***
After another sleep-deprived night—this time with Tonks insisting that Remus slept on the sofa—being alone with Sirius was strangely comforting…
“Why are you with her if you don’t love her?”
…except when he continued to throw in the occasional question that would throw Remus off-balance. His reactions to Sirius’s queries were always the same: immediate evasion.
“Sirius, can we concentrate on what we’re supposed to be doing?” Remus tapped the parchment that was spread open on the Weasley’s kitchen table. “What about the cellar? Do you remember any enchantments set up there?”
“Regulus set up a knee-reversing hex on Father’s wine rack two years ago,” Sirius said with a chuckle. “The old man was furious an—”
“Please try to come up with something useful.”
With Molly doing some shopping in Muggle London and taking the opportunity to keep an intermittent watch on Grimmauld Place, and the others having gone to work, Remus was left with Sirius to draw up a detailed plan of the Black house. Although Remus had discussed it before, there had been a lot that Sirius had forgotten after so many years in Azkaban. A seventeen year old Sirius, who had the memory of living there fresh in his mind, was a welcome asset. Any new information on curses and secret entrances could prove pivotal to getting inside and retrieving the book.
“But I’m bored,” Sirius said, grinning when Remus flinched at his choice of words. “Can’t we take a break for a while?”
Sirius didn’t give him a chance to reply or run away from the situation; in an instant, he had pushed the parchment to the floor and climbed onto the table to get at Remus on the other side. Glancing at the clock as their mouths connected, Remus supposed they could risk spending a bit of time doing other things, and he stood so he could pull Sirius’s body against his.
Running his fingers through the scruffy hair, Remus moaned in contentment until a sudden shriek came from the doorway. Molly had arrived home early.
**
“According to the library cards, the book was taken out last week by a seventh year,” Remus told Harry as they walked across the grounds at lunchtime. “I’ll keep checking, though, for when it’s brought back.”
Harry forced a smile in appreciation for Remus’s help. He had badgered Remus all morning to go the library, and now that Remus had been, Harry couldn’t help but feeling dismayed. Sleeping hadn’t come easily the night before, not when he had been tossing and turning in bed all night, wishing that he’d be able to get back to his own time before the full moon that evening.
“Sirius, are you going to tell me what you want it for?”
“I…I’ll show you once I’ve got it.”
They joined Peter and James, who were sitting in the shade of the beech tree by the lake and still complaining about having to stay up late for their detention. Harry laid back and ignored them, stewing on how he was going to explain not being able to do the Animagus transformation.
A light tapping on his foot got his attention, and he opened his eyes to see Remus staring back at him.
“Are you bored, today?” Remus asked, and he tilted his head in the direction of the bushes.
“Go on then, you two,” James muttered. “Bugger off. You’re both crap company lately, anyway.”
Harry studied Remus, who was looking up at
him through adoring eyes. After all that
had happened, he was now feeling quite comfortable with the idea of being alone
with Remus, and not being in the mood to talk to James or Peter, he was more
than willing to distract himself with a bit of canoodling.
“You haven’t washed, you dirty animal,” Remus said in between kisses. Then he frowned and reached up to Harry’s forehead. “I swear that mark’s got bigger, and darker.”
It was the same spot that Remus had pointed out the night before, right where Harry’s scar should’ve been. Intrigued by Remus’s observation, Harry grabbed a stone from the ground and pointed his wand at it, trying to transfigure the rock into some sort of mirror. He failed miserably.
“Can you do it?” he asked, handing the mess of glass and stone to Remus, who promptly finished the task without any problems.
And there it was: the faint outline of a lightening-bolt shaped scar. He didn’t want to guess at what it meant, but Harry’s couldn’t stop the thought that maybe he wouldn’t be able to go back, that perhaps he’d left it too late or had done some irreparable damage to the timeline.
Not wanting to let on to Remus just how worried he was, Harry hastily denied knowing anything about the mark, handing over the mirror for Remus to transfigure back.
“I’m having trouble transfiguring everything at the moment,” he said, looking at Remus meaningfully, and a comprehending wave of disappointment washed across Remus’s face.
“Perhaps you’d better see Pomfrey.”
Harry nodded weakly, although he knew that it wouldn’t do any good. At least Remus didn’t seem to hate him, despite how let down he was obviously feeling. Harry hated being responsible for making Remus look that way.
**
“Not under my roof!”
Molly’s voice bellowed across the room, triggering a burst of activity: Remus jumping backwards away from the table and Sirius landing face-down on the floor.
And then there was a barrage of condemnation coming from Molly’s direction, while Sirius repeatedly swore at the tiles for being so hard and Remus tried his best not to bite back at Molly’s homophobic abuse. He needn’t have bothered, though, for it gave Sirius the opportunity, and then both Molly and Sirius began shouting at each other in earnest.
“What business is it of yours, anyway? You’re not Harry’s mum.”
“No. But I’m certain that Lily wouldn’t have wanted this.”
“Lily? Not Lily Evans?”
An unexpected stillness flooded the room and Remus hoped that they might be able to bluff their way around this near-revelation. But Molly’s reaction said it all as she clapped her hand over her mouth, appalled at her unintended slip.
“Lily Evans is Harry’s mother?” Sirius turned and narrowed his eyes at Remus. “Who’s his father? It’s not you, is it?”
Remus shook his head, figuring a denial couldn’t cause any more damage.
“So where is she? Why isn’t she here?”
“Sirius, please, stop asking questions. You know I can’t tell you anything.”
“There you go again, falling back on the same old bullshit line. Well, I’m getting fed up with it. How the fuck do you expect me to trust you, Remus?”
As Sirius continued to rant at him, a sudden flashback of Sirius accusing him of keeping secrets hit Remus like a brick. This was sowing the seeds for James’s and Lily’s deaths, and there didn’t seem to be anything that he could do to change it.
“Molly, please, can you let me speak with Sirius in private?” Remus pleaded, hoping for the chance to calm him down.
But she wouldn’t go, and the situation continued to escalate for the next half hour, only trailing off into an awkward silence when Tonks and Arthur arrived by Floo.
“Er, we thought we’d pop home for lunch,” Arthur said as he gazed anxiously between Molly, Sirius and Remus. “T has been given some Auror work to do tomorrow, in central London. We wanted to find out if you’d seen anything this morning, Molly, so T could follow it up while she’s there. Is, er, everything all right?”
“No, it isn’t,” Molly said, placing her
hands on her hips and glaring at Sirius and Remus. “You wouldn’t believe… I mean, it was
disgusting, and on my kitchen ta—”
“Oh shut up, you pious old hag,” Sirius spat.
“How dare you speak to my wife like that!”
“Remus, what have you done?”
It was Tonks who spoke this time, her voice quavering and low, stopping Sirius mid-stride as he rounded on Arthur. Sirius turned back to face Tonks, and Remus braced himself for what might be said next.
“And as for you,” Sirius began, spittle now flying from his lips. “Back off. It’s none of your bloody business what Remus does. I can’t begin to fathom why he’s involved with you, but knowing Remus, it’s probably out of warped sense of obligation. He doesn’t want you. Don’t you understand? It’s me; it’s always been me. You’re just a silly tart who’s too stupid to realise she’s nothing more than a substitu—”
“That’s enough!” Arthur shouted, glancing in concern at Tonks. Her whole body was shaking, her face white—a stark contrast to her glistening, red eyes. With a sob, she fled the room.
Molly chased after her. “Arthur, I don’t want those two left alone together,” she called out as she started up the stairs. “I’m not having that sort of thing going on here.”