Seeking

Seeking

It was the first Quidditch game of the season.

Gryffindor vs. Slytherin was the most eagerly anticipated match of the year. This all-important first game would set the tone for all the following contests and the crowds knew it; filling the stands, opposing seas of red-and-gold and green-and-silver swamped the bleachers, roaring their loyalties for their favoured players and screeching their epithets at the opposing ones across the pitch. Even the weather was perfect--unseasonably warm for November, the sun muted behind a layer of non-threatening cloud, no rain, no wind.

Gryffindor was heavily favoured to win this match, because James Potter, team captain and Seeker this year, had picked the team personally; all his players had had some previous experience. Sirius Black, for example, played Beater this year for the second year running. In contrast, all the senior Quidditch players from Slytherin had left Hogwarts last year, so the Slytherin team consisted entirely of novices--certainly a point in Gryffindor's favour, though if Slytherin was terrified of the prospect they certainly hid it well behind their condescending sneers.

The game itself lasted almost six hours, one of the longer ones in recent history. Players and Quaffles soared through the stadium pinging back and forth with the head-turning intensity of Muggle tennis; Bludgers raced around like mad bumblebees, cheerfully knocking players off their broomsticks hither and yon. In the meantime, Gryffindor played like a well-oiled machine, each player in his or her position, and the points methodically racked up; the game stood at one hundred fifty to ten in Gryffindor's favour. The Golden Snitch glittered against the pearl-grey sky, hovering and mocking the Seekers high above the stadium, waiting to be caught.

In the end though, Gryffindor lost to Slytherin, one hundred sixty to one hundred fifty.

Regulus Black, the new Slytherin seeker, swooped in, a blurred streak of green and silver, and snatched the Snitch that had zipped just out of James Potter's reach.

The resulting hush over the stadium could be heard as far away as Hogsmeade.

Once the shock cleared, the Slytherin side of the stadium erupted with triumphant screams and catcalls and renditions of "Jerusalem" so loud they were heard over by Stonehenge.

In the stands, Professor McGonagall stood with her mouth pursed shut, while Professor Slughorn, beside her in the teachers' booth, nodded with satisfaction, addressing her with an oily smile and "By your leave, Minerva, I do believe you now owe me a case of mulled mead." The Gryffindor side of the stadium, along with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, was completely silent.

In the centre of the pitch, the Gryffindor team stood stunned, mouths agape and broomsticks slack in their fingers, shaking the winning team's hands only by rote. They watched helplessly as the whole of Slytherin house swarmed the pitch, and stared enviously as the sodding Slytherins were hoisted onto the shoulders of their house brethren. Even Snivellus Snape was there throwing his already-perfected sneer at James and Sirius, clearly gloating, until he disappeared amongst the other students. The massing swell of green and silver undulated across the field.

The remaining spectators filtered out of the stands with an unnatural hush, trying to fathom the stunning turnaround of events that left the most hated house the victors this time round. Most of the crowd avoided the dejected Gryffindor team completely, not even wanting to look at them. Remus and Peter waited until most of the crowd had slunk off, then slipped down to join James and Sirius, still standing in the throes of denial.

James recovered first. "Fucking Merlin's balls!" he exploded, storming off without another word to his teammates. Remus and Peter stood slack-jawed, watching.

Now there's a good example to set as Head Boy, you utter prat, Remus admonished silently. Good thing Evans isn't here to see it.

Peter recovered next and quickly tore off after James--"James, wait up!"--leaving Remus to stand beside Sirius, who was covered head to toe with congealed mud and mindlessly massaging his broomstick arm.

Sirius stood as if transfixed, watching the Slytherin crowd jostle Regulus high in the air. Regulus was pumping his broomstick into the air like a sword and yelling like a madman.

"Game's over, Padfoot," Remus reminded him lightly.

Sirius turned to stare at him; he then shook his head as if to clear it, and started to stamp off himself, clearly upset. Remus strode quickly to catch up.

"You played a good game you know--" Remus began.

"It was a disgrace, Moony!" Sirius snapped, stomping through the mud. "A fucking disgrace! One hundred sixty to one hundred fifty! We were one hundred fifty to ten! We had 'em, we did! If only I'd--"

"So you lost," Remus said evenly. "It's not a crime."

"We lost to Slytherin! SLYTHERIN! It bloody well IS a crime!"

"Come on, you know the Snitch made all the difference--"

Sirius rounded on him, his eyes flashing dangerously, and Remus stepped back, instinctively raising his hands to his face. "Like hell it did! It was--" he began. He stopped, seething, and visibly struggled to control himself; Remus had a fleeting impression Sirius was going to swing out and deck him. Finally, Sirius lowered his voice. "It's just--hey listen, don't let James even hear you BREATHE that or he'll hex off your sodding nads and serve 'em for tea." He turned away again, kicking at the mud puddle under his feet.

Remus snorted at that. "As if." James was already trudging far ahead of them, almost at the edge of the pitch now, obviously devastated and wanting to be alone, clearly so upset about the loss he couldn't even deign to talk to anyone. Peter, red-faced, was huffing to keep up to James, conciliatory platitudes tumbling from his lips: "Not your fault, James, not your fault, you were fucking brilliant--!"

Remus counted slowly under his breath, guessing what was coming. "Three--two--one."

Right on cue, James whirled around and flicked his wand arm, roaring "Shut it, Wormtail!"--and a vicious purple jolt shot out and hit Peter square in the mouth, zipping it closed.

Then James stormed off in the general direction of the Forbidden Forest, leaving Peter pulling frantically at his sutured lips.

"Looks like he's serving up Wormtail's," Remus commented with a wry grin.

Sirius shrugged morosely and kicked up huge gobs of mud, nearly nailing Remus' shirt and pants in the process. It was warm enough that Remus didn't need to wear his jacket. Although it hadn't rained today at all (a rarity for November in Scotland), it had rained heavily last night, leaving Giant Squid-sized lakes of mud dotted all over the pitch. One particularly large splash of mud from one of the monster-sized puddles almost landed square in Remus' hair.

"Hey, watch it!" Remus yelped, jumping out of the way. "Sodding Merlin! Don't take it out on me, Sirius, I'm not your little brother to pick on--!"

Sirius stopped short in utter shock, staring at Remus with a look akin to murder.

Remus blinked--what did I say?

Sirius opened his mouth to speak several times, then snapped it shut. Finally he muttered "Fuck it, I'm taking a shower," and strode off towards the change room off the pitch.

Remus stopped, stunned, to watch Sirius go ahead of him. Sirius was muttering obscenities under his breath, punctuating them by slamming his gloved fist into the nearest wall. Globs of dried mud peeled off his robes. He'd been Bludgered off his broom-stick twice this match, landing square in the mud puddles each time. Probably bruised too for good measure--that one hit Remus had witnessed, causing Sirius to break the fall by landing on his arm, looked bloody painful.

Remus sighed and shook his head. He liked Quidditch well enough, but it was, in the end, only a sodding game. Even if it were against Slytherin. Even if it were the all-important first game of the season. No matter, the game was over and gleeful revenge would be forthcoming once James and Sirius recovered from their snits--

Then he remembered with a start that this was Regulus' first Quidditch game of the season too.

The first game they'd played since Sirius had run away from home.

Oh. Fuck.

No wonder Sirius was so upset.

Losing to Slytherin was one thing. Losing to his little brother, the favoured son and new Black scion now that Sirius had left home for good--and Regulus bloody damn well rubbed it in any chance he got now--Remus suddenly felt like punching the wall himself for his utter stupidity.

Remus was going to head to the library to study after the match, and meet up with the others later; as a Prefect he only rarely participated in planning the retaliatory pranks against the Slytherins if he could help it. Now he decided he should wait for Sirius to come out of the shower, to make sure Sirius was all right, and to apologise for his thoughtless remark.

He followed Sirius through the battered wooden door to the change room, and into the locker area, sinking onto one of the long wooden benches in the empty Hufflepuff changing area. The slightly nauseating smells of ground-in dirt, fermenting sweat and spilt stale Butterbeer (not that that was permitted in the change rooms--oh of course not) permeated the small room, heightened by the steam from the shower stalls one row over. Remus waited.

Ten minutes passed, twenty, thirty. The room slowly emptied of the other dejected Gryffindor players, growing silent except for the hiss of the showers. Remus checked and double-checked his watch. Still no Sirius. Normally Sirius was quick about his post-Quidditch showers, especially when revenge was afoot. Finally Remus rose and strode over to check the showers, wondering what could be holding Sirius up.

Sirius had shed his mud-caked Quidditch robes and shirt into a smelly wet heap in front of his locker, but still wore his mucky pants and gloves. The shower was running in the stall, the hot water spattering on the dingy grouted tiles, but he wasn't under it. Instead he stood to one side, leaning on one hand against the wall, mud-slicked head bowed and buried in his arm. His shoulders shook slightly, the lean but toned muscles under his pale sweat-sheened skin outlined in stark relief and knotted with tension.

The rising steam shimmered around Sirius, lending a wistful appearance to his crestfallen stance. Remus swallowed hard at Sirius' forlorn profile. Most of him ached for his friend who was so obviously hurt, but a small part of him also felt a weird (and highly inappropriate) little jolt at the sight. Confused, Remus fought that part down, not wanting to examine it now.

"You OK there, Padfoot?" Remus murmured gently, when he finally got that odd reaction under control.

Sirius startled then looked up. "Yeah," he said a little too quickly, his voice a little too high. "Yeah, 'm all right." He looked away again.

"Well then, are you going to have your shower now or just let all that perfectly good hot water flow down the drain?"

"Shove it, Moony," Sirius murmured as if by reflex. He shook his head but otherwise didn't budge.

Remus stood hunched with his hands in his trouser pockets, the damp heat creeping around him and making him break out in a fine sheen of sweat himself. It was humid and uncomfortable in the locker room in more ways than one. He desperately wanted to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to abandon a fellow Marauder in pain no matter how awkward it felt.

Sirius looked back up at him, his pale eyes glassy, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood; and Remus' heart seized at the track of silent tears coursing down his dirty cheeks. Oh sweet Merlin, this was bad... James should be here, he thought stupidly, to talk to him, to comfort him. Not me. James is his brother most like, I have no clue what to do-- He was embarrassed, he felt his cheeks grow hot, but Remus forced himself to keep gazing at Sirius, forced himself not to break that all-important eye contact. None of them cried much--he could count on one hand the number of times he'd witnessed that happening, combined--but Sirius never cried in front of anyone that he knew of.

"Y'know I don't really care that Slytherin won, yeah?" Sirius struggled to keep his wavering voice from breaking.

Remus nodded and waited, not knowing what to say.

"It's just--it's just--damn it Moony! Seeing Reg up there in those sodding Slytherin robes, his first game--Merlin's balls. I taught him to fly, you know that?" His voice trailed off.

"No I didn't," Remus answered softly.

"Yeah--in the back yard of that hell-hole." Sirius' mouth twisted into a caricature of a grin, and Remus knew he was referring to Grimmauld Place. "Wasn't supposed to teach him but he begged and begged after I came home first year--fell off once and broke his collarbone, never complained, didn't even say a word." His voice took on a tinge of pride, even as his lips twitched and his chin quivered.

"Padfoot--"

"I'm not supposed to miss him, Remus, but I do," Sirius whispered plaintively, eyes cast downward. "I ran away, I gave all that up. Including him. I'm supposed to hate him, yeah? Then I saw him fly, dammit he's brilliant, he outflew me a couple times, then he stole the Snitch right out from under James--" he looked up again, his eyes shimmering, then slammed into the tile wall with his gloved fist. Remus heard a crack and automatically took a step forward.

"Sirius, your hand--"

"Fuck it, even if we'd won, I'd still miss him." Sirius turned away, scrubbing at his mud-caked face with the same fist, knuckles now scraped and raw.

Remus watched helplessly, not knowing what to do. He wasn't used to this vulnerable side of Sirius--the closest he'd seen this side of him was the dawn after the full-moon night when he was recovering in the Shrieking Shack, two months after The Prank. Sirius had avoided him up to then, as Padfoot had avoided the wolf. Sirius had not arrived until the frigid morning, when Remus lay broken and shivering after the transformation; when Sirius showed up, his eyes over-bright and lower lip trembling at the sight of Remus' wolf-torn body, he'd simply transformed and remained as Padfoot, huddling close so that talk, or anything else, was unnecessary.

That was usually how they interacted in any sort of situation like this--as Remus and Padfoot. So he knew how to handle the dog's moods--but to be honest he still didn't know how to handle the boy's, even after almost seven years of sharing a dorm.

In the end though, he had to do something.

Finally he steeled himself and ventured up to stand beside his quaking friend, laying a hand gingerly on his shoulder. " 'M sorry, Padfoot, shouldn't have said what I did--" Remus began by way of apology.

Sirius slumped, and the next thing Remus knew he was catching him and pulling him into an awkward embrace. His other hand slid up automatically to ruffle Sirius' mud-caked hair. Pure instinct, and he didn't know if it would help--but after Sirius shuddered for several minutes, dampening Remus' shirt, he felt him relax in his arms, his lashes fluttering rapidly against Remus' shoulder. They simply stood for a long quiet moment, just listening to the steady stream of water hitting the tiles of the shower stall.

Remus, staring at the row of dented lockers on the far wall, felt peculiar again, though thankfully not that weird confusion he'd felt earlier. This was more like--an odd--satisfaction of sorts, that he could do this, could offer some consolation to Sirius, not just Padfoot. It was a strange thing, to feel needed like this, as someone solid to lean on--he decided he might like it. It was, curiously enough, comforting for him too--the weight of his friend huddled against him, inhaling Sirius' slightly mossy scents of ingrained mud and fresh sweat and faint canine essence--almost like the full moon.

Presently he felt Sirius shift in his embrace, and Remus knew it was time to let go. "Best get a move on you know, James is prolly over his snit and waiting in the dorm to plot proper revenge," Remus murmured, loosening his arms to release him.

Sirius snorted and nodded against his shoulder, but seemed a little reluctant to move. He drew back finally, staring at Remus' face, his January eyes wet and cheeks flushed with embarrassment--probably at breaking down in front of Remus like that--but otherwise quite steady now.

"Thanks," he whispered, his voice raw and sincere, glancing away. "Thanks, Moony."

"Yeah." Remus' mouth quirked into a shy half-grin. "Meet you back in the common room?"

"Sure." Sirius turned away again to finish undressing.

Remus left the empty change room, spelling the mud from his clothes with a well-placed Cleaning Charm. Once he returned to the dormitory common room he knew Sirius would be back to normal--as normal as it got with Sirius anyway. The Marauders would be gleefully afoot and this would simply be added to "The Big List Of Things That They Will Never Talk About Again."

Outside on the abandoned pitch, the shadows lengthened and the wind picked up, the sun slowly dropping to the horizon behind the leafless trees. Remus turned towards the setting sun, letting the brisk breeze flow over his face. The next match would be Hufflepuff against Ravenclaw. It would be the full moon that night. No matter. He checked his watch. He'd better hurry back to the common room now, James will definitely be waiting. Sirius would probably be there too now--and only Merlin knew what they would have in store tonight. He grinned with anticipation and set off towards the castle.