Occlumency

Occlumency

Visions clash, planes crash--and still there's talk of

Saving souls...

Remus slowly limped his way back to Twelve Grimmauld Place through the crisp winter evening air, two days past early January's full moon, returning from yet another of Dumbledore's special outreach missions. Dumbledore had sent him away, just the day after Boxing Day in fact, to visit the last remaining pack of British werewolves who, as far as the Order could tell, had not yet been visited by Voldemort's minions. Remus had planned to stay on with Sirius, Harry, Hermione and the clan of Weasleys at Grimmauld Place over the holidays. He had been looking forward to spending leisurely days with Sirius and the children, reading, practicing defensive spells and playing Wizard's chess. However, liaisons with potential allies were growing increasingly important now in the face of Voldemort's impending rise to power; and Remus, as a senior member of the Order of the Phoenix, knew that forging a successful alliance was paramount if they hoped to survive the upcoming war.

As part of the visit, he'd spent the full moon in the isolated moors of Scotland with the near-feral pack who roamed the bogs and moraines of the Lowlands, and in doing so had obtained, if not a full agreement to join the Order's side, at least a pledge to stay neutral in the upcoming war. Which, Remus supposed, was probably the best to be expected, given the difficulty of the negotiations; but he would take it, and would convince Dumbledore that it was indeed a victory for them.

It was late this evening though, well past nine, and he was exhausted, so Remus decided he would visit and brief Dumbledore tomorrow. Tonight all he wanted was a hot cooked meal, a soft comfortable bed, warm and welcoming arms around him and the promise of simple companionship to help relieve the lingering ache from the transformation. Once upon a time these used to be strange things to find at Grimmauld Place; but the forbidding house and the man who unwillingly lived there had slowly grown to become a home for him over these past few months, a home for which he was deeply grateful.

The transformation itself though, Remus had to admit, in the brisk winds of the moors, had been exhilarating, even if tempered by the Wolfsbane potion. The wolf hadn't felt so free in ages running with the pack, even if it wasn't his own; though he also knew the wolf sorely missed the pack mate who used to pace him through dark forests, who kept him in line with a well-placed nip, who taught the wolf how to play in the night, and who taught the boy the meaning of friendship in the morning.

So Remus felt horribly guilty as he stepped up to the front door. He was supposed to be here over the full holiday--and he knew there was nothing that Padfoot would have liked more than to run with him over the moraines in the moonlight. And right at this minute there was nothing else Remus would have liked to give Sirius except that chance to roam free through the moors. His heart suddenly aching for that, he only hoped now that the presence of the others had been enough to keep Sirius' spirits buoyed for the rest of the holidays; especially since tomorrow the children were due to return to Hogwarts.

Remus stepped wearily into the downstairs kitchen. He half-hoped to find Sirius there; though often by this time in the evening he'd retired to Buckbeak's room or occasionally to the library. He was pleasantly surprised to see Arthur Weasley however, lounging in the armchair by the hearth, warming himself by the crackling fire.

"Arthur! Welcome back," Remus smiled sincerely, strode over to the chair and extended his hand.
Arthur rose slightly from the chair to shake the proffered hand with a huge grin. "It's good to be back, thanks," he replied. "Welcome back yourself, old chap. How was your trip?"

"As good as could be expected," Remus said a little distractedly, looking around the otherwise dank room. "Where's Sirius?"

"I don't know," Arthur said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Haven't seen him since, oh, supper I think. After Professor Snape left--"

"Snape was here?" Remus said lightly, trying to keep the tension from his voice, though involuntarily stiffening as he did so, remembering the last time Snape had come round--

"Yes, just before I came back. Snape and Sirius were having a--well, it wasn't a discussion, I'd wager. Harry was in between, trying to keep them apart--"

"Keep them apart?" Remus couldn't hold the sharpness back this time and he peered at Arthur intently.

"Aye, he was. But whatever was going on, seemed to settle right down once we arrived. Snape left, we had supper, and we haven't seen Sirius since. Did seem rather glowering, mind you that's not too unusual these days, but--"

Remus nodded, and willfully relaxed his fists that had unconsciously clenched the minute he'd heard about Harry. "Right then. I'll go look for him."

"Eat first, Remus, you look knackered," Arthur commented. "Molly's left some stew under a heating charm on the sideboard, and there's fresh-baked bread in the basket and she made a perfect trifle for pudding--"

"Yes, of course," Remus muttered, again distracted, heading for the sideboard and summoning a bowl from the hutch. Snape's visit last time had almost devastated their friendship, and they had spent the past month or so slowly re-establishing it, but Sirius found Snape insufferable at the best of times and Sirius was just unpredictable enough--and he dreaded to think what might have happened this time had Harry not been here to intervene. But it hardly was fair to rely on a confused fifteen-year-old child to separate two men who simply hated each other--and not for the first time he started to doubt the wisdom of Dumbledore sending him off on these near-constant outreach missions.

Worried about Sirius, Remus ate quickly, only barely tasting the steak-and-kidney stew, though Arthur was right, it was delicious; grabbing a generous hunk of bread, he started to head off on his search when Arthur's voice stopped him.

"Oh Remus, by the way, Snape left an envelope for you too."

Remus' shoulders slumped perceptibly as he took the envelope from Arthur. So soon? he thought with a tinge of bitterness, staring for a minute at the looped emerald script. I just got back--He didn't need to open it to know what it was. He folded it and put it in his robe pocket unread.

Remus bade Arthur good night then slipped out along the hallways to search for Sirius, who, depending on his mood, could be hiding anywhere in the drafty mausoleum either as the man or as Padfoot. Except of course, by his mother's portrait, Remus amended wryly, thoughtfully chewing on the crust.

He checked Buckbeak's room first though, out of habit, simply because this was the most likely place to find Sirius, either in human or Animagus form. Sometimes he believed Buckbeak was a better friend to Sirius than he was; Buckbeak was rather imperious as Higgogriffs were wont to be, and thus very similar to his owner; but at least he didn't turn away or reject him, and at least Buckbeak was always here, just as imprisoned as Sirius. Buckbeak had a different mien about him though regarding his incarceration here, unlike Sirius; Buckbeak was patient, biding his time, content to roam about the spacious room and eat the proffered rats that the dog hunted. Sirius bristled with impatient energy, chafing at being reined in, and, unable to unleash it, too often tried to drown it in Firewhisky.

Buckbeak nested on the bed, a tumbled shambles in the middle of the room illuminated by the dim light of the waning moon. Remus bowed politely to the majestic creature and waited for him to return the gesture, and grant him closer approach. When he nodded, Remus stepped forward with hand outstretched, and the Hippogriff rubbed his head against it. Idly scratching the feathers on the Hippogriff's head, Remus surveyed the room. Sirius usually sat in the corner against the wall furthest from the door opposite the Hippogriff; though when he was the dog Remus would find Padfoot curled up under Buckbeak's protective wing, and that had been very often (too often) as of late. There was no sign however that Sirius had been here, at least not recently. The creature cawed softly, nudging his palm and looking for food.

"Yes, of course," Remus murmured distractedly, backing away and reaching for the sack of dead rats that Sirius kept in the corner.

"So you haven't seen him either lately," Remus sighed, holding out one mangled rat by the tail. Buckbeak simply glared regally at him, a huffy reminder not to interrupt while eating, and delicately tore into the rodent carcass with his beak. Remus dropped the rat and watched Buckbeak devour it, mulling over where next to search.

He spent the next hour or so wandering the slumbering house in the falling dark, carrying a small taper for light; from attic to cellar, he searched for any sign of either Sirius or Padfoot. Remus knew there were more than a few nooks and crannies in Grimmauld Place where either could be hiding; when Sirius didn't want to be found, he usually couldn't be, though Remus generally had a good idea. Tonight though, limping quietly through halls and corridors, peering behind bookshelves and vases and under furniture, especially taking care not to waken Mrs. Black snoring in the hall, he was at a loss, and growing increasingly worried. Would Snape have unsettled him enough to try to leave the house--? He was just about to think of alerting the other Order members when he stopped short with a hunch. Possibly--He went upstairs, to the children's bedrooms, and silently opened the door to the room Ron and Harry shared, holding up the candle to look in.

Ron was snoring heavily in the bed nearest the window. Harry slept curled into a ball in the bed by the wall, dark tousled head hidden under his arms, burrowed under the covers. His glasses lay on the bedside table.

Padfoot lay with his head on its paws, on the braided rug between the beds, huffing quietly, fully awake.

The dog looked up at Remus with an incredibly human expression of--wistfulness, Remus realized--and the eerily pale eyes glowed in the reflected candlelight. The dog turned back towards the sleeping boy with a sad, longing look and blinked, once, twice--then he slowly rose, stretching out his front paws, and stood on the rug. Remus watched, aching, as the dog padded silently towards him. Remus held the door as the dog trotted out, then closed it gently with a soft click--his keen hearing told him it had not woken the boys; and his hand reached down automatically to feather his fingers through the dog's tangled ruff. Padfoot leaned against Remus' leg, nuzzling his thigh with an almost imperceptible whine; they walked downstairs together side-by-side.

At the landing though, the dog turned and headed, not towards the basement kitchen--as Remus thought he would--but towards the side door which led to the overgrown garden. Remus sighed and followed, limping behind him; if Sirius wanted to be outside now, it was relatively safe in the dark and he wouldn't stop him. The charms that kept the whole house hidden also surrounded the garden, and the house suddenly seemed too small and close for the both of them. But before Remus could catch up Padfoot was already outside. In the middle of the garden, with a silver shimmer, Sirius stood, his back to Remus, with no cloak and bare feet in the snow, staring up at the frigid starry sky and clutching something small and white in his fist.

Remus' footsteps crunched behind him, leaving muddy footprints in their wake, until he came to stand beside his friend. It was colder now, he knew, and he suddenly wanted to head back in.

"Sirius, come inside, it's bloody freezing," Remus said gently, briefly touching his shoulder.

Sirius looked away and thrust the crumpled letter at Remus. "Here," he growled. Just standing beside him, Remus could feel the fine tremor coursing through Sirius' body in a visible effort to keep in control--see the tension knotted in his muscles.

"What is it?"

"Read it."

Remus smoothed out the parchment, put on his reading glasses, withdrew his wand, murmured "Lumos" and scanned the letter quickly. "Snape is to teach Harry Occlumency this term," he stated. His eyes widened in sudden understanding. "Oh good God, Sirius--"

Sirius paced frantically through the yard, tearing long bony fingers through his thick tangled hair. "What the hell is Dumbledore thinking? How can Snape teaching him Occlumency help him? Why can't Dumbledore do it himself? Dumbledore knows Harry can't stand the greasy git--"

"Perhaps he's trying to show Harry that our closest allies are sometimes the most unlikely people," Remus murmured softly, "and sometimes we have no choice but to work with those whom we most despise."

Sirius simply glared at him.

"Come on Remus, Snape's a bloody Death Eater in Voldemort's inner circle, for all we know he'll just soften Harry up for Voldemort to control--"

"We don't know that." Remus' voice took on a steely tone. "Dumbledore trusts Snape. We have to trust Dumbledore's judgment if we're to have any hope of conquer--"

"He's not infallible!" Sirius snapped. "It's a mistake, I know it--"

"It hasn't even started yet. At least give this a chance, Sirius--"

"Fuck, Remus, he's just granted Snape free license into Harry's head! The boy's terrified with the visions as it is, the last thing he needs is Snape rooting around--and no one else seems to care, certainly not Dumbledore." He turned away, shaking with barely repressed frustration. "Makes his fucking pronouncements without so much as a 'by your leave', won't even tell Harry to his face but instead sends fucking *Snape* with that blasted letter. The boy deserves at least that much from him--and Dumbledore never even intended for me to know--" Sirius muttered under his breath.

"Is that what's really bothering you, Sirius?" His tone turned gentle in sudden understanding.

Sirius' shoulders slumped; he stopped pacing, and appeared to shrink into himself, looking more careworn than Remus had ever seen him. "I'm his godfather, Remus," he said, the words flat. "It's what James wanted. And I know I wasted that chance before--" Sirius shrugged, and Remus winced at the oblique reference to Azkaban. "I'm here now though. But I have no say in anything that affects him, it's like they want to push me out entirely from any decision that--Molly, Dumbledore, the Order, they all seem to think they have their claim on Harry before I do."

"None of us has a claim on him," Remus protested.

"He's 'The Boy Who Lived', Remus!" Sirius shouted, shaking in righteous indignation. He lowered his voice to a harsh bitter whisper. "That gives everyone a claim on him. Even you."

It wasn't true (was it?) but Remus didn't know how to answer that without further invoking Sirius' ire so he remained silent.

Sirius stared up at Harry's bedroom as if trying to listen for any foreboding noises. "About the only thing I can do is be--but I don't know what to be for him, and I don't even know what he wants, or needs--" He spread his hands helplessly.

Remus spoke carefully. "He needs you, Sirius. He needs you to show him unconditional love. He needs you to be his anchor."

Sirius however had turned at Remus' soft words, and was watching Remus' hands as he spoke. "In other words, you don't know either," he said bitterly.

Remus at least had the grace to look ashamed about being caught. Sirius' jaw set--and Remus also wondered what Dumbledore was doing with Sirius; keeping him inactive and completely in the dark in matters directly concerning him most. He realized then, with a sharp pang, the real reason he'd kept watch over Harry earlier that evening as Padfoot--it was the only way he felt involved in Harry's life now. Everyone it seemed, had their orders from Dumbledore concerning Harry, except Sirius--so he felt he had to conjure his own, even if it meant keeping a silent symbolic vigil in the shadows, unknown.

He remembered his own orders for tomorrow. Knowing it would only add to Sirius' misery, he still had to tell him. "I've been assigned another mission," Remus said. "I leave tomorrow directly after taking the children to Hogwarts."

Sirius visibly deflated. Remus reached out, quietly imploring.

"It will be all right, Sirius, it won't be long, probably only a few days--"

"Spare me, Remus, I don't want your bloody empty platitudes," Sirius snapped, turning away again, shoulders heaving.

Remus flinched, closing his eyes, willing himself not to retort and escalate the situation. Instead he laid a hand on Sirius' shoulder, squeezing it lightly. He stepped closer until he was almost flush beside him.

"At least you and Snape agree on one thing," he offered diffidently.

"What?"

"You both don't like this."

Sirius looked at him quizzically then laughed his short bark, a sharp sardonic rebuke that sliced through the air. "As if that should make me feel better about it all, right, Moony?" he snapped. He ripped the parchment from Remus' fingers and threw the crumpled paper up in the air in one last gesture of impotent defiance. "Incendio," he hissed, and the paper exploded in a burst of yellow and purple flame.

Sirius abruptly turned on his heel and strode towards the house; after a confused second, Remus followed, more slowly because of his limp. They stepped inside, and Sirius led Remus to the kitchen which was still, cold as it was, the warmest room in the house. Sirius didn't even get past the threshold before barking a sharp "Accio Firewhisky", catching the decanter deftly as it obediently flew into his outstretched hand, and had already uncorked it before Remus caught up to him. Not even bothering with a glass, Sirius raised the bottle to his lips, about to take a long pull, when he suddenly stopped short; Remus bumped into him, almost throwing him off balance, and he reached out to steady them both as he followed Sirius' stricken gaze to the long kitchen table.

The children had obviously helped themselves to a late-night snack earlier, while Remus had been searching for Sirius through the house, and they had left six crumb-strewn plates and forks sitting cheerily on the wooden surface in their wake, along with an empty platter of what had once contained strawberry trifle. Molly would surely chastise them in the morning for leaving the mess, Remus thought dazedly, so he went to raise his wand to clear the dishes away--and he felt, rather than heard, the sharp intake of breath from the man beside him.

They turned to look at each other, and the reality of this, more than anything, hammered the point home for both of them. Remus remembered that look before, from September after Sirius' Floo talk with Harry--that painful loneliness, the soul-wrenching longing mixed with desperation and need--then he'd been taken by surprise; but not now. Since their fight before the December full moon they'd concentrated on rebuilding a more companionable closeness. Tonight though, whatever was needed, he would give--

Sirius turned back to stare at the remains of the trifle, and he slowly set the decanter down on the table beside one of the plates, the contents of the bottle untouched. Remus heard Sirius' plaintive whisper echo, hushed, around the kitchen and straight to his heart. "Please don't leave me alone like this, Moony."

Remus swallowed hard, shaking his head slowly. He stepped in front of him, cupped Sirius' face in his hands and gently brushed Sirius' lips with his own in a gesture of comfort, not desire. "Not tonight," he murmured, stroking his cheekbone with slightly trembling fingers and leaning his forehead against Sirius'.

Sirius closed his eyes for a moment, then drew back, meeting his gaze evenly. "But you will tomorrow," he stated, not unkindly.

Remus grew defensive, and his hands dropped to his sides, fists clenched, suddenly unable to look at him. "I'm sorry--" he began.

"Don't be," he murmured, with a strained note of what Remus heard as resignation. Sirius tipped Remus' chin up to look at him evenly. "I've learned to make do with what you can give," he murmured, "and for that I am truly grateful."

Remus flinched and shut his eyes at the stark truth of the statement. With what you can give...oh dear God-- All words washed away in the wake of that stunning, broken acknowledgment, Remus could only kiss Sirius' forehead in anguished silence and pull the man tight against him, feeling Sirius' arms wrapping around his body at last and resting his cheek on his hair. They simply stood there together, clinging to each other in the near-darkness, trying to draw what they so desperately needed now--warmth and solace, or perhaps forgiveness--from this shared closeness.

Presently they left the kitchen, leaving the dirty dishes on the table until the morning after all, and climbed the stairs toward the bedroom, hands clasped tightly. Sirius stopped though, at the landing again, and stared for a long tortured moment at Harry's closed door. Remus knew why; there was nothing else at all, really, that Sirius was able to do for the boy anymore, except watch over him tonight as he slept; protect him in the only way he was allowed to do.

"Remus--" I need to do this. I'm sorry. But it's Harry.

"It's all right," Remus murmured, and released his hand. In the end, he knew it was best to let him go. It was Harry, after all.

He felt the shimmer at his side, and Padfoot gazed up at him steadily with his pale, sad eyes. Remus patted his head, scritched behind his ears, and turned the knob to open the door, quietly so as not to wake the sleeping boys; Padfoot trotted in and settled on the rug where Remus had found him, resting his head on his paws, and Remus closed the door to retire alone to his own room.

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Remus stirred in the early morning, long before dawn, to a mad scrabbling outside his door. He rolled over, instinctively sliding a hand out to find the space in the bed beside him empty--cool and smooth.

Sirius entered the room and pawed restlessly around the furniture opening and closing drawers and cupboards with almost frenetic energy.

Remus surveyed the scene with one bleary eye. "Come to bed, Padfoot," Remus mumbled, not quite awake.

"I have to find them, Moony," Sirius said, rummaging frantically through the top drawer of the dresser.

"Find what?"

"The two-way mirrors. For Harry. Remember the ones James and I had?" Sirius muttered, rifling through the neatly-rolled socks in the second drawer of the dresser.

"You won't find them in there, Padfoot," Remus yawned, and sat up.

"Then where did you put them? Do you have both of them?"

Moved by the manic edge of desperation in his friend's voice, Remus swung his legs out of the bed, shivering as warm skin hit frigid air. He stumbled to the wardrobe, opened it and fished out his briefcase from behind a curtain of hanging robes. He set the briefcase on the floor and knelt in front of it while Sirius stood leaning impatiently over his shoulder. Opening it and reaching down into the bottom, Remus pulled out two pocketbook-sized square shapes wrapped in soft red-and-gold-striped wool; a worn Gryffindor scarf from their schooldays. He unwrapped them and his fingers unconsciously caressed the edge of one mirror that had cracked in one corner.

Sirius reached over Remus and picked up the other mirror, holding it reverently. "Brilliant," he breathed, cradling the mirror in his hands. "You saved them both."

"I never could bear to throw yours away," he murmured. "I fished James' out from Godric's Hollow after--" his husky voice trailed off and he bowed his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard a ragged catch of breath from Sirius behind him, and an audible swallow.

Sirius laid his other hand on Remus' shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered sincerely. He set his down and took the one Remus held. "This one was James'. It should be Harry's," he murmured.

Remus simply nodded, still unable to speak, letting Sirius pick up the second mirror from his hand. "Reparo," Sirius murmured, and the silver crack repaired itself.

Sirius' voice brightened. "This way, if Harry has any problem with that sneaky hawk-nosed git--"

Remus smirked, and found his voice again. "Or if you have any brilliant pranks you want to share--"

The cocky grin that split Sirius' somber face made him look twenty years younger. "Remember when we transfigured all the Slytherins' robes into fishnet stockings and corsets from 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' at the Halloween Feast in fifth year?"

Remus grinned too, fond laughter bubbling just under the surface. "While they were wearing them!"

"And Snape as Frank N. Furter?"

"God, Sirius, McGonagall was ready to *kill* you and James when you hexed him to sing 'Time Warp'--"

"She never did figure out how James and I managed it. 'Albus, they were in separate detentions the whole time!'" he mimicked in Minerva McGonagall's clipped accent, then collapsed in a heap of laughter beside Remus.

"Aye, that was classic," Remus smirked, then laughed outright--dear Merlin it felt good to see Sirius so carefree again, even if only for a while, his grey eyes sparkling with mirth--and he leaned against Sirius' shoulder.

"Yeah, but somehow no one ever knew that it was a certain Remus J. Lupin who gave us the bloody idea in the first place--" Sirius wheezed.

"But they certainly never knew about those blasted mirrors--"

"Classic. Planned all of it with these. One of our best ideas ever, dear Moony," he finished, giggles slowly subsiding. He gazed into Remus' face with shining eyes. "One of our very best."

Remus nodded in happy agreement, then yawned and checked his bedside clock. "It's very early, Padfoot. Hope you don't mind but I'm going back to bed for a few more hours."

Sirius rose, yawning himself, then held out his hand to Remus, drawing him up. "Aye, it's far too early for anyone to be awake," he agreed in a soft tone and staring earnestly at him.

"You're not--?"

"Harry'll be all right now, Moony," he murmured in quiet assurance, squeezing his hands tightly. "So I'd like to--"

Stay. If you'll have me.

Wordlessly, Remus led him back to bed.

Morning came all too soon however, and Remus, waking up in the dawn's afterglow with the solid warmth of Sirius sleeping in his arms, was reluctant to yield to the day just yet. Not now, when they had surrendered to the night only a couple of hours ago--please, let us be, for just a little while longer, he implored whatever being or deity saw fit to rule their fractured lives. We'll both be alone again soon enough. He willed Sirius to stay asleep, a brief reprieve to delay the crushing boredom of loneliness waiting for Sirius, to hold back the duty and obligation awaiting him. But as the wan winter sun climbed higher in the pale January sky, as young voices called out from various bedrooms, packing and getting ready to leave, and as Sirius stirred in the closed circle of his embrace, the respite was over, and the weight of the day descended on them both.

So now they sat in the kitchen at opposite ends of the table, eating breakfast with Tonks who sat in the middle, and who, Remus noted with wry wit, had changed her appearance to look rather like someone's stern maiden aunt. She was to accompany him on the Knight Bus to escort the children back to school. And after they dropped off the children at Hogwarts, he was to visit Dumbledore in hiding, inform him of the events in the moors, receive his next assignment, and stay away for Merlin knew how long...

Sirius and Tonks were speaking in low, hushed voices. Tonks was just as surprised, and concerned, as Remus had been when she heard about Harry's upcoming Occlumency lessons.

"Snape? Of all people, why him? Doesn't Dumbledore--?"

"Dumbledore has his reasons," Sirius said tightly, leaning against the sideboard with his arms crossed; Remus alone knew how much it cost Sirius to utter that. "He wants Snape to teach Harry, and it's in Harry's best interest. That's all there is to it," he finished in a tone that brooked no more discussion. And just in time, too--they all heard the commotion of multiple pairs of footsteps tripping down the stairs, and they fell quiet as the door opened and Harry came in, flanked by Ron, Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys.

Breakfast with the Weasleys was a hectic affair, with charmed toast flying every which way, and the chatter of the teenagers thankfully prevented any further serious commentary on anything. The minutes drew achingly short though, and Remus sipped his tea quietly, watching warily from the corner of his eye in the kitchen as Sirius drew Harry away from the main confusion of red-headed Weasleys donning their winter coats and getting ready to leave. Remus saw the fine trembling in Sirius' hands as he gave Harry his mirror wrapped untidily in a piece of parchment. He observed Harry nodding mutely, and pocketing the package in his jacket.

For Sirius' sake, Remus silently willed Harry to use it.

It was then time to leave, and they all traipsed upstairs to the main entrance of the house. To Remus it seemed Harry kept wanting to say something important to Sirius, opening and closing his mouth, but he never had a chance in the ruckus; as the Weasleys said their goodbyes, Sirius pulled Harry into an affectionate, albeit brief, one-armed embrace. Sullen as he was sometimes, Sirius thrived on human contact--and Remus' chest ached, knowing that once the door closed behind them, Sirius would be alone once again in the cold quiet of the empty house.

Just before Remus opened the front door, he caught Sirius' eye above Harry's head, and Sirius gave him a tight mirthless smile, jaw clenched. They'd already said their private goodbyes in the bedroom before breakfast, as Remus was not returning to Grimmauld Place after accompanying the children to Hogwarts, so no more words were needed now; Remus simply nodded back, flashing a brief weak grin in response before turning away to open the many locks that secured the door.

Remus stepped out into the chilly January air, leading the way down the front steps for the horde of Weasleys, Hermione and Harry. The children tumbled out of the house, already discussing their plans for the next term, save Harry, who was very quiet and thoughtful; he saw Harry turn around to gaze longingly at Grimmauld Place as it disappeared, clutching at the small package he held in his jacket pocket close to his heart. Remus knew instinctively there would be a dark shadow standing at the window, silently watching them go.

But when Remus turned back to look for himself, Sirius and the house were already gone.