#remus i’m not sure if they’d fully accept ‘ok you might have something to say’ at this point but i think that now he’s out of the bag he’s

[myapathyhaspeaked]

yknow if janus is going to given a seat at the table (ok, place in the living room) it’s going to make it a lot harder for him to impersonate anyone. cus they’d be like oh he’s not here ok who’s been off today? then again maybe if they let him hang around he won’t bother to do so (which might mean we never get “him impersonating virgil” drama aw).

[eliemo]

Getting There

Part Two of The Worst Thing in the World

Summary: Logan says it will take some time. He promises the others will always be patient. Virgil knows this, he just wishes it wasn’t quite so easy to push him back over the edge. 

Masterpost

Notes: I plan on writing a bunch of these, so don’t worry! Janus and Remus’s reactions will come soon! 

Learned behavior, especially in cases like this, was incredibly hard to unlearn. Logan had made that very clear, many times, assuring Virgil that it was perfectly reasonable to have some occasional setbacks. 

A long talk and a cuddle session, while Patton’s go-to medicine, wouldn’t magically fix all their problems. 

Logan had insisted on pulling all four of them aside the next day, delving into research and tactics to use to ensure Virgil felt safe, to gradually undo the damage that  had been done. 

Patton and Roman had been listening intently, nodding along, sure to pause and ask for Virgil’s input whenever it was needed, holding his hand and making sure he was never overwhelmed. 

There were some...unpleasant phrases thrown around during the talk. Abuse, trauma, conditioning...it all felt like something dirty. Like he was tainted, broken. 

And of course they knew what he was thinking, they were all so kind and attentive, so openly worried, quick to reassure and comfort.  

It helped, but...but still. Virgil was still struggling to wrap his head around the fact that all the things he went through, all the things he’d been taught were normal and expected weren’t...weren’t ok. That it wasn’t normal. 

He’d deserved it. That’s what they told him. He went through all of that pain because that was just the way it was, and there was no other choice. 

Had he really been stupid enough, pathetic enough to just believe that and let it all happen? If he was so easy to take advantage of, so easy to hurt, then why wouldn’t the light sides end up doing the exact same thing, no matter how well meaning they were in the beginning? 

He knew it was stupid and unfair to have those thoughts. And to make it worse, he knew they knew he was thinking it. 

They wouldn’t do that. They’d sworn it to him too many times to count. Like Logan said it was just...going to take some time to believe it. 

And things did get better. Slowly. He might not have even realized progress was being made if it weren’t for the less than subtle praise the three of them kept offering, the pride and hope that was impossible to miss. 

As embarrassing as it was, being practically applauded for something as small as  forcing himself not to fall into a desperate string of apologies for bumping into someone’s shoulder, he couldn’t deny that it helped to some extent. 

He did wish he was doing a little better, though. Sometimes he had to force himself not to flee if someone was in a bad mood, silently remind himself that no one was going to hurt him, that he didn’t need to be afraid, didn’t need to protect himself and hide. 

It didn’t always work. 

And there were always going to be slip ups. Little mistakes and thoughtless behavior that Virgil would never hold against the others. They were trying so hard and like Patton had said, mistakes were part of being human. 

There had been a...particularly bad day during a rather stressful filming week. Their schedule was finally allowing them all a bit of a break, and Virgil had taken up residence in the living room for the afternoon, lost in his own head in a futile attempt to relax. 

He hadn’t even realized he’d left some things strewn around. Just a few pillows and blankets- it wasn’t a big deal, he’d clean it up before he headed back up to his room like he usually did. At the time, he was too tired to really give it much thought. 

And then Roman had stalked through the living room, nose buried in his notes, mumbling something under his breath. He was clearly swarmed with the work Thomas needed from him, lost in thought and stress, and on his way to the kitchen he’d stumbled over one of the pillows. 

Virgil smirked and sat up with the intent of calling the Prince a clutz, hopeful that their familiar banter could reduce some of the tension from the workload, but Roman beat him to it. 

“Jesus, Virgil will you clean up your mess?” He snapped, kicking the pillow aside. “I don’t have time to be tripping over your stuff!” 

And then he was gone, disappearing into the kitchen, and Virgil had...froze. 

It was fine. He knew it was ok, he knew…

But all of that had disappeared in a second, all rational thought drowned out by cold, all consuming fear and memories, harsh realizations that Roman was angry- angry at him, and Virgil had left a mess, and whenever he’d left a mess before he’d been punished--

That snapped him out of his shock, instinct and panic taking over, and he threw himself from the couch and dropped to the floor, gathering everything into a pile and frantically trying to fold the blankets with trembling hands. 

It was fine, it was fine, it was fine. He’d made a stupid mistake but he could fix it. It would hurt less if he just cleaned it up. 

God why wouldn’t his hands stop shaking? His chest was aching, his grip weak and unsteady. It took far too long to get the blankets folded, and when it was finally done the end result was uneven and lumpy, nothing that would get him out of any trouble. 

He didn’t even know when he’d started crying, fear and hopelessness setting in all at once, but suddenly he was sobbing, breaths quick and ragged as he desperately tried to smooth out the blankets, refusing to focus on getting a hold of his breathing until it was fixed, until the room was clean and Roman didn’t have to be angry anymore—

“Kiddo?” 

Oh no. No no no, he wasn’t ready for anyone else to see what he’d done yet. It was still a mess, he’d still left everything a mess and he was a mess, and he was just going to make them more upset with him and then it would be worse. 

“Virgil.” There was someone kneeling beside him, and it took him a moment to realize it was Patton. “What’s wrong?” 

Virgil shook his head, knowing Patton was looking over the mess Virgil had created, growing just as angry as Roman. 

“I-I’m cleaning,” he managed, wincing when his voice came out a pathetic, weak stammer. “I d-didn’t mean to- mean to leave it a m-mess, I was- I was gonna clean it up, I didn’t mean to upset him, I didn’t--” 

“Hey, it’s ok.” Patton’s hands were suddenly over his own, squeezing gently to stop Virgil from frantically trying to fix the wrinkles, the folded blankets still not even remotely acceptable. “Breathe, honey. Can you look at me?” 

Virgil obeyed almost immediately, not willing to risk making anybody anymore angry than they already were, trying to stop his ragged sobs to no avail. 

“There you go, kiddo. Can you take some deep breaths for me?” 

Virgil shook his head. “I- I can’t, I have to fix it, I- I’m trying to clean it up, I promise.” 

“It’s ok,” Patton said again. “It looks fine, Virge. You know it doesn’t need to be perfect.” 

“Yes it does,” Virgil argued, because he knew it did. He was already in trouble, making it perfect and spotless was the only way to lessen the inevitable punishment. “I already made him mad and he’s gonna- he’s gonna...I have to fix it, I have to--” 

“Nobody’s going to do anything to you, Virgil.” Patton frowned, moving Virgil’s shaking hands from the pile of blankets. “Who do you think is mad at you?” 

And for a second, Virgil wasn’t even sure. Just for a second, he almost said another name, too many memories overlapping. 

But then it cleared slightly, and he was only blinded by the current panic of what he’d done, still unable to fully grasp what was being said to him. 

“R-Roman, he...I didn’t realize that he wanted it clean I-I didn’t know and I ruined it and he’s upset and he’ll--”

“Slow down, kiddo,” Patton said, for some reason looking even more distressed when Virgil snapped his mouth shut, watching the moral side with wide, wary eyes. “Roman’s a bit distracted today, I’m sure he isn’t upset. He probably doesn’t even realize.”

Virgil hadn’t even noticed until Patton frowned down at their hands, but he’d been desperately fighting against the other side’s hold, frantically trying to go back to smoothing out the blankets without even realizing. 

“Here,” Patton said, gently easing him back. “How about I go get Roman, and then we can--”

“No!” Virgil had ripped his arms out of Patton’s grip, scrambling backwards without any clear thought of what he was doing. “N-no, no Patton, please let me finish, let me just try, I can do it I swear, he doesn’t have to be upset, I can be better, I can fix it please--” 

“Honey,” Patton tried, and Virgil knew he was scaring him but he couldn’t seem to stop. “You’re ok. I promise. Remember what we said? You’re safe with us.” 

Virgil curled in on himself, hunched over on the living room floor, mind scrambling desperately to latch on to what Patton was saying, trying and continuously failing to make sense of the warped reality his panic had created. 

“Please don’t get him yet,” he found himself begging. “Please, not while he’s angry, please, he’ll hurt me, I don’t want him to hurt me again.” 

And that was when Virgil had known, both he and Patton, that he wasn’t talking about Roman anymore. 

But he didn’t stop his pleading, and Patton didn’t even hesitate, carefully lowering himself beside Virgil who forced himself not to flinch away. 

The thought of fleeing to hide briefly crossed his mind. Patton would eventually call Roman in, and Roman would see the mess Virgil still hadn’t cleaned up, and he’d still be angry. 

Virgil had tried hiding before. It didn’t always work, and it often led to worse punishment once he was caught, but on the off chance that he got away, the anger had usually faded by the time he resurfaced. 

Usually. It often wasn’t worth the effort. 

“You’re ok,” Patton said again, pulling him from his thoughts. “I’m right here. I won’t let anyone hurt you, Virgil. Ever again. Can you breathe with me, please?” 

Virgil nodded, something screaming at him to obey, just do what they wanted and it would be ok…

It took an embarrassingly long time for Patton to talk Virgil down, for Virgil to even remember where he was, what exactly he was so afraid of. 

But it all came back, slowly, the real world filtering in around the panic, the soothing voices, the gentle reminders that he wasn’t in any danger. 

Oh. Great, he’d done it again. 

It took Virgil a second to come back fully, blinking as he registered Patton sitting beside him, watching with wide, teary eyes. 

Oh, god. 

“I’m sorry,” he managed, now for an entirely new reason. “I’m ok Patton, I just thought...fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to freak out like that.” 

“Language, kiddo,” Patton said softly. “You don’t need to be upset with yourself, and you have nothing to apologize for.” 

Virgil’s breathing was still too shallow, his chest aching with each gasp, and before he knew it he was reaching for Patton, letting himself melt into the other side’s embrace. 

He managed to keep himself from crying again, just barely, closing his eyes against Patton’s ever soothing words of comfort and safety. 

They’d been down this road too many times by now, some days worse than others, and Virgil had no idea how long his family was going to put up with this. Their patience seemed endless, but everyone had their limit. 

“I’m trying,” he said after a moment, desperately needing Patton to understand. “I’m trying, Pat. I‘m trying so hard to be better, I swear I’m trying, I don’t want to keep doing this but I just--”

“You’re making more progress than you think, kiddo,” Patton said, cutting off his frantic rambling. “And we’ve already told you, there’s no rush. It’s gonna take time, and that’s ok. We aren’t going anywhere.”

They’d all told him that at some point. Told him he was getting there, that it wasn’t his fault when he slipped up, that they wouldn’t give up on him. 

They’d all promised, all in their own way. Virgil only wondered if they’d realized just what it was they were signing up for. 

He didn’t get a chance to respond before Patton was carefully pulling away, smiling almost apologetically. 

“I’m going to get Roman now.” He frowned at the way Virgil’s shoulders tensed, eyes cast downward. “I’ll tell him what happened. But we can’t just leave these things unaddressed, you know that.” 

He did know. Logan had said it enough times, along with countless other tactics and behaviors to help Virgil that never seemed to work. 

Nothing ever worked. He couldn’t even recover properly. 

But when he nodded miserably Patton just gave another small smile, squeezing his hand before standing from the couch and hurrying into the kitchen. 

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes, Virgil left to hunch over himself beneath his pulled up hood and press into the corner of the couch, when there was the sound of footsteps rushing towards the living room. 

He managed not to flinch, just glanced up and watched as Roman practically came barreling into the room, eyes wide and face flushed. 

Princey looked like he wanted to rush across the room to Virgil’s side without a second more of hesitation, but a glance back at Patton in the doorway stopped him in his tracks. 

“Virgil, I-I’m so sorry.” He was breathless, and Virgil’s throat felt tight at the waver in his voice. “I should have known...I wasn’t even thinking--” 

“It’s ok,” Virgil said, willing his hands to stop shaking, pushing down the cruel, nagging voice shouting warnings in the back of his mind. “Really, Roman. It was a stupid overreaction. It’s on me.” 

Roman took a careful step forward, only moving the rest of the way to the couch when Virgil didn’t immediately tense up or move away. 

“I am sworn to protect you,” he said, voice oddly small as he lowered himself beside Virgil. “I was stressed and distracted- but that's no excuse. I should never have allowed myself to do or say anything that could make you feel unsafe.” 

Virgil let out a trembling sigh, the obvious guilt in Princey’s eyes like a punch to the gut, so painfully undeserved, and all his fault. 

He took Roman’s hand, noting how the creative side almost instantly relaxed at the physical contact. “You were stressed, and you just asked me to pick up my things off the floor. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.” 

“And I shouldn’t have been so aggressive,” Roman said. “You have no reason to be ashamed of your reaction, especially with the stress you’re under. I promise it won’t happen again, Virge.” 

The reassurances, as always, settled something in Virgil’s chest, breaths coming a bit easier, a weight gradually lifting from his shoulders. But it still just felt...wrongly placed. 

“It’s ok if it does,” he said, finding himself leaning against Roman’s side. “We’re...learning, right? All of us? It’s- it’ ok if we have slip ups. It happens.” 

Logan had said something similar to all of them countless times before, his words of course were much more steady and eloquent, but Virgil knew Roman would recognize the words for what they were. 

“You’re right.” Roman still sounded unconvinced, but Virgil couldn’t bring himself to dwell over it too much when he was being pulled close, once again enveloped in strong, safe arms. “And we’re getting there. Together.” 

It wasn’t the first slip up that had sent Virgil back into that awful, panicked state, and it definitely wasn’t the last. 

It was stupidly easy to trigger him back into that mindset, convinced he was too much, that he’d done something horrible, that he would be punished and hurt accordingly. 

He was assured it was ok, that it was “normal” to react like this after going through the things he had, but Virgil was almost sure he was taking an absurdly long time to show any improvement. 

But then again...maybe that wasn’t entirely true. 

Improvement could be so slow, so small, that maybe the bad just sometimes happened to overshadow the good. 

The first time Virgil really noticed it, he’d been finishing up putting away some clean dishes, Logan setting the table for dinner while Patton and Roman idly chatted over their cooking. 

“Virgil?” Logan called. “Those glasses actually go in the other cabinet to your right. Do you mind moving them?” 

Right, he’d known that. “Oh, yeah. Sure.” 

It was only a few cups, and he wordlessly moved them to the next shelf over before closing the cabinet and making his way over to the couch until dinner was ready. 

Or at least...that was what he planned on doing before realizing that everyone in the kitchen was staring at him. 

They were trying to be sneaky about it, but Virgil could very clearly see everyone was watching him with wide, poorly hidden smiles, looking ridiculously giddy like he’d just announced he’d won the lottery. 

What the hell? 

“Uh, guys?” he asked. “Everything ok?” 

Logan was the first to speak, and Virgil wondered if he was imagining the pride radiating from the logical side. 

“Everything is satisfactory, Virgil,” he said, reaching forward and squeezing the other’s shoulder.. “Thank you for doing the dishes.” 

Before Virgil could even consider calling him back as he walked away, Patton let out a noise that could only be described as a squeal, practically flinging himself forward to envelope the anxious side in a tight hug. 

“I am just so gosh darn proud of you, kiddo!”

“I- what?” 

Even Roman was looking like he was forcibly holding himself back from joining in, and the Prince was actually bouncing on the balls of his feet, smiling so wide Virgil felt something in his stomach swoop. 

“Give him some space, Patton,” Logan spoke up, having stopped to watch from the doorway. “You responded extremely well to my request, Virgil, but apologies if we overwhelmed you.” 

As Patton pulled away, Virgil once again opened his mouth to ask what on earth everyone was so happy about, before it suddenly dawned on him. 

He’d put the dishes in the wrong cabinet, a mistake that had been pointed out by another side. 

It was exactly the sort of thing that would send him into a panic, make him lose himself in a fit of frantic apologies, paranoia and anxiety rising up to choke him, to send him under a wave of regression. 

But...that hadn’t happened this time. 

It hadn’t even occurred to him to apologize. No panic, no fear, no flood of memories and guilt. Just a simple mistake that he’d quickly corrected and then promptly forgotten about. 

And he still didn’t feel the need to apologize or get out of the enclosed space. 

Huh. 

“See? I told you,” Roman said, leaned up against the kitchen counter. “We’re getting there, Stormcloud.” 

And...yeah. Virgil supposed he was right. It was slow, sometimes almost invisible, but that really didn’t matter. They were getting there.  

[supernaturaldoctorpotter]

Writing:  Home is Where the Heart is

Era: Harry Potter Era, just after the Triwizard Tournament

Characters: Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Andromeda

Words: 5,400

Pairings: Up to you :p (ish)

Abstract:

The houses were all very large, with minimum three-storeys and sloping gardens leading to gates onto the path and the river beyond.  Technically this was the back door, but Remus happened to know it was the main one.  The occupants had no need for on-road parking.  He heard Sirius whistle.

“She must have done ok, then - to keep this on?”

“You did leave part of your fortune to her.”

“What, a busted old flat in Acton and a portion of Not Very Much Gold?  Can’t see her needing that much here.”

“You repented your heinous Gryffindor ways, remember?  I think your mother wanted to provide for you after your inevitable escape.”

He knew as he said it that this was a subject he should have avoided.  To his relief, however, Sirius just went very quiet.  It was better than the laugh.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Sirius, I shouldn’t…”

“It’s alright.  Let’s just walk, shall we?”

So they did.  

Home is Where the Heart Is

There hadn’t really been time to study him, but the speed at which Remus had turned his life around to accommodate the change proved that he’d apparently been ready for this day a long time.  Probably, he admitted, since that chaotic night in the shack.  Albus had certainly not been the only one suspicious of this tournament.  They’d been travelling for two days, two and a half if you counted the night they’d spent planning at Remus’ insistence.  Their route set, they had both grabbed a few hours’ sleep at his little cottage, leaving before the sun had fully risen.  He knew he had slept at least - he’d gone to bed first and been woken by a freshly showered Sirius so who knew if both of them had rested.  Sirius certainly hadn’t shown any more fatigue on their trip than Remus had, but then again he’d been on the run for two years and most likely had more stamina.  

His eyes were bright and alert now, scanning around them for any sign of danger and glittering in the light of the pub nearby as someone’s laugh made him jump.  Of course, that could be danger from either side, now.  It was why it had taken them so long to get round the old crew.  Remus had just apparated them into the Southwest London Safe Apparition Zone in Richmond Park - he’d been allowed to take on some Muggle tutoring at the nearby university a few years ago so being logged as apparating here would raise no eyebrows.  The Zone guard had snorted at Padfoot at his side and Remus had dared to place a placating hand on Sirius’ shaggy head at the inevitable sneering canine comment, but otherwise the trip had gone without incident.  They were on the path next to the river in Richmond now, cloaked with darkness and with the feel of coarse hair still prickling Remus’ empty palm.  Pulling himself together would probably be a good plan given that he’d just lost the argument about whether or not Sirius should remain a dog until they actually got into the next house.  Again.  He understood - this visit was a special one and a favour from Moody, really - but risks like this didn’t make his blood sing anymore, more a vague sort of nausea just behind his navel.

“Ready?”

He frowned a little at Sirius’ impatience but nodded, taking a breath.  Their footsteps were unmatched on the grit of the riverside path, Remus’ battered soles sounding dull next to the hard crisp crunch of Sirius’ brogues.  He had been somewhat miffed to realise that, even on the run, Sirius had managed to find better shoes than his.  He hadn’t asked where he’d got them from.

“Not sure I remember the house.”

The admission was low and humiliated.  Remus didn’t reach out and touch him, though it felt like his arm would fall off if he didn’t.  He tried not to let the tightness in his chest creep into his voice.

“I do.  Third on the right from here.”

The houses were all very large, with minimum three-storeys and sloping gardens leading to gates onto the path and the river beyond.  Technically this was the back door, but Remus happened to know it was the main one.  The occupants had no need for on-road parking.  He heard Sirius whistle.

“She must have done ok, then - to keep this on?”

“You did leave part of your fortune to her.”

“What, a busted old flat in Acton and a portion of Not Very Much Gold?  Can’t see her needing that much here.”

“You repented your heinous Gryffindor ways, remember?  I think your mother wanted to provide for you after your inevitable escape.”

He knew as he said it that this was a subject he should have avoided.  To his relief, however, Sirius just went very quiet.  It was better than the laugh.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Sirius, I shouldn’t…”

“It’s alright.  Let’s just walk, shall we?”

So they did.  

It was an uncomfortable silence.  Everything in Remus was screaming at him to pull Sirius out of his mood because that’s what he’d always done (or gone to find James to do it).  But he didn’t.  Their footsteps echoed unevenly over the black river next to them, Remus’ longer legs more used to solitary prowling around the city and not adjusting well to having someone beside him.  He kept having to check himself and slow down, Sirius was clearly taking his time.

The Tonks’ garden was small but beautifully kept and Remus once again pushed down his objections to this visit and the fact that the automatic lights illuminated Sirius’ face for all to see.  He couldn’t read his expression when he snuck a look.  

They climbed the steps, Remus faltering a little and letting Sirius go first.  The wards by the door were strong enough that he could feel them like a vacuum against his chest.  When Sirius didn’t immediately ring the doorbell he looked over at him, catching the end of a movement he was pretty sure had been a look back.  He saw him resist chewing his lip and took a breath to speak, but Sirius reached up and rang the doorbell before he could say anything, elegant fingers instinctively running over the brass fitting.  He always had been a sensualist, though Remus was the one staring at another man’s fingers with his mouth slightly open so he supposed he couldn’t really talk.  The part of him that had nearly moved his hand to touch Sirius earlier settled heavily in his chest again.

They waited.  And waited.  Oddly, it was Remus who ran out of patience first.

“Maybe they’re out.”

“No.  She’s here.  She came to the door.”

Remus didn’t ask how Sirius knew - even as teenagers, if Sirius had said he sensed something even James had learnt to trust him on it.

“And then went away again?”

Sirius nodded and a coil of nervousness curled into Remus’ belly.

The door opened abruptly, revealing an ever-elegant Andromeda Black, eyes wary and slightly accusing on Remus’ face.  Merlin but the woman always made him feel like he’d been caught with his hand in the biscuit tin.

“Good evening, Andromeda.”

“Good evening, Remus.  I trust he didn’t do it.”

“Indeed.”

“Proof hard to come by?”

“Skittered away like a rat, I’m afraid.”

“How very unfortunate, I shall have to hear the story.”

Her voice was hard but quiet and Remus had no doubt the hand resting gently at her side had a wand in it.  The nervous coil rolled again.

“Andromeda, please.  I know it’s a lot to ask…”

“To let you into my house?”

Sirius shifted beside him.

“I’m blood.  Surely that grants me an audience, at least.”

Remus cursed silently.  Sirius had apparently skipped charming and gone straight to belligerent and he knew from experience how Blacks responded to belligerence.  Andromeda only spared him a glance before she turned back to Remus, who felt Sirius bristle beside him.  “And since when were you two so bloody close?”

“Remus has visited a few times, cousin.”

Her voice was still wary, but her eyes softened slightly and whilst Remus would usually bite off his own arm than accept the pity implicit there, tonight he let her see him accept it for what it was.  She knew.  She knew that if there was anyone who would see Sirius guilty until proven innocent it was him.  She’d pulled him out of enough wolf dens not to know that, dirtied those beautiful pale hands with his filthy, matted hair as he threw up all over her bathroom or couldn’t be bothered to lift a hand to bathe himself.

She looked at him long enough for him to note Sirius’ uncharacteristic silence and then took a deep breath, stepping back and beckoning them in, exquisitely carved wooden rings on her fingers.  Ted had outdone himself again.

She left them in the wood-panelled hall to remove coats and shoes and disappeared further into the house to the kitchen, Sirius’ curious gaze burning into the back of Remus’ head.  He did at least wait until they heard the door shut to ask.

“Came here a lot, did you?”

“A few times.” Remus replied, concentrating hard on his shoe laces.  He knew Sirius was probably imagining him and Andromeda speaking badly of him and couldn’t bring himself to correct him even though it must be hurting him, because if Sirius knew why he’d come here, the various states in which he’d been all but carried through that threshold then he’d know why and they’d been oh so very careful to avoid that subject since the shack.

“When did she officially move in?”

“A few years after you left.  Ted’s mum got the fever and he’s an only child, so it was passed to him.”

“And you, what, were a regular visitor for tea?”

“No, Sirius.  I wasn’t.”

He didn’t look back at Sirius as he started following Andromeda.  He didn’t like the fact that his best friend asking questions about him felt like an intrusion and he didn’t want to see the hurt that might be on Sirius’ face.  He definitely didn’t want to see the hurt not on Sirius’ face.  That would be worse.  He was tired and raw already, coming here had been a mistake.

Andromeda’s large kitchen was a mix of muggle home design and wizard homeliness.  The decor was all clean white lines and chrome, but scattered around it was the clutter of a lived-in home - bits of Ted’s woodwork; the makings of the bread kneading itself on an old, worn board and an impressive array of mugs in various states of disrepair hanging on hooks in the wall.  He decided, given why they were there, it would be good to at least start the evening politely.

“You’ve done the place up.”

“Yes, last year.  It was getting a little tired.”

“I rather enjoyed the banana stains on the walls.”

“She never did like bananas.”

Sirius bumped accidentally into his shoulder as he walked past and Remus’ next comment about the family died as he took in the hunched shoulders.  The weight of years suddenly seemed very heavy, the dark of the garden outside the bare windows very dark indeed.  His voice sounded feeble even to him.

“I like the look - very ‘now’.”

“We’re not here to talk bloody home improvement, Remus!”

He glared over at Sirius, who had sunk into one of the chairs round the large pine table in the middle of the room.  The chair at the head of the table, of course.

“Indeed,” he heard Andromeda say, brushing past him in a gentle wash of expensive perfume to see to some tea.  He sat down in the chair on Sirius’ right, sending him a pointed look.  Sirius either didn’t see it or ignored it.  “You can begin before I get to the table, boys.”

So they did.

It took longer than it should have.  Sirius was fractious - quick to anger and even quicker to leap to his own defence at the slightest provocation, until they came to something he really shouldn’t have done (like all but bite through a thirteen year old’s leg) where he would sulk, sullen and glaring whilst Remus took over.  It hadn’t been this hard work with the others, he had been raw, yes, but his charm and willingness to laugh had triumphed at least, even if the sound of it grated on Remus’ ears and the heavy thing in his stomach tightened every time he remembered who it was he was sitting next to.  And how much they had both changed.  None of the others had been family, though.  Sirius truly cared what Andromeda thought of him, not just as a matter of principal.

He knew the moment she believed them, her brows drawing together in concern every time Sirius erupted into another sneering rant of fury with a compassion that had always set her apart from her sisters.

During one such rant, when Remus hadn’t been able to steer the conversation away from Peter fast enough and now Sirius was spitting mad vitriol, she looked over at Remus instead, as if he should be trying to calm Sirius down.  What little handle he had on the situation dissipated and he couldn’t meet her eye, jumping a little when the scrape of her chair against the tiles surprised Sirius into silence.  Her hands were clenched at her sides as she stood there and her voice was tight and quiet when she spoke.  Remus realised suddenly that she was going to cry.

“Stand up, Sirius.”

He did so like it was an order and she moved smoothly round the table to wind her arms around his shoulders and bury her face in his neck.  Sirius glanced slightly wildly at Remus, then his arms were wrapping around her waist and back, gripping the soft silk of her shirt, face turned in to press their cheeks together.  Feeling acutely uncomfortable, Remus turned to fiddle with his tea-cup, but he couldn’t help but hear her voice, muffled by Sirius’ hair and the beating of his own heart.  “Those bastards.  Those bastards.”

He could hear the lower rumble of Sirius’ voice in response but not the words.  By the pounding of his heart at the low intimacy of the tone he was very glad of that, the gaping, all-too familiar ache joining with the thing in his chest to try to choke him as he tried to sip his tea.

The atmosphere brightened considerably afterwards, Sirius slowly relaxing enough to be charming, even chuckle a few times (though Remus could still hear the strain in it).  Remus himself made the decision to pretend Andromeda’s little wobble never happened, a choice she seemed to approve of.

They had just begun broaching the real reason why they were there when there was a great clatter as the door opened, Sirius shooting up to stand in surprise.  Andromeda looked suddenly guilty, her hand coming to her mouth and the sound of heavy boots hitting the floorboards thudded through the house, almost covering the voice that came after.

“Mum?!  Mum, you ok?  I got your message…”

The kitchen door was flung open and a blur of bright purple, maroon and white burst through it, stopping dead as Dora spotted them both.  To his great interest (if not surprise given their last rather disastrous conversation), she spent a moment gaping at them, full lips wide in an ‘O’ of surprise, then turned abruptly to her mother.  “He really didn’t do it, then?”

Andromeda, now fully serene once more, smiled very warmly and shook her head.   “I bloody knew it!”

He had the sense to duck forward as she launched herself towards them.  Sirius, however, was not so lucky and was now staggering under the weight of an Auror-turned-limpet, arms and legs wrapped around him, combat boots and all.  Eyes wide, Remus couldn’t quite keep the disbelieving smile off his face and got a mock-glare from Sirius for the trouble, before those arms wrapped around his second Tonks lady of the night and he spun her around until she screamed.  He made a grunt of effort as he set her down.

“Well someone got heavy.”

“If you will be away so bloody long.  I might have grown up a bit.”

If Remus didn’t know better (and he had heard things that meant that he might) he would say that last had been flirty.  Sirius certainly picked up on it, big surprise that was.

“I see, all woman now are we?”

“Apparently.”

“Not in one particular area - take after your father there, your mother’s side of the family all have massive…”

He was interrupted by a well deserved smack which made Remus chuckle.

“I would appreciate you not passing comments on my or my daughter’s breasts, Sirius.”

“Mum!”

“Why change the habit of a lifetime, Andy?”

“How exactly do you get away with your callousness?”

“My infinite charm and willingness to accept violence as just recompense for my cheek.  Plus, it’s not as if I’m doing anything untoward, she has in fact grown up a little since I last saw her.”

“She was seven last time you saw her, she had nothing for you to be untoward about!”

“Still doesn’t…ow!”

Remus found himself laughing into his hand as Dora proceeded to Accio the nearest wooden spoon and try to beat Sirius with it, the strange mix of second-hand embarrassment, genuine amusement and admiration all too familiar.  Bittersweetness, too.  He had forgotten how much Sirius (and they) had had to do with this family, before everything went to shit.  How little Dora’s face had lit up every time Sirius, leather-clad and charmingly blood-traitorous, turned up at her door.  How Lily had threatened to punch Sirius in the nose if he used Dora as a reason to shower her with pre-Harry ‘advice’.  He looked over at Andromeda and saw the same happiness in her eyes, a rare rush of affection making him reach out and take her hand on the table.  She looked over, startled, but soon squeezed back, smiling.  She had raised her daughter to be suspicious of Sirius’ betrayal and therefore had demonstrated more faith in him than Remus thought he was even capable of anymore.  But she had apparently forgiven him that, too.

The moment was broken by Dora plonking herself in the chair opposite him, Sirius sinking back down beside him, out of breath.  The look she gave him wasn’t particularly friendly.  Neither were her raised eyebrows.

“Wotcher, Remus.”

Sirius sucked air through his teeth.

“That was cold.”

Remus sighed, taking a breath to try and explain.  Dora beat him to it.

“Well after you escaped us at Hogwarts last year I wanted to know what happened, so I went to see him to try and get the truth, ‘cause Mum never believed you did it anyway.  Only someone apparently didn’t trust me enough to tell me, even though I’m practically family.  Probably because I’m family.”

Sirius looked at him sharply.

“You said that?”

“Of course not.”  Remus replied,  ‘Probably’ was what she said.  I didn’t mean for it to be taken that way.”

Sirius looked at him hard for a moment, then shook his head.

“He didn’t not trust you ‘cause you’re a Black, Dora.  It’s ‘cause you’re Ministry.”

“What?”

Remus nodded back at her, slightly reeling from anyone who knew him so well being both alive and in the same room as him.

“It is as he says, Dora.”

“Well why didn’t you say so?!”

He smirked at her slightly.

“I believe I was a little busy having my parentage rather colourfully questioned at the time.”

Her hair, if he wasn’t mistaken, turned a slightly pinker shade of purple.

“Oh.  Yeah.  Well. What’s wrong with the Ministry?”

“Apart from their enlightened view of the lunarly challenged?”

She snorted with laughter, but there was still doubt in her face.  It was Sirius who picked up on it.

“I think you have a little idea what’s wrong with the Ministry, Dora.”

Unlike her more restrained mother, Dora had no problem clasping one of Sirius’ hands in both of hers, though Remus did notice she blushed a little when he covered her fingers with his own in return.  It clashed rather fetchingly with her hair.

“They do occasionally screw up, yeah.”

Sirius looked over at him and Remus shook his head without needing to look back.

“Absolutely not.”

“She’s an Auror, Moony.”

“She’s too young…”

“So were we when we started.”

“We had no choice.”

“Neither does she, anymore!  And anyway, we did have a choice and we made the choice to fight.  She deserves the same opportunity.”

“And the fact that she’s an Auror….”

“Means that Moody can look out for her.”

“I don’t…”

“Oi!”

They both looked over.  Dora’s eyes flitted between them, the clumsy girl replaced entirely with something older, something calculating and piercing and, it seemed, rather pissed off.  “If you two old goats have finished discussing my future, I would quite like to point out how rude it is to talk about a lady when she’s right in front of you.  Especially in her own house.”

“A lady, huh?”

“Shut it, Sirius, you’re not that charming.  Now, Remus Lupin, you’re going to tell me why he’s innocent, then you’re going to tell me what really happened at the Third Task.  Then you’re going to tell me about this choice I apparently deserve.  Yes Remus, that’s me choosing sides, live with it.  Ok?”

He and Sirius shared a look.  Sirius looked about as windswept as he felt.  Apparently they were expected to talk.  So they did.

She listened.  So did her mother.  He and Sirius fell into a rhythm - Remus expanding on the how and the history of the Order and Sirius the why.  In the face of Dora’s scrutiny, her pertinent questions, he didn’t have time to wonder at the roles they’d taken on.  He forgot that the reason he did the history was because Sirius kept reaching for memories that were either no longer there at all or half-remembered and mangled.  That Sirius did the ‘why’ because even after twelve years in Azkaban he still carried more belief and conviction than Remus could muster anymore.  All he could think was that it was natural and that had to mean something.

And Dora was listening.  That force of nature of a child had grown into a force of nature of a young woman and she was listening.  It was happening all over again, she could actually die and it mattered.  It mattered that Remus suddenly understood what Minerva had felt, voicing her fears late one night after a meeting - Lily was pregnant and she was afraid.  It mattered that he had experience enough now to look at Dora and imagine her dead, just like Lily, perhaps with a partner dead beside her, perhaps even with a child.  He was suddenly, completely, paralysingly afraid.

He heard Sirius’ voice and clung to it, thought about that voice telling him about Harry - how scared he’d been during the tournament, dirty and bleeding after the graveyard, fourteen years old and already tainted by death and the awful realisation that people really could be that cruel.  Sirius was telling Dora animatedly about what the Order meant, what it could prevent and Remus let his courage reform, framed (like it had been so many times before) in the deep timbre of Padfoot’s voice.

By the time they were done he already knew what Dora was going to say.  So did her mother.

“This is what I was afraid of.”

Dora responded to the fear in her mother’s voice the way Remus wanted to but would never dare - by leaving her chair and pulling another to her mother’s side, placing hands on her arm and her face.

“This has nothing to do with being an Auror, Mum.”

“If you weren’t one, they wouldn’t have come.”

“Yes, they would, as they should.  Mum, I want to fight.”

Andromeda sent them a look so full of fury it all but took Remus’ breath away.  Guilt and shame rode hot in his stomach and he heard Sirius swear slightly, but neither of them looked away from Dora’s face, stern and earnest and clever.  She was every inch a Black, was their Dora.  No mistake about it.

“Darling, I know these people you’re thinking of fighting far more intimately than…”

“I know and we’re not having this argument again.  You heard them, there are children messed up in this.  Children, Mum, they’re going after children.”

“Diggory is only a few years younger than you!”

“Was only a few years younger than me, Mum.  And Harry’s even younger than that.”

The calm, quiet finality in Dora’s voice as she reminded her mother of a boy’s senseless death made Remus wonder if she’d done it before.  It also greatly impressed him, not too proud to admit a small sense of awe to watch her.

“Andy…”

“Do not speak to me, Sirius Orion Black.”

“If they hadn’t come, Mum, I would have found another way.  The Ministry’s already putting things in motion to cover this up and I’ve already got into trouble for it twice.  This way I can learn from the best.”

“If Moody wanted you, he would have….”

“This was a favour to me,”  Sirius interrupted.  “I asked him if I could come here first.  I swear, Andy, I didn’t know you were going to bring her here, he just knew she’d tell you as soon as he told her and I wanted to tell you myself.”

Andromeda looked at him like she didn’t know whether to kill him or wrap him up in a blanket.  Dora, ever brave, took her mother’s face in her hands.

“Mum, I want to fight.  I want to stop what happened from ever happening again.  I can’t just sit back whilst others do it, I was never going to be able to.  Wouldn’t you rather that than a daughter who’d just stand there and watch?  Let it happen even though she knew it was wrong?”

Her mother flinched and the pained but determined expression on Dora’s face told Remus she knew exactly who she had just invoked, the ghost of a younger Andromeda who still allowed herself to care what her younger sister did or did not bother to do flitting briefly over a much older woman’s face.  The acceptance came quickly afterwards and she leant forward, kissing Dora fiercely and smoothing away her hair from her face.

“That’s one heck of a young woman you have there, Andy.”

Sirius sounded slightly hoarse.  Remus had to agree with him.  Andromeda nodded and pressed her forehead gently against her daughter’s.

Dora chuckled suddenly, throwing her arms around her mother’s neck and turning the two of them slightly away from the table, a position which happened to stretch her body out rather revealingly between the two chairs.  Were they truly making Auror safety vests so form-hugging these days!?  Not to mention that the day he saw Moody in one so low-cut he was checking himself into St Mungo’s.  It appeared that Sirius had not been entirely correct in his assessment of certain parts of Dora’s body.  

Feeling slightly like a dirty old man, Remus made the mistake of glancing guiltily over at Sirius whilst Dora and Andromeda had a moment.  From the look on Sirius’ face as he smirked back, he had not only also worked out his own mistake, but had done so in time to watch Remus come to the same conclusion.  Remus rather thought that this made his swift kick to Sirius’ shin under the table more than warranted.  At least until he saw Andromeda’s eyes narrowing at them both from over Dora’s shoulder, Sirius’ knee stilling against his from where he had begun to reciprocate violence.

“I think these two gentlemen should probably be getting back, don’t you?”

Dora made a noise of protest as she pulled away which made Sirius grin.

“I’m very well house-trained, you know.”

Merlin, Remus thought, of all the times to remember how to be a smarmy, charming git Sirius did have to choose now.  Dora’s answering grin as she rocked back in her chair did not do anything to ease his rising sense of panic.

“Are you now?” she was asking, “No peeing on the carpet, then?”

“Absolutely not.  And I hear I’m always good for late night cuddles if you’re cold.”

Remus at this point decided his face was better off in his hands, but he was pretty sure his groan was covered by Andromeda deciding she should get involved.

“Sirius Orion Black, do not flirt with my daughter!”

“Mum!”

“She started it!”

“Oi!”

“Plus, why are you worrying?  She's ten years younger than me…”

“And I’m sure that if you’d been at large when ten years your junior wasn’t highly illegal, that  the age gap would not have stopped you.  Therefore, it won’t stop you now.”

“You say that like I had some sort of reputation.”

Remus felt Andromeda’s eyes flick over to him and very pointedly didn’t look up.

“You did.”

“Don’t talk about things you don’t….”

“He did?!  You never told me he had that sort of reputation!”

Remus looked up to see such a look of innocence on Dora’s face that he knew immediately she was far cleverer than most people thought.  Her mother was clearly not happy with the glee in her voice, however.

“You didn’t need to know about his reputation, Nymphadora.”

“Well maybe I do now.”

Merlin’s hairy balls, but Sirius was chuckling that particular chuckle that promised either very good or very bad things and Remus couldn’t not look at him, saddened by the harshness still there, even with a perturbingly pretty girl flirting with him.  Andromeda was giving her daughter a rather puzzled look.

“You do know that one of the reasons I left the Black family was so you didn’t have to marry your cousins?”

Dora giggled in a fashion that did sudden and inappropriate things to parts of Remus that should really know better and sent a Sirius a look that could only be described as filthy.

“Never said anything about marrying him, Mum.”

Remus was almost too busy gaping at her to register Sirius’ delighted bark of laughter, drawn to it like a moth to a flame when he did.  Because that was the first time he’d heard the Sirius he knew, his Sirius, since he’d got back - joyful, careless and always with that slightly surprised look like he couldn’t believe something could make him laugh so spontaneously.  He was so caught up in watching him he missed Dora moving, starting a little when her grinning, knowing face popped up right in front of his.  “Don’t think you’ve escaped wolf-boy - I’ve got a thing for cardigans on a man.”

With that, she kissed him - quick, soft and instantly arousing, pulling away with a laugh that was carefree and generous and happy, turning slightly cheeky at her mother’s scandalised ‘Dora!’ as she sashayed round the table.  Drawing his eyes away from watching her do it, he and Sirius caught each other’s gaze at the same time, the shock on Sirius’ face probably matching his, though he was feeling more panic than the delight he could see reflected back at him.  

Both, however, remembered Andromeda at the same time.  One look at her face had them hastily making excuses and resolutely ignoring Dora’s cheery request that they come back soon while Sirius hid his grin behind Remus’ shoulder.  He felt almost giddy, like they were back at Hogwarts, pushing Sirius down the corridor to the hall, the something lodged in his chest, in his throat, in his gut loosening and he didn’t yet know if it was going to choke him or not.  Only he couldn’t concentrate on worrying about it, because Sirius kept making snorting noises as he tried not to laugh that threatened to set Remus off whenever he heard it.

They hurried through the front door before Andromeda could close it on them and trotted in-synch down the steps, striding down the garden path and through the gate.  Once through, Remus suddenly felt dry fingers around his wrist and Sirius pulled them both back to lean against the wall of the garden facing the river.  Remus’ laughter turned a little breathless with the feeling of skin on his pulse and noticing how they’d landed close enough to press together from elbow to shoulder.  Still feeling like he’d just escaped Filch, he turned to Sirius, who snorted with laughter again when he looked at Remus’ face, reaching up and swiping the rough pad of his thumb over Remus’ lips.  The hitch of his own breath was halted by the sight of the deep red of Dora’s lipstick smeared over it and he hastily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, which set Sirius to laughing all over again, silently, properly, his shoulders shaking.  Remus realised, through the pounding of his heart, that he was laughing with him.  

As they staggered away from the house together, the something in his chest dislodged completely and when Sirius leant on him for balance, he leant back.  Their laughter, mingling together so one was indistinguishable from the other, echoed over the river like it was one voice.