Edges

The Christmas holidays were barely over and the Gryffindor common-room still smelled faintly of pine needles and Christmas crackers when Sirius Black discovered the first thing he Really Really Wanted of that year.

It was all down to Evans, really. Most things were, in the end. James losing interest in pranks whenever that red head was in sight; Peter being given a week's worth of detentions, (which had led to all sorts of things being perpetrated in the detention room, but that was hardly the point); Remus passing Potions in first-year by successfully brewing a silver-based remedy for warts. And now, she'd arrived, fresh from three weeks in Muggle London with her family, and her hair wound back over her head to show off gleaming pearls in her ears.

"I want some," Sirius said, gazing passionately at her earlobes.

"Don't be stupid, Black," she said, "your family would kill you. Earrings are Muggle as anything."

Sirius lifted his hair off his ears and angled his head towards her. "It would look so good, Lily, my angel, my darling, my love, my reason to continue this bland existence. Please?"

Lily shook her head, and walked away, although Sirius caught the edge of her laugh.

"Shot down in flames, Pads," James remarked. "Besides, Moony would hate it. Now pay attention here, I've got an idea." He flapped an oversized bit of blank parchment in Sirius' direction, apparently too lazy to get out of his squishy armchair by the fire.

Sirius ignored him, still fingering the lobes of his ears. "Little diamonds. With pointy bits. And why does everyone think I need to consult Moon-boy?"

"Pointy bits?" Peter looked up from his Mills & Boon. "Why would you want pointy bits on anything you're putting near your ears? They might stab you."

"That's kind of the, hahaha, point, Pete." Sirius stretched out to snatch the parchment off James. "This is fascinating and all, Jimmy-boy, but we've got things to be doing. Like persuading the love of your life to stab sharp pointy needles through the lobes of my ears. Please please please please now!"

"Wait, they go through your ears?" Peter gulped, and stared at Lily almost with awe. "Why would a girl do that to herself? That's obscene!"

"Now you sound like my mother, Wormtail. Your body is your legacy as a Black, son. Make sure you keep yourself flawless at all times." Sirius sneered elegantly. "Screw her. Evans looks so hot with those in."

"Oy," James protested. "Less of that, if you will." He made a lazy snatch at the paper Sirius was still waving about. "She's my hopeless crush. Besides, Pete has a point, it's kind of gross. You may as well get tattoos all over while you're at it. And I could rearrange your face for you, if you really want."

"Oh, Jimmy, you wound me. No, what I want right now, right, right, right now, is holes in my ears with pretty diamonds in. And Evans may hate you, but I'm her darling ducky angel sweet. She'll do it for me if I give her the puppy-dog eyes."

"Yeah, she'll be happy to stab you through the ears any day," James said, rolling his eyes, but he got up. "Why the hurry?"

"Because I really really want them," Sirius said, bounding to his feet, "and because I want them done before Remus gets back from holidays and tells me I can't." He snuck a shifty glance at the empty place in their circle, ignoring James' snort. Remus wouldn't be back for several hours, not until the evening train reached Hogsmeade.

Peter refused to be drawn out of his book again, so they left him there and set off towards Lily's noisy group of girls.

"Lily, sweet angel of guidance, most beloved queen of the world, my darling ducky cupcake, please stab me in the head?" Sirius said. He thought it was rather a good beginning.

The circle separated to allow the two of them in. Lily had one of the earrings in her hand, apparently showing it to Anne Prewett. She gave Sirius a level stare. "Are you sure? Because it sounds really very tempting when you put it like that."

"My ears, princess. Please." He gazed pleadingly at her. "I would be almost as pretty as you if you would only consent. Please."

"What does your conscience say?" Lily demanded.

"Oh, Remus isn't here." Sirius sought around him, and caught at James' Gryffindor tie-pin. "Is this sharp enough?"

James choked, and forcibly separated Sirius from his tie, handing him the pin.

"All right, then," said Lily. "You need an earring."

"Only one?" Sirius screwed up his nose.

"Boys only wear one, Black. I'm guessing you haven't got any, seeing as you only realised it could be done five minutes ago. You can borrow one of mine. My parents gave me a few pairs." She picked up the tie-pin with a rather gleeful look in her eyes.

Sirius felt a twinge of doubt.

//

"You big girl." Remus was standing over him. Why was Remus standing over him? For that matter, why was he lying on the floor of the common room? Surely there were more comfortable places to be lying.

"Hullo, Moony," he said, grinning. "Lily gave me an earring!" He rolled his head to the side to show it off.

"Your whole ear is bright red," Remus said, wearing his sternest expression, although Sirius knew him well enough to see the hidden laughter behind the frown. "Decided to just take a little nap, did you?"

"I ... took a nap?" Sirius looked quickly to one side, then the next. The common room was full, and everyone was smiling, and the scattered giggles were definitely directed at him. "I fainted?"

"Apparently a lot of people do," Lily called. "Don't feel too bad." She and her friends dissolved into giggles again. "Lucky we didn't do two..."

"I fainted," Sirius said, disgusted. Then he remembered the earring. "But look! Look! Don't I look fantastic?"

Remus blinked, seemed about to say something, and then appeared to change his mind. "You look bloody stupid, is what you look. Get off the floor."

"Ah, Moony, you are denying the deep and aching lake of lust my newly sparkly appearance caused to rise in your soul," said Sirius, but he clambered off the floor and brushed himself down. "Besides, it's pretty. Wanna touch it?"

Remus, who seemed unaccountably disturbed, shook his head. "I have better things to do with my hands." Then he went bright red. "Not that I mean. Or um. I have a lot of. Assignments. Didn't do much over the break. That's all I meant."

"You are a strange and twisted child, my Remus." Sirius touched his ear gingerly. "But we love you for it. I, being the spectacular, brilliant, amazing student that I am, have done all my essays already."

James didn't bother to look up from his chair – he was back in the corner playing with the blank parchment again – but they could hear him mutter "my arse he has," from where they stood halfway across the common room.

"Why?" Remus asked, unslinging his bag and setting it on the nearest table. "Why would you do a thing like that? Isn't it you always telling me that that's what the last night is for?"

Sirius thought of his holidays, spent screaming at his mother and Regulus, avoiding the malevolent presence of his father, and hiding in the attic from the dismal atmosphere of Grimmauld Place. "Didn't have much else to do, without you lot," he said casually. "Missed the full moon, too. Which I presume is your excuse for not doing your own, Moon-boy?"

"Gee, Sirius, you're brilliant. How on Earth did you guess?" Remus rolled his eyes, and bent to his Potions essay with a sense of finality. Sirius frowned, unused to sarcasm from that direction. Remus looked tired, gaunt and pale, and his normally lively eyes were dark and bleak. Even his hair hung limp. The full moon had been more than a week ago. He should be recovered by now.

As if sensing Sirius' earnest gaze, Remus snapped his head up and glared. "What?"

"What yourself?" Sirius looked around. The laughter had settled, and nobody was paying them any attention any more. He leaned forward. "What happened?"

The uncharacteristic anger died from Remus' features as rapidly as it had been born there. His eyes were still faintly amber-hued, as they usually were around the full moon, a deep mix of golden and brown that was fascinating to watch in changing light. "I'm fine, Sirius," he said, sounding inexpressibly weary. "Please let me finish this essay."

"You can copy mine later," Sirius said, dragging it away. Remus slapped his hand back on top of it.

"I don't copy. Go away."

Sirius went, only feeling a little bit like a kicked puppy.

//

"Perhaps the most interesting iteration of the Transfiguration set of magics is that of age and ageing. Doubtless you have brewed Ageing Potions earlier in your first NEWTs year; today you will be learning the beginnings of true change, rather than the seeming of the Ageing Potion. Yes, Williams, what is it?"

The bulky seventh-year did not quite lounge against the door-frame – nobody lounged in Professor McGonagall's classroom – but he gave the impression that he would like to. "Headmaster sent me, Professor. Wants to see Lupin."

Sirius started, his gaze flicking to Remus, who looked ... unsurprised. And strangely lost. Although he'd been pretty much unsurprised by anything for weeks now, ever since he got back from Christmas hols.

"Is this – oh, yes. Yes. Mister Lupin, you may go." Professor McGonagall gazed at Remus with an expression bordering on pity, her face strangely vulnerable without her characteristic stern scowl.

"What's this about, Moony?" Sirius demanded, but Remus just shrugged and picked up his belongings.

The door clicked shut behind him too loudly.

"What the hell?" Sirius mouthed to James, who was sitting across the aisle. "What's going on?"

James shrugged, looking almost as anxious as Sirius felt. "Can't be good," he hissed, and then fell abruptly silent as Professor McGonagall's pointer slapped down on his desk.

"Pay attention, Mister Potter; this will assuredly be on your exam."

//

"'Mum's really sick,'" Peter read, wide-eyed. "'Poisoned in a Voldemort attack. They haven't found a cure yet, so I'm off school to look after her. See you when I get back. R.' What the hell? Wouldn't he have told us?" He waved the scrap of parchment aimlessly in the air. "Why didn't he tell us?"

"Probably didn't want us to know?" James suggested, only half-sarcastically. "Poor Moony. She must have been sick all this time, since the hols. No wonder he was quiet." He poked at the empty space where Remus' trunk was supposed to be, for no apparent reason.

Sirius flopped down on Remus' abandoned bed. "Stupid bloody Moony, you mean. I would have told you, if it was me. I would have probably danced on the bed while I was telling you. Why would he just say nothing?"

"He likes his mother," James said. "His dad took off when he was three, just after he'd been, you know, infected. His mum was a Muggle, but she raised him anyway, taught him about magic, all the stuff. Try and be a bit more sensitive to other people's feelings, Sirius."

There was quiet for a few seconds.

"Well, I'm bloody going after him," Sirius said, with finality. "He told me once his mum's the only family he's got. I'm not leaving him alone cooking and cleaning and whatever the hell else he's doing in a place where everyone else hates him."

James gave him a sceptical gaze, which turned into a startled stare. "You really mean it. You crazy sod, you're really going."

"Sirius! You can't! It's not holidays!" Peter gasped. "You'll get in so much trouble!"

"What's worse, getting in trouble from teachers, or not helping a friend in need?" Sirius demanded, pulling clothing rapidly out of his trunk. He felt fey and wild, ready for anything. "If it was me, I'd want someone there."

"Wow," Peter said, almost under his breath. "I'll take notes for you, Padfoot. And I'll tell the teachers you're sick. Or something."

"No point," Sirius said, brusquely. "They'll know I'm gone. Tell them the truth. And I'll use Prongs' notes, yours suck. You need to learn to write straight."

Peter withered.

"Yeah, all right," James said. "I'd go, but Mum'd kill me." He shrugged helplessly, bound by his family as much as any Black was.

Sirius laughed, wryly. "My mum'll kill me too. The difference is I don't care."

//

"Your mother is going to wring your neck," said Remus, sounding resigned and slightly pleased. "I might have known you'd show up. Mum was asking about you."

Sirius grinned. "Well, can I come in, then? Only I'm kind of cold." He tried not to let his teeth chatter. Someone had to think of a better method of travel than bloody broomsticks, especially in winter. Something with an engine. A motorbike, maybe. Now that was an idea.

"You know where everything is," said Remus, flapping a hand. "I'm kind of in charge here until Mum gets better. Or doesn't."

Sirius looked sharply up at his friend, but Remus showed no signs of distress; just the faint, small smile he always wore, tired but in control. "Look, Moony ..."

"Go on, get in the, the bath, or something. You look frozen. You need to ... warm yourself up." Remus turned and led the way, and Sirius found nothing to do but trail after him like an abandoned pet.

//

"So, I heard you were sick," Sirius said. "You look lovely. Bloom of womanhood. I'd ask for your hand in marriage if it weren't that I've a year before I leave school. Will you wait for me, my dearest?"

Helene Lupin smiled faintly up at him from a corpse-white face, once-bright eyes sunken and dim, her long hands almost skeletal where they rested on top of the blankets. "You always cheer me up, Sirius," she murmured. "You're a good kid, whatever your parents are like."

"Um, thanks, Mrs Lupin." Sirius looked across at Remus, who sat opposite the bed, looking off into the distance. "Do you want me to, um, bring you anything, or get you anything, or, um, anything?" He felt big and clunky, despite years of carriage and poise training at his own mothers' hands. He'd always liked Mrs Lupin better anyway.

"No, it's okay. Remus can bring me a drink of water, though. Remus?"

Obediently, quietly, Remus got up and went. Sirius heard his quiet footfalls descending the stairs, and then the sound of the faucet in the kitchen. The silence in the bedroom began getting uncomfortable.

"You'll look after him, won't you?" she asked, suddenly. "You'll take care of my boy? He's got nobody else now."

Sirius glanced at the door. "He's got all of us. We won't let anything happen to him."

"But you, just you," she insisted. "Promise me you'll make sure he's okay. Always. If I can't."

"Don't tire yourself out, Mrs Lupin," Sirius said. He covered her wasted hand with his. "I promise. I'll always look after him. Of course I will. He's Remus. He's Moony. How could I not?"

//

He thought of that, a bare few days later, standing alone outside the little chapel in the forest where the funeral service was taking place. The old wizard holding the service had made it quite clear that his faded leather jacket and torn jeans were not welcome inside, and that even had he been dressed in proper robes he'd have had to take that thing out of his ear, that was obscene, didn't he have any proper wizard feeling, what would his mother think, fine woman that... Sirius had tuned out not long into the diatribe, and now slouched against an overhanging tree at the edge of the clearing, trying to dodge the random cascades of snow from higher branches.

Remus was inside somewhere. He hadn't said anything, hadn't even shown the faintest of emotion. When the Healer had come downstairs with the news, he had carried on drinking his tea as unperturbed as if he'd slapped a mosquito. On the way to the chapel, a trek from the Portkey landing-point through the woods, he'd pointed out a particularly beautiful snow-laden pine, and then looked faintly quizzical when Sirius stared at him disbelievingly. It made Sirius want to punch him, just to see if he'd react.

He shoved his hands further into his pockets, cold. Snow had started falling again, in light, crisp flakes that melted moments after touching his skin.

There was a disturbance inside the chapel. Sounded like the old sod was screaming at someone else. Probably interrupted the service cos he thought he saw a ragged hem on someone's coat. Bastard.

When the door slammed open and rebounded off the wall, though, there was no scuffle spilling out into the newly fallen snow; instead, silence fell, and then Remus stepped serenely out and closed the door neatly behind him. Sirius blinked, but it was still Remus.

The low drone of the service began again behind him. Sirius pushed himself off the tree, and the motion dislodged a fresh heap of snow from the branch directly above him. He spent the next few moments spluttering and pushing it out of his face. By the time his eyes were clear, Remus had gone.

"Oy. OY! Moony! Where are you?" The snow was falling fast enough now that there was no clean line of footprints; Sirius chased the fading traces out of the clearing, into the deeper gloom of the trees, and almost immediately tripped and went flying. He landed on his face, without a scrap of Black grace or carriage. "Moony! Where are you, you useless prat?"

"Behind you," came a muffled voice. "You hurt my leg."

Sirius hauled himself to a sitting position. Remus was lying face-down in the snow, just beyond the edge of the forest, disturbingly still.

"You – you okay?" He crawled over and knelt by the motionless boy's side.

"Fiiiiiiine," Remus said, voice muffled by the snow. "Having a lovely time here, thanks. Just got thrown out of my own mother's funeral cause the bastard of a preacher didn't like my eyes, but apart from that, life is dandy." He raised his head. "Idiot." And flopped back into the snow.

Sirius opened his mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say. "Well," he eventually managed, "it could be worse."

"And how, precisely, could it be worse?"

"You could still be in there listening to the old whackjob." Sirius shrugged, helpless. "I know where I'd rather be."

"Sirius," Remus said, finally dragging himself to a sitting position. Snow had crystallised on his eyelashes, Sirius noticed, with abstract fascination. "You're possibly the least comforting person I've ever known. What kind of a choice is that? Out here in the snow slowly freezing to death, or in there listening to some old fuck talk about my mother as if he knew her, as if he saw what she did for me, as if – as if – " He choked.

"Yep, sucks to be you." Sirius held out his arms. "C'mere. Gimme a hug."

"I'll get your nice jacket all wet," Remus muttered, but he came obligingly and let Sirius hug him. He was warm despite the coat of snow he'd collected, as if he burned with his own inner fire.

"Yeah, well," Sirius said, patting his back, "now who's the big girl?"

He had thought it would feel awkward, anything as affectionate as a hug between two teenaged boys, but it felt ... nice. Natural. Even though Remus was, indeed, getting his nicely shredded jacket all wet.

"So," he began, after a short silence. "You really want to go to this wake?"

"Can't think of anything worse," Remus said, bitterly. "But I'm her son. I have to be there."

"Just like you had to be in the chapel?" Sirius demanded. "Bugger that sideways and up the arse with a bloody screwdriver. You're coming home to bed."

Remus hiccuped and then laughed. "I believe most of the time when you say that, the person so lovingly cradled in your mighty arms is female." He pushed away and scrubbed his face with a handful of snow. "And I can't believe you'd refuse a chance to get completely sloshed and dance naked."

"I'll dance naked for you aaany time you like, Moony." Sirius wiggled his eyebrows, and tried to push away the sort of mental images he was sure he ought not to be having. It was all just joking anyway, right?

//

"And you tell me you have

no idea where Mister Black might be, Potter? I find that hard to believe. You and he are joined at the hip in causing trouble."

"No idea, Professor, sorry," James said, pouring as much innocence into his expression as possibly. "I'll help look, if you like. Are his parents very worried? My mother would fret. It was very bad of Sirius to run off like that, wasn't it?"

Professor McGonagall almost laughed, but not quite. James sighed inwardly. He hadn't yet been able to crack her, and there was only a little over a year until they left school. He'd have to work harder. "Well, Potter, your helpfulness is noted, but we do not lightly take one of our students vanishing for a week now. Had it not been for his parents' express wishes, we would have launched a full-scale search. Involving Aurors."

James blinked. "Oh, surely there's no need for Aurors. After all, Sirius is a notorious prankster, you know, Professor." He thought his teeth might crack from the bare-faced boldness of that statement. "He could well have just been hiding under the bed, you know."

One corner of McGonagall's mouth twitched. Ah – that had to be a sign. "Thank you, Potter. That will be all."

Yep. Definitely getting close.

//

"They're going to kill me, aren't they?" Remus said, staring apprehensively through the train window at the mountains that hid Hogwarts from view. "I mean, when they find out that you were with me."

"Why would they kill you?" Sirius lounged across the other seat in the compartment, feet propped on the door, Charming little fish-shaped bubbles into existence and popping them on Remus' nose. Remus had long since ceased to notice, apparently, but that was no reason to give up. "You couldn't do anything about it."

"I could have made you go home. I'm supposed to be the prefect. I could have told you just to leave." He shrugged. "I didn't exactly make a fuss, did I?"

"Only an utter nitwit would blame you." Sirius shrugged. "It's not like you wanted me to come."

"I wanted you to stay, though. And I shouldn't have."

"Oh, get over it. Duty and prefecture and all that crap only matter when you're at school. And, you know, sane, but that'll never apply to you anyway, so why worry?"

"Sirius. Did I ever mention that you're the least comforting person I've ever met?" Remus shook his head.

"Yeah, but you love me for it." Sirius gave his most cocksure and arrogant grin, and then spent the rest of the journey wondering why Remus wouldn't talk any more.

//

He did, indeed, get in trouble.

The worst was not the professors, though. Most of them were wrapped around his little finger already, and the ones that weren't were terrified of his family, so detentions into infinity was pretty much all they could do without sending Gryffindor into minus points for the second time that year. And Sirius was well used to detentions.

Unfortunately, his father was not impressed.

Easter holidays rolled around quickly, and Sirius watched the clock tick with increasing dread. The train ride to London was unusually subdued, despite James' valiant attempts at liveliness – Remus obviously had plenty on his mind, considering this would be the first holiday without his mum. Sirius watched him to take his mind off his own troubles; Remus' eyes were shadowed and his cheeks hollow, and whenever he thought nobody was watching him he slumped and let misery show on his face. Eventually Sirius found himself playing up to James' prompting, just to take the weariness off Moony's face. By the time the Hogwarts Express rattled and shook its way into Platform 9 ¾, he was standing on the seat, declaiming Shakespeare at top volume and waving a smelly towel for emphasis.

"O judgement, thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason! Bear with me; my heart is, is, is, is with ..."

"Is in the coffin there with Caesar," Remus prompted.

Sirius was gratified to see barely suppressed laughter behind the words. He flung his arms out and proclaimed "In the coffin there with Caesar, and I must pause till it come back to meeeeeeeeee! Ah! Oh. Shit. I guess I'll see you guys later!"

The cause of this last was an oversized hand seizing his collar from behind, lifting him free of the seat, and carrying him, kicking and struggling as helplessly as a puppy held by the scruff of its neck, from the carriage.

"Hi, Dad," he said, as he was dumped unceremoniously on the platform. "How's your term been?"

Mr Black didn't even look at him. "Regulus, do you have everything?"

Sirius' little brother nodded, eyes wide. "Yes sir." He glanced down at Sirius, but didn't dare to make a move towards him.

"Good. The carriage is waiting. Let us proceed."

"Oooh," Narcissa whispered, waltzing past with a gaggle of her Slytherin friends. "You are in so much trouble."

Sirius shook himself and clambered to his feet, feeling cold all over. This was not going to be good.

//

It was not good.

//

James lived in Wales, with about a million older sisters, most of whom were Aurors, and his slightly eccentric parents. And, typically, it was raining. Sirius' hair was plastered to his cheeks and rain was dribbling down the back of his robes by the time he made it to the heavy oak front door.

"You better be home, Jimmy," he mumbled, slamming the bronze knocker with most of his remaining strength. They'd probably be in bed by now, anyway; it must be almost two, three in the morning.

The door, thankfully, opened soon. It was, of all the possibilities, Remus who stood there.

"Good lord, Padfoot, you look like shit. Is your arm broken? Is that blood?" He reached out a startled hand to wipe Sirius' cheek where Sirius' father's last knife-hex had glanced off. "What happened to you?"

"Parents," Sirius said, wearily. "Never have 'em. D'you plan to keep me out in the rain all night?"

"They – did this?" Remus stepped aside, looking rather shell-shocked. "Do I even want to know?"

"Well, they started going on about how I was never a good son anyway, and how they should have dropped me off the towers when I was born, and how the half-breeds and lackwits I'm friends with are leading me down the wrong track, and then Mum saw my earring and practically exploded, and my father went all quiet and deadly and said it was all the fault of 'that mudblood mongrel with the strange eyes' and then I kind of tried to hex his head off, and um. I'm here now." He flopped gratefully down on the chair Remus pulled out for him. "Hope James'll let me stay."

Remus settled cool fingers on the cut on Sirius' cheek. "This is way too deep. I can heal it, but you're going to have a scar. I can't believe you tried to hex your father. You utter idiot!"

"I was angry. And hey, I'm alive, aren't I? Scar. Cool. It'll make me more dashing and handsome than I already am," Sirius responded. Remus' hands made his skin tingle.

"Keep dreaming." A faint sizzle followed the path Remus' wand traced down his cheek. "You tried to hex your father. I'm surprised you've still got a face."

"Hey! Ouch. Don't give up your day job, mate."

"They kicked you out, permanently?" Remus frowned, and then shrugged. "Well, if they treat you like this, you're probably better off here anyway. Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Got better things to talk about. Why are you answering James' door, anyway? Hasn't he got a butler?"

"Sirius." Remus sat back and folded his arms. "It's three in the morning. I'm the only one awake in the whole house. Which, by the way, does not have a butler. And you are babbling, and you should go to bed, because you are leaning way too close to me and your breath frankly stinks."

"Heh. Yes. I suppose I should. Can I kip on the couch, or will I bleed all over it?"

"I doubt James' parents would mind if you did. Mrs Potter would probably call it art and hang it on the wall. But there's a spare bed in the guest room, which is where I'm sleeping, and none of his sisters will sit on you in the morning up there." Remus shrugged.

//

"Sirius?"

Sirius groaned. "S'too early. G'way."

"Sirius. You're like me now. Nobody but yourself to rely on."

"Not true," he mumbled, into his pillow. "Got you. 'N you got me. Now shut up and go to sleep."

"Yeah. I've got you."

"Yeah." Sirius drifted off again.

"Thank God for that," murmured Remus, and slept soundly for the first time in months.