, there were still a couple of cooler hours during the brief, werewolf-friendly period between dusk and dawn.

On these mornings near the end of Sixth Year, you had to wake really early to catch the first light, so they simply stayed outside all night, sleeping under the willow by the lake, which didn't whomp. It was quite gentle and accommodating, in fact.

If anyone found out, they would be in bad trouble again, worse trouble than ever. Remus had already had his parents summoned to the school. It was uncomfortable, and he wriggled out of it by spinning some yarn about kissing Sirius for a bet so he could buy his girlfriend a birthday present. A lame story, but he thought they believed it, mainly because they wanted to so badly.

He could lie to them but not to McGonagall. McGonagall was a lot sharper than his mother. She might ask why, if it was for a bet, had the pair of them sneaked off to the deserted fourth floor corridor? Where nobody could see them to ensure Remus kept his side of the bargain? Well, one person saw them, of course, their deadly enemy, Snivellus, always following them around, spying and snooping.

He immediately went off and babbled to McGonagall, and now she was ubiquitous too, it seemed, watching them constantly, noting their every look and move.

As for Sirius, he was on permanent probation after the Shack incident. He knew that Dumbledore had had a couple of run-ins with the Blacks, and would never actually leave Sirius to their mercy. He owed Dumbledore for that. But like Remus, he was jumpy when he felt people were looking at them; Snape especially, with his bitter, twisted smile and his occasional, disconcerting hisses of 'Pervert,' when nobody could hear him except Sirius, whom he detested with a vengeance.

They shouldn't have been taking any more risks. But Remus found it hard to worry too much when he was stretched out beside Sirius, as the sky grew dim and far away and invisible creatures began to rustle in the grass around them; they were breaking about a hundred school rules, and he simply didn't care.

The two boys were awake most of the night, free from the constraints of silencing spells, from making sure the curtains were drawn and that James and Peter weren't just pretending to snore. They spent the short hours of darkness making love - it never was just sex, though they tried to kid themselves for a while - then lying in each other's arms looking up at the filigree of leaves whitened by the moonlight, talking quietly about Sirius's family and Remus's worries about the future; subjects that neither of them would broach with anyone else, not even James.

'S'like camping, isn't it?' Remus murmured, as his eyelids started to get heavy and close in spite of himself. He was half Muggle, after all, from a fairly poor family, who drove through France with a couple of tents every summer, staying wherever there was a decent site.

Sirius, who had never been within a mile of a tent or a camping ground or a chemical loo murmured back, 'Dunno,' and then they were both asleep.

It wasn't long before the sun started to rise, and the two boys under the willow stirred restlessly. They were woken soon afterwards by the light and the dawn chorus. The birds were going mad this morning, the songs of thrushes and larks mingling with the crooning of the magical birds with their sweet, plaintive cries.

Five minutes after the sun started to appear above the horizon, it was already hot. The leaves and the grass were starting to look parched. As the relentless summer continued, at Hogwarts the magic would restore their green freshness. Elsewhere in Britain there'd be the first hosepipe ban ever, and tropical plants would spring spontaneously out of the cracked soil to flourish in the drought.

An even greater heat emanated from the skin of the two boys lying under the tree. It was almost painful to touch, and they were damp with sweat, but the steady pulse of lust that beat beneath everything they did these days overwhelmed any discomfort. The intensity of sensation made it hard for them to breath sometimes, made them gulp for air, terrified that they could actually die for love as their oxygen levels depleted.

They were struggling a bit now, tussling, almost wrestling on the grass, which tickled and was hot and exotic against their skins; kissing too, something they couldn't get enough of, each other's mouths, the intimacy and secrecy of the flesh. At the beginning, Remus, who could be compulsive like that, used actually to time how long it took him to get hard once they'd started kissing, but when it started going into milliseconds he gave up, and gave up trying to time Sirius's erections too, for the same reason. It didn't matter: they turned each other on like nothing on earth, so there was no point in doing anything but enjoying.

Later, the sun quite high now, the time inching toward four-thirty, they lay on their backs, side by side, covered by their robes, which were too hot really, even the summer ones. It was like being on holiday, as the rays of the sun fell warm and sensuous on their faces.

'We'll have to get back before Prongs misses us,' Remus said, squeezing Sirius's hand, which was entwined with his, breaking a long, long silence.

'Mmm, Moony, shut up. I was just getting back to sleep.'

'Your face'll get sunburned and then you'll never forgive me.'

He smiled to himself as Sirius hastily let go of his hand and sat up abruptly, smoothed back his hair and turned anxiously to Remus. 'It's not burnt yet, is it?'

'Just lightly browned,' grinned Remus, running a finger along the perfectly tanned cheekbones, and this made him feel strange, as if he had fireworks in his stomach and they were all going off at once.

He counted how long it took him to get completely aroused, out of habit more than anything. One, two, three whole seconds, but then they weren't actually kissing. Yet. He wondered if Sirius felt the same, and yes, he did, and they were lying entangled on the ground again.

'Do you think...do you think,' Remus choked out, 'that it's always going to be like this?' He was a bit alarmed at the prospect.

'Hope not,' grunted Sirius, 'because we'll never get any sleep, ever, for the rest of our lives.'

Afterwards, they went down to the lake to get some water, drinking thirstily from cupped hands. It was tempting to wade into the cold water to cool down, and only the thought of the Giant Squid stopped them. But they did splash each other, giggling, until they were both satisfactorily drenched, and Sirius threatened to duck Remus. They dried out under the tree, kissing again, and even dozed off for a few minutes later, but the heat wasn't going to allow them to sleep for very long.

At six o'clock, they finally, reluctantly, started to drag themselves back to the castle. The sun was really blazing now, and their skins were slightly flushed, though neither realised that they were slightly burnt; even Sirius's face, in spite of his precautions.

A peacock screamed on the lawn beside them, suddenly, making them both jump.

'What on earth do they have those for?' grumbled Sirius.

'Transfiguration.' Remus reached for Sirius's hand again as they walked up the front steps together, and Remus thought fancifully that while he and Sirius were at Hogwarts together, it would always feel like home.

Not that Sirius really had a home. Later that summer, he'd finally leave the dim coolness of Grimmauld Place forever, step through the front door into the cauldron that was London at the end of August, where it hadn't rained for months.

Now, they made their way on tiptoe up to the dorm, braving the commentary of the portraits and a couple of ghosts they met along the way. One last kiss in the deserted common room, and they went upstairs to get ready for the day ahead.

Out by the lake, a few desiccated leaves fluttered down from the willow, and landed on the ground where the two boys had been lying.

2. Drought

One of the hottest summers of the last century, and the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts had come to a shattering close.

That year, there were no majestic, enchanted grounds, just a scrubby back garden, in Tulse Hill, a suburb in South London. It was July, and the sun had had Britain in its grip for nearly three months. There was another hosepipe ban, so the grass was yellowed and brittle. Remus couldn't be bothered to perform the complex magic needed to revitalise his lawn.

Sirius lay on a towel on the ground, shirtless, trying to infuse some colour into his pallid skin. He didn't care about the dangers of the sun and its ultraviolet rays. He was a wizard, he had a wand again, and he could protect himself from dark lords and bright sunlight.

Remus, also shirtless, was lying at a distance away. He didn't know, wasn't sure what Sirius remembered. He didn't like to mention it. Enough that they were together again, relaxed as they always had been in each other's company. No need to remind either of them of the past, because that might hurt like a broken bottle scraped over a vein.

He rehearsed, though, how he'd reply if Sirius ever broke down and asked about their relationship. 'We were more than friends,' he'd say. He might talk about those nights in Sixth Year, when they slept under the willow tree, and the time James found out. Or maybe not that, because Prongs and Sirius didn't speak again properly until Sirius turned up on his doorstep with only a few Muggle pounds in his pocket and nothing else at all in the whole world.

It was very formal, for a while, at the end of that summer term. James would say, with exaggerated politeness, 'Could you pass the butter, please, Black?' and it wasn't like a joke, because of the coldness behind it. And Sirius would pass the butter with a flourish, because he wasn't cold, just fed up and pissed off. And Remus, somewhere between them, would metaphorically flatten himself against a wall, make himself as small and insignificant as possible.

Now, he flattened himself against the towel on the ground, lying on his stomach, the sun beating down on his back. It felt good. He felt alive again, just knowing Sirius was innocent and in the world.

'You're wondering how much I remember, aren't you, Moony?' Sirius stretched a hand toward him, just a gesture, because they weren't going to touch or anything. He always could read Remus's mind. It was almost uncanny, their enhanced sense of each other, which at first passed for love, then gradually became love. Then, it turned into mistrust, because they thought they knew each other well enough to discern darkness, even where there was none. Remus still couldn't bear to think how something so beautiful and unusual had got so twisted.

Remus suspected he'd lost the knack, but perhaps he was a bit relieved about it. Such need, such emotion, and how much more intense it had been to feel Sirius's wishes and desires as well as his own. It was sometimes too intense.

Sirius was lying low, certainly, as per instructions, though perhaps not quite in the way Dumbledore had intended, stretching his limbs to the sun, totally relaxed for a moment.

'Moony?'

'Well. How much do you remember?' Remus pulled handfuls of grass out of the dry soil. He'd hate himself later for it: he hated feeling he'd abused anything living, even a plant.

Sirius laughed. Though he was a while away from Azkaban now, his laugh still sounded rusty, too like a bark, because he'd been a dog for a long time and couldn't easily shake the habits he'd acquired as Padfoot.

'I remember we were more than friends. A lot more.'

For some reason, Remus felt a lump in his throat. Silly, really, a year after the Shack, a year after he'd finally embraced his beloved Sirius again, to feel like crying now, just because Sirius hadn't forgotten.

'Yeah.' He kept his voice noncommittal.

'Hey, Remus. Really.'

'We were very young. We were children,' Remus babbled. Half a lifetime ago, now, the days of lying on beds together, touching, holding. Even after school, in darker times, when the sun gave way to constant drizzle, grey days unalleviated by the warmth of lamps or flame, snowy days when the cold was no longer magical but seeped into your bones, there would be that wonderful communion. Later, there were chill autumn nights when the two of them couldn't look each other in the eye, when they lay on a bed together, back to back, not touching, still less speaking, silently hating each other.

How can you come back from that, into the sunlight? Remus wondered, as Sirius, always the bolder one, put his hand on top of Remus's, no pressure, just the lightest of touches.

When Remus closed his eyes he could see Sirius's face, so beautiful at sixteen, his feelings always so transparent as his pupils dilated. They used to gaze at each other for long minutes at a time, not blinking, so close, so happy. He blinked now, remembering. When he opened his eyes again, Sirius had moved his towel a bit nearer, was now lying on his side looking directly at Remus, with that questioning look again.

'It's too hot. D'you want a drink?' Remus got to his feet, brushing grass out of his hair. Orange squash. That was a good drink in hot weather. His mother used to make great jugs of orange squash, that summer he was sixteen and stuck at home while James and Sirius went on wild adventures together. The summer he was caught with Sirius and lied to his parents, and ever after his mother would ask hopefully about the girlfriend, and how was she, and was she pretty. It didn't occur to Remus until years later that she never asked his hypothetical girlfriend's name.

Sirius pulled him down again. 'In a minute. Look, do I have to spell everything out to you? I never used to.' He sounded resentful, cross even, and Remus hoped he wouldn't have one of his tantrums, the childishness he only started to outgrow when Harry was born and he became a godfather. In a way, Remus was quite pleased he hadn't outgrown it completely even now.

'What?' Remus would have liked to cradle the shaggy head, smooth the hair a bit, groom Sirius, as if he were in dog form. Sweat was beaded on Sirius's forehead and no doubt on his as well. It really, really was boiling. In fact, they would probably have been cooler inside, in the house, especially with a good freezing charm backed up by an electric fan.

'We could...be like we were before. If you want.' Now, Sirius was looking away, pulling up tufts of grass in his turn.

For reply, Remus leaned over and gently kissed Sirius on the lips, just kissing, nothing more. Instinctively, he started to count: one, two, three, four...well, they were older now, but touching Sirius still had an almost immediate effect on him.

Then, he was lying on top of Sirius, and no need to count any more seconds, for either of them. He worried briefly about the neighbours, especially the woman next door who sunbathed on her lounger all day in this weather. But when he pulled out his wand, the old silencing and privacy charms came back to him as if he'd never forgotten them, even for a second.

Noon, and the sun was at its height, belting down on the two men in each other's arms in a London garden, in a shabby suburb, concealed by spells as thick as the brambles that concealed Sleeping Beauty's castle. If the sun could, it would have shrugged and given up, because Remus and Sirius weren't going to register any heat beyond their own.

3. Sunny Spells

Grimmauld Place, as Sirius knew, was permanently sealed shut, so it could be any season and you'd never notice, unless you ventured outside.

It was nearly a year now, and Sirius often told Remus about the time he'd left Grimmauld Place for good, and plunged into the shimmering London heat that lay golden on the roofs and pavements. They were like a middle-aged couple, Remus reflected fondly to himself, telling each other stories and anecdotes that they'd heard or related hundreds of times before. Though of course, they weren't middle-aged, not yet, even after all the shit they'd been through.

Remus could hear the wistfulness in Sirius's voice every time, and he simply couldn't bear to see him cooped up any longer, the only sunshine he saw, or thought he saw, at the bottom of a bottle. Nothing was happening. They were all stressed, pulled too tight, about to snap. Hell, Sirius did snap often enough, and then he'd fuck Remus roughly, almost sobbing with the effort, and at times like those they could hardly be said to be making love.

But they did, they did love each other still, even if things were different now: but it was the same old sentiment. Remus hated to see Sirius suffering; it was worse than Azkaban in a way, because the challenges had gone. All he could do was sit and wait, reading perhaps, or transcribing notes for the Order, or counting the moments between meetings. He couldn't feel the soft rain on his skin, or look up at the sky, or gaze at the stars. Like Remus, he didn't even see the full moon any more.

Remus had just Apparated back from a fruitless meeting with two gnome representatives. It had been overcast earlier, but now, just around lunchtime, the sun suddenly burst gloriously from behind the clouds.

As Remus tapped his wand against the door of 12, Grimmauld Place, he made a decision, and as soon as he was in, he called, 'Sirius!' not caring if the portrait heard him: mercifully, it didn't.

He was relieved that Sirius didn't reek of drink, or not yet, and that he was up and shaved and wearing some fairly clean robes. He'd have to change anyway: Remus wasn't planning on taking Padfoot out today, so he'd need some Muggle clothes and a pair of dark glasses.

'How did the meeting go?' Sirius really wanted to know, would try to milk every detail out of Remus. Normally, Remus mentally rolled his eyes and did his best to recreate the experience, usually a disappointing or even a distressing one. Today he ignored Sirius completely.

'It's a lovely day, Pads. We're going out.'

He saw the light flare momentarily in Sirius's eyes, then fade again. 'C'mon, Remus. You know I can't.'

Remus wasn't allowed even to think of doing anything so rash, so dangerous, but today he refused to listen to his stupid conscience.

'Of course you can! I'll take full responsibility if anything goes wrong.' And he knew, just knew, it wouldn't; Remus had always been good like that, intuitive, sometimes able to tap into the future without even realising. 'We're going to have a picnic.'

Last time they'd eaten outside was the summer before, when they were still at the house in Tulse Hill. They went to the park at Crystal Palace, and climbed on the dinosaur sculptures as if they were four again, not thirty-four, and sat on a rug eating egg sandwiches and drinking lemonade laced with vodka, a Muggle drink that Remus rather regretted introducing to Sirius.

It was sunny then, hotter, but today it was a bit humid, a bit uncomfortable, and the earlier clouds had dissipated altogether.

They changed from their wizarding clothes into jeans and teeshirts and trainers. Remus, who wasn't the world's best cook, managed to charm some bread and ham into sandwiches. The butter was lumpy, straight out of the fridge, and he forgot the warming spell, so there were holes in the bread. Even a spell couldn't spread cold butter properly. Remus didn't much care. The idea wasn't to prepare a romantic, gourmet feast; the idea was to get Sirius out into the fresh air, allow him a tiny taste of freedom, and to leave now, well before the Order members started drifting in for the meeting at five.

Remus had heard the story so often that he could imagine exactly how Sirius must feel now, sixteen again, finally casting off the shadows of Grimmauld Place. They stepped over the threshold, and out into the bright, overly bright afternoon. Remus wished he had sunglasses too, but couldn't be bothered to do anything about it.

They ambled along to the park. Sirius was a bit uneasy without his Animagus disguise, but it probably wouldn't be any less risky than his human form: at least his hair was shorter now, if not a lot, and the beard had gone.

He stopped every two minutes to look in shop windows, or to point out some Muggle artefact to Remus. 'Look, Moony, a red bus! It seems like years since I've seen a red London bus!' It probably was years, but Remus didn't say it.

They finally reached the leafy green park, and sat directly on the grass, because Remus had forgotten the rug. It didn't matter. Within moments, they'd both shed their teeshirts and were lying on their backs, basking in the sunshine.

It was a holiday for Remus too, being outside on a summer's day with no Order business to conduct, instead of being stuck in Grimmauld Place trying to keep Sirius entertained. There was only so much you could do: even sex palled, when it was one of just a handful of available diversions. He tried not to think too hard of what it must be like for Sirius.

Sirius rolled over on to his stomach, started to pick daisies and make a daisy chain. He was totally absorbed, smiling slightly, humming, and attracting a few curious glances. When he had a chain long enough for a necklace, he flung it over Remus's head, with a flourish. 'There you go, Moony! You can be mayor.'

Remus was the one getting the glances now, and he wanted to protest that they were drawing too much attention to themselves, but he didn't have the heart. Sirius was halfway through a second daisy chain now, and when he'd finished he slipped it round his own neck. 'Right. We're married now.'

Remus wanted to laugh and he wanted to cry, and he wanted to take Sirius in his arms and give him a big, sloppy kiss, but that would have been asking for trouble in every possible form. So he just smiled back at Sirius, trying to convey some of what he felt for him, and said, 'D'you want a ham sandwich?'

Sirius eyed it dubiously, opened it, wrinkled his nose. 'Did you make these by hand?'

'No. I think I got the spell a bit wrong. But they taste okay.'

He'd remembered the lemonade and vodka concoction Sirius liked so much, but he'd kept the alcohol well down, enough to give them a buzz but not to make them so drunk they forgot they shouldn't be out together, not at all, certainly not here, where so many people could see them. But Remus didn't imagine there were many Death Eaters in Regents Park on a Tuesday afternoon.

After they'd eaten, Sirius was restless, wanted to walk, so Remus packed up the remains of the lunch, and they wandered round the park, still wearing their matching daisy chains. Ever the dog, Sirius stopped every five minutes to examine a tree, or to declare that next time they must go boating, or dabble his fingers in the canal and wander out loud whether it was all right to drink the water.

'If you want typhoid.'

'Remember the lake, Moony?'

That was the sort of detail Remus imagined had been lost forever, but no. 'Yes, yes I do.' And the clear, cold taste of the water that had quenched their thirsts on that beautiful, long-ago morning. 'It's not quite as hot today, at least.'

'No.' Sirius sounded wistful.

They stood on the bridge, scattering the remains of their lunch into the water for the ducks to eat, watching the mallards dive to retrieve every scrap of bread.

Eventually, tired, they started to make their way back to Grimmauld Place. Remus knew that Sirius didn't think of it as home, but he did, simply because to him home would always be wherever Sirius was. Not everything had changed since they were at Hogwarts.

By the time they reached the hidden house, the clouds had returned and were drifting in front of the sun. Remus shivered as he opens the door. 'I think we had the best of the day, don't you, Pads?'

Sirius closed the door behind him, reluctantly, as they stepped into the hall. 'As long as Kreacher doesn't find I've been out. Not that he could do anything.'

It was dark and oppressive suddenly after the brightness outside. Remus, who had carried the two discarded daisy chains carefully home, went to the kitchen to find some water to put them in, to preserve Sirius's memory of the afternoon out for as long as he possibly could. He resolved to ask Molly later about a suitable charm to keep flowers fresh forever, but they were already beginning to droop, so it was probably too late.

End