Title: Who's Got Trouble?; Parts 3&4/7; Pairings: Remus/Sirius, Remus/James; Rating: PG-13, NC-17 overall



III

It wasn’t exactly what he would have expected. Dark, yes. And smoky, as most bars were. And tinged with something akin to anxiety. But still, not what he would have expected. Not that he’d expected much of anything. He spent almost no time at all thinking about the sort of existence Sirius Black led, and a lot of time remembering not to.

“I’m still not certain this was the most prudent of places to meet,” Remus said quietly, ducking his head so only James could hear him. “From what I’m told this is the sort of place to go if one wants to be seen.”

James swept his eyes around the bar, seeing recognition in many of the faces that looked their way. “That’s precisely why we’re here,” he said, beginning to wind his way to the bar. “It would look suspicious if we didn’t show.”

“In case you missed the memo, suspicion is not exactly one of the things we lack, Prongs,” Remus wryly pointed out.

James laughed darkly. “You’re right about that,” he conceded, “but we need to do this. If we don’t find a way to -” He swallowed, feeling a familiar panic snake its way around his chest.

A comforting hand gave his elbow a squeeze. “We will find a way,” Remus assured him softly. “And we’ll do whatever it takes.”

He turned to meet Remus’s steady gaze. “I know,” James said. A wealth of gratitude rushed through him. James took a deep breath and schooled his features into something resembling calm. “Thank you.”

Remus gave a small smile. “There’s never any need to thank me. You know that.”

“All the same,” James said with a tilt of his head. He slid into an empty seat at the bar.

Remus nodded in understanding and turned to the bar. “Hello,” he said to the young girl pouring drinks.

“Hey.” She looked no older than eighteen, short black hair, too much eye make-up, and the surly expression of youth. James knew it well. “What can I get you?”

James noted her robes, shabby, but meant for someone of pure blood. He cringed inwardly. Sometimes, as far as he was concerned, Voldemort had already won.

“I think,” Remus answered her with a familiar smile, “we’re in the market for a couple of drinks.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you’ve obviously come to the right place. What’ll it be?”

While Remus ordered their first round, James took a moment to check out their surroundings. The place was packed. People sat clustered around nearly every checkered table. He pretended to study a colorful map of some far away tropical land, wondering how long it would be before they met with their informant. Longbottom had promised they would know him by sight.

“And what’s your name, if we need anything else?” he tuned in to hear Remus ask the girl.

She pushed two full glasses their way. “It’s Pansy,” she said, directing a genuine grin at Remus. James hid a smile. It never failed. Must be the eyes.

“Pansy, did you say?” James asked, taking hold of his drink, and leaning into the bar. “Can you tell me something? Is the owner around? We thought he might join us for a drink.”

She shook her head and James felt a swoop of satisfaction. “Sirius? No, he’s not here right now. And he wouldn’t drink with you, even if he were. He never drinks with customers.”

James raised his glass.

“I wouldn’t exactly call them customers,” said a voice behind him. James could hear the sneer in it.

“More like old friends of your employer’s,” continued the snide voice. “Hello, Potter. Lupin.”

“Severus,” whispered Remus. James watched him go white.

“Snape,” he said, turning to see the man, and put his body slightly forward, between Snape and Remus. Snape looked older, and – if at all possible – worse than he had in school, one long scar marring his pale face, and staring at them with dark, unreadable eyes. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Snape said with his lip curled. “Offering a hello to old school mates.”

“Last I heard,” Remus said with a slight tremor in his voice, finally turning to look fully at Snape. “You were living in America.”

“You heard correctly,” Snape said. “I was in London to pick up supplies. Thought I’d take in the sights while here.”

“The sights,” James said, simultaneously nodding and cursing fate. “We thought we’d do the same.”

“Indeed,” said Snape. “Won’t you let me buy you a drink for old time’s sake?”

James raised his glass, still full. “Maybe next time.”

Snape nodded, his face still completely closed. “Do come and find me when you need a refill. I’d be delighted to catch up.”

“Count on it,” James assured him. He turned to watch Remus study Snape’s retreating form. “Do you want me to do this alone?” he asked, feeling concern well up. “I can, you know. You can go back to the room.”

Remus shook his head. “Of course not,” he answered. “I need to be here as much as you do. I need to do something. Anyway, you have enough to be concerned with. Don’t worry about me, as well.”

“Easier said than done,” James said.

“Besides,” Remus said, nodding towards the other side of the room, “it looks like we’ve got company.”

James followed his gaze. Horace Slughorn was waddling his way towards them, followed by what James was certain was a large, female toad. He recognized her by reputation alone. “Trouble, you mean,” he said out of the side of his mouth.

“We always have trouble.”

“Well, if it isn’t two of my best former students,” called Slughorn jauntily. “Mr. Potter and Mr. Lupin.” From the smile on his over-fed face, James half expected him to clap his hands.

“Professor Slughorn,” James acknowledged. “How are you, Sir?”

“Ah, young man, it’s not ‘Professor’ anymore.”

“Right,” said James. “Silly of me to forget.”

“There’s someone I’d like the two of you to meet.” He turned, presenting his companion with a flourish. “Dolores Umbridge, allow me to introduce you to the famous team of James Potter and Remus Lupin.”

“Famous,” said James, “I’d hardly call us that.”

“No,” agreed Umbridge, her voice sticky and sweet, “more like infamous. The two of you have quite the reputation, you know.”

“I wouldn’t believe half of what you hear, Madame,” said Remus, sticking out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Yes,” she simpered, allowing him to take her hand briefly. “Why don’t we skip the formalities?”

“Of course,” interjected Slughorn. “We’re all friends here.”

“Indeed, we are,” said James, offering them a tight smile. He held onto his glass, looking Umbridge in the eye. “What can we do for you?”

“If you don’t mind,” she said, with a stiff smile of her own, “we’d like to set up a meeting with the two of you tomorrow.”

James had been expecting this. “Is there any particular reason?” he asked.

“It’s merely an informal question and answer session. Nothing to be concerned about, I assure you.”

“No concern here,” said James. “Though I am curious what would happen if we decided not to show.”

“Why, nothing at all,” she said, hand fluttering to her heart. It was all James could do not to reach out and break her wrist.

“Of course not,” said Remus. “It’s not as if we’re under arrest.”

“Nothing of the sort,” said Umbridge, her voice crystallizing. “You are free to decline the invitation. I merely thought you’d be interested in hearing what has become of the two criminals we arrested today.”

Caught off guard, James could only stare at her as his brain did little to digest the news. Beside him, he felt Remus stiffen.

Umbridge gave a wide, satisfied smile, eyes bulging out slightly. “Should we say around ten, then? Wonderful,” she said without waiting for a reply. “It was a pleasure, gentlemen. Until tomorrow.”

Through a haze, James watched Slughorn nod and totter after Umbridge. He jumped slightly when Remus clutched his arm. “Making a scene now will not help Harry,” he cautioned quietly, and James noticed he was already half-off his stool, intent upon following the pair. “Let them go.”

James sat down and promptly drained his glass. “I think,” he ground out, “I’m going to see Snape about that drink he promised.”

“Just be careful,” said Remus, giving his wrist another squeeze. “Please.”

Nodding, James pushed himself away from the bar and went to see a man about a drink.

*


There were maps everywhere. It was exactly what he would have expected. He wondered if James had noticed. It wasn’t an entirely unorthodox decoration, but still, it was if the room had been decorated just for him.

He watched James walk away, his back stiff and straight. Umbridge had said two arrests had been made that day, and that could only mean –

Yes, it was necessary to be here, and he would do whatever it took to help. The unfairness of the situation struck him, though he didn’t feel sorry for himself. He had made his choice, and was happy with it. The knowledge didn’t always make things easier, just made him more resolute.

And James, it was impossible not to love him. He had an easy charm about him, and his passion for ending this war was rivaled by no one. And he needed Remus, in ways that made him feel useful and helpful, and sure of his place.

Still, he could have done without the maps.

“You look like you could use another one.” Pansy’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He gave her a weary smile, thinking he could use about a dozen of them.

“Please,” he said. The bar behind her was well stocked, with both Muggle and Wizarding liquor. The Muggle lifestyle, their booze, their music, their art, had all swung into fashion about ten years ago, mostly as novelty items, mostly – as far as Remus knew – because Sirius started up a bar that featured Muggle eccentricities. Remus suspected it was Sirius’s way of rebelling.

Remus squinted in the dark, eyes lighting on a familiar piece of parchment tacked on the wall to the right of Pansy. Something hot swooped in his stomach, and it wasn’t the whiskey. “Can I see that?” he asked, pointing to the parchment.

Pansy glanced behind her. “Actually,” she said, making a face, “Sirius doesn’t let us move the decorations around. Besides, it’s just blank parchment.”

“If it’s just blank parchment there really can’t be any harm in letting me see it, can there?”

She looked torn. “To tell you the truth, Sirius is rather weird about that parchment,” she confessed in a hushed voice.

Remus leaned in close. “It’ll be just for a moment, I promise,” he said, smiling at her with what he hoped was his most innocent expression.

“You knew Sirius in school? Were you friends?”

Remus nodded, thinking how little that word did to sum up their relationship. “Quite good friends, actually.”

She bit her lip, and Remus knew he had her. “I’ll give it right back,” he assured her.

“All right,” she conceded, reaching behind her and pulling the parchment from the wall. “But only for a moment.”

There was no great charge that rushed up his arm the moment she slipped the parchment into his hand. Not that he’d truly expected anything of the sort, it was only –

He never thought he’d see it again.

How many hours, days, had they spent, heads bent close in whispered thought, working out the logistics and the magic? How many buckets of sweat and love and friendship had been poured into this very parchment? A time when they never thought they could be ripped apart, before betrayal and death. Though it had been dangerous, he had never been scared, and now -

“How is he?” Remus finally asked, quite unable to stop himself.

“Sirius?” She gave her shoulders a shrug. “He’s alright, I guess.”

Remus fingered the parchment, resisting the urge to pull his wand and whisper the words that would make it come to life.

“You could ask him yourself,” he heard Pansy say. He looked up at her to see her eyes trained on a spot behind him. He felt weightless suddenly, adrift. The air rushed out of the room. Remus felt his hand shake, just slightly, as he turned himself around on his stool.

For a moment, he let himself drink in the sight: closed face and tight-lipped smile, eyes the color of storm clouds, and what lay behind them was probably just as unpredictable. He forced himself to speak, not moving his gaze away from the familiar face of the stranger who stood before him now.

“Hello, Sirius.”

*

“Another drink,” Severus instructed briskly, falling quiet as the barmaid filled a glass for Potter.

She pushed it towards him and headed away from them, hips swinging under her shabby robes.

“In all the way from America to catch a few sights,” Potter commented. “That’s quite a trip.”

Severus nodded. “There were pressing matters, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

Nodding in agreement, Potter got right to the point, for which Severus was grateful. The less time he spent in the place, the better. “I was here to meet my son,” Potter said quietly, and for a brief moment, Severus feared the other man would start to cry, so evident was the tremor in his voice. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see Potter close his face.

“So you’ve heard of his arrest then?”

“I have.”

“Perhaps letting a child come alone to war was not the wisest decision.”

“What choice did I have?” Potter asked, and Severus was quite certain the question was not meant for him alone. “He is eighteen and as embroiled in this war as any of us. We thought, being so young, he could go almost completely unnoticed. We were wrong.”

“On more than one account,” Severus said. “For Regulus Black was arrested as well.”

He saw Potter nod as he took a deep drink from his glass. “And the object?” he inquired.

“I don’t know,” Severus admitted, “though the last person he spoke with was his brother.”

“Sirius is not likely to help us.”

“You and Black were like brothers, many years ago.”

“Things have changed since then. You must have known that they would.”

“I didn’t have time to find out, did I? I left school almost immediately, after…”

“So did he,” Potter said. “That was the last time I saw him.”

A moment of silence stretched before them like a bridge over an abyss. “We still must carry on,” Severus noted, “even with the losses.”

“Yes, we soldier on,” agreed Potter, “because it’s all we can do.”

For a moment, Severus felt he had a kindred spirit in his old enemy. It was bizarre.

He heard Potter snort. “Of all the people,” Potter commented, as if he could read his mind.

“I would hardly have been my first choice,” Severus admitted around a sip of his whiskey. “Since losing Dumbledore, we have been stretched too thin.”

Potter raised his glass. “To great men, those we have lost, and those who we may yet save.”

Severus brought his own glass up. “To great men,” he echoed.

*

He’d known coming back down was a bad idea, but the temptation to see Remus and James had simmered in him until he’d felt the sheer force of it compel him towards the bar. He’d never been any good at resisting temptation. And even knowing they were going to be in his bar had not truly prepared him for the shock, the impact of coming face to face with Remus. Older, with hair almost completely grey and lines webbing out from his eyes, he was still handsome.

Sirius inclined his head, trying to forget the many times he’d imagined this reunion. “Lupin,” he said, “what brings you to London?” He plucked the map from Remus’s hands and folded it, sliding the parchment into his pocket with a stern look aimed over the bar towards Pansy. She had the decency to blush and give a half-hearted apology before swinging her hips down the bar, towards another patron.

He watched Remus’s eyes darken. “Visiting old friends,” he said pointedly, nodding towards the corner, where Sirius saw James and… Severus Snape standing beside one another, trying to hold a civil conversation. Sirius ignored the piercing comment about old friends, trying futilely to wrap his mind around seeing Snape in his bar. How had he missed that? He felt an old hatred rise up inside him, mixed with a fair amount of guilt.

“A reunion, then,” Sirius said shakily, swinging his eyes from the scene in the corner back to Remus, then away again, not quite certain where to rest his gaze. He moved behind the bar, deftly grabbing a bottle and topping off Remus’ drink. “Here,” he said, “I find these meetings go much smoother when whiskey has been consumed in large quantities.” He gave a humorless smile. “If you need anything else, please let me know,” he continued. “Though I would ask you not to pester my help anymore.”

“Of course,” Remus answered. “It won’t happen again.”

Sirius clunked the bottle back into the well tray noisily. “I’m sure it won’t,” he said, wanting nothing more than to escape back to his flat. “You’ve been out of England for a long time now,” he said, keeping his voice void of emotion. His hands itched. He needed a cigarette.

“Yes,” said Remus quietly.

“Traveling?” asked Sirius, lighting a smoke and tugging in a breath of nicotine, keeping his eyes trained on the bar.

He heard Remus give a quiet laugh. “I wouldn’t exactly call what we’re doing holidaying, but yes, we’ve been traveling.”

“We…”

“James and myself, for the most part. England’s…different than it used to be.”

Sirius nodded, preparing himself to look Remus in the eye, finally. “Yes, well, a lot’s changed.”

“It certainly has,” interrupted a smooth voice.

He lifted his chin slightly. James, standing protectively close to Remus, eyes trained on Sirius. It looked as if Snape had already slipped outside.

The smile Remus aimed at James was warm and familiar, and a knife twisted in Sirius’s gut. “Did you enjoy catching up?” Remus asked. Sirius fought the urge to snort.

James, his eyes still on Sirius, said, “It was…informative. This is a nice place you have here, Black.”

Sirius gave a guarded half-smile. “Thank you. There’re a few tables in the back room,” he said, nodding, “if you feel the urge.”

James shook his head. “I’d rather not take my chances. Place like this - ” He looked around with mock-interest – “the house usually wins.”

Sirius let his smile grow predatory. He shrugged. “Usually.”

“We should probably head back,” James said, smiling over at Remus, who was watching the two of them cautiously – Sirius felt a pang, remembering the look. “I think we owe you some money.”

With a casual shake of his head, Sirius said, “It’s on the house.” He swallowed. “I didn’t realize you and Snape were on speaking terms,” he uttered before he could stop himself.

“Like you said,” James began, “a lot’s changed. Thank you for the drinks, Black,” he said abruptly, already half-turning away while Remus pushed himself quickly to his feet. “But we do need to head out.”

“Yes, thank you,” said Remus. “It was…nice to see you again.”

Sirius nodded. “It’s not a problem at all,” he said hollowly.

Remus stood completely and caught his eye, but Sirius looked away quickly, too afraid of what he would see there. He nodded again, and pivoted to wash their tumblers in the sudsy water behind him. When he turned around, they were gone.

He exhaled loudly and pulled the map and a locket from inside his robes. He needed a drink.


IV

Couple by couple, his customers filed out of the bar into the dark, deserted street until he and Pansy had been left alone with dirty glasses and full ashtrays and the lingering smoke. “Go on home,” he’d said to her. “Leave this to me.”

The lights were turned off. The music had stopped. The floor was swept and the bar wiped down.

He sat on a high stool, a half-empty bottle in front of his half-empty glass, and stared at the bar before him. Remus had smiled at James like he… like he was in love with him. Perhaps it shouldn’t come as a great surprise. They were both, as far as Sirius was concerned, easy to love. He’d just never imagined –

Memories – that he never allowed himself to remember but that he found impossible to forget – tumbled through his head: a scrawny eleven year-old with pale eyes plastering maps all over the wall behind his bed, talking about the world he expected to see some day; the quick, unexpected thud of pleasure when those same eyes smiled only for him; James’s dark head bent back in laughter as they planned their next prank; Peter nicking sweets from the kitchens for another late night spent practicing their transformations; Padfoot and Moony and Prongs and Wormtail romping around the forest and the grounds; the exhilarated laughter of knowing they might be caught, but never caring.

A first kiss, the tentative brush of lips; the heat that started at his toes and rose like the sun through his body, making him red and gold, and awake. And all the kisses after, some sweet, some urgent, some secret and special, and always theirs alone.

*

“We’ll have to put a pin in it, then, won’t we?”

Sirius looked over at Remus, sitting with his knees crammed up against his chin. “Guess we will,” he said with a smile. “Do you have any left?”

Moony shrugged. “I can buy more, or, hey, maybe we can conjure them.”

“Conjuring is seventh year stuff, in case you’d forgotten.”

“You managed to teach yourself how to transform into a dog. Conjuring should be, you know….” He snapped his fingers lazily.

Sirius smiled languidly. Moonlight slanted heavily across Remus’s cheek, making his pale skin glow blue. They sat in the Astronomy Tower, hips pressed close together, giddily discussing tomorrow night, and what fun the full moon would bring them, though – as usual – the talk had melted into hot kisses, and the kisses had melted into frantic hands, until eventually, it turned back to talk.

“Do you even have a map of Africa?” Sirius asked, twining his hand around Remus’s.

“Sure I do,” Moony said. “I already have lovely spots picked to visit as well. We’ll add Morocco to the itinerary. It won’t be any problem. Do you think we should go there first, then?”

Sirius glanced over. “We?” he asked.

“Well, I thought, once we were done with Hogwarts…”

“We could travel around a bit?”

Remus shrugged, and the light smattering of freckles across his nose grew just a tad darker in the starlight. Sirius felt something warm and content slide through him. They had only ever discussed a life beyond Hogwarts in the most general of terms: what do you want to be? Where do you want to live? But this –

Remus was planning a future, and Sirius was in it.

“We’ll have to tell Peter and James, eventually.”

Remus gave an unconcerned nod.

“Soon,” he promised. “After tomorrow night. Not now though.” He smiled, his slow, secret smile, the smile that sent hot butter gliding through Sirius’s belly, and said, “I like it just being you and me.”

Sirius looked down at their twined hands. “Me too.”

“We’ll probably be gone a long time,” Remus commented.

Sirius felt a smile blossom. “We probably will,” he agreed, imagining it. “After all, it’s a big world out there.”

*

The moon was already high in the sky by the time he began his walk from the Pitch to the school. Peter had run ahead to nick food from the kitchens and James always took his time in the shower.

Moony had headed to the Shrieking Shack half way through the game, and was no doubt in full wolf form. Sirius wanted nothing more than to transform into Padfoot and join him immediately, but that would have to wait. Moony’s absence from the celebration would be suspicious enough.

“All by yourself,” a voice to the left of him sneered. Sirius instinctively reached for his wand, as Snape continued, “I’m surprised you can find your way back without your friends.”

“Yes, well, I’m surprised you can see through that greasy hair of yours, Snivellus, so I suppose wonders never cease.”

“Of course,” Snape said, eyes looking pointedly at the Whomping Willow, “it’s no wonder that Lupin isn’t here, is it?”

Caught off guard, Sirius could only dumbly say, “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” his fingers tightening around his wand.

“Don’t I? Because it seems pretty obvious to me, Black, where Lupin is, and frankly, as a student at this school, I feel it is my duty to inform everyone of his dirty, dark secret.” Snape’s voice dripped with victory and malice.

Hatred knifed through Sirius. He stopped dead in his tracks, whipping around furiously. “If you breathe one word to anybody,” he threatened, wand pointed at Snape’s heart, “I will kill you.”

Snape smiled triumphantly, his beady eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “I should like very much to see you try that, Black,” he said. “Giving in to all that dark blood running through your veins?”

Sirius pressed his lips together. His wand hand shook. “Don’t talk to me about dark blood, as if you’re not just itching to get out of here and join Voldemort. You don’t think I know what you and your fellow Slytherins do in that dungeon of yours?”

“Oh,” said Snape casually, “We do hordes of wicked things, and your little brother partakes in them all.”

“You stay the hell away from Regulus, you filthy, pathetic – “

“So protective,” purred Snape. “But you can’t protect everyone, and when I find out what Lupin’s been up to – “

“Why don’t you go push that knob and find out,” Sirius dared in an angry haze, pointing to the willow. “Do us all a favor.” He turned his back on Snape, too frustrated to be concerned that Snape might hex him, and stormed his way to Gryffindor, seething with hatred. Half way to the tower, he began to regret his words. But of course, Snape would never –

No, the coward didn’t have the balls, but what if he…? He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Nobody would be foolish enough to try and face a werewolf. It would serve the bastard right, of course, but still –

Sirius grunted the password angrily at the Fat Lady and raged into the tower, which was in heavy celebration mode, lights blazing and laughter and drinking already in full swing.

James’s smile was sparkling when he caught sight of Sirius. “What took you so long, mate?” he asked, shaking a butterbeer and popping it open, laughing when the foamy beverage burst forth.

James sobered at the look on Sirius’s face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, as Peter showed up at his elbow.

Sirius shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just a run in with Snivellus.”

“Bastard,” grumbled Peter immediately.

Nodding in agreement, James asked, “What did he want?”

“Spouting off his mouth about Moony again,” Sirius told them, moving to a corner of the room.

“What about Moony?” James asked quietly, eyes showing real concern.

“That he knew Remus was in the Shrieking Shack,” Sirius said in hushed tones, watching James’s eyes go pale with panic behind his glasses.

“He said that he knew…he knows…filthy….” James’s anger was swift. “Should we tell Dumbledore that the little sneak…?” He swore loudly. “What did you tell him?”

“That I’d kill him if he told anyone.”

“Good.” James was nodding again. “Good,” he repeated. “Filthy son of a bitch. Would serve him right if he did find his way down there, wouldn’t it?”

“I agree. That’s why I told him.”

James stopped nodding, and looked at him sharply. “You told him what?”

“I told him how to get in.”

For one crazy moment, Sirius thought James was going to hit him. He glanced over at Wormtail, who was watching both of them cautiously.

“What?” James whispered furiously. “Sirius, no, no you didn’t…”

“But he’d never actually go there, right? I mean he doesn’t have – “

James’s eyes flashed angrily at him. “You had better be right, Sirius, because if you’re wrong, Snape’ll be dead, and Remus will have killed him.”

James spun towards the portrait hole, shooting once last angry look at Sirius before disappearing into the hallway.

*

It was the longest night Sirius had ever lived through.

He clutched the map in his shaking hand, watching dots labeled Severus Snape and Remus Lupin rest perfectly still. Other dots around them, labeled Madame Pomfrey, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew zipped about on the parchment. Finally, when the dots had settled, he went to wait outside the infirmary. James finally stepped into the hall, his eyes heavy with anger and exhaustion, his glasses crooked.

Sirius rushed to him. “How-“ he began.

James put up his hand. His eyes cut into Sirius like razors. “Don’t,” he said.

“Prongs,” pleaded Sirius, “please just tell me how he is?”

“Snape or Remus?”

“Moony.”

“Other than the scratches and broken bones, you mean, from spending the night alone as the wolf? How do you think he is, Sirius? God, I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”

Sirius sucked in a sharp breath. “As if you’ve never done anything to Snape before!” he growled accusingly.

James ran his hands through his hair in what Sirius recognized as a gesture of exasperation. “Not anymore, Sirius. Not now. Not with everything that’s happening out there. We’re not kids, anymore. And this is life and death we’re talking about and what you can’t seem to understand is – “

“He deserved it,” Sirius cut in harshly. “You don’t think, the second he leaves here, that he’s not going to run to Voldemort and join his little death brigade? You don’t think he wouldn’t kill you or Remus or me the second he had the opportunity?”

James looked as if he was going to throttle Sirius. “What about Remus?” he asked, his eyes flashing horribly, his voice dangerously low. “Did he deserve it?”

Sirius recoiled. “I never meant to hurt Remus,” he said quickly.

“No,” said James, “you never do mean to do much of anything, do you, Sirius? You’re a child, a selfish child who still hasn’t managed to grow up. You thought of no one but yourself, how much you wanted to get back at Snape, how much you hated him, but you never thought about Remus, about the guilt he feels now, about how everyone is going to know the one thing he’s ashamed of, and you put it out there, all because of a school boy grudge. You didn’t think about him at all, his pride or his feelings or his anything. You know, your parents would be so proud of you right now - ”

Sirius swung, his fist connecting with James’s nose and glasses, as a satisfying crunch met his ears. He had only a second to regain his balance from the force of throwing his body forward, when James rushed him, head low, slamming Sirius back against the wall with a loud, shattering thud. James threw the next punch, and another thud sounded in Sirius’s head, as James’s hand snapped his head to the side. He fell to the ground, putting his hands over his face.

James’s shadowy form loomed over him. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave him alone.” James spat blood on the ground next to Sirius.

Through streaming eyes, Sirius watched James bend down and pick up his broken glasses, and walk away.

*

He was so pale.

“Remus…”

Light eyes opened slowly, and just looked at him.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“It’s too late, Sirius,” Remus said in a very quiet voice. “I bit him, and I might be sent away from school.”

“No! It was my fault, they have to understand that.”

“Do you think the students’ parents are going to care that you sent him to me?” His voice was so hoarse. “All they’ll care about is that a werewolf was allowed near their children. You of all people should know how deep prejudice runs, Sirius, and you of all people should have… “ His voice broke, just slightly, and it was all Sirius could do not to rush to him. “I trusted you. I loved you. And this is how you repay me?”

“I didn’t think…”

“No, you didn’t.” Remus’s quiet disappointment was worse than James’s screams. It would be easier if he shouted, but Remus wouldn’t, even if he could after a night of howling.

“No, I didn’t, but you have to believe me that I never meant –“

“You knew what would happen,” Remus accused, his eyes glistening and haunted. “You knew it, that I would attack him, and you sent him down.”

“Remus,” he begged, real tears springing into his eyes, “please. I only wanted him to – I don’t know why I did it.”

“I bit him,” Remus said, voice shaking, “I turned him into a monster. I did to him what I would never wish on my worst enemy, and I did it because of you. You need to leave.”

Sirius let out a horrible sob. “No, please, you have to - I would never – oh, God,” he heard himself cry out. “Why did I do it? Remus, you know that I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that. I love you. I just – I don’t know why I did it. I hate him. I hate the things he says about you, and they way he looks at you, and I just – “ He stopped suddenly, finding himself standing close to Remus, whose expression had shifted from anger to pity.

Remus shook his head, sadly.

“You… I can’t look at you right now, Sirius. Just get out of my sight. Please, Sirius, just leave.” His eyes were terrible and weighty with anguish, and full of such pain that all Sirius could think was, I did that. I did that.

I did that.

He nodded. “I’m so sorry,” he said, very quietly, before exiting the infirmary. He went straight to the gargoyle outside Dumbledore’s office and sat down to wait for the headmaster. He laid his head on his drawn up knees, heedless of the blood caked on his face or the pain that pounded in his head, and let out a wail, as his chest began to shake.

*

Everything was broken. His wand had been snapped in half when they expelled him. The look in Dumbledore’s eyes when he’d explained that Snape – a newly made werewolf – was being sent to America had told him that he had lost his former headmaster’s trust. His friendships, his family, had been split in two.

His dreams had shattered, the life he had seen blooming before him now nothing but a withered whisper.

And his heart, that had been broken as well.

Rotten to the core, his mother had always said, and it looked as if he’d finally managed to prove her right. He didn’t return home, knowing his mother’s screeches would be too much to bear. He’d always fantasized about leaving that old, rank house for good, moving in with James and his parents, traveling the world with Remus.

Only now, no one wanted him, and he had no place to go.

*

He took a job at the Leaky Cauldron. For a year, he poured drinks and wiped down tables and broke up fights without much incident, working off his room and board and pocketing some extra cash. Tom didn’t ask questions, and Sirius was happy to do the work, monotonous though it was, if every night, after the lights turned off, he was able to drink himself to sleep.

When he turned seventeen he inherited enough money to live a life free of work. He bought a wand and stashed the rest in Gringotts, continuing to keep the bar.

The world darkened, and Sirius found that he could wipe down the bar, and pour drinks, and break up fights, and give little thought to anything else. June came and went, and he hardly wasted much thought on his friends, leaving Hogwarts’ sheltered fortress to face the raging war. News about old school mates trickled into the bar: James had married Lily Evans, with Remus as their best man; Snape was still in America, working at an apothecary; Peter had taken a low-level job in the Ministry.

And Sirius continued to tend bar.

*

When Remus walked in to Leaky Cauldron, almost four years to the day that Sirius had walked out of the infirmary, Sirius reacted as if he’d been expecting him, though the shock of it hit him hard, like a Bludger to the head. He was still too thin, and his clothes were still too worn, but his eyes held a sort of fire, as if he had purpose.

And they showed no surprise to see Sirius behind the bar, though he continued on without pause, walking directly to a table in the back and sharing a bottle of wine with a man Sirius didn’t recognize, though he looked remarkably like a younger version of Dumbledore.

Remus left without acknowledging Sirius.

*

Three times, the same day every week, Remus came and met with the man, sharing a bottle of wine, and three times, the same day every week, Sirius trembled with jealousy and guilt and a longing so acute he didn’t think he could bear it.

He never asked to switch his shift.

*

The fourth week, Remus offered him a nod.

The fifth, a smile.

And the sixth, an almost-friendly hello.

*

“You never said goodbye,” came an accusation one day.

Sirius, his head down at the bar, said, “You told me to get out of your sight.”

A pause, and then, “I didn’t mean forever.”

“Didn’t you?” He tilted his chin, finally meeting familiar, warm eyes.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, and Sirius held his breath. “I have to go,” Remus said, finally. “I’ll see you next week.” He gave a quick nod and walked out the door, the chime overhead ringing brightly.

Sirius smiled and began wiping the bar down.

*

“Does James know what you do here?” Sirius asked one day, eyes leveled at Remus, who was sitting at the bar, nursing a butterbeer.

Remus paused, suddenly finding the bar top interesting. “He knows that I come here once a week to exchange information,” he said.

“Does he know about…us?”

“What about us?” Remus asked, head jerking up to look at Sirius.

Sirius gestured somewhat helplessly. ‘That we… talk…”

Remus cleared his throat and Sirius waited expectantly. “No,” he confessed simply. “He wouldn’t understand.”

“He wouldn’t?”

“I’m not sure I understand myself,” Remus admitted. “Sometimes I feel as if I shouldn’t allow myself your…your friendship,” he said, though his eyes were heavy with more than the promise of friendship and Sirius felt his breath catch, “because of what you did…Sirius, but then…maybe I’m weak, because seeing you again. I don’t want to be without you, not anymore.”

Sirius hesitated. “About what I did…” he began, afraid to bring it up, but too afraid to never make amends.

“You already apologized,” Remus stopped him. “There’s no need to do it again.”

*

A map spread over the bar, and Remus and Sirius both leaned in over it. Their hands brushed, and Sirius felt his skin ignite, and he kept it there. Remus’s skin was warm, and the sudden heat in his eyes made Sirius’s mouth go dry.

“Where to first then?” Sirius asked, trying to ignore the dizzy spell that threatened to send him pleasantly into circles.

“First to Romania,” Remus said, pointing to it on the map, “to meet with an informant. Then to Italy, and we’ll get news from there.”

“We’ll,” said Sirius. Remus was being sent on a mission for Dumbledore, and he had asked Sirius, rather stammering and hesitant, if he would like to accompany him.

“Yes, we’ll go from there,” Remus said, eyes crinkling at the corner. Sirius could hardly contain the smile that split his face.

“And you’ll tell James?” he asked.

“Tomorrow,” Remus promised. “When he gets back from his trip. Lily and Harry are staying with Peter tonight, and James plans to go right over there. I’ll tell them all at the same time, that we’ve been….” Sirius watched him blush slightly, and he hid a smile. “And that you’re coming with me.”

“How do you think they’ll take it?” Sirius asked, knowing their reaction would be horribly negative, at best. Would they keep Remus away from him, talk him out of it?

“It doesn’t matter,” Remus assured him, as if sensing his fear. “We’ll go together, no matter what.”

“No matter what,” Sirius repeated.

*

His bags were already packed. He had given Tom his notice.

It was the last time he’d open the bar. The last time he’d set the stools upright on the newly-swept floor. The last time he’d pour drinks for rowdy patrons. The last night he’d spend in war-riddled England, watching everyone around him grow shadowed and cold as the battles grew brighter.

The entrance bell jingled, and Sirius looked up. Not even the pouring rain outside could keep the wide smile from his face.

“I have a delivery for a Sirius Black,” said a young girl at the entrance, auburn hair plastered thickly to her head.

Sirius watched as she pulled a letter from the confines of her sopping, navy robes. His name was scrawled on it in familiar handwriting. His smile grew wider as he took it from her, replacing the letter with a knut and a casual thank you, as she turned to head once more into the rain.

Eagerly, he unfolded the note.

And his smile disappeared.

The writing was sloppy and the note was brief. Sirius clutched it, looking disbelievingly at the familiar script:

Padfoot,

Lily and Peter have been killed. James and Harry need me right now. I have to leave with them.

Moony.

The words blurred before Sirius’s eyes. As if from far away, head still bent in disbelief, he heard Tom come hobbling down the stairs. “You doing all right, there, young man?” he asked gruffly.

Sirius stared at the slip of parchment. “Yeah,” he said hollowly. He glanced up. “Tom? You ever think about selling this place? Maybe retiring somewhere that isn’t in England?”

“All the time,” admitted Tom in his smoke-thickened voice. “No one’s actually foolish enough to buy a bar in the middle of a war zone, though, are they?” he asked wearily, tying an apron around his thickening waist.

Sirius looked at him. “I’ll make you a very good offer,” he said. He crumbled the letter and tossed it in the rubbish bin.

*

Sirius stared hard and gloomily at the bar before him; the sharp ache of that day had mellowed into a dull, throbbing feeling in his stomach, but it had never disappeared.

The charm above the door sounded and without turning around, Sirius mumbled into his drink, “We’re closed.”

“I can actually see that,” came the soft voice. “Though you should probably learn to lock your door.” Sirius spun dizzily around to see Remus, his white robes wrinkled and hanging limply, as if he’d hastily thrown them on, walking towards him.

“Come to explain yourself?” Sirius said, taking another sip of burning whiskey and stumbling off his stool. “Because I don’t really want to hear it.”

Remus swept his eyes over Sirius. “No,” he said, and Sirius was certain there was a hint of confusion in his face. Maybe he had forgot all about their plans, in the wake of whatever he seemed to have with James.

The thought of Remus and James made Sirius wince. “I’m kind of busy, right now, as you can see.” He gestured to the empty room at large. “I’m afraid I don’t have time to sit and reminisce with you. Besides, you already had your friendly reunion, didn’t you?”

Though his eyesight was quickly blurring, he saw with perfect clarity the blank expression that slipped across Remus’s face, his pale eyes turning ice cold. “I suppose I did,” Remus said. “I just came to say, that…that I’m sorry to see what’s happened to you, Sirius. I had hoped for better for you. I’d hoped you were at least happy.”

Sirius snorted. “You wanted no such thing,” he slurred, vaguely aware that he was swaying precariously on his feet. He had enough of his wits about him to know that he didn’t want Remus to witness his total breakdown. “You once told me to get out of your sight,” he said, in a voice as cruel as he could muster, “and I did. Now I’ll ask you to return the favor.”

He didn’t wait to see if Remus complied, just sat heavily back on his stool and poured himself another generous drink, sloshing a good portion of it on the bar as he brought the glass to his lips.

He didn’t hear Remus walk out, but he felt it just the same.


Chapters 1 and 2 here; Chapter 5 here