Fic: The Rainbow Theme
Nov. 4th, 2020 09:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
paulamcgSirius Black Fest has started posting, and I'm glad I can share my contribution as early as on the second day. I'll love any kind of feedback on this fic.
Title: The Rainbow Theme
Author:paulamcg
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Sirius Black/Remus Lupin; Peter Pettigrew, James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Gideon Prewett, Benjy Fenwick, Caradoc Dearborn, Alice Longbottom, (Frank Longbottom, Dorcas Meadowes, Marlene McKinnon)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7200
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: This was written for the 2020 Sirius Black Fest. Thank you, my lovely beta Liseuse!
Summary: In 1979 Sirius cares less about his birthday party than about moments of privacy with his Moony. His friends want to forget about the war for one night with help from multi-coloured drinks and quite as embarrassing decorations as well as silly disco hits. But the most popular song, too, isn't necessarily only about a relationship. It's about surviving, and it's about rebellion, and about leaving behind those who did you wrong, who made you fear any touch.
Read here on AO3
[EDITED on 1st December] or right here:
The Rainbow Theme
There's no doubt about the best way for Sirius fucking Black to begin today's celebrations. After the year started with the coldest winter in living memory, the Winter of Discontent in Muggle Britain, too, by November the escalation of their own war has brought bigger reasons for festivities than his mere birthday: his becoming both a qualified Auror and a member of the Order, and his true brother and their Amazon Marauder's marriage, of course. Today's should be a private little party, but James is sure to have invited too many guests. This birthday boy needs to collect his most precious intimate present as soon as possible.
He's Apparated up to Remus's landing and barely had the patience to whistle a signal – only a wood warbler's contact call of a single note – before pointing his wand and wording Remus's personal charm in his mind. He hurries to push the flimsy door open and steps in.
“Pads!” Remus turns his head, and his curls, grown out of his haircut again, form a luminous circle around his face, as if there were a giant parachute ball of a dandelion behind him.
Sirius kicks the door closed and flops down over his irresistible Moony, who has dragged the mattress to the middle of the unfurnished room and is sitting there in a patch of sunlight with a thick volume in his lap. As Remus falls down on his back, his laughter rings out as such a joyful sound that it would be a shame to seal those pretty lips with a kiss. Pinning the thin wrists on the mattress with easy grips, Sirius chooses only to feast his eyes on the beautiful, flushed face for a while, and then to aim lower.
He needs one of his hands to pull up the hems. At least Remus isn't wearing robes, but he's put on his old ratty jumper over the polo-neck he got last year... maybe from someone with whom he stayed for a while when he was between flats and tried to hide it from all of them. No, better not think about...
Or why not? That sting of resurrected jealousy makes Sirius just more horny. And now Remus's free hand is caressing his face, a finger drawing the line of an eyebrow, repeating the very first touch on his skin which Sirius managed to receive in his teen years without flinching.
The jeans seem to have already slipped down on Remus's narrow hips. When Sirius reaches bare skin and bends his head so as to press his lips on the old claw marks on the chest, which Remus claims becomes unblemished due to the loving touch, his hand strokes the flat abdomen and he's drawn to kissing the bellybutton. Remus has grown silent and is just breathing hard and getting his fingers entangled in Sirius's hair.
And now there's the pressure of a palm behind Sirius's neck, as he has urgently needed his both hands in order to gain access to the trail of golden brown hairs which will lead to the swelling cock. “What's this? A chastity belt?” Sirius mutters, provoking a chuckle, while working on the overhand knot on the shoelace that Remus uses for a belt.
“I wrapped your gift properly with a bow on the string,” Remus manages to quip between short bursts of laughter. “You blundering mutt, so impatient, you just pulled the knot tight.”
It's time to close that teasing mouth while first rubbing their hard-ons together through the fabric, then to use his wand in order to banish all obstacles.
And after the thorough shagging – too intimate and blissful to be put into words even in his mind – Sirius resorts to another voiceless spell, keeping the incantation inside of his head: Scourgify – with the improved wand movements to eliminate the pink bubbles. Still... there must be an even higher, purely wordless level of magic, and he will learn it.
Interaction with Remus has always had this effect on him: raised his experience or at least his goals above the ordinary. Just as his Moony himself is different from any man – more than human.
Having wrapped this treasure back with care, also tied the knot on the ridiculous shoelace, Sirius stays lying on his back, feeling both sated and serenely inspired.
"Happy birthday!" Remus stands up and tilts his head, smiling down at Sirius. "Or have I already said it?"
"In so many ways – that only you have taught me to enjoy."
"Can you stay and watch me do some coursework? I must finish it all before tomorrow night's moon." Remus still crouches to pick up the book, which looks ancient and heavy in his slender hands. "Or are you busy because of the party?"
"No. I mean yes, I'm staying until you can come with me. Prongs and Lily want to surprise me."
"Do you know if Wormy's coming?" Remus has posed the question absently, whereas the endearing frown on his face must be due to what he sees on the page he's scanning. "I don't think I can translate this without a dictionary..."
"I'll wager he is. For the great company and food, he'll come even in case he really has a girlfriend and a job in Alm..."
"Amlwch."
"Whatever." Peter did come four weeks ago, soon after moving away from London, perhaps because he wants to feel that his rat form is important. "And once again he can claim to have no chance to see Dumbledore about joining. Soon after sunrise on Monday he needs to be back at that arse end of nowhere. And we can't help keeping him busy until then."
"How so?"
"We'll party all night, of course, and you Marauders will stay to sleep all day, until our pre-moon feast. We'll be going straight from my place to Birks Fell for our furry times. So you'd better do all your coursework now."
"In that case..." Remus must know that the wide smile is enough to convey to Sirius how happy he is about the plans, and he can just go on muttering to himself as he's considering what to do first. "I doubt the Veela script added to the beginning of this chapter is required reading, and..."
Sirius turns onto his side, and reaches for the book as soon as Remus has laid it back down on the mattress. "Is this for one of your Creature courses?"
He hates the way Remus has been forced to study only the Dark Creature part – sub-subject or whatever – of the Defence programme at Merlin College. He's done his best to encourage Remus to believe in the chances of revolutionising the Creature study: of proving that some creatures have been wrongly classified as Dark. But even though he agrees in principle that equal rights belong to all intelligent creatures, he finds it hard to regard alien cultures as fascinating or valuable – in the way Evans... Lily does. Ever since she started apprenticing at Gringotts, she's raved about goblin traditions and anything exotic encountered on her Curse-Breaker missions. It's all right, and Sirius just enjoys teasing her about it. But is Remus perhaps getting too enchanted by all those... others?
The Most Tender Ways of Tending Mortal Wounds and Disabling Disease
Just as Sirius suspected... "This is for Healing! Why would you even think of reading anything in Veela language when it's about healing?"
"I must try to do everything as perfectly as I can." Remus has turned his back to Sirius and flicked his wand, conjuring an easel where the patch of sunlight has moved by now. "Perhaps my combination of courses will... or how I do them will, you know, make a difference."
He can try. He can repeat all the misinformation on creatures they teach him in order to excel in those bloody scholars' eyes whose experiment he is. But Sirius doesn't – and perhaps Remus himself doesn't – know if he means making a difference in the sense that he'd have a chance for employment, let alone for an official wizard status, or making a difference for the cause of equality.
"I'm sure the Professors of Healing don't want any student to find value in non-human knowledge."
"I don't know..." Remus is focusing on something else now, having walked over to where a couple of canvases, stretched over wooden frames, lean against the wall. "It's just... wicked to try and figure out how they distort the truth."
"So you're glad you got the Healing course, too?"
"Yes. One good thing about the war. They want a lot of students to take it."
"I thought you wanted it because of your own... So that you could heal yourself if..." If his Animagi are sent on missions and can't be with him, preventing or healing his wounds.
Sirius hates the mere thought, but it has already happened – and just because of a stupid Auror training camp. And it's admirable that Remus wants to be independent in this way as well as financially.
"Sure. But it's also more interesting than I thought. Better than a foreign language like French. But not better than..." Remus uses his wand to levitate a canvas and to place it on the easel.
"I know. You want to start with your art course exercises."
Remus knows that Sirius enjoys watching him practise Magic of Images. And that's his favourite subject, of course – his dream come true this autumn, thanks to his own cunning in suggesting to Dumbledore that fine arts make an excellent addition to the experiment in how far from a human he, as a beast, would be bound to remain. There was an issue about money, too. Something about the scholarship period for Magic of Images starting earlier, and the Order work being voluntary – in one sense at least.
But all that's too tedious to ponder. It's a day off and his birthday, and it's great to know that Remus, too, is enjoying himself, tackling the work he loves. Sirius curls up in a more comfortable position, in which he has a good view of Remus.
As he notices a blanket next to himself, he pulls it over his shoulder. This prompts him to start small talk by saying, “You're going to keep renting this room without a fireplace for another winter?”
“I don't... I'll look for something better. Been a bit busy lately. With all these courses and the Order work.” Remus is being evasive.
Because of the experiment, the Order work Dumbledore gives to Remus mustn't include any risk for resorting to violence, which the scholars believe would undo the rest of his humanity, and it's only been a few decoding tasks. But that kind of tasks seem to be urgent and unpredictable, and due to his commitment to be available for those, he at least haven't been busy with any menial work, and therefore should have time for finding a proper flat.
The late morning sun casts Remus's shadow on the canvas, one of that reusable kind Sirius has bought for him. The aspiring artist's left hand traces the outlines of his own head and shoulders, leaving fragile charcoal marks.
Sirius feels inexplicably guilty. “I should have stopped you from signing the contract for this place. This is not the best choice of...”
Remus pushes up the sleeves of both jumpers as well as of the sweatshirt under them, certainly forgetting that this exposes the ugly scar from last December. That's when he had not let Wormy or his parents take care of him and Sirius got back to charm a bite wound closed two days too late.
“It's not cold in here,” he claims defensively before his right hand makes a swirling motion with the wand. "Exafanison!"
At night it must be. “The weather's been better than what's normal for October. But it's going to be...”
“Yeah, too warm for the leaves to turn. I hope I'll see proper autumn colours in Yorkshire." As the canvas looks empty anew, Remus takes a step aside and begins to draw another, more detailed figure, depicting the new shape and position of the shadow and adding a bit wonky facial features and tousled hair. "After these movement exercises I want to paint another landscape. The vivid yellows... I've learnt there's a shade called camboge you can achieve with gum resin that's... expensive, from some Asian trees. But I think you can use common St John's Wort as well. And what's exciting... the ancient Veela healers used that same plant for treating both depression and wounds."
Sirius first suspects that all this is just babbling meant to distract him from a sensitive topic – whatever it could have been.
But when Remus turns his head after charming the sketch to shift and, winking, peek over his shoulder, his sincere excitement becomes fully visible. "All those... connections! They make me believe I'm doing something meaningful."
"We'll do... Why, we've already done extraordinary things." Sirius scrambles to his feet and steps over to the light surrounding the artist and his work, and holding to the blanket so as to keep it on his shoulders, he ends up wrapping it, too, around Remus. "And this connection is the most meaningful because it means that..."
"You love your Moony, and I love my old Pads."
"Have another, old man!"
Sirius has been just about to take the packet of Muggle cigarettes from under the sleeve of his Dark Side of the Moon t-shirt, Lily's present. Now a tray full of glasses of various shapes, with contents in a full spectrum of bright colours is being levitated in front of him. As he suddenly sees the drinks like this, fitting the image of a prism dispersing light on his shirt, he also hears a new suggestive tone of teasing in Fabian's voice.
As soon as he's grabbed a highball glass filled with something that looks real and refreshing enough with its natural shade of orange juice, the tray sails away. It's been Summoned elsewhere in the flat, which is vibrating under the weight of the crowd's disharmonic interaction and – now that music's restarted after a brief pause – also under a strange, tinkling riff. The round, freckled Prewett face, however, sways closer, and on a cheek flushed pink, there shines a small scar, which tells Sirius that this is Gideon, after all.
According to the twins, Mrs Prewett healed that childhood scrape badly on purpose so as to make neighbours, too, distinguish between them and give her the correct information on which redhead deserved a scolding. After he trained at St Mungo's, Gideon carries the mark ever more proudly, claiming that it's a reminder to anyone who sees him that a qualified Healer's services are always the first priority. Perhaps he gets a lot of well-paying clients privately, too, but he can't boast of deeper knowledge like what Moony gains in Oxford.
Moony... is something else. Sirius takes a gulp and turns his head towards the windowsill, where Remus has been sitting and chatting with Amelia. If he now feels any jealousy, it's still due to the polo-neck only. The fine jumper's dark green shade is too perfect for Remus, perhaps – brings out a warm bronze tone in his hair, which hangs in cute wisps over the collar.
Moony's now standing up to dance with Amelia, and starting to copy her jumping. He laughs, then tilts his lovely face closer to her ear, probably only because of the booming drums from the loudspeaker beside them, though Sirius certainly doesn't mind if it looks like these two are dating. But no... Amelia's now got an arm around her pretty friend from the Ministry.
And this makes Sirius remember that the yellow cocktail's called a Screwdriver, and the first time he had this vodka drink was at the lesbian club where Remus dragged him to join Amelia. But this can't possibly be the reason why Gideon's now patting Sirius's shoulder, even leaving his hand there, which makes Sirius's skin crawl. They must both be pissed, and it's impossible to make any sense of what's being said. "Sorry?"
"Great party!" Gideon's grinning mouth is too near.
"Yeah. I said the day's no big deal, but James wanted..." As a brother, because of course they are still brothers even though they no longer share the flat. But Sirius doesn't bother to even try to shout all that through the noise.
"I wonder why..." The music's ended abruptly with a final strike on a cymbal, and over the lowering sound of conversation there rings out Gideon's bright voice. "He's used the rainbow theme."
It's suddenly so quiet that Sirius can hear even how someone clears his throat in a nervous manner – Peter, who's reaching out his hand for Gideon to shake, which rescues Sirius from the unpleasant touch that's been gliding down his arm, and from replying. "The theme of hope in these gloomy times," Wormy says. "We sorely need the whole visible spectrum of light now, because it was the darkest hour when this geezer was born as the heir of the house of Black."
"I hear you." Gideon's nodding, fortunately not smirking at Sirius any more. "James said that we who can come must forget about the war for one night. No talk about who's got missions tomorrow – or today."
"Right," Peter confirms, hurrying to add, "It's a pity my girlfriend couldn't come."
Of course not, and tonight nobody's allowed to ask why, even though he's supposed to have a girl who just works at a pub on the Isle of Anglesey. But this time Sirius must be glad Wormy's so quick to protect the Marauders' reputation, or at least his own. If no talk about war's allowed, everyone talks about relationships.
But Sirius can think of a way out of that. "We need more music. I must..."
"It's the Muggle device, and he wants to handle it without his wand," he hears Peter explain as he's walking over to the record player.
There's a single on the turntable. Of course. Hong Kong Garden by Amelia's idol Siouxsie. Sirius is about to replace it with his latest favourite LP so as to have twenty minutes without any worry about silence, but he's barely located the fabulous black sleeve of Unknown Pleasures when there's a hand on his shoulder again.
Another old Quidditch mate of James's. Even Benjy's got too friendly after they've become fellow Order members, although he's lived in Hogsmeade and hardly had anything in common with James, either, ever since leaving Hogwarts a year before the Marauders. At least he's married – while he still looks like a schoolboy, perhaps because his thick black brows and his nose make everything else in him appear small – and here's the wife, too, dressed in robes just like him. What was her name again?
"Polly would like to hear the greatest disco hits. You know which songs I mean? I described that music to her – you remember, the songs that filled the dance floor when Peter took us to that place last time after our Order meeting. The falsetto with yelps and hollers, and the other one about surviving."
"Okay..." Sirius sighs, and points his wand at the records James has lent for the party. "Accio, Don't Stop 'Til you Get Enough! Accio, I Will Survive!"
"Can I have this dance?" That's Peter's voice again, and he's bowing to Polly. "You don't mind, Benjy? It's a shame your wife comes to London so seldom."
"Go on, dance! I want to see how this thing works." Benjy's big nose almost touches the tonearm when he watches Sirius lower the needle at the beginning of the Michael Jackson single. "How can you make something like this work where there's magic around?"
"It was Lily who first figured it out. Right after she agreed to rent a Muggle flat because it was exciting to Alice. You know, they wanted to share... She's big on music – Lily."
This is a safe topic, and Sirius sincerely enjoys praising... whom he still tends to call Evans in his mind. Who was first a fab reason to tease James, and an additional reason for James to carry out impressive pranks, then a source of wonder and envy when Sirius couldn't feel the allure in her or in any other girl, and who finally became a proof of his true brother's brilliance, as she turned out to be another Marauder, a feisty, upright rebel with her own secrets and surprising ambitions.
Benjy's raised his hand in a gesture asking Sirius to wait, and closed his eyes for a moment. He obviously wants to focus on the frenetic music as soon as it's burst out after the singer's opening whisper. And now he starts jerking his body, even trying to sing along. Sirius would never attempt that high register, and doesn't much care for it.
Ian Curtis is something else. There's such a haunting tone of doom in his rough, low voice, even when he seems to be urging people to – but perhaps warns them not to – dance, dance, dance, dance, dance... That's the best – or the second best – present of all, the new single that James knew he wanted, Joy Division's greatest song.
But it looks like everyone else prefers this frisky piece, and as his living room turns into a dancefloor, Sirius must admit there's something celebratory in the shared ecstasy. And he feels surprisingly carefree when watching Remus dance with abandon – and he's happy for his Moony, achingly happy.
Remus has pulled Amelia by the hand – and she's taken care of dragging her girlfriend along – next to Peter and Polly. Moony and Wormy are the crazy ones who dance to the silliest songs at discos, too, imitating each other's exaggerated movements.
Under the rainbow garlands and streamers, which float and swirl around and above them, all the guests are leaping and twisting, bumping against each other... Getting closer to each other's bodies, feeling the force, the love desire – as the lyrics claim. Sirius is able to believe that, standing aside by the record player, he looks like he's fully enjoying himself in the way the host should be. He digs out a cigarette and lights up in his preferred, Muggle manner.
Having returned the silver lighter inside the packet and the packet under his sleeve, he takes his wand from the back pocket. Unlike Remus, he hates the cold, has always hated it, or at least since... that Christmas when he was sixteen... No, it's drafts through windows he... But he does want to open the nearby window also because, with the simple spell, he can practise. Alo... Yes, without wording the whole of the incantation even in his mind! And now his guests won't be too much bothered by the smoke.
There's Frank, tall and handsome and trustworthy, if a bit boring and so quiet that Sirius has barely exchanged a word with him tonight yet, although he's been part of the only a bit wider Gryffindor gang, around the core of the Marauders, ever since Alice won his heart at her and Lily's first party. He, too, would perhaps prefer leaning against a wall, drinking and smoking. Oddly enough, the sportsmen seem to be less eager than a fat bloke like Wormy or a frail one like Moony to tire themselves with jumping when it's not about training or competition. But Frank's never been able to say no to Alice, and now he's dancing opposite to her, staring perhaps not at his feet but at the hem of her swinging skirt as she's lifting it above her knees.
There's muscular Caradoc turning his intense gaze from Dorcas to Marlene – perhaps from Dorcas's full, soft lips to Marlene's cleavage – and back again, while those two have their eyes locked and go on smiling dreamily to each other. Sirius could explain that he's wanted the gay freedom symbol at his party in order to acknowledge all his lesbian friends.
Still, of course, he can't say anything to dispel such suspicions which are never worded, and he doubts most people know about the rainbow flag designed to symbolise sexual diversity. Only Remus and Amelia have introduced it to him. Despite his discomfort when his private life is threatened with exposure, he can't help joining in Remus's fascination with the idea of a rainbow symbolising any diversity and equality as well as hope.
Perhaps Remus... His friends often rely on him as an expert in interior decoration, and he claims to have just chosen a special minimalistic style for his own flat – or room, rather. Perhaps it's Remus, after all, responsible for the range of colours.
But now over there, by the kitchen door, there's finally James, on whom Sirius can lay the blame for this frivolous music. James looks around over Lily's head and spots Sirius almost immediately, and Sirius gives his widest grin and a thumbs up to this true brother, who's done his best and trusts that the outcome is a perfect party. James is also considerate enough to do his snogging behind a door charmed closed. At the same time, Lily has, of course, taken care of preparing more snacks and giving a final touch to an extravagant cake – although her interests are far from limited to kitchen activities, and her cooking, too, shows her passion for the exotic.
Lily takes a few steps towards the centre of the room and starts dancing, swirling around, clearly taking in the sight of all of her friends having a good time. Pointing her wand up, she creates multi-coloured confetti to rain down from the ceiling. Outstanding in Charms – as Evans always was at school.
Evans... turned into Lily when joining them right after the Willow Incident. She must have wanted all of them, not only James, who'd finally shown some signs of maturity, and perhaps they were a new ambitious project for her, after the doomed one involving Snivellus. When asking James out, she didn't encourage him to leave the Marauder friendships – or his brotherhood – behind, but to forgive Sirius, and started helping them all to recover. She may have first looked like an intruder in their dorm, playing her guitar and singing to James. Yet, Moony listened to the songs in a way he couldn't listen to anything Sirius was able to say. And after the two of them got their connection back, how could they not love both Lily and Muggle music, too?
"So?" As soon as the song's given way to laughter and panting, Benjy's returned to staring at the rotating disc and at the tonearm, which has reached the middle of it. "You say Evans got these Muggle devices in her flat, but didn't they stop working if she used any magic? Anyway, start... No, let me start the other one!"
"She experimented, and modified a protective charm..." Sirius takes his time putting the single away and taking out the other one, Gloria Gaynor. "The charm surrounds the electrical device and stops excessive magic interference. Turn the B side up!"
"They said at Hogwarts that it's not possible to..." Benjy succeeds and sees for himself that he, too, can make it work, while the magical confetti is filling the air but never touching the record player.
Without finishing his sentence, Benjy joins in as the energetic dancing resumes, now with more dramatic gestures and singing along. Sirius is about to Summon the tray, because resorting to the bottle of Firewhiskey he keeps next to his record collection would make him look ungrateful for his friends' efforts.
But from the corner of his eye he sees the glow of red hair, and to his relief, it's not one of the Prewett gingers approaching, but Lily with her brilliant mane swaying free in her preferred natural style, and with her playful but insistent eyes. She knows not to touch him, and her beckoning makes him feel happy about this excuse to share the fun with everyone – above all with Remus, although he's determined not to repeat the partner dancing he was coaxed into at the wedding. Perhaps it's good he didn't now get that whiskey, which could have rendered him too susceptible to Moony's enchanting presence.
Now he is able to keep his cool. Yes, he's holding his head up high – as the song's saying – and he's doling out carefree grins, a similar one to everyone, including Remus, and hopefully with barely a trace of the haughtiness he used to need as defence against the Slytherins.
This beat is nice to dance to, and the song isn't necessarily only about a relationship. As stated by Benjy – and the title, of course – it's about surviving, and it's about rebellion, too. About leaving behind those who did you wrong, who made you fear any touch... Forgetting all that! Now focusing on surviving the war, and helping his Moony survive. Yes, the war – he's not forgetting that even tonight. If there's no talk about the Order or their Auror missions, there's more space for thoughts about the deeper and wider struggle for equality.
Slouching in his leather armchair and nursing another nearly empty glass, Sirius tries to keep his eyes focused on Benjy so as to know if he's still there, leaning a hip against the side of the backrest and listening. He's vaguely aware of speaking faster and louder, but that must be all right. There's a great punk sound accompanying his voice.
"Yes, they made us think that we and our magic could never live without... I mean with – with anything Muggle." He must have said that twice, or perhaps it's the part resembling a phrase in the disco hit that makes his words sound too familiar. "That electricity wouldn't work in the presence of magic. Even that the Muggle devices would harm our magic. And that they would be worthless anyway. Not only the bloodpurists said that, not only the Slytherin professors. All of them. Our leaders in the Ministry, in the Order. All right, they defend the rights of Muggle-born witches and wizards, but they want to hide from us that there are magical humans who never get the chance to buy a wand at Ollivander's and to enter Hogwarts. That there are other intelligent creatures who do magic without wands and should have equal rights..."
The guitar solo drives him on. Yes, it's The Police, but the B side, the older, proper punk piece. Got no weapons, gonna get me some, is it? And: you deal in poverty, you buy despair. I ain't moving... Among his guests, who could have chosen this piece, and is there anybody pogoing?
Lifting the glass to his lips, Sirius turns his head towards the record player. Remus is standing next to it, with a frown of concentration on his dear face. Is he trying to make sense of the lyrics or of what Sirius is saying – while Sirius is barely listening to himself? His Moony is now staring directly at him. His Moony, who'd like to let all their friends see them as a couple but who respects his wishes. Now Moony's doing this because everyone is staring at him, as he's preaching something unintelligible about human rights for part-humans and non-humans.
He empties the glass, remembers what he said before, and goes on. "They warn us against Muggle culture because they don't want us to learn what equality and freedom really mean. The civil war against this bloodpurist bugger is just the beginning. Or a distraction." He is in control of what he's saying, and he's not saying that Dumbledore is another bugger. Not yet, although he hates serving him in the Order, and serving the other bloody bigots in the Ministry. "At least finally we get to give more than our gold for the war effort, and soon we'll be done with it. We must get to the next phase. To what we need. A revolution."
A firm hand hits the nape of his neck, and he knows it's his true brother's before he hears the only voice that can now make him calm down and hush. "This rebel – he won't stop, once he got started with rebelling against his family!"
"Right." That's Peter. "Trust Sirius to take up some serious topics."
"Now you see." Alice giggles. "Our birthday boy's always so busy with all that rebellion. Got no time for girls."
Caradoc's guffaw complements her laughter. "And got enough of the blood-purist bitches in the house of Black."
Sirius's pulse is racing again.
"Hey listen!" That's Remus's voice, and it makes him only more nauseous, but...
Music, like mercy, fills the room, and the voice goes on strong and joyful over it. "This is the new number-one hit. By the same band who did that punk piece, but with reggae influences. A great song, for dancing, too."
And just when Sirius dares look and see how beautiful he is, he sings along, "Rescue me before I fall into despair!"
As soon as Sirius has filled his lungs with the harsh air of wilderness and recovered from the Apparation, he can see Remus standing atop a boulder of stone a bit higher on the slope. A gusty wind's ruffling the curls, which now shine in a carnelian shade, thanks to the sunset glow reflected from the wispy clouds covering the whole of the huge open sky.
Sirius has always known the terms for gemstones and their colours, whereas his Moony's now got the chance to learn more about painting in all shades. For this one Moony prefers the word cornelian, derived from cornelian cherry dogwood, or Cornus mas, one of the rare plants his father cultivates. And only he has made colours alive for Sirius: made him see them in his Moony and then become aware of them in this world, which grows wondrous around that more than human beauty.
Having downed a glass – or two, maybe – of Firewhiskey when getting up in the afternoon, Sirius is perhaps still a bit tipsy, not enough to have been at risk of splinching, but too sentimental, not focused. That's why he was also slow to notice that Remus was putting on his corduroy jacket, getting ready to leave for Birks Fell well before Prongs and Wormy. And he couldn't catch up, because he needed to fetch the winter cloak, as well as his broomstick so as to bring it along for the sunrise flight to the inn in Hubberholme. And perhaps for a sightseeing tour now before the moonrise, too.
Remus certainly looks eager to see as much of the autumn colours as possible. There he is, scanning the wide landscape, balancing up on what remains of an old stone wall, with his arms folded and hands tucked in armpits, shivering – while Sirius wishes he could have kept his Moony in the warm kitchen to enjoy another portion of pudding.
Sirius finally shakes himself out of the dreamy grogginess and useless wishing, and walks over to the wall. "Come here, and I'll take you for a ride."
Remus turns a luminous smile towards him, and all but falls down into his arms.
Holding the precious, precarious body tight against his... That's what Sirius is sure to have done last night, too, pissed or not, and even before being left all alone with his Moony. For almost a year now it's been all right for him to demonstrate the closeness of the relationship openly in their inner circle – even though Wormy keeps reminding him of how illegal it is. How could there be anything wrong about offering Moony what he needs so badly, in particular when the time of his transformation is near?
With a deep sigh, Remus presses his face against Sirius's neck. And the presence of this oddly both fragile and resilient humanity is more real and magical than anything Sirius ever imagined he could perceive through all his senses.
Touching his lips to the crown of his Moony's head, Sirius runs his right hand gently over the shoulder where the fatal bite scar's hidden under layers of worn fabric, and down the arm so as to lace their fingers together. His other hand sneaks under the hems of Moony's jacket and jumpers, and rubs the bare skin of his back.
"Haven't got much time," Remus whispers, and there's a tremor on his skin, an echo of a convulsion deep inside of his body.
"We'll have time again tomorrow..." Sirius's breath hitches, but he forces himself to continue with all the hopefulness and verbosity he can muster, "and on so many days to come, and we'll share it all, even when you're beyond any concerns about time or other... What do you want to do with this time now?"
"Can you fly me... to the woods?" Remus is not up to explaining that he longs to see the palette of the trees up close, too.
"Can you still sit behind?" Sirius hopes that Moony's not too weak yet for managing to hold onto him, pressed against his back and sheltered from the cold airflow.
Remus nods, lifting his head so that Sirius can see the determination in the eyes, or that the face is still not distorted by pain.
"Let's go then!" Sirius grabs the broom, which he's dropped at his feet, and they mount it in a hurry.
As they've risen from among the ruins of buildings once used by miners, Sirius makes a quick decision to leave Birks Tarn directly behind and to steer the broom not towards the woods on the way to – and too close to – Hubberholme, but almost straight north. Over there, in the valley of the Bouther Gill, he can discern deep yellow still glowing in the twilight.
The arms around his waist and the chin on his shoulder tempt Sirius to imagine that this is a carefree ride like those on his motorbike. But he knows that Remus is in pain, and all he can think of doing right now is talk.
"You'll see some birches, beeches... It's all right to stay in these woods when... And then we'll get back up to meet Prongs and Wormy on the shore of the tarn. And run free without time, without worry..."
After they've landed by the brook, he helps Remus settle to rest in his lap as he's sitting with his back against the broad trunk of a tree. A beech? He should know, as Remus has taught him, and he should focus now when Remus can't, and describe everything in his most eloquent diction.
But the woods are chilly and dark. They should have come earlier. The last glow from the extinguishing clouds now reveals the warm colour of the fallen leaves only for a moment.
"You'll see more..." There will be a bright light filtered through the fast-moving streaks of clouds, but... "in the morning."
This month his Moony must be healthy and well-fed enough not to lose his consciousness soon after moonset. Sirius has taken... They've all taken a good care of him, haven't they? But now the frail body becomes rigid, and stroking the cold hands and trying to reach bare skin under the clothes can't help much.
Having yearned to leap along the ridge and down the slopes ever since arriving on the wild windy moor, Sirius can hardly stop himself from changing shape as soon as now, although the unfairness of how it works for him smoothly, without any hurting, always makes him feel guilty. Remus does love cuddling his Pads in the furry form, too. Besides, for some years he insisted that Sirius change soon so as not to witness the torment through his human senses. But now Sirius knows that as long as he's able to listen and talk, Remus prefers conversation as an additional distraction.
Kissing his Moony's lids, Sirius confirms that the eyes are squeezed shut. "There are leaves coloured camboge and cornelian all around us," he says, almost believing himself.
"I've seen it." In a lull after another convulsion, Moony's spoken suddenly, startling Sirius. "And I keep seeing it. When you tell me."
Sirius draws a deep breath. "We've come to lay ourselves down on a blanket of leaves in all their most secret, most real colours. Listen! You can hear them rustle when I move to make your position more comfortable, and the wind that whispers through the branches causes more leaves to rain on us like gold Galleons but weightless and alive."
Moony trembles in his arms, turns stiff for a moment, then more relaxed again. "I just felt... I was in the orchard... at home."
"You can Apparate to visit your parents when..."
"For the winter, maybe, I should... Return the book... Healing, they need it. For the interbreed friends, har... harassed..." Now it's got too hard for Remus to form the words, and he jerks his head aside.
It's time for Sirius to help him get undressed. Remus no longer protests, no longer asks Sirius not to look at his fully naked body – in its unstable state, too, which is different from seeing it in moments of shared pleasure. There are no secrets in its old or more recent scars. Or in how thin he is, although he always evades any talk about whether he eats enough. Or whether these ugly worn-out clothes are a voluntary choice in punk style. And about the crummy room without heating...
Having pulled the jumpers cautiously over Remus's head, and when tackling the silly belt thing once again, Sirius forgets to go on with any soothing words, as he wonders why Remus talked about not only a brief visit to his parents but about the winter.
Remus could stay at his parents', just Apparate to Oxford for his lectures and to London when there's Order work for him. But he doesn't want to depend on his family, and he'll go only if they need him. Last winter he stayed at Andromeda's for a couple of months, because she said she needed a combined teacher and babysitter for Nymph.
"You have the right... to feel free to go and stay wherever you want." Now Sirius should be in control of what he's saying, although he doesn't mean to hide anything. His Moony, whose whimpers are muffled against his chest, and whom he's done his best to cover with the cloak, deserves to hear the most beautiful truth. "Also regardless of a need of yours, or anyone's."
Whenever Sirius asks if he needs a place to stay and wants to share the flat, he says no. What if... It's still so much easier to be the dog for his Moony than to be the man he needs – the man who would admit to needing, or wanting, or simply to having a partner.
"My Moony, if they don't absolutely need you over there this winter... since Prongs has moved out... I want you to move in with me."
As he feels how the head under his chin now succumbs to its violent transformation, Sirius must doubt the words have been received. All he can do is to turn – and it's a relief to turn – into the dog, for whom welcoming the wolf and all sharing are simple.
Notes on the music: Hong Kong Garden by Siouxsie and the Banshees was released in August 1978 as the band's debut single. Ian Curtis was the lyricist and lead singer of Joy Division, who released their debut studio album Unknown Pleasures in summer 1979 and their debut single Transmission in October 1979. I Will Survive was recorded by Gloria Gaynor as the B side of a single in 1978, and reached number one on the UK singles chart in March 1979. Don't Stop 'Til you Get Enough by Michael Jackson, released both as a single and on an album in 1979 was another major disco hit in late 1979. Message in a Bottle stayed as number one on the UK singles chart for the first three weeks of October 1979. The B side of this single by the Police was a punk song titled Landlord.
Title: The Rainbow Theme
Author:
paulamcgPairing(s)/Character(s): Sirius Black/Remus Lupin; Peter Pettigrew, James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Gideon Prewett, Benjy Fenwick, Caradoc Dearborn, Alice Longbottom, (Frank Longbottom, Dorcas Meadowes, Marlene McKinnon)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7200
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: This was written for the 2020 Sirius Black Fest. Thank you, my lovely beta Liseuse!
Summary: In 1979 Sirius cares less about his birthday party than about moments of privacy with his Moony. His friends want to forget about the war for one night with help from multi-coloured drinks and quite as embarrassing decorations as well as silly disco hits. But the most popular song, too, isn't necessarily only about a relationship. It's about surviving, and it's about rebellion, and about leaving behind those who did you wrong, who made you fear any touch.
Read here on AO3
[EDITED on 1st December] or right here:
The Rainbow Theme
There's no doubt about the best way for Sirius fucking Black to begin today's celebrations. After the year started with the coldest winter in living memory, the Winter of Discontent in Muggle Britain, too, by November the escalation of their own war has brought bigger reasons for festivities than his mere birthday: his becoming both a qualified Auror and a member of the Order, and his true brother and their Amazon Marauder's marriage, of course. Today's should be a private little party, but James is sure to have invited too many guests. This birthday boy needs to collect his most precious intimate present as soon as possible.
He's Apparated up to Remus's landing and barely had the patience to whistle a signal – only a wood warbler's contact call of a single note – before pointing his wand and wording Remus's personal charm in his mind. He hurries to push the flimsy door open and steps in.
“Pads!” Remus turns his head, and his curls, grown out of his haircut again, form a luminous circle around his face, as if there were a giant parachute ball of a dandelion behind him.
Sirius kicks the door closed and flops down over his irresistible Moony, who has dragged the mattress to the middle of the unfurnished room and is sitting there in a patch of sunlight with a thick volume in his lap. As Remus falls down on his back, his laughter rings out as such a joyful sound that it would be a shame to seal those pretty lips with a kiss. Pinning the thin wrists on the mattress with easy grips, Sirius chooses only to feast his eyes on the beautiful, flushed face for a while, and then to aim lower.
He needs one of his hands to pull up the hems. At least Remus isn't wearing robes, but he's put on his old ratty jumper over the polo-neck he got last year... maybe from someone with whom he stayed for a while when he was between flats and tried to hide it from all of them. No, better not think about...
Or why not? That sting of resurrected jealousy makes Sirius just more horny. And now Remus's free hand is caressing his face, a finger drawing the line of an eyebrow, repeating the very first touch on his skin which Sirius managed to receive in his teen years without flinching.
The jeans seem to have already slipped down on Remus's narrow hips. When Sirius reaches bare skin and bends his head so as to press his lips on the old claw marks on the chest, which Remus claims becomes unblemished due to the loving touch, his hand strokes the flat abdomen and he's drawn to kissing the bellybutton. Remus has grown silent and is just breathing hard and getting his fingers entangled in Sirius's hair.
And now there's the pressure of a palm behind Sirius's neck, as he has urgently needed his both hands in order to gain access to the trail of golden brown hairs which will lead to the swelling cock. “What's this? A chastity belt?” Sirius mutters, provoking a chuckle, while working on the overhand knot on the shoelace that Remus uses for a belt.
“I wrapped your gift properly with a bow on the string,” Remus manages to quip between short bursts of laughter. “You blundering mutt, so impatient, you just pulled the knot tight.”
It's time to close that teasing mouth while first rubbing their hard-ons together through the fabric, then to use his wand in order to banish all obstacles.
And after the thorough shagging – too intimate and blissful to be put into words even in his mind – Sirius resorts to another voiceless spell, keeping the incantation inside of his head: Scourgify – with the improved wand movements to eliminate the pink bubbles. Still... there must be an even higher, purely wordless level of magic, and he will learn it.
Interaction with Remus has always had this effect on him: raised his experience or at least his goals above the ordinary. Just as his Moony himself is different from any man – more than human.
Having wrapped this treasure back with care, also tied the knot on the ridiculous shoelace, Sirius stays lying on his back, feeling both sated and serenely inspired.
"Happy birthday!" Remus stands up and tilts his head, smiling down at Sirius. "Or have I already said it?"
"In so many ways – that only you have taught me to enjoy."
"Can you stay and watch me do some coursework? I must finish it all before tomorrow night's moon." Remus still crouches to pick up the book, which looks ancient and heavy in his slender hands. "Or are you busy because of the party?"
"No. I mean yes, I'm staying until you can come with me. Prongs and Lily want to surprise me."
"Do you know if Wormy's coming?" Remus has posed the question absently, whereas the endearing frown on his face must be due to what he sees on the page he's scanning. "I don't think I can translate this without a dictionary..."
"I'll wager he is. For the great company and food, he'll come even in case he really has a girlfriend and a job in Alm..."
"Amlwch."
"Whatever." Peter did come four weeks ago, soon after moving away from London, perhaps because he wants to feel that his rat form is important. "And once again he can claim to have no chance to see Dumbledore about joining. Soon after sunrise on Monday he needs to be back at that arse end of nowhere. And we can't help keeping him busy until then."
"How so?"
"We'll party all night, of course, and you Marauders will stay to sleep all day, until our pre-moon feast. We'll be going straight from my place to Birks Fell for our furry times. So you'd better do all your coursework now."
"In that case..." Remus must know that the wide smile is enough to convey to Sirius how happy he is about the plans, and he can just go on muttering to himself as he's considering what to do first. "I doubt the Veela script added to the beginning of this chapter is required reading, and..."
Sirius turns onto his side, and reaches for the book as soon as Remus has laid it back down on the mattress. "Is this for one of your Creature courses?"
He hates the way Remus has been forced to study only the Dark Creature part – sub-subject or whatever – of the Defence programme at Merlin College. He's done his best to encourage Remus to believe in the chances of revolutionising the Creature study: of proving that some creatures have been wrongly classified as Dark. But even though he agrees in principle that equal rights belong to all intelligent creatures, he finds it hard to regard alien cultures as fascinating or valuable – in the way Evans... Lily does. Ever since she started apprenticing at Gringotts, she's raved about goblin traditions and anything exotic encountered on her Curse-Breaker missions. It's all right, and Sirius just enjoys teasing her about it. But is Remus perhaps getting too enchanted by all those... others?
The Most Tender Ways of Tending Mortal Wounds and Disabling Disease
Just as Sirius suspected... "This is for Healing! Why would you even think of reading anything in Veela language when it's about healing?"
"I must try to do everything as perfectly as I can." Remus has turned his back to Sirius and flicked his wand, conjuring an easel where the patch of sunlight has moved by now. "Perhaps my combination of courses will... or how I do them will, you know, make a difference."
He can try. He can repeat all the misinformation on creatures they teach him in order to excel in those bloody scholars' eyes whose experiment he is. But Sirius doesn't – and perhaps Remus himself doesn't – know if he means making a difference in the sense that he'd have a chance for employment, let alone for an official wizard status, or making a difference for the cause of equality.
"I'm sure the Professors of Healing don't want any student to find value in non-human knowledge."
"I don't know..." Remus is focusing on something else now, having walked over to where a couple of canvases, stretched over wooden frames, lean against the wall. "It's just... wicked to try and figure out how they distort the truth."
"So you're glad you got the Healing course, too?"
"Yes. One good thing about the war. They want a lot of students to take it."
"I thought you wanted it because of your own... So that you could heal yourself if..." If his Animagi are sent on missions and can't be with him, preventing or healing his wounds.
Sirius hates the mere thought, but it has already happened – and just because of a stupid Auror training camp. And it's admirable that Remus wants to be independent in this way as well as financially.
"Sure. But it's also more interesting than I thought. Better than a foreign language like French. But not better than..." Remus uses his wand to levitate a canvas and to place it on the easel.
"I know. You want to start with your art course exercises."
Remus knows that Sirius enjoys watching him practise Magic of Images. And that's his favourite subject, of course – his dream come true this autumn, thanks to his own cunning in suggesting to Dumbledore that fine arts make an excellent addition to the experiment in how far from a human he, as a beast, would be bound to remain. There was an issue about money, too. Something about the scholarship period for Magic of Images starting earlier, and the Order work being voluntary – in one sense at least.
But all that's too tedious to ponder. It's a day off and his birthday, and it's great to know that Remus, too, is enjoying himself, tackling the work he loves. Sirius curls up in a more comfortable position, in which he has a good view of Remus.
As he notices a blanket next to himself, he pulls it over his shoulder. This prompts him to start small talk by saying, “You're going to keep renting this room without a fireplace for another winter?”
“I don't... I'll look for something better. Been a bit busy lately. With all these courses and the Order work.” Remus is being evasive.
Because of the experiment, the Order work Dumbledore gives to Remus mustn't include any risk for resorting to violence, which the scholars believe would undo the rest of his humanity, and it's only been a few decoding tasks. But that kind of tasks seem to be urgent and unpredictable, and due to his commitment to be available for those, he at least haven't been busy with any menial work, and therefore should have time for finding a proper flat.
The late morning sun casts Remus's shadow on the canvas, one of that reusable kind Sirius has bought for him. The aspiring artist's left hand traces the outlines of his own head and shoulders, leaving fragile charcoal marks.
Sirius feels inexplicably guilty. “I should have stopped you from signing the contract for this place. This is not the best choice of...”
Remus pushes up the sleeves of both jumpers as well as of the sweatshirt under them, certainly forgetting that this exposes the ugly scar from last December. That's when he had not let Wormy or his parents take care of him and Sirius got back to charm a bite wound closed two days too late.
“It's not cold in here,” he claims defensively before his right hand makes a swirling motion with the wand. "Exafanison!"
At night it must be. “The weather's been better than what's normal for October. But it's going to be...”
“Yeah, too warm for the leaves to turn. I hope I'll see proper autumn colours in Yorkshire." As the canvas looks empty anew, Remus takes a step aside and begins to draw another, more detailed figure, depicting the new shape and position of the shadow and adding a bit wonky facial features and tousled hair. "After these movement exercises I want to paint another landscape. The vivid yellows... I've learnt there's a shade called camboge you can achieve with gum resin that's... expensive, from some Asian trees. But I think you can use common St John's Wort as well. And what's exciting... the ancient Veela healers used that same plant for treating both depression and wounds."
Sirius first suspects that all this is just babbling meant to distract him from a sensitive topic – whatever it could have been.
But when Remus turns his head after charming the sketch to shift and, winking, peek over his shoulder, his sincere excitement becomes fully visible. "All those... connections! They make me believe I'm doing something meaningful."
"We'll do... Why, we've already done extraordinary things." Sirius scrambles to his feet and steps over to the light surrounding the artist and his work, and holding to the blanket so as to keep it on his shoulders, he ends up wrapping it, too, around Remus. "And this connection is the most meaningful because it means that..."
"You love your Moony, and I love my old Pads."
"Have another, old man!"
Sirius has been just about to take the packet of Muggle cigarettes from under the sleeve of his Dark Side of the Moon t-shirt, Lily's present. Now a tray full of glasses of various shapes, with contents in a full spectrum of bright colours is being levitated in front of him. As he suddenly sees the drinks like this, fitting the image of a prism dispersing light on his shirt, he also hears a new suggestive tone of teasing in Fabian's voice.
As soon as he's grabbed a highball glass filled with something that looks real and refreshing enough with its natural shade of orange juice, the tray sails away. It's been Summoned elsewhere in the flat, which is vibrating under the weight of the crowd's disharmonic interaction and – now that music's restarted after a brief pause – also under a strange, tinkling riff. The round, freckled Prewett face, however, sways closer, and on a cheek flushed pink, there shines a small scar, which tells Sirius that this is Gideon, after all.
According to the twins, Mrs Prewett healed that childhood scrape badly on purpose so as to make neighbours, too, distinguish between them and give her the correct information on which redhead deserved a scolding. After he trained at St Mungo's, Gideon carries the mark ever more proudly, claiming that it's a reminder to anyone who sees him that a qualified Healer's services are always the first priority. Perhaps he gets a lot of well-paying clients privately, too, but he can't boast of deeper knowledge like what Moony gains in Oxford.
Moony... is something else. Sirius takes a gulp and turns his head towards the windowsill, where Remus has been sitting and chatting with Amelia. If he now feels any jealousy, it's still due to the polo-neck only. The fine jumper's dark green shade is too perfect for Remus, perhaps – brings out a warm bronze tone in his hair, which hangs in cute wisps over the collar.
Moony's now standing up to dance with Amelia, and starting to copy her jumping. He laughs, then tilts his lovely face closer to her ear, probably only because of the booming drums from the loudspeaker beside them, though Sirius certainly doesn't mind if it looks like these two are dating. But no... Amelia's now got an arm around her pretty friend from the Ministry.
And this makes Sirius remember that the yellow cocktail's called a Screwdriver, and the first time he had this vodka drink was at the lesbian club where Remus dragged him to join Amelia. But this can't possibly be the reason why Gideon's now patting Sirius's shoulder, even leaving his hand there, which makes Sirius's skin crawl. They must both be pissed, and it's impossible to make any sense of what's being said. "Sorry?"
"Great party!" Gideon's grinning mouth is too near.
"Yeah. I said the day's no big deal, but James wanted..." As a brother, because of course they are still brothers even though they no longer share the flat. But Sirius doesn't bother to even try to shout all that through the noise.
"I wonder why..." The music's ended abruptly with a final strike on a cymbal, and over the lowering sound of conversation there rings out Gideon's bright voice. "He's used the rainbow theme."
It's suddenly so quiet that Sirius can hear even how someone clears his throat in a nervous manner – Peter, who's reaching out his hand for Gideon to shake, which rescues Sirius from the unpleasant touch that's been gliding down his arm, and from replying. "The theme of hope in these gloomy times," Wormy says. "We sorely need the whole visible spectrum of light now, because it was the darkest hour when this geezer was born as the heir of the house of Black."
"I hear you." Gideon's nodding, fortunately not smirking at Sirius any more. "James said that we who can come must forget about the war for one night. No talk about who's got missions tomorrow – or today."
"Right," Peter confirms, hurrying to add, "It's a pity my girlfriend couldn't come."
Of course not, and tonight nobody's allowed to ask why, even though he's supposed to have a girl who just works at a pub on the Isle of Anglesey. But this time Sirius must be glad Wormy's so quick to protect the Marauders' reputation, or at least his own. If no talk about war's allowed, everyone talks about relationships.
But Sirius can think of a way out of that. "We need more music. I must..."
"It's the Muggle device, and he wants to handle it without his wand," he hears Peter explain as he's walking over to the record player.
There's a single on the turntable. Of course. Hong Kong Garden by Amelia's idol Siouxsie. Sirius is about to replace it with his latest favourite LP so as to have twenty minutes without any worry about silence, but he's barely located the fabulous black sleeve of Unknown Pleasures when there's a hand on his shoulder again.
Another old Quidditch mate of James's. Even Benjy's got too friendly after they've become fellow Order members, although he's lived in Hogsmeade and hardly had anything in common with James, either, ever since leaving Hogwarts a year before the Marauders. At least he's married – while he still looks like a schoolboy, perhaps because his thick black brows and his nose make everything else in him appear small – and here's the wife, too, dressed in robes just like him. What was her name again?
"Polly would like to hear the greatest disco hits. You know which songs I mean? I described that music to her – you remember, the songs that filled the dance floor when Peter took us to that place last time after our Order meeting. The falsetto with yelps and hollers, and the other one about surviving."
"Okay..." Sirius sighs, and points his wand at the records James has lent for the party. "Accio, Don't Stop 'Til you Get Enough! Accio, I Will Survive!"
"Can I have this dance?" That's Peter's voice again, and he's bowing to Polly. "You don't mind, Benjy? It's a shame your wife comes to London so seldom."
"Go on, dance! I want to see how this thing works." Benjy's big nose almost touches the tonearm when he watches Sirius lower the needle at the beginning of the Michael Jackson single. "How can you make something like this work where there's magic around?"
"It was Lily who first figured it out. Right after she agreed to rent a Muggle flat because it was exciting to Alice. You know, they wanted to share... She's big on music – Lily."
This is a safe topic, and Sirius sincerely enjoys praising... whom he still tends to call Evans in his mind. Who was first a fab reason to tease James, and an additional reason for James to carry out impressive pranks, then a source of wonder and envy when Sirius couldn't feel the allure in her or in any other girl, and who finally became a proof of his true brother's brilliance, as she turned out to be another Marauder, a feisty, upright rebel with her own secrets and surprising ambitions.
Benjy's raised his hand in a gesture asking Sirius to wait, and closed his eyes for a moment. He obviously wants to focus on the frenetic music as soon as it's burst out after the singer's opening whisper. And now he starts jerking his body, even trying to sing along. Sirius would never attempt that high register, and doesn't much care for it.
Ian Curtis is something else. There's such a haunting tone of doom in his rough, low voice, even when he seems to be urging people to – but perhaps warns them not to – dance, dance, dance, dance, dance... That's the best – or the second best – present of all, the new single that James knew he wanted, Joy Division's greatest song.
But it looks like everyone else prefers this frisky piece, and as his living room turns into a dancefloor, Sirius must admit there's something celebratory in the shared ecstasy. And he feels surprisingly carefree when watching Remus dance with abandon – and he's happy for his Moony, achingly happy.
Remus has pulled Amelia by the hand – and she's taken care of dragging her girlfriend along – next to Peter and Polly. Moony and Wormy are the crazy ones who dance to the silliest songs at discos, too, imitating each other's exaggerated movements.
Under the rainbow garlands and streamers, which float and swirl around and above them, all the guests are leaping and twisting, bumping against each other... Getting closer to each other's bodies, feeling the force, the love desire – as the lyrics claim. Sirius is able to believe that, standing aside by the record player, he looks like he's fully enjoying himself in the way the host should be. He digs out a cigarette and lights up in his preferred, Muggle manner.
Having returned the silver lighter inside the packet and the packet under his sleeve, he takes his wand from the back pocket. Unlike Remus, he hates the cold, has always hated it, or at least since... that Christmas when he was sixteen... No, it's drafts through windows he... But he does want to open the nearby window also because, with the simple spell, he can practise. Alo... Yes, without wording the whole of the incantation even in his mind! And now his guests won't be too much bothered by the smoke.
There's Frank, tall and handsome and trustworthy, if a bit boring and so quiet that Sirius has barely exchanged a word with him tonight yet, although he's been part of the only a bit wider Gryffindor gang, around the core of the Marauders, ever since Alice won his heart at her and Lily's first party. He, too, would perhaps prefer leaning against a wall, drinking and smoking. Oddly enough, the sportsmen seem to be less eager than a fat bloke like Wormy or a frail one like Moony to tire themselves with jumping when it's not about training or competition. But Frank's never been able to say no to Alice, and now he's dancing opposite to her, staring perhaps not at his feet but at the hem of her swinging skirt as she's lifting it above her knees.
There's muscular Caradoc turning his intense gaze from Dorcas to Marlene – perhaps from Dorcas's full, soft lips to Marlene's cleavage – and back again, while those two have their eyes locked and go on smiling dreamily to each other. Sirius could explain that he's wanted the gay freedom symbol at his party in order to acknowledge all his lesbian friends.
Still, of course, he can't say anything to dispel such suspicions which are never worded, and he doubts most people know about the rainbow flag designed to symbolise sexual diversity. Only Remus and Amelia have introduced it to him. Despite his discomfort when his private life is threatened with exposure, he can't help joining in Remus's fascination with the idea of a rainbow symbolising any diversity and equality as well as hope.
Perhaps Remus... His friends often rely on him as an expert in interior decoration, and he claims to have just chosen a special minimalistic style for his own flat – or room, rather. Perhaps it's Remus, after all, responsible for the range of colours.
But now over there, by the kitchen door, there's finally James, on whom Sirius can lay the blame for this frivolous music. James looks around over Lily's head and spots Sirius almost immediately, and Sirius gives his widest grin and a thumbs up to this true brother, who's done his best and trusts that the outcome is a perfect party. James is also considerate enough to do his snogging behind a door charmed closed. At the same time, Lily has, of course, taken care of preparing more snacks and giving a final touch to an extravagant cake – although her interests are far from limited to kitchen activities, and her cooking, too, shows her passion for the exotic.
Lily takes a few steps towards the centre of the room and starts dancing, swirling around, clearly taking in the sight of all of her friends having a good time. Pointing her wand up, she creates multi-coloured confetti to rain down from the ceiling. Outstanding in Charms – as Evans always was at school.
Evans... turned into Lily when joining them right after the Willow Incident. She must have wanted all of them, not only James, who'd finally shown some signs of maturity, and perhaps they were a new ambitious project for her, after the doomed one involving Snivellus. When asking James out, she didn't encourage him to leave the Marauder friendships – or his brotherhood – behind, but to forgive Sirius, and started helping them all to recover. She may have first looked like an intruder in their dorm, playing her guitar and singing to James. Yet, Moony listened to the songs in a way he couldn't listen to anything Sirius was able to say. And after the two of them got their connection back, how could they not love both Lily and Muggle music, too?
"So?" As soon as the song's given way to laughter and panting, Benjy's returned to staring at the rotating disc and at the tonearm, which has reached the middle of it. "You say Evans got these Muggle devices in her flat, but didn't they stop working if she used any magic? Anyway, start... No, let me start the other one!"
"She experimented, and modified a protective charm..." Sirius takes his time putting the single away and taking out the other one, Gloria Gaynor. "The charm surrounds the electrical device and stops excessive magic interference. Turn the B side up!"
"They said at Hogwarts that it's not possible to..." Benjy succeeds and sees for himself that he, too, can make it work, while the magical confetti is filling the air but never touching the record player.
Without finishing his sentence, Benjy joins in as the energetic dancing resumes, now with more dramatic gestures and singing along. Sirius is about to Summon the tray, because resorting to the bottle of Firewhiskey he keeps next to his record collection would make him look ungrateful for his friends' efforts.
But from the corner of his eye he sees the glow of red hair, and to his relief, it's not one of the Prewett gingers approaching, but Lily with her brilliant mane swaying free in her preferred natural style, and with her playful but insistent eyes. She knows not to touch him, and her beckoning makes him feel happy about this excuse to share the fun with everyone – above all with Remus, although he's determined not to repeat the partner dancing he was coaxed into at the wedding. Perhaps it's good he didn't now get that whiskey, which could have rendered him too susceptible to Moony's enchanting presence.
Now he is able to keep his cool. Yes, he's holding his head up high – as the song's saying – and he's doling out carefree grins, a similar one to everyone, including Remus, and hopefully with barely a trace of the haughtiness he used to need as defence against the Slytherins.
This beat is nice to dance to, and the song isn't necessarily only about a relationship. As stated by Benjy – and the title, of course – it's about surviving, and it's about rebellion, too. About leaving behind those who did you wrong, who made you fear any touch... Forgetting all that! Now focusing on surviving the war, and helping his Moony survive. Yes, the war – he's not forgetting that even tonight. If there's no talk about the Order or their Auror missions, there's more space for thoughts about the deeper and wider struggle for equality.
Slouching in his leather armchair and nursing another nearly empty glass, Sirius tries to keep his eyes focused on Benjy so as to know if he's still there, leaning a hip against the side of the backrest and listening. He's vaguely aware of speaking faster and louder, but that must be all right. There's a great punk sound accompanying his voice.
"Yes, they made us think that we and our magic could never live without... I mean with – with anything Muggle." He must have said that twice, or perhaps it's the part resembling a phrase in the disco hit that makes his words sound too familiar. "That electricity wouldn't work in the presence of magic. Even that the Muggle devices would harm our magic. And that they would be worthless anyway. Not only the bloodpurists said that, not only the Slytherin professors. All of them. Our leaders in the Ministry, in the Order. All right, they defend the rights of Muggle-born witches and wizards, but they want to hide from us that there are magical humans who never get the chance to buy a wand at Ollivander's and to enter Hogwarts. That there are other intelligent creatures who do magic without wands and should have equal rights..."
The guitar solo drives him on. Yes, it's The Police, but the B side, the older, proper punk piece. Got no weapons, gonna get me some, is it? And: you deal in poverty, you buy despair. I ain't moving... Among his guests, who could have chosen this piece, and is there anybody pogoing?
Lifting the glass to his lips, Sirius turns his head towards the record player. Remus is standing next to it, with a frown of concentration on his dear face. Is he trying to make sense of the lyrics or of what Sirius is saying – while Sirius is barely listening to himself? His Moony is now staring directly at him. His Moony, who'd like to let all their friends see them as a couple but who respects his wishes. Now Moony's doing this because everyone is staring at him, as he's preaching something unintelligible about human rights for part-humans and non-humans.
He empties the glass, remembers what he said before, and goes on. "They warn us against Muggle culture because they don't want us to learn what equality and freedom really mean. The civil war against this bloodpurist bugger is just the beginning. Or a distraction." He is in control of what he's saying, and he's not saying that Dumbledore is another bugger. Not yet, although he hates serving him in the Order, and serving the other bloody bigots in the Ministry. "At least finally we get to give more than our gold for the war effort, and soon we'll be done with it. We must get to the next phase. To what we need. A revolution."
A firm hand hits the nape of his neck, and he knows it's his true brother's before he hears the only voice that can now make him calm down and hush. "This rebel – he won't stop, once he got started with rebelling against his family!"
"Right." That's Peter. "Trust Sirius to take up some serious topics."
"Now you see." Alice giggles. "Our birthday boy's always so busy with all that rebellion. Got no time for girls."
Caradoc's guffaw complements her laughter. "And got enough of the blood-purist bitches in the house of Black."
Sirius's pulse is racing again.
"Hey listen!" That's Remus's voice, and it makes him only more nauseous, but...
Music, like mercy, fills the room, and the voice goes on strong and joyful over it. "This is the new number-one hit. By the same band who did that punk piece, but with reggae influences. A great song, for dancing, too."
And just when Sirius dares look and see how beautiful he is, he sings along, "Rescue me before I fall into despair!"
As soon as Sirius has filled his lungs with the harsh air of wilderness and recovered from the Apparation, he can see Remus standing atop a boulder of stone a bit higher on the slope. A gusty wind's ruffling the curls, which now shine in a carnelian shade, thanks to the sunset glow reflected from the wispy clouds covering the whole of the huge open sky.
Sirius has always known the terms for gemstones and their colours, whereas his Moony's now got the chance to learn more about painting in all shades. For this one Moony prefers the word cornelian, derived from cornelian cherry dogwood, or Cornus mas, one of the rare plants his father cultivates. And only he has made colours alive for Sirius: made him see them in his Moony and then become aware of them in this world, which grows wondrous around that more than human beauty.
Having downed a glass – or two, maybe – of Firewhiskey when getting up in the afternoon, Sirius is perhaps still a bit tipsy, not enough to have been at risk of splinching, but too sentimental, not focused. That's why he was also slow to notice that Remus was putting on his corduroy jacket, getting ready to leave for Birks Fell well before Prongs and Wormy. And he couldn't catch up, because he needed to fetch the winter cloak, as well as his broomstick so as to bring it along for the sunrise flight to the inn in Hubberholme. And perhaps for a sightseeing tour now before the moonrise, too.
Remus certainly looks eager to see as much of the autumn colours as possible. There he is, scanning the wide landscape, balancing up on what remains of an old stone wall, with his arms folded and hands tucked in armpits, shivering – while Sirius wishes he could have kept his Moony in the warm kitchen to enjoy another portion of pudding.
Sirius finally shakes himself out of the dreamy grogginess and useless wishing, and walks over to the wall. "Come here, and I'll take you for a ride."
Remus turns a luminous smile towards him, and all but falls down into his arms.
Holding the precious, precarious body tight against his... That's what Sirius is sure to have done last night, too, pissed or not, and even before being left all alone with his Moony. For almost a year now it's been all right for him to demonstrate the closeness of the relationship openly in their inner circle – even though Wormy keeps reminding him of how illegal it is. How could there be anything wrong about offering Moony what he needs so badly, in particular when the time of his transformation is near?
With a deep sigh, Remus presses his face against Sirius's neck. And the presence of this oddly both fragile and resilient humanity is more real and magical than anything Sirius ever imagined he could perceive through all his senses.
Touching his lips to the crown of his Moony's head, Sirius runs his right hand gently over the shoulder where the fatal bite scar's hidden under layers of worn fabric, and down the arm so as to lace their fingers together. His other hand sneaks under the hems of Moony's jacket and jumpers, and rubs the bare skin of his back.
"Haven't got much time," Remus whispers, and there's a tremor on his skin, an echo of a convulsion deep inside of his body.
"We'll have time again tomorrow..." Sirius's breath hitches, but he forces himself to continue with all the hopefulness and verbosity he can muster, "and on so many days to come, and we'll share it all, even when you're beyond any concerns about time or other... What do you want to do with this time now?"
"Can you fly me... to the woods?" Remus is not up to explaining that he longs to see the palette of the trees up close, too.
"Can you still sit behind?" Sirius hopes that Moony's not too weak yet for managing to hold onto him, pressed against his back and sheltered from the cold airflow.
Remus nods, lifting his head so that Sirius can see the determination in the eyes, or that the face is still not distorted by pain.
"Let's go then!" Sirius grabs the broom, which he's dropped at his feet, and they mount it in a hurry.
As they've risen from among the ruins of buildings once used by miners, Sirius makes a quick decision to leave Birks Tarn directly behind and to steer the broom not towards the woods on the way to – and too close to – Hubberholme, but almost straight north. Over there, in the valley of the Bouther Gill, he can discern deep yellow still glowing in the twilight.
The arms around his waist and the chin on his shoulder tempt Sirius to imagine that this is a carefree ride like those on his motorbike. But he knows that Remus is in pain, and all he can think of doing right now is talk.
"You'll see some birches, beeches... It's all right to stay in these woods when... And then we'll get back up to meet Prongs and Wormy on the shore of the tarn. And run free without time, without worry..."
After they've landed by the brook, he helps Remus settle to rest in his lap as he's sitting with his back against the broad trunk of a tree. A beech? He should know, as Remus has taught him, and he should focus now when Remus can't, and describe everything in his most eloquent diction.
But the woods are chilly and dark. They should have come earlier. The last glow from the extinguishing clouds now reveals the warm colour of the fallen leaves only for a moment.
"You'll see more..." There will be a bright light filtered through the fast-moving streaks of clouds, but... "in the morning."
This month his Moony must be healthy and well-fed enough not to lose his consciousness soon after moonset. Sirius has taken... They've all taken a good care of him, haven't they? But now the frail body becomes rigid, and stroking the cold hands and trying to reach bare skin under the clothes can't help much.
Having yearned to leap along the ridge and down the slopes ever since arriving on the wild windy moor, Sirius can hardly stop himself from changing shape as soon as now, although the unfairness of how it works for him smoothly, without any hurting, always makes him feel guilty. Remus does love cuddling his Pads in the furry form, too. Besides, for some years he insisted that Sirius change soon so as not to witness the torment through his human senses. But now Sirius knows that as long as he's able to listen and talk, Remus prefers conversation as an additional distraction.
Kissing his Moony's lids, Sirius confirms that the eyes are squeezed shut. "There are leaves coloured camboge and cornelian all around us," he says, almost believing himself.
"I've seen it." In a lull after another convulsion, Moony's spoken suddenly, startling Sirius. "And I keep seeing it. When you tell me."
Sirius draws a deep breath. "We've come to lay ourselves down on a blanket of leaves in all their most secret, most real colours. Listen! You can hear them rustle when I move to make your position more comfortable, and the wind that whispers through the branches causes more leaves to rain on us like gold Galleons but weightless and alive."
Moony trembles in his arms, turns stiff for a moment, then more relaxed again. "I just felt... I was in the orchard... at home."
"You can Apparate to visit your parents when..."
"For the winter, maybe, I should... Return the book... Healing, they need it. For the interbreed friends, har... harassed..." Now it's got too hard for Remus to form the words, and he jerks his head aside.
It's time for Sirius to help him get undressed. Remus no longer protests, no longer asks Sirius not to look at his fully naked body – in its unstable state, too, which is different from seeing it in moments of shared pleasure. There are no secrets in its old or more recent scars. Or in how thin he is, although he always evades any talk about whether he eats enough. Or whether these ugly worn-out clothes are a voluntary choice in punk style. And about the crummy room without heating...
Having pulled the jumpers cautiously over Remus's head, and when tackling the silly belt thing once again, Sirius forgets to go on with any soothing words, as he wonders why Remus talked about not only a brief visit to his parents but about the winter.
Remus could stay at his parents', just Apparate to Oxford for his lectures and to London when there's Order work for him. But he doesn't want to depend on his family, and he'll go only if they need him. Last winter he stayed at Andromeda's for a couple of months, because she said she needed a combined teacher and babysitter for Nymph.
"You have the right... to feel free to go and stay wherever you want." Now Sirius should be in control of what he's saying, although he doesn't mean to hide anything. His Moony, whose whimpers are muffled against his chest, and whom he's done his best to cover with the cloak, deserves to hear the most beautiful truth. "Also regardless of a need of yours, or anyone's."
Whenever Sirius asks if he needs a place to stay and wants to share the flat, he says no. What if... It's still so much easier to be the dog for his Moony than to be the man he needs – the man who would admit to needing, or wanting, or simply to having a partner.
"My Moony, if they don't absolutely need you over there this winter... since Prongs has moved out... I want you to move in with me."
As he feels how the head under his chin now succumbs to its violent transformation, Sirius must doubt the words have been received. All he can do is to turn – and it's a relief to turn – into the dog, for whom welcoming the wolf and all sharing are simple.
Notes on the music: Hong Kong Garden by Siouxsie and the Banshees was released in August 1978 as the band's debut single. Ian Curtis was the lyricist and lead singer of Joy Division, who released their debut studio album Unknown Pleasures in summer 1979 and their debut single Transmission in October 1979. I Will Survive was recorded by Gloria Gaynor as the B side of a single in 1978, and reached number one on the UK singles chart in March 1979. Don't Stop 'Til you Get Enough by Michael Jackson, released both as a single and on an album in 1979 was another major disco hit in late 1979. Message in a Bottle stayed as number one on the UK singles chart for the first three weeks of October 1979. The B side of this single by the Police was a punk song titled Landlord.
