Fourth Year

There is nothing quite so boring, Sirius Black thinks, as the end of the school year. He has endured three of them so far and is about to endure the fourth, the days dropping like overripe fruit from a tree as he tries frantically to collect them in an effort to delay the inevitable. Though always reluctant to return to 12 Grimmauld Place, he's never felt so restless and irritable at the thought of it as he is this year, nearly fifteen and trembling on the brink of change.

Sirius is not an introspective boy (quite the opposite actually- one might even say he's extrospective, if there were such a thing) but he knows he creates most of his own problems there. He does not have to rock the boat, does not have to needle Regulus until he's nearly in hysterics, does not have to slouch indolently at the long mahogany dining table where the atmosphere of chilly disapproval leeches the taste out of the food. Something about the place makes him go a bit mad, though. He thinks it's the smell of silver polish that does it (he does not know why the smell makes him so sick, having forgotten that when he was two he witnessed his mother drowning Kreacher's predecessor, Coggy, in a vat of the stuff). Silver polish; Kreacher poking through his school things; Regulus whinging; his mother (whom he has guiltily begun calling The Old Harridan in his private thoughts) wondering in acid tones whether eugenics will ever be made legal so one might rid oneself of an abomination of blood; his father staring down his high-bridged nose at him as though failing to understand why a stranger looking exactly like him is in his house.

He sighs and resumes drawing the room to incorporate it into the map later that evening. When he's finished he focuses on the Mutuus Induviaus charm he's been working on, trying to figure out how to switch one set of clothes for another so he can play a prank on Peter during the next Quidditch match. He's been testing it on himself, and so far has only been able to remove the clothes, which is a brilliant prank on its own but not the one he wants. As he's pointing his wand in the general vicinity of his pants, he feels a sharp jab in his side and a shock runs through his body.

Damn Moony and his Perculsus Spell, which he calls the Sirius-in-History-of-Magic Spell. He peels off a bit of parchment and writes on it, "Oi, I'm not cattle, you fanny", then throws it at his friend's nose.

Remus grins at him, then pulls a poor baby face. "Well pay attention," he mouths.

Sirius sticks his tongue out at him. When he pulls it back and uncrosses his eyes, he notices that the Ravenclaw girl sitting behind him is staring at him.

Remus notices it too. His brows knit together and he goes back to his notes. Forgetting the girl, whose name he doesn't remember, he looks keenly at Moony, then shrugs and goes back to his inky parchment. But a moment later he realizes he's looking at Moony again, and sees that the boy is biting his lower lip.

He's upset, he thinks, and wonders why. Moony is given to neither lip-biting nor eyebrow-knitting, and this means Something is Afoot. He will worry it out of Moony later, while James and Peter are at Quidditch practice.

But when they've settled into their afternoon routine- Sirius sprawled beside Remus amusing himself while Remus studies- he finds he cannot worm it out of him, no matter what. He uses all the weapons in his arsenal- the pleading and whining, "Moooooooony, come ON!"; the brusque, cruel, "Moony. Come on. You just like having secrets from me"; the angry, hurt, "I thought we were mates, Moony. I guess I was wrong", that usually works with Moony because he's so quick to accept guilt and blame; the bored, haughty, "Fine. You keep your little secret. I don't give a flying fuck anyway, I'm going to go find James", that he knows will hurt although Moony doesn't say anything; the penitent "I'm sorry Moony, I didn't mean that, James smells vinegar anyway." None of these tactics provoke any sort of confession. Finally he uses his greatest weapon, the one he's only used a few times with Moony and never with anybody else because he hasn't had to- he drops all pretence and acts like himself.

He is silent for a long time, then rolls over and rests his head on Remus's thigh, his nose an inch or so away from the book in Remus's lap- the book he is ignoring Sirius in favor of. An absent hand reaches out to rest on Sirius's back, warm and gentle, and he sighs deeply. Sometimes Moony, silent and still and reading a sodding book though he may be, is the most soothing thing Sirius could ever imagine. Sirius's nose is a sensitive thing- he can smell, for instance, chocolate-raspberry trifle being made in the kitchens from anywhere in the castle- and he thinks that if you bottled the essence of Moony, you might call it Comfort. It puts Sirius in mind of warm fires on cold nights. James's essence would be called Energetic Boy, all vigorous clean sweat and fresh air. Peter's would be (Sirius snorts at his own wit) Perplexity, and it would smell inky, with a dash of dung-bomb.

"Remus," he says in a soft voice, rubbing his cheek against the corduroy of the trousers under his face. "I don't care if it's a secret, I just want to know you're all right. You don't seem all right."

Moony rubs his thumb in a circle over the bump of Sirius's shoulder-blade. "I'm fine, honestly. As I told you the last fifty times." The only noise in the room is the skriiitch of Moony turning a page.

He turns his head to get a better look at Moony's face, because he's not all right. If you don't look closely, of course, he seems just fine, but Sirius has found he has to look closely because there's always some little- tiny- secret- thing, hovering round his lips and his eyes, like a key to something Sirius wants to know very badly. Today the thing hovering round lips and eyes looks quite a lot like sadness.

There are superficial signs of strain on his face. He's tired, Sirius can tell, because he's almost always tired. The full lower lip Sirius teases him about (he has girly lashes too, something that makes it very easy to take the piss) is red and a bit swollen, because he's been chewing on it. He moves his eyes downward to the one hand visible from his position and notices the nails on it are bitten nearly to the quick.

Unaccountably his eyes are drawn back to Moony's lip again. It just looks so painful, he thinks, even as Moony's teeth begin to nibble on it again. He suddenly realizes his hand is moving up to run his finger over the tortured lip- to soothe it, of course- and pulls away, rolling onto his back. So, he thinks bracingly, Moony has a problem and it's something he doesn't want us to know about. What, then?

He runs today's History of Magic class through his mind again because that's where he first saw something was wrong. Blah boring blah sodding blah, Professor Binns blah, there. Just before he went back to his notes, after Sirius stuck his tongue out at him. That girl.

He sits up abruptly. Is it possible? Moony? James is a completely naff bastard over Lily and Peter has gone occasionally barmy over a girl or two, but Moony?

Suspiciously, he asks, "Moony, who was that girl sitting behind me in History of Magic?"

This is the sentence that makes Remus lift his head from his book. His eyes are shuttered and he is in full-on Moony Moon-face, a condition usually only occurring when Snivellus has gotten in a particularly good insult. "Ellen Hallowell. Why?"

Sirius's heart feels as though it is sliding up his throat and he may asphyxiate any moment. "Just wondering," he mumbles. "Do you...do you think she's pretty?"

Remus glances back down at his book. "She's all right," he murmurs before beginning to chew on his lip again in earnest.

Sirius flops back down, breathing shallowly. His stomach feels as though the bottom has fallen out of it. Moony likes this girl. While James alternates between trying to woo Lily Evans and trying to hex her, flailing around in despair after failing to do either, Sirius has always felt sure of Remus, so eminently practical, so removed from the sordid world of pulling. It is a very hard thing to accept that Remus is as susceptible to the winds of change as any of them- that Remus is becoming a grown-up, everyone is becoming a grown-up around him, while he does not want to, not at all. And anyway girls are boring- the deadly boringest thing he can think of besides Professor Binns himself. From what he can tell they have no interest in pranks or romping or seeing how many cauldron cakes fit inside one's mouth, or setting fire to things to see what color the flames will be or how they will smell while burning, girls have no bloody curiosity, and Moony is always curious, he is the most curious of any of them, always poking and prodding at revolting bugs and plants to see what makes them revolting, the phrase that most often comes out of his mouth is, "I wonder what this will do", and how on earth is Moony going to continue accidentally burning his eyelashes off if he has to cater to some bird?

It's a betrayal, is what it is. Sirius realizes his entire body is tensed and he has been sitting beside Moony with his fists clenched for several minutes, staring off into space. Moony looks up at him with a flicker of concern in his eyes, then again back to the book. When he turns the page Sirius sees that his hand is shaking a little bit, and that's the trigger, Sirius feels his chest tighten and his chin become ever-so-slightly infirm, and he realizes with dawning horror that his eyes are prickling. He leaps from Remus's bed and throws himself onto his own, shutting the curtains.

He lies shaking until that stupid prickly feeling passes, emerging only when he hears James storming into the room as usual with a bellowed "LADS YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN ME, I WAS BLOODY FANTASTIC," and he and Moony carefully do not look at each other the rest of the evening.

~o~

Ellen Hallowell, he discovers, is sodding bollocking fucking perfect. She is in two of the classes he has the next day, Arithmancy and Potions, and he looks at her the entire time, trying to figure out what Moony sees in her.

In Arithmancy she sits across the room from him and he sits next to Remus, of course. James and Peter are not in this class- Sirius himself only decided to take it because Moony mentioned Third Year that it was very hard. He has found that it is hard, and will not admit it to anyone, but he likes that part of it. If he, Sirius, finds this class hard, and Ellen Hallowell is in it, this must mean Ellen Hallowell is a smart girl. Of course, she's Ravenclaw, but he's found that not all Ravenclaws are as bright as they could be, despite their press. It makes sense that Moony would like someone as smart as he is. She would probably discuss books with him, Sirius thinks with a pang. He never discusses books with Moony. He should do that. Show Moony he's smart too.

Ellen Hallowell is not extraordinarily pretty, but she has an intelligent way about her, Sirius grudgingly admits. Long, straight dark brown hair, ordinary blue eyes, clear skin. Fresh-faced as a bloody toddler. A spot or two would have cheered him mightily, but no such luck.

He drags his eyes off Ellen Hallowell halfway through Arithmancy and sees that Moony is staring at her as well. Moony is looking a bit knackered today actually. The shadows that are always under his eyes are more like bruises, and he is paler than he ever is, even after a full moon. He has always imagined that being in love makes you sick, and here is the proof. His eyes rest on Moony's lip, which has been chewed on so much that it has split down the middle. Sirius's breath hitches. He can see himself reaching out to run his thumb over it, as clearly as if he were actually doing it, and has to shake his head to get rid of the image.

He just hates to see Moony hurt, always has. After they had figured out Moony's secret Second Year, he and James had pleaded with Moony to let them peek through a knothole only Moony knew about in the Shrieking Shack, just to see. It took them three months to convince him, but one night he gave in, more out of exhaustion than anything else. They had thought it would be a grand adventure, but what they had seen made Sirius curl into a ball and cry so hard he threw up all over James. He knows James understands how he felt because James gave him absolutely no grief about either occurrence. He has never told Moony about that night, which spawned the idea to become an Animagus, nor will he ever.

It is the scar on Remus's chin that makes him decide to help Remus get this girl. He saw him give himself that scar, thrashing his head back and forth while in the purgatory between wolf and human. Of all people, Moony deserves to have something good, and if a girl is that something, then Sirius will make it so or die trying.

~o~

In Potions that afternoon, while Remus is frowning dubiously at his Wit-Sharpening potion, Sirius writes on a piece of parchment, "Can I speak with you after class?- SB" and hands it to Ellen Hallowell. She pinkens and nods. When he returns to his and James's table, he sees that Moony's turned the same bilious green as his potion, his dark eyes enormous in his pale face when he looks at Sirius. Moony will give him a medal, he thinks, when he finds out what Sirius has done to make him feel better. This thought carries him through the rest of Potions. Remus flees when the class is over, and Sirius is rather grateful as he doesn't want him to see Ellen talking to him and get the wrong idea.

He waits until the rest of the students have gone past him before walking beside Ellen and saying haltingly, "So, do you have...er...a boyfriend, or what-have-you?"

He is not looking at Ellen, is squinting off into the distance, wishing he were anywhere but here, but he hears the smile in her voice as she says, "No. I haven't."

"Brilliant. I have a friend who I'm fairly sure is interested in you. Do you think you can meet him in the Library this evening around eight?"

He has spent the hours between Arithmancy and Potions formulating this plot, so he can excuse its simplicity. Given a few weeks he might be able to come up with a surefire way to get Ellen Hallowell and Remus Lupin together, but he is no miracle worker, and he has only six days left until the summer hols.

"Yes," Ellen tells him, and they part ways. She certainly is precise and wastes no words. Moony is exactly like that. He's miserable until he realizes they won't talk much, and Moony will be bored. Then he practically floats into the Gryffindor common room.

His next task is getting Moony into the Library that evening. This should not be hard- it's Moony's natural habitat after all. He is like those chameleon things that Muggles don't realize are charmed- he is designed so if he were to back up into a bookshelf he would seem to be part of it, his soft, faded green and brown and blue jumpers and his soft, faded brown hair blending in perfectly with the books.

This proves to be more difficult than he has anticipated. Apparently Moony senses mischief brewing and turns stubborn, absolutely refusing until Sirius, for the second time in two days, lets the real Sirius come out. Honestly, the things he does for Moony.

He has been grasping Moony's arm and tugging him ineffectually. Peter is on his bed reading Quidditch For Klutzes: How to Overcome Your Lack of Ability, and James is at some daft Charms Club meeting trying to get Lily to notice him. Sirius glares at Peter to make sure he's not paying any attention, and leans forward to put his head on Moony's shoulder.

"Sirius," Moony says crossly, but rests his cheek on Sirius's hair. "I'm tired. I know you only want to go so you can make some sort of mischief, and books and mischief should never mix."

Moony's jumper- the green one tonight- is warm and soft against his skin. "I just want to get out a book," he whispers, savoring the sensation. Today has been miserable and he wants nothing more than to go to sleep right here. Suddenly he remembers that he wanted to discuss books with Moony, and adds, "You should be glad. I'll read something you like and we can talk about it. Or something."

He gives in. Sirius can feel it, a kind of hunching of his shoulders. A huff. "Fine." A quick tug on Sirius's fringe. "But if something in there is set aflame, I will hex your pants three sizes too small."

Sirius smiles to himself and stands. "An idle threat, Moony. You know I'm not above going pantsless."

"Yes, but you go to the Infirmary at least three times a week, and Madam Pomfrey usually has to spell your trousers off you, so if you go pantsless everyone'll see your bits. And the infirmary is rather...cold," Remus says delicately. "I should know."

They walk to the Library in companionable silence. Sirius thinks he likes this best about Remus, that they can be silent with each other and still be comfortable. James is his best mate, really- because he puts Remus in an entirely different category that he has yet to define or name- but if James were here right now there would be bellows and tussles the whole way. Sirius is opposed to quiet on general principles, but somehow quiet with Remus does not equal boring as it does with everything else.

They reach the Library too soon. As soon as he pushes open the door he can see Ellen Hallowell sitting alone at a table near the right wall, and he steers Remus that way, his stomach clenching.

"Let's sit..."he says, noticing that Remus's face has gone a shade that is so pale it is nearly translucent, "here."

"N-no. Sirius. No. I'm really tired. I should go," Remus gasps, looking as though he's going to be sick. Sirius clamps his hand down hard on his shoulder and forces him into a chair as Ellen Hallowell looks up and smiles at them both.

"Remus, this is Ellen," he says encouragingly. "Ellen, this is Remus."

Remus is actually shaking- not visibly, but Sirius can feel the tremors under his hand. Moony is generally almost preternaturally self-contained- the situation must be serious indeed if he is this nervous. Sirius feels a dreadful lurch in what he thinks is his solar plexus (it is actually his stomach). He has to leave them alone or he will scream. "I'll just go find a book," he mumbles, and wanders off.

He has no doubt that by the time he has thumbed through five books about Animagi, the two of them will be engaged in fascinating intellectual conversation. Moony can talk about anything and make it seem interesting, even Goblin rebellions. Or maybe he will come back and they'll be snogging, he thinks, his fist clenched. Snogging on the table. But as the image comes into his head he sees Moony's lower lip, which is split even worse than it was this morning, and he leans against the bookshelf in giddy relief. Nobody could kiss with his lip cut like that, it would be far too painful.

When he comes back around, one of Remus's favorite books in his hand, Remus is piteous and silent, and Ellen's left eyebrow is quirked in suspicion. Honestly, Sirius thinks, of all the Gryffindor Fourth Year boys, he would have thought Remus the best suited to talk to girls. He is tactful and patient and has never performed a Ventulus Charm to make their skirts fly up (as far as Sirius knows- they do not talk about Ventulus Charms, because they are one of three reasons Sirius has been banned from the Quidditch pitch until his Fifth Year- if he lives that long, Professor McGonagall tells him doubtfully). But here Moony is, as hopeless as James, although not quite as spasmodic.

He heaves an enormous sigh and sits down. "So, Ellen. Remus here is quite studious," he begins. "Not unlike yourself."

Remus makes a soft noise in the back of his throat that only Sirius hears, and says nothing. Ellen glances from Sirius to Remus and back again, her eyes narrowed.

"A friend, you said," she murmurs. "Not you."

Oh, he thinks. Oh bloody hell, I've fucked this up.

The look on his face must reflect how appalled he is, because she gathers her things and leaves, glaring at him.

Sirius sighs. This is going to be much more difficult than he planned. He has always supposed that with two normal human beings of the opposite sex (clearly this excluded James), all one had to do was put them in close proximity, and they would sort of...mix...like a potion. It is disappointing to discover that this is not the case. "Well, Moony, that went great."

"Perhaps it would be best if you didn't bring me next time," Remus says calmly, although his voice is shaking, and leaves as well.

Remus does not quite avoid him the next day, but certainly cannot be accused of seeking him out either, and Sirius knows he's angry at him because Ellen fancies him and not Remus. It's not my fault, he thinks to himself sulkily, and wants to wait until Remus comes round on his own and apologizes. The idea of Moony trying to make up to him is a compelling one although it will probably never happen, and anyway one glance at Moony's lower lip, now split in three different places, and he cannot possibly be stroppy.

During History of Magic he rips a bit of parchment off his caricature of McGonagall and writes, "Ellen, I think Remus really fancies you. He's a great bloke and you should give him a chance."- SB".

He places it on Ellen's desk and she opens it with an air of hostility while Remus appears to be paying attention to Professor Binns and bites his lip so hard blood wells up from the cuts. Fifteen minutes the reply is tossed over his shoulder. "No, thank you.- EH".

Well. She certainly thinks highly of herself, he reflects. Remus is well rid of her.

But Remus looks more miserable than ever. Even the ends of his hair are dejected. Poor bloke, wasting away from love. Little does he know the object of his affection is a vain peahen. Sirius shrugs as he runs a hand through his hair carefully, trying not to muss it up. Ah, well. He has given it his Gryffindor best, and maybe this summer he and James and Peter can give Moony some good times to make up for this. He and James are coming along brilliantly with their Animagus project, and he has thought secretly a time or two that the time is very, very near. He can't wait to see the look on Moony's face. He'll be so happy it will wipe out this awful gray look, and his lip will stop bleeding. I should make a potion for that, Sirius thinks, distracted by the lush red skin. It looks so painful...

The class ends and he finally tears his eyes away from it, his heart thumping. Maybe I should just talk to him about Ellen, make him feel a bit better, he reasons for the hundredth time, and for the hundredth time squashes the idea when it gives him that awful prickly feeling at the corner of his eyes again. Who would have ever known that the loss of his friend's innocence would affect him so much? I must have finer feelings I haven't explored, he tells himself smugly as he and James race each other to Transfiguration. And here Moony is always telling me I'm as sensitive as a troll.

He has a lot of time to think in Transfiguration because they're performing their practical final, and it takes all of thirty seconds for him to Transfigure a kitten into a teapot. He even gives the teapot some ornamental lions, and when he's done he pulls out his Potions book to find a simple healing potion for Remus's lip. He finds it quickly and is left with half an hour to do nothing. He looks round the classroom. Snivellus is in the corner scowling. He's a bit surprised to see him, actually- he's taken no notice of Snivellus these past few days, being so caught up in Remus's tetchy love problems. Thankfully James has taken up his slack and Snape's drawers are on display in the Trophy Room, where Filch has been so far unable to get them down. That would display the air of malevolent dislike emanating from his corner of the room today. Good show, James, he thinks jovially. James himself is nearly done with his own Transfiguration, which is far nicer than Sirius's actually, although Sirius will never admit it.

Remus is nearly done as well. He is so intent on his work that he doesn't notice Snape changing one of his quills into a snake, and neither does he notice Sirius changing it back and hexing Snape's hands to stick to his desk the rest of the class. Remus is so...so what? Sirius wonders. So focused. So meticulous. It should be boring- he should be boring- but he isn't, because he's so passionate about his work. When there is a teapot sitting in front of him with no fur anywhere, he smiles to himself and glows, and Sirius shivers helplessly.

Mate, he's my mate, I'm only just feeling protective because Snape's being an arse, he's my mate. But his eyes fall to Remus's lip again as he hands in his teapot and comes back to his seat. Sirius bites his own lip softly, to see, and shivers again, his heart beating crazily.

~o~

The last day of their Fourth Year at Hogwarts falls on the first of Remus's restless nights, and for the first time Sirius is relieved that he will not be rubbing Moony's back tonight. He has felt odd and uncomfortable around Moony for the last few days, and they've been stiff and cordial to each other. He's miserable about it but can't figure out how to breach the gap. On the train he and James and Peter and Remus barricade themselves in the last compartment and vow only to come out for food or the bog. Sirius waves off Magical Rock, Paper, Scissors (the last time they played the Scissors attacked him and cut off his fringe, and he'd looked a fright for weeks), but allows himself to be drawn into a game of Exploding Snap with James until they are both bored and James sits down to play chess with Peter.

Remus is, of course, reading. They're twenty minutes away from Platform 9 ¾ when Sirius takes a huge gulping breath and says in a rush, "I'm sorry about Ellen, mate, I bollocksed things up."

Remus looks startled. "Of course you- what are you sorry for? I'm the one who- I mean- what?"

"Very eloquent, Moony," he observes dryly. "I mean to say, I'm sorry she fancied me and not you."

Moony is silent. Then, "Sirius," he says warily. "Of course she liked you."

"Moony, don't be so hard on yourself!" he exclaims. "You're a perfectly nice bloke, it's just she's a conceited, evil, stupid"-

"Sirius." That tone of Moony's always makes him grin, the Shut up, you idiot tone.

"Yes."

"Were you- trying to help me pull Ellen Hallowell?" Remus asks, voice shaking. Sirius can't tell if it's from repressed laughter or anger, although he devoutly hopes it's the former.

"Yes, Moony," he says slowly as if he were talking to Peter, because he's never thought Remus was thick before, but he's beginning to wonder. "And I botched it, as I said."

To his relief, Moony begins to laugh. Hard. Sirius enjoys it when Moony laughs like this, his hands grabbing his knees for support while he rocks back and forth with amusement. He enjoys it so much that he lets it go for a minute or two and even joins in nervously- "Yes. Ahahaha."- then jostles him and hisses, "Why are you laughing?"

"Oh," Remus gasps, wiping his eyes with the hem of his robes. "You barmy git, I don't fancy Ellen Hallowell. I thought you did. I wondered why you made me come to the Library with you- you were trying to get us to snog on the table, weren't you."

He slides his eyes away guiltily, but cannot deny the hot blooming feeling in his stomach at Remus's words.

"Yes!" he cries joyfully, clutching Remus's robes and shaking him. "And it didn't work!"

He seizes Moony and hugs him so hard that Moony winces and mumbles, "Oi, you tosser, that hurts," but he's grinning while he says it, and Sirius keeps his arm companionably around Moony's shoulder the rest of the trip, feeling that the world is a lovely place indeed.

Just as one of James's pawns cuts off Peter's queen's head and James looks up, his mouth and eyes forming a question, the train shudders to a stop. Sirius can see Kreacher waiting patiently for him, but even the sight of Kreacher's ugly little face cannot dampen his spirits, and he fairly dances off the train. James's parents descend upon him in the manner of locusts, which James would like to pretend is annoying, but which they all know he secretly misses. They wave to Sirius and he grins cheekily back. He's very fond of James's merry, young-hearted parents. Peter's mother drags him off and he and Remus are left standing alone. Kreacher has not seen him yet.

"Moony," he says hurriedly. "I forgot to give you this before. It's something to fix your lip." He fumbles in his pockets for the small phial of healing balm he made yesterday. Without thinking, he opens it, scoops some onto his thumb (after wiping his hands on his robe- how did he get charcoal on them?) and reaches out, smearing the slick stuff on that swollen, lush red lip. Remus's big dark eyes are wide and startled, and he suddenly realizes that he's touching Moony's mouth. He is touching. Moony's mouth. His index finger is tilting Moony's chin up and they are stuck staring at each other, and suddenly Moony doesn't look startled anymore. His ridiculously long lashes lower so he's looking at Sirius's hand, then they lift and really look at Sirius and the world stutters

and

stops.

When it whirls into motion again he snatches his hand away from Moony's mouth. That same liquid, heated feeling in his belly begins to unfurl and he expects his mind will start babbling nonsense about being mates, but all is curiously silent. He's breathing as though he's been running a race, but he can't stop looking at Moony's face, at that tiny something around his eyes and mouth that has always held his attention, the thing he has suddenly, thunderingly, figured out, like a key appearing in his hand.

The moment is broken when Kreacher spots him and begins to screech. "Master Sirius, what is your mother saying about being home on time? And Kreacher will have to tell Mistress that you is associating with filth, young Master is already a disappointment to Mistress and she will not be pleased, filthy Half-blood boy with shabby clothes"-

"Shut UP, Kreacher!" he roars furiously, but he turns to go anyway, stumbling a little, still looking at Moony, who is looking back with an enigmatic half-smile on his face. "I- I'll owl you. Maybe we can all go to James's"-

"Maybe," Remus says, and it's a simple word, but Sirius can suddenly read the code written therein. Moony's words have become an Arithmancy problem he has learnt the legend to, and they will never be so simple to him again. "Good-bye, Sirius."

"'Bye Moony," he replies, and walks away from him toward the Portkey. The weeks stretching before him are suddenly less daunting in their misery, he thinks as he touches the old shoe. The edges of his lips curl into a satisfied smile. He will spend them fine-tuning his decryption skills. He has a feeling he will be needing them.