Fic: In The Turning of the Times for daphnaea

[liseuse.livejournal.com]

Title: In The Turning of the Times
Author: liseuse
Written for: daphnaea
Rating: PG-13, but for innuendo and swearing.
Prompt: Muggle London
Summary: A year in the life. Complete with singing and ducks.
Any other notes, warnings, etc.: No warnings. All thanks and relief goes to my wonderful beta rose71. All mistakes, obviously, belong to me. Enjoy!



It was the middle of February when they buried Gideon. Snow was melting on the ground as they stood around the grave. Remus thought that they were a strange mix of mourners; Gideon's family, in floods of tears; Dumbledore, looking wise; members of the Order, looking guilty and aware of their own mortality and near misses.

Remus could hear the sounds of everyday life from beyond the graveyard. An ambulance wailing, children shouting and the ever present hum of noise that made up London. He'd woken up, that morning, to a world covered in snow and Sirius snuffling into his shoulder. It all seemed a world away from this cold graveyard and, as he looked across the grave, Arthur's look of helplessness as Molly used his shoulder as a place to muffle her sobs.

"Promise me that my send-off will be more fun." Sirius said later, as they clutched drinks and made small talk.

"What?" Remus asked. "Do you want naked dancers? Shall I ask Xenophilius to do a skit?"

"No, you berk." Sirius twitched his lips in something that could approximate a smile. It was, Remus thought, an odd contrast with how austere he looked in his crisp suit. "Just don't let everyone get maudlin. I want a knees-up. Lil' begging James not to sing. Peter regaling people with tales of past glories. That sort of thing. None of this doom and gloom."

Remus ran a hand through his hair. "I imagine that by the time you die we'll all be glad to get rid of you."

"Thanks very much, Moony." Sirius grinned and took a mouthful of beer. "It's just that this is so respectful. Gideon was a fun bloke. I remember him pranking Mr. Thrupenny who ran the sweet shop in Hogsmeade. He made him think that all the Sherbet Lemons had turned into earwigs. It took old Dumbledore, over there, coming in and asking for an ounce to make him see sense. It was the most hilarious thing I had ever seen. And everyone is behaving like the Minister of Magic died."

"Gideon was our friend, you insensitive idiot." Remus gritted his teeth, and thumped his drink down on a nearby table. "All right, perhaps it wasn't the Pope that died, but it was someone who was important to everyone in this room. Someone who could have been any of us. You were there that night. I would have been. Hell, should have been if it weren't for the sodding full moon. James was there. Gideon was unlucky, and he died. And it could have been one of us. Of course people are miserable."

"I'm not saying I don't feel bad. That I don't feel guilty that I'm alive and Gideon isn't. That I got away with a spell blast to the foot and two days on the fucking sofa. I'm just saying we're treating this like a wake for the boring uncle that we all have. Not for someone who was our friend and someone who was fun to be with." Sirius huffed, in exasperation, and undid a button of his jacket. "I liked Gideon. Really." Lowering his voice and leaning in a little to Remus, he continued, "Gideon was the first bloke I ever kissed. Behind the statue of Boris the Bewildered."

"You never told me that. I always thought the first bloke you kissed was Padraig." Remus quirked his eyebrow at Sirius and shifted a little closer. "I used to see you looking at his arse in his Quidditch gear."

Sirius laughed. As usual it was loud and barking, and completely incongruous in the setting. He arranged his face apologetically and turned back to Remus. "His arse was amazing. But he was going out with that Ravenclaw girl. Xanthe? I think that was her name. She was a friend of 'Meda's. And Padraig had known her since they were babes in arms. No one else ever stood a chance. So Gideon it was."

Remus nodded. "Xanthe Merridew. Long blonde hair. Used to help out with remedial potions. She works for Pepper-Up these days."

"I'd ask how you know that," Sirius said in a wondering tone, "but we'd best prepare to comfort people. I can see Molly heading our way."

--

April rolled around in a haze of fighting and trying to work enough hours to keep food on the table. Remus knew, sensibly, that it was ridiculous to feel as if he was sponging off Sirius. After all Sirius had not had to pay for the flat, exactly. It had all been paid for through his inheritance from Alphard, and Sirius worked. But when Sirius felt able to spend some huge sum of money on a motorbike, and Remus was struggling to buy a coat that would keep him warm through the coldest winter and spring he had ever known, all that seemed very far away. But finally it was April and the sun was beginning to struggle through again, and Remus found himself walking companionably with Sirius through St. James's Park with a bag of somewhat old and stale bread that he planned to feed to the ducks, and that he knew, from past experience, that Sirius was going to fling it at the ducks in the hope of getting them to play fetch.

"Oh the sun has got his hat on!" Sirius warbled, startling a group of small children who were dashing about nearby.

"Please do not sing in public, Sirius." Remus asked plaintively. "We all know where that ends, and I have no desire to end up explaining you to the old bill ever again. I don't think they appreciated your rendition of 'A Wizard's Staff'."

"But it's sunny! Finally! After endless months of trying to dash in between raindrops I can finally feel the sun on my back." Sirius tilted his head back, and closed his eyes against the sun. "Aren't you happy about it?"

"I am," admitted Remus. "Not as happy as you though."

"No one is ever as happy as I am." Sirius grinned hugely, and then grabbed the bag of bread from Remus' hand. "Come on ducks! Time to learn this game called fetch."

Remus stood back, and enjoyed the sight of Sirius flinging bread as far across the pond as he could, and then yelling at the ducks to stop eating it and bring it back to him. He came back to earth with a jump when a small child tugged on his sleeve. "'Scuse me mister, but do you know him?" The small child pointed, with an awestruck look on her face, at the sight of Sirius dancing along the edge of the pond.

"Sadly, yes." Remus sighed. "He's perfectly safe. And I'm sure he'd love a companion in his idiot game." The small child's face exploded into a grin, and Remus was left wishing he'd brought the camera as he sat down and watched Sirius and the small girl try and throw the bread further than each other.

--


After a cold and dismal start to the year the summer had come in unceasingly hot and oppressive. Remus thought, wistfully, of the days in the depth of winter when heading down the steps to the tube had been a pleasure. When he'd welcomed the blast of heat as he got to the platform, and the crush of warm bodies filling the carriage. Now all he could feel was his shirt sticking to his back, and the warm air gusting out of the tunnels. It was enough to make him consider walking home, but after a day spent on his feet being polite to people and the night before that spent poring over yet another of Dumbledore's scrolls it was all he could do to cling onto the pole and try and make it three stops without collapsing in an exhausted heap. Sirius wasn't faring any better. His shifts at St. Mungo's were tiring enough without being out and about all hours on errands and missions for the Order. It felt, Remus thought, a little melodramatically, like the last time they had seen each other properly was in May. Now it was all hurried good-byes being called from the door, and snatched kisses as one of them Apparated to yet another meeting.

"Remus, is that you?" Sirius called as Remus swung the front door open and dropped his bag gratefully.

'No, it's the milkman. I'm here to steal all your valuables. Where are you?" Remus yelled, as he pulled his shirt over his head and shuddered, slightly, as the cooler air of the flat hit his skin.

"In the bedroom." Sirius yelled back. "Could you leave the turntable at least? I need it to piss Remus off."

"All right then, it's a piece of junk. Doubt it'd fetch anything." Remus grinned as he opened the bedroom door and saw Sirius sprawled on the bed, almost naked. "What a lovely sight to come home to. Just what I needed after the day from hell."

Sirius smirked and flapped a hand in Remus' direction. "I'd offer you some more cheering up, but it's too hot to move. Get your kit off and come and lie down on the bed. I've finally got that localised cooling charm to work. Lil' nipped in to work today and showed me how."

Remus tugged his shirt over his head and kicked his shoes off. When he was flat on the bed he shimmied out of his trousers and sighed in relief as the cool air hit his skin. "Did it have to do with the flick at the end or the trouble we were all having with not sounding like McGonagall when it came to all the r's?"

"Flick. Apparently you can roll as many r's as you want and it will have no effect. The flick's bloody tricky though." Sirius flung a hand out carelessly, and grabbed the ashtray off the bedside cabinet. Balancing it on his stomach he reached out again and fumbled in the drawer. "Ah hah! I knew we hadn't finished it!" Triumphantly he held out half a joint,.

"Excellent." Remus said as he summoned his lighter. "So how does the flick work?"

Sirius took a drag, and exhaled slowly. "Remember that night when you pushed me into the alley and did that thing with your wrist?"

"Vividly." Remus smirked, and took the joint off Sirius. "Like that? Huh. Perhaps we'd better practice it then. After all, it looks like being a long, hot summer."

--

Christmas, Remus realised suddenly, was only a few days away. The summer had indeed been long and hot, and had stretched well into October. Which, along with November, had been taken up with mini disasters and tragedy and the occasional fight with Sirius. How Remus had found himself two weeks from Christmas with no idea about it baffled him. Realistically he knew he'd seen headlines in the Prophet, but they had been muted. No one wanted to shout and dance over the Season of Joy and Light when people were dying in their droves. The spirit of Christmas seemed more likely to be vodka than mirth this year. Nonetheless it was Christmas, and something had to be done to celebrate.

"Sirius?" Remus called. "Where on earth are you?" How he managed to not be able to find someone so loud and larger than life in their, frankly, tiny flat astonished him.

"M'in the bath." Sirius' voice echoed out from the bathroom.

Remus shuffled down the hall, nearly tripping over Sirius' discarded boots. "You do know it's nearly Christmas, right?" He said as he opened the door. Sirius was lounging in the bath, idly thwacking a yellow rubber duck so it would bounce over the swells.

"It had come to my attention, yes." Sirius looked up, and then grinned. "You hadn't forgotten? Moony, Moony, Moony, what are we to do with you? Too many hours doing research. Causes brain fever." Sirius picked up the duck and held it close to his nose. "Mr. Quackers, our dear Moonshine over there forgot Christmas! Whatever shall we do with him?"

"And I'm the one with brain fever." Remus muttered as he shifted Sirius' towel off the toilet lid. "Do we have any idea what anyone wants? Or where we're going for Christmas? Are we going anywhere? Is someone going to come up with some harebrained plan that sends you all to Exeter whilst I sit here translating things and then having to talk you through them in tiny baby steps? Is 'Meda going to give us another of her cakes? Because, honestly, I don't think my teeth could withstand another one."

"Calm down." Sirius laughed. "It's just Christmas. 'Meda will probably give us another cake. We'll just use this one as a doorstop instead of trying to eat it. No one will be sent anywhere. After all, even Death Eaters want to spend time with their families." Sirius looked at Mr. Quackers and said, solemnly, "Isn't that so, Mr. Quackers." Putting down the duck and reaching for his towel, Sirius continued, "We'll go to the midnight service at St. Paul's, wander home and sit on the balcony drinking and seeing in Christmas. Does that sound good?"

Remus nodded, and looked up at Sirius, stood in front of him, wrapped only in a towel. "It does. Sorry. It's just that I can't believe I didn't notice Christmas sneaking up. It was always such a big deal at school. This year has just gone by so fast. And I am so glad we are both here."

"Oh shut up you big soft girl." Sirius snickered, and tugged Remus up by the hand. "Come on, I could do with a hand drying my back."

Comments

[liseuse.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm growing ever fond of the narrative uses of a passing year. And I too adore Mr Quackers. Thank you for reading!