toujours_impur | [for Remus] Debut

After searching through the night, he’d finally found the traitor.

Sirius stared down the quiet residential street at Pettigrew, chest heaving, pale and shaking with anger and grief. Because of him, James and Lily were gone. Because he’d trusted this little rat. The moment he’d seen Peter’s hideout deserted but neat and tidy, with no sign of struggle or strife, a cold weight had settled into his chest, his stomach. His motorbike had never flown faster, but it wasn’t fast enough. He’d arrived in Godric’s Hollow to find his best friend’s body lying in the half-destroyed remains of their house.

The sight of James, glasses askew and brown eyes staring at nothing as he lay there, the life scrubbed from him without leaving a mark, started to thaw that chill within him, and as he talked to Hagrid, who had been descending the stairs with Harry swaddled in his massive arms, it continued to change, from cold fear and suspicion to white-hot rage. He’d argued that he should be the one to take Harry, because he’d heard enough about Lily’s sister to know it wasn’t going to be a great situation for the boy, but his heart wasn’t in it, and so he eventually agreed that Hagrid should take the baby to Dumbledore as arranged.

He offered his motorbike to Hagrid, because he didn’t plan to need it again. He knew that what he planned would be a sentence in Azkaban if he was caught, but he didn’t care. Peter should have died before betraying James and Lily...and Sirius intended to make sure he did exactly that. It wouldn’t bring them back, wouldn’t make up for Sirius’ mistake, but he owed it to his best friend.

He’d searched throughout the night, knowing how Peter thought and where he might be hiding, and sure enough, he’d found him shortly after the sun rose. It had never occurred to him that Peter knew him just as well, knew what he would do and where he would go.

Peter was pale and sweating as he turned, as they faced each other in the street, but his voice was loud and strong as he called out, breaking the silence of the peaceful early morning, “Lily and James, Sirius...how could you?”

The words didn’t make sense, but they didn’t matter. Sirius wasn’t interested in taking the time to figure them out. He reached for his wand, the killing curse already on his tongue, but before he could even lay a hand on it, Peter smirked at him knowingly, and then there was a boom, a shockwave of pressure that lifted him off of his feet as everything went white.

Sirius sat up as his vision cleared, drawing his wand and spinning, looking wildly around. Pettigrew was gone, as was the entire street. He didn’t know where he was or what had happened, and if he hadn’t been half-mad and solely focused on avenging James’ death, he would have noticed that there were some...odd sights on the street, such as cars that were strange and futuristic in appearance, or Muggles staring at little boxes in their hands all over the neighborhood.

He noticed none of this, however. Turning in a slow circle one last time to make sure that Peter was really gone, he let out a scream of frustration and then broke into a run. He didn’t trust himself to Apparate, so he would have to simply hope that he hadn’t gone far. “PETER! PETER PETTIGREW, YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME FOREVER!” He shouted, and his appearance, long, disheveled hair and clothing after a sleepless night of searching, coupled with the look in his eyes and his shouting, had everyone in the area giving him a wide berth, though a few were filming with their phones. One never knew when they might capture the right viral video, after all, to catapult them to internet fame briefly.

“YOU’RE A DEAD MAN, WORMTAIL!” Sirius screamed as he turned off of one street and onto the next, unaware that the muggle police had been called--and unlikely to have cared even if he’d known.

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This time Remus' words seemed to have more of an effect. "...Captured?" he echoed, sounding bewildered. It seemed he'd been facing Wormtail only moments ago. How had he been captured already? But he had no reason to doubt Remus' words, not now that he knew his friend had never been the spy, that he'd been utterly wrong in that suspicion as in so many other things.

So it would be Azkaban for Wormtail, not death. He deserved to die, but at least this way Sirius himself avoided a prison sentence, avoided becoming a murderer. It wasn't much comfort, those thoughts.

At Remus' question, he had to drop his gaze, the guilt it stirred a painful knot in his chest, in his heart. "I trust you," he whispered hoarsely, feeling his eyes sting with tears of shame that he had ever stopped trusting him, no matter the situation.

When Remus mentioned the people, Sirius peered around, actually noticing his surroundings for the first time and realizing that a small crowd had gathered, some gawking, others holding up little rectangles of some sort that meant nothing to him. He did love to be the centre of attention, but not like this, not right now, and so he nodded. Most of his fury and fervor had drained from him at the news about Peter, leaving him shivering and quiet as he meekly allowed Remus to lead him wherever he would, doing his best not to think, because without his rage he knew he wouldn't long keep grief at bay, and once he allowed himself to feel it, it would be a long time before he would stop hurting.

"Of course you do." It had worked, then. "Come on," Remus said simply, one hand on his lower back, warm-but-firm, even as he lead Sirius through the crowd and eventually their interest drifted away. Talking to the Ministry would be something he would do later that night, probably via Howler, and give them a bloody piece of his mind. His own body was a comfort in the brisk London air, running just a little bit hotter than human, and he tightened his arm around Sirius' waist when they rounded a corner.

"I'm taking you to a safe house," he murmured, low, fond, lips pressed against Sirius' temple before easing a wand out of his inside coat pocket. "Hold close, now," and then after checking, he Apparated them both to the little alleyway out behind his tall, modern building, just next to the large skip. It was a few quiet, scant moments to gently tug Sirius through the sliding electric doors, into the pristine lift, and up, up, up, until he could slide the key home in the front door of his flat and hold the door open with a foot, tossing his keys on the stand and unfolding his scarf.

"Sit," he said, ushering Sirius around and into a sleek armchair, pressing a kiss to his hair and running his hands back up Sirius' arms and shoulders as the man sat down, determined to keep contact, because contact was always what Sirius needed and craved.

A few moments more and he'd unlocked the charmed cabinet in the kitchen and had prepared a calming draught in a glass tumbler: "Drink," he said, offering it to Sirius and brooking no resistance, even as it smoked a little from the glass.

Sirius gripped him tightly as he felt the squeeze of apparition, grateful to Remus for handling it, for he was in no state to apparate himself, even if he'd known where they were going.

He sank into the chair as directed, burying his face in his hands and trying to focus on the familiar sounds of Remus moving around, even as a pain he didn't know if he could handle swelled in his chest despite his best efforts to keep it at bay, mental images haunting him and ushering the pain ever faster.

At Remus' simple command he pulled his hands away from his face, either unaware or uncaring of the tears streaking his cheeks as he reached for the glass and began to drink without question or hesitation. If Remus wanted him to drink it, it was for the best, he knew. The smell and taste of the potion was vaguely familiar, though he couldn't immediately identify it, his usually sharp mind not wanting to work as normal just now.

And then it began to take effect, dulling the pain and the panic he'd been feeling more and more, and he sighed softly, grateful for the effects. Sinking back into the chair, he looked at Remus, continuing to down the calming draught in measured, even swallows. "Thank you," he murmured, his mind and body at last still and calm for the first time in hours.

Remus had been kneeling before him as he watched that calm sink into him, hands on Sirius' knees. There was so much he wanted to say: so much locked away inside that he could have said. The time was not right: and the words did not spring to his lips. Rather he unbent his knees and raised himself to a semi-standing position, to envelop Sirius in a simple, hard, wordless hug. "...I'm very glad to know you're well," he murmured, into that hair, his few tears hidden from view.

Oh, if only they could stay like this. If only he could just put Sirius to bed and cuddle him and pet him and let him rest. If only he could close all the curtains and shut all the locks, and leave the world outside to stay outside.

But that simply wasn't fair.

"Push over, chubby," he muttered, like it was the old days - just them, in a tiny flat, not this opulent modern thing - and perched on the arm of the armchair, fingers still carding through Sirius' hair. "Sirius, look out the window," he decided, finally, chewing on the inside of his cheek at the strategy. "Does London look any different to you?" They were twenty stories up, and even though it was still twilight, that just highlighted the blaze of lights, the steel-and-glass, the London Eye - everything that Remus himself was still getting used to.

For all that he didn't want to shock Sirius again in the slightest, a short, sharp realisation was probably the best way of avoiding an involved discussion.

Edited Date: 2016-04-19 10:01 am (UTC)

Between the potion and Remus' fingers in his hair, Sirius was feeling very calm, indeed. Calm enough that he could just sleep and worry about the grief still curled deep within him, under the calming draught, tomorrow.

But Remus was telling him to look out the window, and so he did, slowly turning his head and blinking a few times, the sights not making sense to him. He frowned slightly and got to his feet, walking to the window as if sleepwalking, leaning against the wall as he looked out at a London that was both familiar and not. "What's happened?" he asked, feeling a stab of anxiety even through the potion, though it was nothing compared to what it could have been.

Remus knew the man: knew the length of his stride, the slope of his back, the way his shirt hung on him. Walking up to Sirius from behind - and being very clear to foreground his presence with a deliberately heavy footfall, he rested his chin on Sirius' shoulder and eased his arms around that waist (was it thinner and more ragged than he remembered? He couldn't be sure) to look out at the city with him.

"Oh, about forty years, give or take," he murmured, voice just a little wry. "...The last time I saw you, Pads, it was 1980, and you'd started getting weird. Standoffish, secretive, always changing the subject. I guess," he admitted, although it wasn't a guess, he knew, "you thought I was the spy. I began to think it must be you, because you were acting so oddly. But one day I just...took one step and found myself in a room in the Department of Mysteries, in October 2015. Some wizards were experimenting with a time turner and some of the artefacts, using them to examine what actually happened with all of us, and the great big war we were fighting. I assume something similar happened to you."

Remus paused, kissed Sirius' shoulder, and returned his chin to its rightful place. "...It's not such a bad time, really."

Sirius closed his eyes for a moment as Remus wrapped himself around him, savoring the simple comfort of the man's touch that had been diminished these past few months, as suspicions put distance between them, both physical and emotional--suspicions on both sides, it seemed.

It almost made Remus' news digestible, that familiar touch, and he sank back into him as he sighed, trying to sort through what Remus was telling him. "It's 2015," he stated flatly, forcing his eyes open again so he could look out at this strange new version of London that made the words seem more plausible. At least Remus' statement about Wormtail made more sense in light of this new information. It hadn't been only moments after all, but years, decades. The enormity of this news was too much for him to take in all at once, so he focused instead for the moment on the other thing Remus had said.

He turned in Remus' arms and cupped his cheeks, pulling the taller man's head forward so he could rest his own forehead against his friend's. "I'm so sorry I ever doubted you, Moony," he murmured, knowing that the pang of guilt and regret he felt now would be a wrench that would bring tears to his eyes were it not for the potion numbing it all.

"2016, actually. Been here since last October. The food's better," Remus told him, trying to ease him into it. "You'll be pleased - no one cares if you shag a bloke or a bird. Two men can even get hitched these days!" It still sounded vaguely scandalous to him, but it was the law of the land. Maybe Sirius would stop then, if it wasn't so rebellious, but Remus very much doubted it. "And the fashion's different. The young people, you know." Remus had never felt like a young person.

He eyed Sirius as the other man turned, all too aware of how precarious his own emotional walls were, feeling them falter a little at the touch, at the words. "...We're both sorry, I think, Pads," he breathed. "I'm just glad you're here. I've been without...anyone," he swallowed, voice wavering, chin tilting up and down a little, his eyes refusing to meet his friend's. How to express how grateful he was to have landed on his feet in this strange new time, and so lonely as well? "Everything's going to be fine now."

Edited Date: 2016-04-20 08:47 am (UTC)

For Sirius, October was just yesterday, but rather than asking for further clarification, he just nodded. Remus had been here for months, or this copy of him had. That was the important thing to know. All of the rest of it, food and fashion and shagging--all of that could wait until later.

He supposed he should probably feel guilty at being relieved by the fact that his friend had preceded him by months, particularly after Remus' words, the vulnerability he rarely let show to anyone, even him, but well, he'd always been a selfish bastard, and having his Moony waiting here, ready to help ease him into this strange new world--well, it just felt right. Though he did hate the thought of Remus here all alone.

"I'm here," he agreed in a murmur, thumbs stroking lightly over Remus' cheekbones before he let his hands fall away only to slide them around his back, burying his face against Remus' neck as he tightened his arms, holding him close in a firm hug.

"You are," Remus managed to reply, smile tenuous but increasingly real as it spread across his lips. His own fingers smoothed up Sirius' back, one hand rubbing in small, nonsense circles as if Sirius was the only one who needed soothing, the other tangling again in Sirius' hair as he responded to that hug. Sirius felt warm and solid and smelled frankly terrible, all ash and fear and sour, sour sweat.

But he was real, in his arms. This wasn't a boggart or some sort of illusion (or worse, some sort of delusion). And Remus drew strength from others as he always was, safer in the knowledge that he could distract himself with someone else's worries. (Considering Sirius had rather a lot of worries, he'd always been a boon.)

Squeezing Sirius closer to him for a second, he pulled away before his body reacted inappropriately to the warmth and closeness. "Let's get you to bed," he offered. "I've got a pot of sleeping draught in the bedroom, if you need it." Because there was no way he'd let Sirius sleep on the couch.

Sirius tensed a little as Remus pulled away, but when he didn't go far he relaxed again, nodding. "Yeah, all right," he agreed, because the oblivion of sleep sounded so good after the past 24 hours. "I'll wait on the sleeping draught." The calming effects of the potion he'd already ingested would likely be enough to allow him to fall asleep with little trouble, and if not, he could always take the sleeping potion later.

Guiding Sirius down the (short) hallway to the bedroom, Remus kept holding his hand the entire time, before sitting him down on the armchair he used to curl up in some nights as he turned down the blankets. That done, he undressed the other wizard, slowly, reverently, and folding the clothes up nearly on the dresser. "In you hop, m'dear," he said, something of an order in his voice before he pulled out his wand and scoured Sirius clear with a charm. "There you go. Don't worry, it's big enough for two," Remus murmured over his shoulder, already starting to undress himself.

Edited Date: 2016-04-25 02:47 am (UTC)

Sirius shivered faintly as the tingles from the cleaning charm prickled over his skin and then got to his feet, shuffling to the bed and climbing in, watching Remus undress in silence.

He curled up on his side, waiting for Remus to join him and hoping that he would fall asleep quickly. Tomorrow. He'd deal with everything tomorrow, once he was rested.

While Remus had said there was room enough for two in the bed, he had meant it in their old, curiously close way. Sliding in behind Sirius, bare to his boxers, he tugged the blankets up over them both. Some wriggling ensued as he got one arm under Sirius' side and the other over his body to circle him warm and close.

"Sleep, Pads. I've got you," he promised, before pressing a kiss to Sirius' bare shoulder. All very friendly, wasn't it? Completely. But he knew just how much Sirius craved safety and reassurance: it was something he'd always offered his friend, a pair of surprisingly strong (if thin and scarred) arms to wrap around and anchor him. Together, Remus was prepared to drift off to sleep.

Sirius smiled faintly and nodded, closing his eyes as he shifted to get comfortable, nestling himself more firmly back against Remus (and subtly rubbing his arse against him in the process.) "You always do, Moony," he murmured, sounding exceptionally content considering the day he'd had.

There was nothing subtle about Sirius: never had been, never would be. Remus gently disentangled himself from the other man, both warning and instruction, and rolled over. This wasn't the time for any of Sirius' shenanigans, and while Remus' hardening reaction to them was simply a predictable reflex, it put him in a sourer mood. "Go to sleep, dear," he muttered, sounding for all the world like a long-suffering friend/husband/something.

Sirius' brow furrowed as Remus shifted away, and when he replied his voice had taken on a decidedly sulky tone. "I was," he muttered, scowling to himself. "Come baaaack."

Remus sighed. He was used to that sulk: more than used to it. In fact he'd only started getting unused to it, but apparently a life of peace and quiet (and tea!) was not to be.

While he hated rewarding such immature behaviour, it wasn't like Sirius' hadn't had the most utterly worst day of it, so he rolled back and gently rested a warm hand on Sirius' back. "None of your bother, then," he murmured, in a tone that didn't really brook any opposition, as fond as it was firm. He surely didn't want to get into an argument about Sirius' typical placement of his backside.