The Tyranny of Petty Things (The Unconquered Skies Remix) [Harry Potter; Remus/Sirius; PG-13]

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Title: The Tyranny of Petty Things (The Unconquered Skies Remix)
Author: such_heights
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black
Characters: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Albus Dumbledore, Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor Moody
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling, no infringement is intended.
Original story: The Tyranny of Petty Things, by rian219.
Notes: Thanks to my marvellous beta, mindabbles, for all her help with this one.
Summary: Moving into Number 12, Grimmauld Place is like starting a war. Sirius tries to fight it as best he can.


Sirius sat on the step outside Remus' kitchen doorway, looking out over the garden and inhaling the last of a cigarette.

"I thought you weren't picking that up again."

Sirius looked up at Remus and laughed. "I'm an escaped convict, I really ought to look the part."

Remus snorted and shoved him to one side, crouching down to sit next to him. "Have you thought any more about it?"

Sirius groaned. "Can we not…"

"I really think we should."

"Remus, I don't want to go back there."

"I know."

"I mean, I really don't."

"I know."

"Yeah." Sirius sighed, curling himself into the sun-warmed bricks. "You think I should, though."

"It's just that it would be safer, you know it would. Because someone here's going to start noticing I'm getting enough milk delivered for two, and it's a small place, people talk."

"I doubt they're going to leap to the conclusion that you're shacking up with the Ministry's most wanted."

Remus rolled his eyes and Sirius grinned, knocking his knees against Remus' legs.

"Well, no," Remus conceded. "But the charms I've got set up here can only hide you so far, whereas--"

"Whereas my dad was a paranoid madman."

"Exactly."

"I know. I still don't want to go back there."

Remus patted his arm. "I understand that."

"Just thinking about it is enough to-" Sirius shuddered. "Oh, Merlin."

"What?"

"You don't think Kreacher's still there, do you?"

"Your old house elf?" Remus frowned. "Seems a little unlikely."

"I bet he is, though," Sirius said, sitting up straighter as this new dread developed. "Doubt the pernicious little bugger would have the decency to die. Right, that settles it, I can't live in that house, with just him for company."

Remus looked puzzled. "Just him? You didn't think I was going to let you go there by yourself, did you?"

"What?" Sirius stared at him, then gestured around the garden. "You'd be mad to leave here, your idyllic country life and everything. You can't give this up."

Remus shrugged. "Reckon my landlord would be pretty pleased to see the back of me. Besides, the London life - think of the bright city lights! It would be a change."

Sirius shook his head. "Nice try."

This wasn't fair, dragging Remus down too - though the truth of it was he'd like nothing better than to have Remus there. He was trying not to think of dark and brooding walls, the cold trappings of a life he'd run so far from, now lying in wait for him again. Is that was his liberty was? Would he swap one prison for another, the sky above him still tantalisingly out of reach?

"If you can't stay here, then we both go," Remus said simply. "I'm not leaving you."

He took Sirius' hand, and ran his thumb against the whorls of his palm. The discussion was over. Sirius let his head fall back, eyes drinking in the first rays of sunset as they hit the clouds drifting through the sky. There was silence, broken only by birds and the wind moving through the grass.

"It's beautiful here."

"I know."

*

Sirius straightened in his chair and nodded at Dumbledore. "It's not exactly as though I have a lot of personal possessions, Professor, I'm ready to go whenever you give the word."

He and Remus sat in Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts, as they drew up schemes for how they were going to keep Sirius hidden until the time came to exonerate him. This mostly seemed to consist of Sirius tucking himself away in Grimmauld Place like a good boy and not doing anything rash, and at this stage, Sirius was running out of any other options. Dumbledore smiled sadly, peering over his glasses as though considering a charity case, and Sirius had to restrain a surge of anger, because he hadn't nearly pulled himself to shreds to get out of Azkaban just so he could avail himself of the man's mercy. He clenched a fist beneath his chair, frustration at this whole mad situation beginning to bubble over.

It was then that the idea struck. Sirius had always been notable for hot-headed ideas, and they could range from idiotic to ludicrously dangerous. Sometimes, though, they were inspired.

"Headquarters, sir," he said.

Dumbledore frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"Grimmauld Place, it could be a headquarters for the Order - so much better than last time, shunting around from safehouse to safehouse, always looking over our shoulders. What if we could set up somewhere permanent - somewhere that's already Unplottable and bristling to the rafters with protection charms?"

Remus' eyes widened as he turned to Sirius. "I believe you might be on to something there."

"Professor?"

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "The idea's not without merit - how exactly do you propose to get your family's protections to work for us?"

"All right, let me show you." Sirius took pen and parchment, and soon the plans for number 12, Grimmauld Place, lay spread out on Dumbledore's desk. He'd learned them by heart when he'd turned fourteen, part of an education he never thought he'd need. He could illustrate with pinpoint accuracy just how the existing hexes worked, and where there was ample room for new protection.

"As long as I'm a permanent resident there, there shouldn't be any problem at all in the spells serving us. Also, we could even--" Sirius faltered. "We could use a Fidelius, as well." He looked down, not wanting to meet anyone's eye as he finished.

Dumbledore continued to peer at the parchment for a long time, the occasional word spilling out from his flow of thoughts. Eventually he pulled back, took a deep breath and took off his glasses to look at Sirius. "I'll want Alastor to look over this, but it certainly has the makings of an excellent suggestion. Sirius, this is a very generous gesture, are you quite sure?"

"It's about all I can do to help - besides, it's high time my family's vast and ill-gotten fortune was put to good use." Sirius smiled. The thought of noise and purpose and rebel activity was a solid, cheering force against his fears of lonely, winding corridors and shuttered rooms.

Remus sighed and squeezed Sirius' shoulder. "Well, my rent's all paid up, so I can come and help you get things sorted straight away."

"Ah, I'm afraid not," Dumbledore said. "Sirius, I'm sorry to have to do this, but I'm going to need to borrow Remus for a little while. If you'd excuse us?"

Sirius nodded, and walked out into the hallway, still energised at the thought of being at the very centre of the Order, of being some use, even if he could never leave the house.

"Hey." Remus slipped out of the office after a few minutes, softly closing the door behind him and shaking his head. "Looks like I'm going to be away for a little bit - nothing major, just laying some groundwork with some of Dumbledore's contacts, shouldn't take more than a week or so."

"Don't you get all the fun. So I guess I'll just try and make the place habitable in the meantime."

Remus nodded. "Dumbledore says a lot of the Order are based in the London area - you've got the Ministry bunch, of course, so Tonks and Kingsley should be able to stop by and give you a hand - all in all, plenty of people to keep you occupied."

"I am capable of managing without you, you know."

"That's not what I meant. Come on, let's get out of here."

Sirius nodded and transformed without a word. They slipped down through the back passages of Hogwarts - the school was almost entirely deserted, but there was always a chance of bumping into a member of staff who was catching up on paperwork. So Sirius padded along past classrooms and out through a side entrance into the grounds, grounds he'd last seen a year ago, on a night so infused with strange horrors and wonders sometimes he still couldn't believe it had really happened. But the Willow still stood in the distance, branches gently swaying against the breeze, and the lake still lay below them, water bright blue in reflection of the afternoon sun, and for a moment he was touched with a simple happiness.

"Do you think Harry's happy there?" he asked as they arrived back at Remus'.

"I know he is. Even after all he's endured, the school's a home to him."

"Quite right, too."

*

Sirius decided to move when Remus left, and the next two days raced past, morning turning to afternoon to night faster than Sirius could follow. They packed up the house, bickering over what they needed and what could be sold off or stored away. They made endless cups of tea, kissed in front of the stove, and when evening came they fell against each other with wine-heavy limbs and searching hands, and Sirius pressed his fingertips against Remus' skin, the hollow of his chest, the nape of his neck, wanting to leave traces of himself, so as not to be lost, not to be forgotten.

As Remus made final arrangements with his landlord, Sirius hid out in the garden, lying under the bushes as a dog, breathing in his last few moments of free air. These last days had been a blessed relief, a bright talisman against the months to come. The time for such idle pleasures was over now, though, and Sirius made himself remember the war and the people he was fighting for. Yet as he looked at the tranquillity of the garden, and the exasperated smile on Remus' face as he came to bring him back inside, all Sirius could think about was how much he wanted to stay just here, just a little longer.

*

Within half an hour of Sirius' arrival at Grimmauld Place a particularly malicious grandfather clock had been set off, the startlingly alive Kreacher's hatred of all things in this world had be reaffirmed, and Mrs Black's portrait had not stopped screaming, with the inhuman shriek that Sirius had fervently hoped never to hear again in his life.

"You've got to give you family some credit, Black," Moody said with something approaching admiration as he limped into the kitchen after a sweep of the first floor. "That's seven separate curses on that landing alone. Still, reckon we should be able to dismantle most of the more gruesome ones."

"Mad-Eye," said Tonks faintly, "you've got a--" She gestured wordlessly at his leg, where an enormous silver dagger was protruding from it.

"Hmm?" Moody looked down and swore, yanking it out again, to the sound of splintering wood.

"So, when are we going to be able to bring people in?" Sirius asked.

Moody frowned. "It's going to take a month, minimum, and I'm very dubious about your idea of letting your godson and cohorts anywhere near this place at all."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. Sirius is a Black, and legal owner of this house, right? So any jinxes here shouldn't affect his invited guests anyway, and it won't take too long to get rid of them completely after that."

"There's no way of knowing that for certain, and it's that kind of frivolous assumption that's seen many a witch and wizard lose a limb before now," Moody began.

Sirius held up his hands to stop them and stem the brewing argument. "All right, all right. I think I can settle this one. Kreacher!"

The house elf scuttled into the kitchen with impressive haste, muttering as he did so. "That poor Kreacher should have lived so long to see this day, Mistress' wastrel son returned to ruin her precious house. Kreacher must protect it…"

"Kreacher, shut up." Kreacher bowed low, snivelling before he straightened up, his face contorted into a smile. "Now then, answer me this. I am the rightful heir to this house, yes? So anyone who's here as my guest shouldn't be affected by any protective charms, and I'll have no trouble in choosing which spells to keep and which ones go. Am I right?"

"Kreacher sees the boy already back with his demands and his questions that led him into bad ways all those years ago…"

"Kreacher!"

Kreacher looked up and nodded, scowling. "Master is quite correct."

"Well then. All right, Kreacher, you can go away again now." As he scurried off Sirius turned back to the others. "There, you see? Should be able to get this place fit to live in in no time."

Moody grunted his assent. "Fine, fine. You'll excuse me if I don't stay - other things I've got to get to. I'll come back with Dumbledore and we'll start getting this place set up with some proper defence."

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, all right. And thank you."

With what might have been a smile, Moody clapped Sirius on the shoulder and strode out into the hallway. Tonks made no sign of having anywhere to be, and so Sirius started clattering around cupboards, looking for anything drinkable, until he remembered that out of the few things he hadn't been able to refuse from Remus was a full set of tea-making supplies. The water in the pipes was tinged with rust, and tasted strange, as though infused with the decay of the house. Still, the tea was warm and strong, and as he brought two mugs over to the table it seemed a little slice of normality again.

Tonks was staring around the room in mixed curiosity and horror. "Never thought I'd see the inside of this place," she remarked. "Mum's going to pitch a fit when she finds out this is where we're camping out."

Sirius chuckled. "I don't know, think the idea of a band of rebels and blood traitors using this as their secret base might appeal to her."

"Yeah, true," Tonks agreed, smiling. "So, you going to be all right here?"

"Oh, sure. I mean, the décor leaves a little to be desired, and the staff aren't what I'm used to, alas, but I'll soldier on through somehow."

She laughed. "But really?"

Sirius shrugged. "It'll be fine. You lot'll be in and out disturbing my well-earned rest all the time, I can excise lots of teenage angst and attack this house a bit, what more could I want?"

Tonks patted his arm. "It's not forever, you know, Dumbledore will get you out of this whole mess, soon as he's got the chance."

"I'm hardly top of his list of priorities. Don't you worry about me, everyone's got more important things to be dealing with right now."

Tonks didn't argue the point, but as she sat there calmly drinking tea, a living image of everything his parents had hated, Sirius couldn't help but believe that his fight against this house was a battle he could win.

*

Despite their best intentions, no member of the Order made it to the house for days, and Sirius was left alone with his ghosts.

In the hallways, portraits muttered in confused malice behind ragged curtains that stirred in the stale air that Sirius couldn't shake no matter how many windows he flung open to the world. He rattled pots and pans as loudly as he could, sang terrible songs in the landings, even got Buckbeak to emit a truly magnificent roar on one occasion, causing the entirety of his parents' old room to shake.

But silence crept back, shifting echoes, curiously blank and dense and undefeated in the resulting stillness, as though Sirius could make no impression, forgotten, pressed out of existence again.

Then Sirius found his father's whiskey, which still glowed golden behind the thick and dusty glass. The next two days passed in merciful haze.

*

The note arrived from Remus after five more days, and with that smallest of actions, the past began to lose its grip, just a little. It didn't say much, only mentions of a portkey and a time. But it made things better. On the evening of Remus' arrival, Sirius did what he could to lift the house out of its depression, however temporarily, but any flash of freshness he could conjure vanished away again so quickly it was useless. He sat and waited, tracing patterns in the dust.

A little after nine, Sirius stood sentinel in the dim entrance hall until he heard soft footsteps approaching and he opened the door, quickly pulling Remus inside. In the flare of wandlight he looked exhausted, the set of his features reminiscent of failed missions of the past. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sirius shook his head.

"Not here."

In the kitchen, Remus smiled, but somehow the sight of him in this place seemed dismal, and Sirius felt nothing but guilt as they sat down.

"How was your trip?"

Remus shrugged. "Nothing really changes. Dumbledore remains hopeful, but there's not a lot of good I can do." He leaned over, took the bottle, drank deeply then rubbed the back of his neck. "Anyway," he continued, raising his glass to chink against Sirius'. "To getting you through this."

There was nothing for them to do, not tonight, no grand plan, just working out how they were going to live in this place. The answer seemed partly to be found in the cellar, where old and gnarled bottles with all manner of strange and glinting liqueurs lay, preserved for a celebration that had never come. Some of the flavours were so bizarre as to be unsettling, but they kicked in just the same, gradually turning the grimness of the house into a farce.

"Buckbeak's in my mother's room," he told Remus, who stared at him before Sirius started laughing, halting, feeling out of practice, but when he caught his breath again something had loosened, an ache had lessened.

Later, they found themselves in Sirius' room, hazy with nostalgia. Remus looked around in amusement at all the old hallmarks of Sirius' ostentatious teenage rebellion. He examined the montage of bikini girls on the wall quizzically, and Sirius grinned beside him. "James sent them to me one summer when I was looking for ways to hack off my parents."

"It did the trick?"

"Oh yes." Sirius reached out to touch Remus' face, and quickly kissed him.

Remus blinked. "Hmm?"

"It's funny," Sirius said, laughing at himself. "Before I left, I'd be in here, thinking about - well, about this, about you being here. I never thought it'd take this bloody long."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to throw me a line about making up for lost time?"

"Nah, I'll spare you."

"Just as well," Remus murmured, resting a hand on Sirius' chest.

Sirius felt himself coming into focus again, able to keep the world at bay. As long as Remus was kissing him, nothing seemed to matter save this.

*

The next day, the world came rushing back. Remus insisted on going out to buy food. While he was away an owl fluttered in, announcing Dumbledore's imminent arrival. Seeing Dumbledore standing at his front door bordered on the surreal, but he entered the house as though this was entirely normal, all business with boxes of potions and books of charms. He set out a few things then turned to Sirius. "I think perhaps it would be best to perform the spell as soon as possible?"

Sirius nodded, and they stepped outside, standing out on the street and looking at the house. It seemed smaller when nestled between the Muggle houses either side, and it was difficult to imagine how so many foul things could live in that one space.

"Do you have everything you need, sir?" he asked, tearing himself from his reverie.

Dumbledore nodded. "If you could turn away from the house, I can begin."

Sirius wandered over to the railings on the other side of the square and after a few minutes, Dumbledore joined him.

"Take out your wand," he instructed.

Sirius did so, and pointed it at the ball of light that Dumbledore held between his hands. "Fidelius," he said, and the glow moved upwards, seemingly lodging itself in Dumbledore's throat as he shut his eyes, when it promptly vanished.

"What's behind you, Sirius?" Dumbledore asked.

Sirius turned around. Something seemed to be missing from the street, but he couldn't quite think what it was.

"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at number 12, Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore murmured, and as Sirius thought about it the Black family residence sprang back into life again. Sirius nodded. "It's done."

It seemed so quick. Sirius wondered if that was what it had been like with Peter, if he'd just got on with it or whether he hesitated and messed it up and dragged it out until Lily and James got so frustrated they'd wished they'd just used Sirius instead, except they couldn't because Sirius had already gone--

He blinked fiercely as he opened the door, praying Dumbledore hadn't noticed his straying thoughts. "Is there anything else?" he asked brusquely as they finished their crossing of the dingy hallway.

"Harry," Dumbledore answered. "He's to be staying with his aunt and uncle a while longer, and I must ask that in the meantime you keep any kind of detailed communication to a minimum. The skies are no longer safe, and to have a message fall into the wrong hands could be disastrous."

"He's staying with the Dursleys?" Sirius looked at Dumbledore in horror. "For how much longer? He hates it there, you know that."

Dumbledore sighed. "It's for his protection. There are charms in place, charms I can't replicate here."

"You think I can't look after him? You don't think Remus and I have got it in us to keep Harry safe?" Sirius was struggling to keep his voice to respectful levels. "Professor, he's seen things no one should have to endure. You really think it's in his best interests to be kept from everyone he loves like this?"

Dumbledore turned away, gathering up his cloak. "This is not something I'm willing to enter into a discussion about, Sirius. Harry will be escorted here when appropriate, and in the meantime I ask you to do nothing to jeopardise the security of the Order."

"I--" Sirius began, enraged, but Dumbledore swept out of the room, and all argument was left unspoken on Sirius' lips.

Sirius froze, then marched upstairs and locked himself away, blood boiling, though whether he was more angry at himself or Dumbledore, he wasn't sure. He cleaned up the remnants of Buckbeak's breakfast, the only living thing it seemed he could do anything remotely useful for, and as he did so his breathing slowed again, rage dissipating and leaving dejection behind. When it was done, he pressed his nose against a grimy window, staring forlornly out at the garden below, where ten years' unmanaged growth lay, all tangled and rotted together. Further away, the usual cluttered London rooftops loomed, but above them the sky lay clear and bright.

When he pulled himself together again and went downstairs, Remus was already outside, tea cooling in his hand as he stared out over the garden.

"Hey," Sirius said meekly, and Remus smiled.

"It'll be all right, you know. Just you see."

Sirius nodded. "I know. We've got a hell of a job getting this place in order, mind."

"I was thinking we should start out here. It might be a little easier."

Sirius looked around at the wilderness that had once been an immaculately tended garden. "Would that mean I get to blast stuff?"

Remus laughed. "Oh, I should think so."

"I'm in."

*

Sirius didn't sleep all that much any more. When he did lose consciousness it was rarely restful, instead unsettled feelings of weights pushing down and the sound of bars clanging shut. Sometimes he woke up shouting, and Remus was always there to lead him downstairs to the warmth of fire embers and whiskey-laced tea. Other times he'd lie awake, contemplating the darkness above him with the rhythm of Remus' breathing enough to keep him still. Mostly, he just left the bed silently, preferring to stare out of the window and watch the night sky, its vastness offering an illusion of freedom and peace.

*

They started on their unusual brand of gardening the next day, rolling up sleeves and delving into the thickets that had crept up, fighting gnarled branches back by hand until they had room to fight the rest with magic, gradually blasting the overgrowth into pieces. Sirius laughed as he worked, taking pleasure in the thrill of destruction, while Remus worked more methodically, clearing up the space they created into something useable.

It was purposeful and good, and Sirius felt warm breezes stirring against his arms, clearing his mind. They paused to catch their breath, sitting on the steps and talking about nothing in particular. It almost felt like a life.

"Pretty good work, I'd say," Remus said over tea, after four days' effort.

Sirius nodded in satisfaction. "You know, maybe we should invest in a tent, just live out here - or, actually, we could get one of those campervans like James' parents used to have, do you remember?"

Remus smiled. "Yeah, I do."

"Tell you what, when this is all over, we should get a little travelling library and go up and down the country and terrorise old ladies and give kids subversive books outside schools."

Remus looked at him strangely.

"What?"

"When this is over. I hadn't really - I suppose I hadn't thought about what I was going to do, afterwards." Remus bowed his head. "Seems like a jinx."

Sirius couldn't manage a response to that, and the silence hung, uncomfortable. He didn't mention the travelling library again.

*

Having Dumbledore in Grimmauld Place had been bizarre. Having Severus bloody Snape standing there like he had any right whatsoever made Sirius want to punch him and then go and be violently ill somewhere.

"I see you've thus far declined to avail yourself of any of the potions I prepared," Snape drawled, all flashing eyes and passive aggression. "You realise the entire Weasley brood are descending on you next week, you'd best make sure you're ready."

"If you're volunteering to help, knock yourself out."

Snape's lip curled. "I, unlike you, have important Order matters to attend to, I have precious little time for domesticity."

It was probably embarrassing how easily Sirius starting fuming at that, how he was but moments away from breaking Snape's nose before Remus ambled in, all pleasant exterior and "oh hello, Severus, how are you keeping?" and Sirius found himself storming away again. Once he was alone in his room once more Sirius felt lost, unwilling to return to the ground floor but not really wanting to hide himself away here.

He looked around the room, wandering over to study the bookshelves. There, his eye was suddenly caught by a remnant of his schooldays, a book filled with doodles and plans and as he picked it up again, he realised he still knew every word by heart, having studied it intently before his very first Quidditch try-outs, what seemed a lifetime ago.

*

"Quidditch Through The Ages?" Remus asked, amused.

"A classic of our time," Sirius informed him solemnly.

Remus cuffed him round the head. "You really never do change, do you?"

"The best things never do." Sirius shut the book, looking across the patio at Remus. "Also, I was wondering. What do you think happened to my bike?"

Remus frowned. "Your motorbike? I've no idea."

"I lent it to Hagrid, you see. On-- well, on that night. I don't know what he did with it."

"You should ask him."

"Mmm," Sirius said, opening his book again. "Reading this-- I miss flying that thing, you know? I loved it. I loved flying everything."

"Ask him, then."

Sirius nodded. "Yeah. Not that I'd have much use for it, stuck here. Still."

They fell into comfortable silence. Remus chewed a quill meditatively, occasionally scribbling words into the crossword spread across his lap. Sirius watched him, smiling to see the look of concentration on his face, and the shape of his mouth as he murmured anagrams to himself.

"You know," Sirius remarked conversationally after a while, "with the Fidelius, we could get out here naked, and no one could see us."

Remus looked up, shooting Sirius a withering look. "I don't think even the Fidelius could stand up to the sight of me. Even if it could, I wouldn't want to frighten the birds."

He laughed, but Sirius shook his head. Remus seemed to see nothing but damage when he looked in a mirror, but Sirius saw resilience and quiet charm and a wholeness that he had long since given up finding in himself. "You look just the same to me," he said, not sure how to express it. "Same old Moony."

Remus looked startled, then stared at his paper again. Sirius smiled.

*

Sirius drafted and re-drafted letters to Harry, abandoned parchment all around him. All he seemed to manage were trite sentiments - look after yourself, don't worry, I'm sure we'll see each other soon, hope this letter finds you well. He could imagine how Harry would feel to receive something as useless as this, after everything. He sent the owls out anyway, hoping that it was better than nothing, making sure Harry knew he wasn't forgotten.

His mounting frustration wasn't making sleep any easier, and he lost track of the late hours he spent at the window, watching, thinking, all the while wide awake. Sometimes Remus slept through undisturbed, and sometimes he didn't.

The night before the Weasleys were due to arrive, Sirius was playing with a window latch uselessly, the orange streetlamps from below casting strange light over the window ledge. He heard Remus stir, then move across the room towards Sirius, who smiled a little and leaned into him. He didn't say anything, because they'd been having the same arguments for days - Sirius wanting to go against Dumbledore and in all probability common sense and go and rescue Harry himself, with Remus calmly telling him over and over all the many reasons why they couldn't do it.

"Come on," Remus said after a while. "Let's get dressed."

Sirius turned, confused. "Sorry?"

"Get some warm clothes on, and come with me."

Remus' eyes glinted with mischief, and Sirius hastily grabbed clothes, fumbling with fastenings in his eagerness to find out what was going on. Remus said nothing, just pulled on a jumper and walked downstairs. Sirius followed after him. Remus opened a case that he'd brought from his old house the other day. Sirius hadn't thought to ask what was in it before. Now, though, he was unwrapping something and turning to Sirius, who gaped.

"I thought," Remus said, holding a broomstick in outstretched hands, "we could go flying."

"We-- where did that come from?"

"I know I was never much of a one for broomsticks, but I never got rid of this old thing, though I'd forgotten about it until you started talking about flying the other day."

Sirius took the broom from Remus, running his hands over the tail. "I remember this - always leaned to the left a little, didn't it?"

"And oh how hilarious you found it," Remus replied, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

"So you want to--" Sirius gestured at the window. "Right now?"

"Well, I don't think either of us are going to go back to sleep any time soon."

"Remus," Sirius said reverentially, "you are amazing, have I mentioned that recently?"

"Don't be such a sap. So are you going to show me your moves or what?"

"Oh, I'll show you moves," Sirius assured him, grinning so broadly his cheeks ached.

They raced outside. Sirius grabbed Remus' hand and pulled him onto the back of the broom as soon as they reached the garden. He worried he'd forget the mechanics of this, but as his palms gripped the wood and he started leading them gradually into the air, he shouted for joy as memory came flooding back. He took off, heading straight for the clear night sky, laughing as Remus' arms tightened around him. He'd forgotten how fast it felt, the cold air whipping around his face and honing his reflexes, instincts kicking in as he dove in and out of church spires and clock towers, Remus' muffled shrieks only spurring him on.

"Anyone could see us here!" Remus yelled, and after a while Sirius relented, picking up speed and leaving London's urban sprawl far behind. He swept them up into loops so high they brushed against clouds, then plummeted back to ground again in ways that made his stomach attempt a break for freedom. Out here, Grimmauld Place could pass for distant memory, the looming war a far-off future. Things were simple, with nothing more required of Sirius than the shift of his hips and touches of his hands to keep them aloft. All the while Remus clung to him tightly, and didn't let go.

Comments

[such_heights]

Oh good, I'm so pleased you liked this version, thank you!

[onehundredmoons.livejournal.com]

Aha, this was you?! No wonder I loved it. :D

[such_heights]

Aww, thanks! And hee, I was so amused that basically all the comments on here were from regular-ish readers of mine in any case while I sat on my hands.