How to Say Goodbye

In the main concourse of King's Cross, June 12, 1976, the white summer sunlight flung itself in thick ribbons through the huge half-moon window and lit the features of the two boys sauntering in the general direction of the Tube entrance. Both in terrible need of a good haircut, both flicking the sweat-stuck loose ends of their fringe back behind their ears and out of their eyes, both flinging their kit bags over first one shoulder, then the other, trying to keep the weight balanced, and both talking endlessly, earnestly, about nothing, nothing at all.

Every breath of Remus's was a sigh of quiet relief on this long trip home--relief at the success of his friends' Animagi experiments, relief that Severus was still alive, relief at another year without, well, incident. As he watched Sirius's imitation of Narcissa's morning makeup routine, he thought, every breath of Sirius's is a getting ready to shout, the deep inhale that precedes a good war-whoop. He found his face hurt from grinning.

Sirius took a brief break from his soliloquy. "So quiet," he said with a half-smile. "Knut for your thoughts. No--you know what? For you, two Knuts."

Remus cocked his head. "No need to pay me off. And no, it's nothing. It's not like I've anything to add. I've hardly seen Narcissa put on her eyeliner. Regulus, yes."

He was rewarded with an appreciative cackle. "Well, I'll do Regulus next and you'll appreciate it even more."

"He probably wants a date with Malfoy just as much as Cissy does."

Sirius chortled. "Cissy! She'd kill you!"

"Lucky she's not here." Remus felt himself relaxing into the rhythms of their patter. He knew how to be Sirius's straight man like he knew how to walk, at this point.

"The powers of darkness," Sirius intoned, "have ears everywhere."

"Oh, do they?"

"Yes." Sirius nodded earnestly. "You can tell them because have huge dangly skull earrings in."

He paused for breath and Remus took the opportunity to back the conversation up a step or two. "Anyway, I'm only quiet compared to you."

"And James."

"And James," Remus admitted.

"And Peter."

"Am not!"

Sirius ducked his head and gave Remus a disbelieving look. "Oh, James, you're so big! And...and strong! How do you catch the Snitch so easily, James? Oh, I'm sure Lily likes you, James! How could anyone not like you?"

Remus snickered, and then hmmm'd noncommittally. "So? Quiet. Quiet is good."

"No, it's not a bad thing, Moony. You have, you know, a lot going on. Upstairs, like."

"Whereas you only have it going on--"

"Downstairs, baby."

"You know, that's what I've always liked about you, Padfoot. Your modesty is exceeded only by your ego."

Remus bopped along through the corridor, enjoying himself. This, he thought, this is what I will miss, alone with my parents. I'll read and take the sailboat out and play pickup Quidditch with whomever's around and relax and be quite simply bored to tears. Speaking of which:

"When am I coming to see you and Andie?"

The kit bag changed shoulders again. "Can't get enough, eh? I'm not even out of sight and you want to know when's the next time?"

"Well, a few weeks and I'll forget what you look like," Remus said mildly. "Can't have that."

"I would never--never!" Sirius hollered, "think of denying you my fine-looking face for too long."

"People will say, 'Do you think Sirius Black is a good-looking chap?' And I'll say, 'Hell, I don't know--it's been ages. His visage is but a distant blurry memory.'"

"The horror!"

"'I do remember he needs a shave, though..."

"I shall be cruelly slighted!"

"The only thing for it," said Remus very seriously, "will be to see each other again quite soon."

"Quite soon! Owls will be exchanged! Plans will be afoot!"

They were at the Tube entrance now; this was where they would split, Remus to head across the way to St. Pancras and Sirius onto the Tube back towards Grimmauld Place. In step, they stopped to regard each other.

"It's been a good year, hasn't it?" Sirius said with a grin.

"No," said Remus cheerily. "Not really. But we're here and no one died and that's good, anyway."

There was a pause. "Anyway," said Sirius. "You ought to go. Train to catch."

"Certainly do." And he was slipping the kit bag down to the ground to give Sirius a goodbye hug when suddenly there was a hollow in the pit of his stomach, a quiver, an edginess. He felt his hands--not tremble, actually, but rather thrum with nervous energy.

It is odd, he thought, to feel affection like a visceral thing, to be struck, not to the soul, but to the stomach.

Sirius had his hand out and they shook and pulled each other close for a friendly hug.

Remus was hyperaware of the expression on his face, the position of his arms. He felt an overwhelming urge to pull Sirius back to himself, to pour into the hug all the affection he felt, all his fondness and devotion, all the things about a close friendship that are left unsaid. All right, Moony, he thought. Get ahold of yourself.

He got ahold of himself and hugged Sirius again the way he'd wanted to.

Only as he strode away towards the station exit, with his limbs humming and a flutter of nerves beating desperately against his ribs, did he wonder, apart from the banter, apart from the great affection he felt for his best friend, why Sirius's eyes had made him weak, why he had not wanted to let go.

Oh dear, he thought.