Not Another Band AU

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Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/F, F/M, M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Marlene
McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Alice Longbottom/Frank Longbottom
Character: Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Lily Evans
Potter, Marlene McKinnon, Dorcas Meadowes, Mary Macdonald, Benjy
Fenwick, Frank Longbottom, Alice Longbottom, Fabian Prewett,
Emmeline Vance, Albus Dumbledore, Aberforth Dumbledore, Alastor
"Mad-Eye" Moody, Regulus Black
Additional Tags: Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Weed, Drinking, pot, Smoking, Punk
Rock, PTSD, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Gay Remus
Lupin, Bi Sirius Black, Muggle AU, AU, Welsh Remus, Band Fic, Tall
Remus Lupin, Bad Ass Lily Evans, Desi James Potter, Panic Attacks,
Anxiety, Grief/Mourning, Childhood Trauma
Language: English
Collections: My favorite gays aka Wolfstar, best wolfstar, the best marauders fics
, this is becoming a problem, marauders favorites, Would sell my
family to read these for the first time again, TbrWolfstarbabe,
h0m0sexual, Harry Potter Fics!
Stats: Published: 2021-10-18 Completed: 2022-11-01 Words: 236,716
Chapters: 21/21

Not Another Band AU

by TheLovelyZee

Summary

“God,” He said in a hushed tone so light that Remus wasn’t sure he was hearing the word
right. “What did I do to deserve you? To have you?”

He had Remus. He had every single bit of Remus, wrapped up in paper and set in front of
him on Christmas day. Remus let out a pained gust of air through his nose, face twisting
into a look that said please don’t do this to me. Don’t give me something I want so much if
you don’t mean it.

Marauders' rise to fame through the the trials and tribulations of sex, drugs, being in love
with your best mate and James' Potter's absolute obsession with one bad-ass female
drummer.
Notes

Hello!

The title says it all. Tags will be updated as we go.

Enjoy the playlist here! Will be updated as more chapters are put out. Anything Remus
writes that isn’t put into a song is my own words. Any song lyrics are obviously songs. All
songs mentioned are found in the playlist. Additionally, the songs are in order to go along
with the story so start from 1 and then 2 etc.

UPDATE 7/20/22: I have received a few requests to translate. I am more than happy to
allow you to do that. Please message me on one of my socials to discuss. Additionally,
please do not post to Wattpad in any capacity

Cheers loves x

TW for chapter: weed, drugs, alcohol, general lad-y-ness

See the end of the work for more notes

 One
Chapter Notes

CHPT EDITED: 8/12/22

One

If you asked him what was his favourite part about being in a band, he wouldn’t say the booze, he
wouldn’t say the screams of the fans and he certainly wouldn’t say the girls.

Remus Lupin would say the thirty minutes before show time that he spent outside, blowing smoke
up into the night sky as it peered down on him with a knowing smirk.

He’d played a gig more times than he could count, yet his hands still shook every time. In
anticipation, in nervousness and in the general splendour that was putting himself out there to be
perceived. The adrenaline coursing through his body was like opium, addictive and otherworldly.
He craved this point more than the feeling of the strings on the bass or the neck of the guitar under
his calloused fingers. The waiting for that feeling. The feeling of something wondrous and ethereal
to hit his body and send his spirit flying into nirvana, just as Cobain had described it.

It was all captured in the subtle shake of his hands around the flimsy, hand rolled cigarette
balanced between his index finger and thumb. He blew out another cloud of grey and let his head
rest against the wall.

The metal door that led to the alley behind the pub clattered open. A man with inky black hair,
jutting off his pale skin like the ink etched into it, opened the door. He looked around, eyebrows
pinched before turning and breaking into a large smile as he saw Remus. He let the door clatter
behind him, white teeth still gleaming in the light of the alley, and sauntered over to Remus.

He clapped him on the shoulder. “There you are, you moody git.”

“Present,” Remus said with a snort. He took a long drag sinking back and rolling his head to look at
the other man. “Alright?”

Sirius Black’s smile grew wider. “Alright!? I’m proper buzzing! This is a big one! A real pub.
God, I’m absolutely losing it!”

Remus took another pull, holding it in as he spoke. “A real pub.”

“Yeah and somehow you’re out here being all sulky Moody Moony.”

Another drag. “Moody is my middle name.”

“Isn’t it John?”

“I’ve been thinking about legally changing it.”

“Remus Moody Lupin,” It was Sirius’s turn to snort. “I prefer John.”

“Of course you prefer John. It’s the only bloody normal name between us, Sirius Orion. You’re a
damn astrology chart.”

“Because I shine like a star, darling .”

Remus huffed a half a laugh before taking a final pull of the spliff and rendering it nearly gone.
“Only when you wear those god awful disco pants.”

“You said they were cool! D’you lie?”

“Perhaps,” Remus pondered. “Only to save your oh-so fragile ego from being bruised.”

“Fragile, my arse,” Sirius grumbled. He looked back up at Remus and stuck his palm out, making
grabby hands for the spliff that was smoking into the air. He passed it over.

“S’almost gone. Oh and it’s weed too.”

“How on brand,” Sirius drawled before taking a long pull and blowing it back into the air. He
dropped the filter on the ground before stomping on it with the thick platform of his boot. He
looked back up at Remus, eyes bright and mouth stretched into a precarious grin.

Remus’ stomach did a cartwheel. His right eye twitched. Sirius caught it and laughed before
slapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Smoke another, yeah? You’re all twitchy tonight,” He turned on his heel and walked back to the
metal door, wrenching it open with a wink in Remus’ direction.

Remus brushed his hand through the sandy curls perched on top of his head, exasperated sigh
leaving his lips. He wished he hadn’t left the half-full pack of cigarettes in the backstage room. The
after effects of a moment with Sirius always left his body on high alert. A dash of something
carcinogenic usually did the trick at bringing him back down from space. With a resounding sigh
and shake of his head, he rolled his shoulders, adjusted the hem of his tee and pulled the door open,
letting the roar of the pub mute his thoughts.

Remus had figured out he was gay in when he was seven. Oscar Johnson was his thirteen year old
neighbour. One night, Oscar looked at him in such a way that it sent all his blood to his prick with
the force of a bullet train. The blood not in his prick hit the tips of his ears as he ducked his head. It
kept happening, only with boys (never with girls), and Remus figured, that was that. He was as gay
as Elton.

He managed to make it seem normal until he left for boarding school. It was there he realised he
had a big, fat, disgusting crush on his roommate. Ten years later, nothing had been able to change
the crush. In fact, Remus thought it got worse with the broadening of his shoulders, the deepening
of his voice and the amount of leather in his closet. He’d tried to shove the feelings for Sirius so
deep within the back of his mind that they barely had enough air to breathe, but it was rather hard
when the prick looked like that .

Sirius Black was, on all accounts, bloody gorgeous. There wasn’t an inch of skin on his toro or
arms that wasn’t covered in jet-black ink that popped off his alabaster skin like a damn 3-D movie.
Beneath the skin was toned muscle from years of fucking about and running away and the sheer
will of god. His hair was black as night and hung loosely around his shoulders when it wasn’t
swept in a bun and held together with a leather band. He let his hair down when they performed,
swinging his head around and claiming it was “punk rock” as if every other part of him wasn’t the
embodiment of the phrase. He’d usually accompany his look with the tightest black tee shirt he
could find and an equally as tight pair of black drain pipe trousers.
Remus noticed they cupped his arse deliciously as he popped back into their room backstage. Sirius
was scrolling through his phone, casually sipping a beer with his hip propped against the wall. The
light sounds of a tuning bass followed him and Remus turned to see a larger, blonde-haired man
fiddling with his instrument. He noticed Remus out of the corner of his eye and sat up straight,
shoving the bass out with one hand.

“Sorry, Moony,” He muttered under his breath. “Was just tuning her for you.”

“Cheers, Pete,” He grabbed the instrument and slumped on the broken couch next to the man and
began fiddling with it himself. Pete grabbed at the guitar sitting next to him and went at it next,
strumming along with Remus as he went.

“I can’t find my other fucking stick!” came a voice from the doorway.

Remus tipped his eyes up to be met with the piercing brown eyes of their drummer, James. His hair
was more unruly than usual, a sign he’d been carding his hands through it in a fit of duress. The
glasses perched on his face were slightly crooked (as they always were). His flannel shirt was
hanging half on his shoulder and half on his bicep. His usually golden brown complexion was a bit
red, out of exertion, Remus figured. He looked like a right mess. Then again, “right mess” and
“James Potter” were a bit synonymous.

A drum stick flew across the room and James caught it deftly, sighing in relief. “Bloody fuck ,
Pads!” He exclaimed, crossing the room and shoving Sirius in the arm. “If you take it at least let
me know!”

“I didn’t take it, you tosser,” Sirius replied. “It was sitting on your kit.”

James ran a hand over his face with a groan. “Fuck! I could’ve sworn it wasn’t there when I
looked,” He spun around on his heel, twiddling the drum sticks as he went before bending over and
trying to touch his toes. He shot up and spun around again, looking at Remus and Peter and waving
his arms hysterically.

“Are you lot not nervous?!”

“Little,” Remus said with a shrug.

Peter rang his wrists before looking up at James. “I mean sort of?”

“Oi!” Sirius interjected. “Smoke a bit of Moony’s magic herb and chill the fuck out.”

“None left,” Remus mumbled, mid-lighting the cigarette he was craving before he’d walked back
into the madness.

Sirius frowned and James looked absolutely distraught with the news.

“You brought drugs and didn’t share?” James’ voice sounded small and sad.

Remus shrugged. “You lot don’t smoke s’much as me,”

“Doesn’t mean we don’t want a hit to calm the nerves, Lupin! First fucking big show!”

Remus fished around in the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a limp looking roll. He regarded
the spliff with trained eyes, flicking it with the side of his index figure before deciding it was
probably still smokable. He chucked it towards James who sputtered it in his hands before catching
it.

James grinned wickedly. “Alright, Moony!”

He pulled out his own lighter, lighting the spliff and taking a pull with a hulking cough. He shook
his head as he exhaled, glasses righting themselves back into place. He inhaled deeply and let out a
wild scream, causing everyone in the room to stop moving and stare at him.

“Come on lads!” James ruffled Peter’s hair, strummed a hand across Remus’ bass then threw his
entire body at Sirius, sending the black haired man stumbling into another broken couch with a
glare. He ended his tirade around the room by throwing his hands in the air.

“First big gig!” He cheered. The rest of the room was less enthused.

Sirius stood up from where he’d been knocked over and muttered under his breath. “This is why
Remus doesn’t let you smoke.”

James ignored him, settling on a crooked folding chair and pulling a loose piece of paper into his
hands. He cleared his throat, tapping the paper with the knuckle of his index finger.

“Okay so setlist,” He began. “So I’m thinkin’ ‘Sixteen’ to start us off strong, let the crowd know
our mood you know? Then we shimmy into ‘Blew’ so Moonbeam here can show off that he’s dual
instrumentally talented. Finally end with Reptilia because Sirius thinks he finally got the main riff.”

Sirius slumped down on a sad looking bean bag next to James, his mouth holding the spliff James
had taken a single hit of. “It’s sounding killer, really.”

Remus snorted and reached over to pluck the spliff out of Sirius’ mouth, revelling in the fake
pained expression Sirius gave him. He pulled at the crooked joint then made a face: tasted a bit like
the way James’ laundry detergent smelled. He took another pull anyway then rolled his head back
to look at Sirius.

“You played it during soundcheck. Can’t say I’d agree.”

“Shiniest Moonbeam,” Sirius drawled. “That was pre-Mary Jane. We all know my favourite girl
makes my fingers even smoother.” He mimicked playing in the air.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Alright, yeah. If you think we can swing it, Prongs.”

“Absolutely!” James had never been more sure of himself. He clapped Peter on the shoulder.
“Wormy you good for the background guitar?”

Peter sat up straighter, his voice was small. “Um, well I was thinking –”

“Good!” James cheered. He turned back to the other two men. “So we’re ready? That’s the set?”

Remus sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, the still smoking joint held between his fingers.
“What if we end with one of our own?”
James and Sirius both leaned in, eyes wide and brows raised slightly in curiosity. James spoke,
voice falsely deep. “I’m listening.”

“We practised Chop this morning,” Remus said. “Sounded fucking brilliant, if I do say so me-self.”

James leaned back, eyeing the tall, spindly man cautiously. “If you think it’s ready, it is.”

Remus did think it still needed a bit of fine tuning. As far as the words, they’d been set in stone
since he wrote them. The guitar part was a brainchild of him and Sirius. James had paired an
absolutely banging beat to go with it. All of the words had been transferred into cords and notes
and patterns in a delicate recipe of madness. The only issue was what to do with Peter. They’d
given him another guitar to mimic the main riff but it wasn’t exactly necessary and Peter was not
nearly as skilled as Remus or Sirius.

More rather than less, the song was ready. They’d only played it to themselves and Remus was
feeling a spur of courage, possibly due to the two joints and possibly due to the fact that Sirius was
looking at him with those beautiful wide grey eyes –.

He looked back at James. “It’s ready.”

Sirius clapped his hands together, a wild smile on his mouth. “That’s that then!” He ran a hand
through his hair, shaking it from the bun and wrapping the band around his wrist. “First gig and
first time playing our song?”

James sighed, heavy and deep. He grabbed at the spliff Remus was still holding. He tilted the mop
of hair on top of his head back before taking a long drag and promptly choking.

“I needed that,” He sputtered through coughs.

The door to the room clattered open. A small brown-haired woman with more facial piercings than
Remus could count popped her head in. She looked bored.

“Marauders?” She called.

“That’s us!” Sirius cheered back.

“Right. You’re on in five,” She slammed the door shut. James clapped his hands together.

“Let’s crack on, lads.”

--

The band before them was finishing up as they rounded up backstage. Sirius was jumping around
with James, absolutely buzzing with excitement. Peter was peering out from behind the curtain to
look at the crowd, his hands plastered on the “BAND SHOWCASE” poster glued to the bricks
backstage with the list of participating bands. He snapped back around, face mottled in fear.

“Oh fuck, Remus,” He whispered hurriedly. “That’s a lot of people. Gotta be at least fifty.”

Remus laughed, nudging the shorter boy with his hip. “Don’t worry, Worm. Just pretend we’re still
in the basement of that house in Middlesex.”

“Alright,” Peter sighed, still jittery.

The band before them gave a few more enthusiastic riffs before all three of the players launched
their picks into the roaring crowd. The singer screamed something into the microphone with wild
enthusiasm, and no annunciation, before they all sauntered off stage. Sirius was still bouncing
around and the very metal looking band gave him a strange look as they passed him. He didn’t
flinch, just kept staring ahead and moving his weight from right foot to left foot before letting out a
long puff of air and pushing past his three other bandmates.

“Alright lads!” He cheered as he went.

Remus laughed and looked at James, who’d become much more stoned in the last few minutes
since they’d left the dressing room. His eyes were red and half closed behind his glasses as he
shrugged and raced after Sirius, shaking his shoulders to the roar of the crowd. Remus shoved
Peter in the back and then all four of them were on the stage.

The lights were harsh and biting, cutting into Remus’ eyes and making him squint. They hid the
majority of the crowd from the musicians. He couldn’t tell how many people were in the pub or
how big the pub even was. He held his guitar in his hand, delegated to play lead for the first song
then pass off the duty to Sirius for the remaining set. He stroked over the blood-red 1998 Fender
Stratocaster. The crowd roared as Sirius’ licked his lips and gripped one black-nailed hand around
the microphone. He peered out into the crowd with fire behind his eyes.

“We’re Marauders and this is ‘Sixteen’ but we’re actually twenty-six.”

The crowd sang with excitement so loud that Remus could barely hear his own laugh over the
noise. He strummed once on the guitar before launching into the riff. His hands played it once,
then twice, bobbing his head on the third when the smack of James’ drumsticks against the drums.
He was a hair behind the beat and letting off a slew of curse words before finally catching up with
Remus. The riff went twice more, before Sirius pressed his lips to the mic and started to croon.

“You know I don't like dancin'

An' I don't like to bop

Too much movement's exertion

Makes me wish I could drop

Dro' dro' dro' drop

An' I don't like French kissin'

'cause you swallow my tongue

And you think that you're, oh so very old

You only want me 'cause you think I'm so young

Yo' yo' yo' young”

Remus felt his brain melt into his fingers, strumming along to the words that Sirius had burned into
his head for the past few months as they’d been practising. James was fully into the swing of it
now and even Peter looked less tense as the sound of their hearts soared through the air and into
the ears of the patrons.

“All right
Okay

No way”

He flipped the looper on with the tap of his foot, sending the main riff echoing through the pub
without his fingers before launching into the secondary tab, fingers moving swiftly and melodically
across the neck of the guitar, strumming as if he life was built into the reverbed noises coming
through the speakers around them. Playing was like riding a bike to Remus, he did it once and
could do it again no matter what state he was in. He figured on his deathbed, he’d still be
strumming away like he did when he was thirteen.

“An' I wish, I was sixteen again

Then things would be such fun

All the things I'd do would be the same

But they're much more fun

Than when you're twenty wo' wo' wo' wo' wo' one

All right

Okay

No way ”

Sirius corrected himself over the roar of the drums through the mic on the last chorus, loudly
reminding the audience that they were, in fact, twenty-six. He shot a wink to the pink-haired
woman in the front row.

Remus dipped his head down, flipping on the looper once again before launching into the tab
again then spiralling into the guitar solo they’d planned out for him. His hair was fully shielding
him from the crowd, locking him in his own world of sharp Cs and flat Ds. He played the final
note before launching back into the opening riff and turning around to signal James to start back in.
The crowd roared as the drum kicked in again and Remus looked up to see Sirius eyeing him,
tongue pressed under his bottom lip. He spun back around to face the crowd and scream out the last
lines with fever.

“An' I hate modern music

Disco boogie pop

They go on an' on an' on an' on an' on

How I wish they would stop!”

The final bang of the notes from the four echoed throughout the pub and were slowly drowned out
by the praise of the crowd. Remus spun around, lip tugged between his teeth, to look at James. He
was smiling wildly and gave two more bangs on his snare. He shifted back to look at Sirius, who
had a near identical look plastered on his own lips. Sirius threw him a wink and Remus shook his
head, tipping it down to hide the blush creeping across his cheeks.

The next two songs went almost as well as the first. The only minor mishaps were when Peter
missed the final note on the background guitar for ‘Blew’ and when Sirius muddled a bit too many
of the notes for the bridge of ‘Reptilia’. Peter had received a glare from Sirius during the first
muck up but shot it right back at the dark-haired man after his guitar gave a screech during the
final moment of ‘Reptilia.’ Turns out, James had been wrong and Sirius did not, and could not
have, swing it. There was a bit of tension in the air as the stage hands ran out three microphones to
accompany the first for their final song. Their first two songs had been electric and the last one had
been less than great.

“Right,” Sirius said into the microphone, licking his lips. His hands resting on the bass he’d traded
with Remus. “So this is an original of ours. It’s the first time we're playing it, so don’t be too mean.
Moony, any words?”

Remus’ head shot up and he blinked at Sirius. He never spoke during sets and now here he was in
front of their largest crowd yet. He adjusted the microphone in front of him.

“I – er –,” He stuttered. “I wrote this song when I was sixteen. It’s about people knowing you. Uh,
cheers.”

Sirius laughed into the mic before turning around and waiting for the clack of James’ drum sticks
hitting together to play them all in. Peter started shortly after the other three, shaking a set of
shakers he’d been given. It was a bit comedic. They all spun around and continued to play as Sirius
put his mouth up to the microphone.

“I know

You've got me all pinned down

I know

You've really worked me out”

The main tab for the song came flooding into Remus’ brain as the memory of when he first wrote
it. He was sitting on his bed at school, watching Sirius toss a ball into the air as he hung off the
side of his bed. His hair had been flayed out like a curtain.

“Moons,”

“What?”

“Whatcha doin’?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing, Padfoot?”

Sirius twisted around to sit back up on his bed, back straight as a board against the wall. His hair
was beginning to curl around his jaw and he constantly needed to push it back behind his ears.
They had bunked off maths in order to smoke a cigarette out of their window and were still
currently in their uniforms. Sirius's shirt was ruffled from his previous state. He ran his hands over
it to smooth it out as he spoke.

“Looks like you’re writing.”

Remus hummed. “I am. Had this line stuck in my head all day but it’s still a bit messy,”

“Well go on,” Sirius said, waving towards the journal in Remus’ lap. “Let’s hear it.”

Remus tilted his head back up, allowing his eyes to fall on Sirius’ sharp grey ones. He nodded
slightly. He flipped through the leather bound notebook, a gift from Sirius the Christmas before,
splaying it open on his bed.

He cleared his voice before reading. “ ‘The ache you create hurts like a bullet in the brain’,” He
scratched at his head before looking back up at Sirius. “It doesn’t sound right. Sounds a bit literal,
don’t you think?”

Sirius shook his head, black hair flying out from behind his ears. “No, it’s good. I think you’re
overthinking it.”
“Overthinking it?” Remus frowned. “What d’you mean?”

“Well, you’re trying the feeling of how much it hurts, the feeling this bloke makes you feel, right?
What’s more painful than a bullet? It’s a powerful statement.”

Remus laughed. “Sure you don’t want to study literature at uni? That was a near methodical
analysis.”

“Naw,” Sirius said with a wave of his hand. His lips curled into a smile. “Just enjoy deciphering
you, is all.”

He was brought back to the stage as the lights changed from blinding white to a cool red. He
stepped toward the microphone, harmonising into it with the rest of the band. He turned his head to
Sirius as they all sung along to the chorus, Remus’ thumb still stroking at the chords below his
fingers.

“I will try to

Find a one to

Cut me up like you do”

His heart ached a bit in his chest as he sang the words that he’d pulled from between his ribs. James
began to bang on the kit a bit harder, sending vibrations into Remus’ skin and letting him feel the
end of the song start to creep up on them. The final words were chorused out from the four once
again, followed with the humming, James’ banging on the drums with passion and the final riff
from Remus’ guitar.

The pub erupted into cheers, screaming wildly. Remus was absolutely high with the roar of the
crowd, the hum of the air and the heaving of his chest as he tried to suck in oxygen to dull some of
the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Sirius took a deep bow before going back to the
microphone and shouting loudly into it.

“Thank you! We are Marauders! Have a good night!”

An electric pink object flew up onto the stage. Sirius caught it with one hand and waggled his
eyebrows at the person who’d launched it up there. Remus’ stomach flipped as he landed on the
dark black, pin-straight hair of Emmeline Vance. Her pouty lips were curved into a smile as she
shot a wink back at the man on the stage holding what had previously been tucked under the ultra-
tight shirt she was wearing. Remus rolled his eyes and stalked off the stage, guitar pulled from his
shoulders, neck held between his fingers in a death grip.

He huffed and tightened his grip as he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders. He whipped around,
fueled with rage to meet the startled gaze of James.

“Alright, Moony?”

Remus’ face softened. “Yeah, yeah sorry,”

James carded a hand through his hair and spun around, utterly bewildered. The next band was
stalking by him. He almost hit the bassist in the head when he threw his hands up.

“We bloody did it!” He half shouted. “We played a whole bloody gig at an actual venue! God, I
gotta call mum!”

He pushed past Remus and took off from backstage, drum sticks still held in his clammy palms.
Remus shook his head and turned back towards the stage to see Peter shoving Sirius off the stage.
Remus and Peter wore near identical sour expressions. Peter thwacked Sirius upside the head
causing him to twitch.

“What the fuck Pete? What was that for?”

“We had a good show and you’ve gone and made us look like total tossers!”

Sirius bristled. “I very well did not. Right Moony?”

Remus ran a hand over his face, the other hand still holding an iron grip on the neck of the guitar.
He tried to keep his voice as level as possible, despite the endless pit of rage and jealousy stirring
within him.
“You kind of did. I just don’t know why you couldn’t just keep it in your pants for two minutes.
You’ll see your girlfriend – “

“She is not my girlfriend!”

“Whatever. Just leave it for after the show next time, alright?”

Sirius sighed and threw his hands out, clearly not understanding where he went wrong. He dropped
his grimace and broke into a wild smile before jumping and throwing his arms around both Peter
and Remus, knocking their heads together and then ruffling them. The two started rubbing at their
temples, letting several sad “ows” out.

“First gig boys! Absolutely wicked ! Oi, where’s Prongs?”

“Gone to call his mum,” Remus said, shoving himself away from Sirius. The longer haired man
shot up straight.

“We agreed to call Effie together, that prick!” He shot off down the hallway and out of backstage
just as James had a minute before.

Both Remus and Peter laughed under their breaths, the slamming chords of the next band’s metal
rendition of “Shut Up and Dance” muting out any noise backstage. Remus threw a hand on the
shorter man’s shoulder before leaning in to scream into his ear.

“Come on. I’ll buy you a pint to celebrate,”

The two dipped off backstage, only stopping to put their instruments back in their dressing rooms
and collect Sirius and James from their enthusiastic conversation with Euphemia Potter. The older
Indian woman was positively giddy, sending the four of them thumbs up through the phone
screen.

After changing into something more apt for a dive bar in February, the four shuffled out into the
main area of the pub. Sirius leaned over the bar to order them each a drink, throwing one of many
fifty quid he usually had shoved in his pockets on the top of the bar. The four “cheers”ed following
a lengthy speech from James over the roar of the metal band playing behind them. The clink of the
glasses was lost to the screaming of the lead singer.
As Remus took a sip of his beer, a mass of black fishnets and long hair threw itself into Sirius’s
arms, effectively spilling the beer of the object of her affections all over Remus’s pant leg. He
grimaced as he whipped the remainder off of the leg of his jeans. They were the only ones in the
pub that didn’t smell like stale beer. He supposed now they did.

Emmeline pulled herself back from being lodged in the crook of Sirius’ neck and planted a sloppy
kiss on his lips, causing all three other Marauders to groan in disgust. Sirius flipped them the
finger. He pulled back from his snog and looked into Emmeline’s eyes, brushing the hair out of her
eyes.

“How we’re we?”

“Oh god! ” She moaned as if Sirius had made her come by even asking. “ So good baby! The guitar
solo for the second to last song was brill !”

“Second to last song?” James asked with a quirked eyebrow and smug smile. “You mean the one
he banged up?”

Emmeline scowled before pressing another disgustingly moist kiss on Sirius’ lips. “He was
amazing!”

Sirius smiled down at her. Despite the fact that he was short, Emmeline was shorter. It somehow
added the annoyance that Remus felt for Emmeline, as if her genetics were something she could
control. Remus loomed over everyone like a tree and Emmeline floated around like something out
of Disneyland.

“Emsies,” Sirius cooed. “Where are the girls?”

Emmeline pressed her hands to his chest. “Oh! They’re over there. I can get them if you like!
They’re not big on the screaming stuff.”

“Me either,” Said Pete, covering his ears with his half drunken pint and his unoccupied hand.
“Giving me a bloody headache.”
Emmeline gave him a look of confusion, and mild disgust, before turning back to Sirius, eagerly
awaiting his reply.

“Go on,” He said. “I want to celebrate a bit with the boys—” She began to pout and he slapped the
side of her hip, lovingly. “—buuuut, I’ll text you later, yeah?”

She gave him a small smile, biting her lip. “Okay,” She threw her arms around him for another
sloppy snog before pulling back and pressing her hand to the area right above his crotch.

“Bye Siri,” She drawled before turning her head and looking at Remus. “Bye Remus.”

She flittered off back into the crowd of unenthused patrons and Remus shook his head, bewildered.

“Why does she always say goodbye to me?”

“Probably looking for a cheeky three-way,” Peter suggested.

“She does know I’m gay, right?”

Sirius threw his arm around Remus. “It’s not gay if it’s in a three-way, Moons.”

“Cock in your arse is pretty gay–”

“Oi,” Peter slammed his hands over his ears. “None of that, please.”

Sirius chuckled and shook Remus’s shoulder. “Just trying to bring him to the wild side.”

James groaned. “Don’t tarnish Moony. He’s the only one who’s been able to avoid any Padfoot-
related nonsense,”

Not because I wouldn’t enjoy it, Remus thought to himself. He felt the heat rise up his cheeks and
pushed Sirius’ arm off from around his neck. “I’m all set on Padfoot-related nonsense. Living with
him for years gives you enough to last a lifetime.”

Sirius let out a deep laugh, tossing his head back. “Oh come off it. You love me and my nonsense.”

More than you think.

“Sure.”

James took a swig of his beer then pushed his glasses back up his face, peering around the bar.
“D’you reckon I can find someone to take home?”

The three others groaned into their beers. James threw his arms out, looking more lost than ever.

“What?!”

“Prongs, my lovely, dearest darling,” Sirius started. “You are absolute shite with the ladies.”

“Remember Kristina Harmond in year eleven?” Peter choked out between laughs.

James shook his head. “Never looked at spaghetti the same,” He stood up straight. “That was aeons
ago, lads! I am a charming, lovely, band-having bloke with a tight arse and a cool tattoo.”

Remus snorted. “Yes, one tattoo of your mum’s name on your bicep.”

“Alright then, tell me I’m not fit as all hell?!”

He held out his arms, allowing his three best friends to give him a once over. His hair had gotten
more wild since they’d played and was sticking up ridiculously. His glasses looked like something
a grandfather would wear. His jeans were a size too small (“Sirius said it was cool!”) and we're a
weird light blue acid wash. The shirt he was wearing was covered in stains and the flannel on top of
it was wrinkled and holey.
“You know,” Peter pondered. “For the heir to the Sleek-eazy fortune, you really don’t know how
to do your hair.”

Sirius and Remus laughed along with Peter. James was two seconds away from throttling them.

“You just watch! I’ll have someone before all you lot! And she’ll be bloody brilliant!”

He started looking out in the crowd and caught the eye of a tall woman with deep brown skin and
intricately woven braids. The silver pieces in the braids glistened in the light making her look like
some sort of goddess as she approached the men. She opened her mouth to speak but James started
babbling before she could even open her mouth.

“Hi there! I’m James. Was the drummer up there, that last set. Did you see me? I’m quite good,
right? Anyways, can I get you a drink? Perhaps a shot. I do love shots. They don’t tend to like me
though. Mum says it’s ‘cause I’m mildly gluten intolerant. I love pasta though and it loves me
however –”

“Oi, breathe there!” Sirius cut him off. He stuck his hand out to the woman, ever attached with his
posh manners, and gave her a gleaming Sirius Black smile. “I’m Sirius. I apologise for my friend.
He’s a bit socially inept.”

James made a sound of protest as the woman took Sirius’ hand. She was still a bit cautious, looking
at them all with tentative, wide eyes. Sirius shook her hand firmly before letting it go.

“Can I get your name, love?”

“Dorcas,” She said evenly.

“Dorcas!” Sirius replied. “Oh, how lovely. Please do accept my apology on behalf of my friend by
way of him buying you a pint.”

She arched a beautifully sharp eyebrow. “I don’t drink beer.”

Sirius and James’ faces fell.

“Alright, little martin then?” Sirius tried again. “Bet you like it filthy–”

“I really didn’t come over here to be poorly hit on then bought a shite well drink,” She said, tone
still even as ever. “I actually came to talk to you about your set.”

All four Marauders leaned back, looking at her with wide eyes. Sirius was the first to move,
waving her on with his hand. She sighed, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. Her
eyes popped back open as she spoke.

“I can’t hear fuck-all in here with this bloody racket. Can we go outside please?”

“Of course,” Sirius replied.

They all turned to stalk towards the front door’s smoking section. James hung behind a bit to brush
shoulders with Dorcas, who was nearly as tall as he was. He leaned down towards her ear, dipping
close to her.

“I don’t like metal either. Too screamy for me. Feels like my dad when –”

“I’m a lesbian,” Dorcas cut him off, staring straight ahead and following Remus out of the front
door. James was left, slack jawed and staring after her.

The four leaned against the big brick wall in the front of the venue, Remus and Sirius sending
wispy tendrils of smoke up into the air from the pre-rolls Sirius had pilfered earlier that night.
Remus exhaled the smoke, sending it up and disappearing into the dark blue night.

The nights in London were starless, a far cry from the ones in the small village in Wales where he
grew up, or the castle in Scotland where he went to school. He missed the stars and the loud silence
of the countryside. London was a wailing, bitch of a city with its booming noises and chattering
people.

He took another drag as he looked past Dorcas to see two teens leaning into each other for support
as they stumbled home from what seemed to be a late night out. The man titled his head down to
kiss the woman softly and set off a slew of giggles from her mouth as they kept walking down the
narrow sidewalk.

“Right,” Dorcas started, bringing Remus back from his thoughts of pale hands, long hair and soft
lips. “Let me re-introduce myself: I’m Dorcas Meadows. I work for Order of the Phoenix Records.
I’m a talent scout and manager. I watched you boys tonight and I have to say, I’m bloody
impressed. Did you write that last song?”

Sirius jammed a thumb towards Remus. “Moony did.”

“What the bloody fuck is a ‘Moony’?”

“Sorry,” Remus said, scratching the back of his head. “I’m a Moony. My name's Remus. Remus
Lupin. Moony’s just a nickname,”

Dorcas nodded slowly. “You wrote it?”

“Well, uh, we all –”

“Don’t listen to him,” James cut in, finally over the shock and rejection he’d been plagued with.
“He wrote the words and music all himself. We just helped with the little things he couldn’t do.
Like timing and beats and such.”

“John, was it?” Dorcas said.

“James. Drummer,” He stuck his hand out. Dorcas stared at it blankly and he pulled it back as if
her very stare had burned him. “Sirius and Remus alternate between bass and guitar on songs and
Pete does nearly everything else.”

“Alternate?” Dorcas looked mildly impressed. It was the only emotion she had shown since she
met. “You both play bass and guitar?”

“And piano,” Sirius chimed in, ticking off his fingers as he went. “Some cello but always hated it.
A smidge of violin and a modicum of drums when James is sick. Though my true calling is the
trumpet.”

She nodded slowly this time. She turned to Remus. He shook his head with a laugh. “Just bass and
guitar and some shotty writing,”

“Actually quite good,” Dorcas corrected. “One of the main reasons I wanted to find you. It’s
unique and unlike anything in the genre. We need more meaningful lyrics and not just ‘my mum’s
a cunt’ or ‘fuck the system.’ We have enough Pistols wannabes.”

Remus felt the heat creep up his face again. He scratched his wrist. “Thank you.”

“So,” She looked between the four of them. “I’m going to give you my card. Call tomorrow and set
up an appointment with my assistant Benji and we can try and get you lot in to discuss next steps.
Alright?”

Sirius snatched the card out of her hand. He shoved it in his back pocket. “Right-o, Dorcas.
Absolutely lovely to meet you.”

She shook his hand again, then Peter, then Remus and finally turned to James. She retracted her
hand quickly and looked back to Sirius. James stood opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

“Look forward to your call, lads,” She replied before turning on her heel and marching down the
streets, black braids swaying in tune with her hips as her boots clacked on the ground. She got
smaller and smaller before pitching a corner and disappearing completely.

Sirius let out a low whistle before slapping James on the back and shaking him. “Christ! A blood
fucking record label?!”

Peter grabbed at Sirius’ back pocket, pulling out the card. He held it between his hands and
squinted. “’Order of the Phoenix,’ oi, isn’t that who signed Bonny Sunset? And Knuckle Puck?”

James ripped the card out of Peter's hands. “Bloody hell, it is,” He ran a hand through his hair
again. “Holy fuck, lads, this is it. We’re gonna be famous! I gotta tell mum.”
“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” Remus said as he plucked the card out of James hand and
shoved it into his wallet. “We still have to meet with them.”

“I still say we celebrate! Party at ours?” Sirius was wiggling with energy.

Remus groaned. “Our place means my place, Pads. I’m knackered and want to go to bed. I’ve got a
shift tomorrow.”

Sirius swung his arm around Remus, mouth breaking into that lovely little Sirius Black grin.
Remus felt his knees buckle a bit.

“Won’t need another job once we’re famous, Moony. Come on I’ll let you play DJ.”

Remus let himself give into a smile.

“Alright, fine.”

--

Remus really bloody hated parties. He especially hated parties that Sirius held at their place. Why
could they never hold a party at James’s? Peter lived at his mum’s still but James had a whole
condo to himself and paid minimal rent to his Dad, who owned it. Sirius and Remus lived in a shite
little thing in Covent Garden that Sirius had insisted on as it was “close to the water and who
doesn’t love the water?”

Remus didn’t love the water.

He just wanted to sit in his bed and fall asleep without the roaring of Nirvana or The Black Keys or
whatever other loud, clattering that Sirius would play too loudly through the speakers. He was a bit
lucky, however, in that he’d been delegating DJ duties that night. He’d come up with a devious
plan to try and make people so wildly uncomfortable they’d have to leave the party.

Remus had gotten a full way through “The Boy With the Thorn in His Side” and halfway through
“Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now” before James and Sirius had sacked him. They tackled him
to the floor and wrestled his phone out of his hand. Sirius had then queued up no less than thirty
songs before pocketing Remus’ phone, shoving a beer in his hand and steering him to sit down
next to a bloke with purple eyeliner.

As “Drain You” blared on in the background, the man eyed Remus so salaciously that Remus was
sure he was being eye fucked through his clothes. He fidgeted uncomfortably and took a sip of the
beer he found in his hand.

“Hi love,” The man purred.

“Hullo,” Remus replied, tongue too big for his mouth.

“You in the band then?”

“Er, yeah.”

“That’s sexy.”

The purple-eyeliner man had matching purple nails which came up to stroke one of the scars
poking out from the sleeve of Remus’ button up. He squirmed wildly, made some half arsed
excuse and nearly bolted off the couch. He ran into their friend from school, Frank Longbottom, in
the kitchen. He was nestled up next to his wife, Alice.

“Wotcher, Remus,” Alice greeted. Her hair was shorter than it’d been since he’d last seen her. It
was cropped into a pixie cut that curled around her ears.

Remus glanced over his shoulder. “Alice. Frankie,”

Frank laughed and moved to look behind Remus as well. “What the hell are you so barmy about?”

“Sirius sat me down next to some man who proceeded to oogle me as if I were starkers,” Remus
said.
He ran a hand through his hair. He was still looking over his shoulder as if a purple-eyeliner-man
would burst through the kitchen door and pin him to the counter before licking every inch of his
body.

Alice laughed. “Oh he means well, doesn’t he?”

“Even if he is a bit daft,” Frank added. “Doesn’t he know that you’re into posh-o boys with long
black hair?”

Remus took in a huge breath through his nostrils then turned to glare at Frank. Frank was
unbothered.

He laughed before shoving Remus’ shoulder. “Come off it, Remus. I was just joking,”

“S’not funny,” Remus replied, rubbing at the spot where Frank had prodded him. Frank was a six
foot rugby god. Remus may have had four inches on him but Frank had seven stone. “I almost
regret telling you that.”

Alice gave his arm a rub. “You were absolutely pissed, love. I don’t think you even remembered
telling us.”

“I don’t believe I did. I think Frank told me I did.”

“Yeah over breakfast and you proceeded to snort Cheerios up your nose!”

“God, that was absolutely a sight wasn’t it?”

Remus grumbled as Frank laughed along with Alice. “Not even James knows.”

“Something Potter doesn’t know? Who’d think there was such a thing!” Frank laughed again, head
tossed back.

“He doesn’t know and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Your secret is safe with us, right Frankie?”

“Well, no telling when I get a few laggers in me –”

Remus groaned and let his head fall into his hands. The Killers had started up in the background
which meant Sirius was properly drunk and would be trying to outplay the guitar solos on their
coffee table.

Frank ruffled Remus’ hair. “Secret’s safe with us, Moony, ‘ole pal.”

“How kind of you,” Remus deadpanned. “How’s the team?”

“Doing well! Got beat out by Sedgley Park the other day. Was a shame. You lot should come out
for a game.”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, alright.”

James came stumbling through the kitchen at that moment. His glasses were cooked again.
“Frankie, Alice, Remus,” He greeted.

“Prongsie,” Remus replied. Alice gave a wave and Frank a gruff murmur under his breath.

“Mooneroni and Cheese,” He began, eyes wide and puppy-like, fully fixed on Remus. “Where,
pray tell, is your extra vodka? Couple of girls were and asking and – well – Padfoot accidentally
knocked a bottle over when he was doing a leg kick thing to the chorus of ‘When We Were
Young,’” He mimicked this, knee not getting much higher than his hips and ankle doing a limp
little kick.

Remus sighed. It was going to be a long night.

The party died down around three in the morning. Remus had retired to his bed around one and
was in a state of half sleep, half conscious as he laid face down in his pillows. Their front door
clattered shut with the echo of Sirius’ voice and then there was sweet, sweet silence. Remus sighed
as he let the exhaustion lay over his body like a clean white sheet. He felt sleep fluttering in his
eyelashes before he was startled by the clattering of Sirius’ bed frame and the high pitched giggles
of something distinctly female.

Bloody hell, he’d forgotten about Emmeline.

The giggles got louder, chorused by her whiny little crones of “ Siri! ” that sounded to Remus much
like a feral cat in heat. Then again, Emmeline was a bit like a feral cat in heat. She’d kept her claws
on Sirius’ chest all night, swirling patterns into his Zeppelin shirt that Remus had bought him. She
had yet to put back on the electric pink bra that she’d tossed at Sirius earlier in the night and was
nipping aggressively hard through her black sheer number.

(It wasn’t that Remus had any problems with lady nipples or ladies wanting to show their lady
nipples. He just had problems with Emmeline which meant everything she did was offensive to
him.)

He groaned into his pillow as her giggles got louder before hearing Sirius “shush” her
enthusiastically. Remus thought he heard some semblance of his name before Sirius’ speakers
kicked in. Remus groaned again, recognizing the lit of the lead singer of Two Feet, Sirius’ main
choice of sex music. He commended Sirius’ assistance in trying to drown out the noises echoing
across the hall from his room.

There were only two problems: firstly, Two Feet was far too soft to mask any of Emmeline’s
ridiculous noises and secondly, Remus had grown to hate the band as a result of Sirius’
debauchery. He figured if it was him having sex to Two Feet, maybe he’d like the band. However,
he wasn’t and so he wholly hated the band with a rage as bright as a thousand suns. The song did
however, bring out some rather dirty thoughts that Remus had shoved way into the back of his
head.

Bending his long, pale body over their kitchen counter, one of his hands wrapped around his long
neck. His black hair tipped back to drape over Remus’ shoulder as Remus whispered sweet, dirty
words into the shell of his ear. Rolling his hips so slightly to let a deep moan escape from Sirius’
lips and cause his nails to dig further into his arms as Remus’ lips trailing down the expanse –

“Oh, yes ! Fuck yes! Siri, baby! ”

Remus shoved his pillow on top of his head, screaming into his mattress. Fucking Emmeline ruined
everything. Even his sordid little fantasies. He couldn’t even dream without the blaring croon of
“Siri” mimicking him. He shoved the thoughts all the way back in his head before he cupped his
ears and tried to drown out the screams and moaning coming through the walls.

He tossed over as the first song ended, Emmeline’s shrill “ oh yes baby! Right there baby! ”
choiring through the apartment like shrieking demons drowning in the burning pits of hell. The
second song sounded about the same as the first one but this one had a better message.

“‘Cause heartbreak is savvy and love is a bitch, ”

It sure is, Remus thought as Emmeline finally shut the fuck up.

It sure is.
 Two
Chapter Notes

For the playlist , the song that Lily plays is “Cholla” by The Joy Formidable. Bonny
Sunset is based solely off them. Marauders is based on a Boston band called
Vundabar. Both are great and both are featured on the playlist.

CHPT EDITED: 8/12/22

Two

The hospital psychology building looked like a castle.

Remus would know; he attended most of his academic career in a similar building, deep in the
Scottish highlands. He looked up at the daunting arches, all sharp and jagged, yelling out cursed
histories of many a patient who’d stormed through the castle gates on Trojan horses made of
encouragement and pills.

His own history book had a solid set of scenes in between the frowned lines of architecture.
Smoking on the bench to his right, eating lunch at the table to his left. He sighed and kicked a rock
at the bottom of the concrete stairs leading to the door. The rock scuffed his already scuffed boots.
He carded his hand through his hair before huffing and marching through the doors to the building.

Floor three was a sombre place.

It was meant as a heavy medium from the hell of floor four and the mild discomfort of floor two. It
was full of all sorts of dodgy patients, in various states of disarray between zombism and life.
Several were dressed in hospital dressing gowns, being escorted down the hall by their elbows.
One lady stared at him so intently, he felt as if he had something on his face. She smiled, mouth
missing many teeth. He scrubbed at his chin as he reached a wood door at the end of the hall. He
rapped lightly on it, huffing for yet another time.

The door swung open and a middle-aged, blonde woman with piercing blue eyes answered the
door. She smiled when she saw him and let him in, brushing at her shirt as he shuffled by her. He
was nearly twice her height, hunched over her like a gangly apparition. He slumped into the old
blue chair across from a much nicer, black one. The woman bristled at her desk before sitting
across Remus and positioning a clipboard on her lap and smiling at him again.
“Hello, Remus.”

“Hullo, Dr. Anderson.”

Her eyes crinkled, lips turning up wider as he said her name. “How are we today?”

“Alright, I suppose,” He picked at the hanging cuticle on his thumb. He pulled his eyes up and saw
her jotting quick statements on her notepad. She set the pen down and looked back up at him.

“Alright is alright.”

“Yeah.”

She hummed, shifting to look him in the eyes. “What makes you alright today?”

“Uh,” He scratched at the back of his head. He knew this exercise. They did it every session.

“I’m alive. I have good friends. Oh! My band was contacted by a talent scout.”

She smiled again. “That’s lovely! How’d that happen?”

“We were playing a show last night,” He said. “Some woman from a record company came up to
us and told us she liked our music. Was insane, really.”

“That’s amazing. Are you excited?”

He fidgeted slightly, pulling on the hem of his jumper. “Yeah. I mean, I want to be. I just feel like
it’s going to be a lot of work and there’s always the chance they won’t like us.”

Anderson sighed. She set her pen down and crossed her wrists over it. “You’re doing it again,” She
chided. “Thinking about the ‘what-ifs’ instead of the ‘nows’.”
He laughed, no humour in it before tugging on his hair. “Yeah well, playing a real gig used to be a
‘what if’ and now it’s a ‘now.’”

She nodded in agreement, brows raised. “But you got it, didn’t you?” He nodded. “You worked
hard and got an actual show because you are good , Remus. And you deserve good things.”

He rubbed his eyes. “It’s hard when so much bad has happened.”

“But that was the past,” She said. “Life is this never ending rollercoaster of hills and valleys. You
were in such a deep rut. Now, it’s your turn to stand at the top of the hill and watch the sunrise.
Allow yourself to. Don’t get stuck in a valley you weren’t meant to be in.”

Remus dropped her gaze to stare out on the terrace. It was drizzling that day, as it always did in
London. Patients were huddled under umbrellas with nurses, carting themselves from one wing to
the other of the building.

One small girl, no older than ten, had the hood of a bright red jacket pulled up over her head. She
had matching wellies on her feet. She ran around the terrace carelessly, stomping into puddles and
tilting her head back to catch drops of rain in her mouth. She was oblivious to everything: the
psych hospital, the patients next to her and the ever spinning world she was on, rotating around the
sun.

To her, she was the sun. Everything moved around her.

Remus licked the front of his teeth.

“What if I’m about to be in a valley?”

“You can see the valley from the top of a hill right? We’ve taught you how to recognize the
symptoms of an on-coming depressive episode. You know how to tell and tell me that way I can
tug you from falling off the edge.”

He turned back to her and quirked an eyebrow, smug smirk on his lips. “I don’t think you’d be able
to pull me up from the edge of a cliff, Dr. Anderson.”
She chuckled before shoo-ing him off with her hand. “I’m much stronger than I look.”

“I’m sure,” He tipped his head down, fiddling with his jumper again. “The talent recruiter said she
liked my writing. Had me thinking about not going to Uni again.”

“You can always go back.”

He snorted. “Right because I’d love to sit in a classroom with eighteen-year-olds when I’m twenty-
five.”

Anderson shrugged. “If you think it would make you happy, it’s all worth it.”

“I just want to make them proud, is all.”

“They’d be proud, regardless.”

“That’s what Sirius says,” He said, tilting his head back to the window.

The red-wellied girl was gone. The air was silent save for the whirring of the HVAC over their
heads. It was like a dull lullaby.

Anderson hummed. “And how is Sirius?”

“He’s… Sirius,” He sighed.

“You still don’t want to tell him about your feelings?”

His head whipped back to her. “ God , no. It would ruin the whole dynamic. We’ve been mates
since year nine. James would be a child of divorce.”
“Children of divorce often fare well with therapy,” She said, scribbling away on her notepad as she
tilted her head.

“Not sure James would be,” Remus scratched his wrist. “He had that girl over again last night.”

She raised a thin blonde eyebrow. “The one you called a banshee?”

“Yeah,” He laughed at himself. “Still stands.”

“You could ask him not to have her over. It is your space too.”

He pulled at the curls on top of his head again. “I could but I think that gives me away a bit.”

“So do it in a way that’s nonchalant. In passing is probably the best.”

“Like when the lads are all there? ‘Alright James? Alright Pete. Sirius, mind keeping your whore
out of our apartment? Cheers, mate.’” Anderson gave him a sour look, glaring at him over the rims
of her glasses. “Sorry,” He mumbled, scratching at his wrist some more.

She shoved her glasses back up her nose. “I can’t imagine she’d be so horrible. Sirius was quite
nice when I met him. I don’t think he’d keep bad people as company.”

“She’s – er, she’s rather annoying,” His wrist was becoming red and angry. “Pete and James get
pretty miffed by her too. I think it’s just that she hates them.”

“Does she like you?”

“Yeah but I don’t think she knows she’s not my type,” He laughed.

She hummed. “Do you think the root of your disdain for her is because she’s with Sirius? And not
necessarily because she’s a distasteful person?”
Remus let out a breath, long and low. Damn Anderson for asking all the questions he knew the
answers to but didn’t want to say out loud. He leaned his elbows on his knees, head falling into his
hands, fingers pulling at the curls there.

“I want him so much,” He whispered. “That it’s painful being in a room with him and knowing
he’s not mine. I mean, he is the sun. All bright and shiny and floating through space as if he
doesn’t know that the entire universe spins around him like a bloody top.

“I feel like this desolate wasteland, sitting there as he exists and sparkles, bringing in life from all
the different corners of the galaxy, allowing the other planets he sucks in with his pull to be as
alive as he is.

“I’m just this little dead weight in his orbit that he bats at when I get too petulant for attention. But
he is the only reason I’m still here, keeping me warm by just being him . He doesn’t even realise it.
He doesn’t even realise, I don’t know how to exist without him.”

An arm poked itself into Remus’ view and he looked up. Anderson was crouched in front of him,
holding a tissue out to him. He blinked once at the object before he felt the arrows of tears piercing
down his cheeks. He gently took it from her and blotted at the wetness on his cheeks. She stood
back up and padded back over to her chair. She perched in it elegantly, crossing one knee over the
other.

“Then I think you have to make a choice,” Anderson said softly. “Do you bottle this, try and keep it
to yourself without exploding? Or do you risk it all to try and give yourself the happiness you so
deserve?”

He sniffed. “I can’t risk it,” His voice was monotonous and scared. “I can’t risk never having a part
of him for the sake of having all of him.”

“Alright,” Anderson’s voice was still soft. She tipped her gaze down to her notes, tapping her pen
along the side. She quirked her lips as she looked back up.

“Do you think,” She started, voice slow and cautious. “That this has something to do with how
Sirius helped you after your parents?”

Remus swallowed. He should’ve known the topic would come up. It always did as the winter
melted into spring and the anniversary came crashing into him like a tonne of bricks.
“I don’t feel this way about James,” He whispered.

“But Mr. Potter wasn’t there nearly as much as Sirius, was he?”

His body felt hot. He pulled at the neck of his jumper. “I – I don’t really remember.”

“That’s alright,” Anderson consoled. “It was just a thought. We can save it for our next session.”

His body cooled a thousand degrees with that sentiment. “Yeah, alright.”

She flicked at her wristwatch and he pulled his gaze up to look at the clock on the desk behind her.
They’d been at this for his allotted thirty minutes, dragging dead horses through mud. Anderson
gave him one final smile as he stood up and walked to the door.

“I’ll see you in March, Remus.”

“Yeah, see you.”

The door clattered behind him as he shut it, trapping all the decaying wooden horses in the little
room. Incubating them for when he would drag them around again.

--

The pub was the shittiest pub in all of London.

It was falling to pieces from the botched linoleum tiles to the splintering wood panelling. Paddy’s
had seen better days. Reckon, they were probably in the 50s but there were better days.

The clientele hadn’t changed much since the 50s either, save for a few beer bellies and wispy white
hair in place of brown shags. They were a fairly low energy, low demand crowd. They were
usually silent except for the blare of The Animals or The Stones from the jukebox. They each
drank a pint in about fifteen minutes. Save for Thursday night bingo, which was the most
rambunctious day of the week, where pints were slugged back for every call.

That was precisely why Remus had chosen to get a job there. It was boring, easy and gave him
enough free time to scribble in his leather bound notebook as Baz sipped away on the shittiest
lagger Remus had ever had the displeasure of putting in his mouth. He was currently slumped on a
stool at the end of the bar, dozing off, chin in his hand, when a pint glass was slammed on the
counter.

He flinched, nearly spilling off the stool before looking up, wild eyed. The red-headed man staring
at him had a wicked grin spread across his face. He was wearing some beat up Guinness shirt
(probably from when he worked at the sodding place) that had holes lining the neck. A few lined
up with the freckles on his collar bones.

“Good morning, cunt!” He cheered as he moved behind the bar.

Remus ran his hands over his face. “God Fab, you have to quit scaring me like that. I’ll have an
aneurysm.”

He pulled a beer from the tab and put it down in front of Remus. “Don’t fall asleep at me fecking
bar then.”

He held a smile on his face when he said it. He pushed off the side of the bar before sauntering
over to refill Baz’s Fullers with enthusiasm. He shook his jean clad ass as he did, mouthing along
to the song he’d no doubt put on earlier.

Fabian Prewett was four years older than Remus but pretended like he was four years younger.
He’d met the Marauders at their boarding school. Fabian, and his twin brother Gideon, were the
inspiration for the fuckery that he, James, Sirius and Peter pulled in their tenure. The two were
absolute deviants, causing more trouble than they ever could serve detention for. When they
graduated, James took it upon himself to brandish the troublemaking title and dragged the rest of
the group with him.

When Remus was sacked from his coffee shop gig four years ago (not for sleeping on the job how
dare one make such an assumption) he’d seen a post Fab had made about opening his own pub.
Thus, Remus swallowed his pride and asked for a job from the man he used to idolise. He’d been at
the pub ever since, dealing with drunk old Irish men that Fab knew from home and listening to
Fab’s collection of old rock songs.
Fabian had served all of the patrons as he glided back down the bar and poured himself a pint of
Guinness, because “old habits die hard Remus!”, and slumped in the stool next to Remus.

They took identical sips, Fab “ah”-ing loudly enough to cause the regular John and his mate, Pat, to
look down the bar with a gaze that would start a fire. He grinned at Remus, oblivious to the men
trying to kill him with their eyes, and slapped Remus hard on the back.

“How was the show?”

Remus nodded a bit before turning towards Fab. “Talent scout wants to talk to us.”

“Are you takin’ the piss?”

Remus laughed, shaking his head. “No, they well and true liked our music,”

Fab whistled low, carding his hand through his red hair. “Pints to celebrate!”

“Fab,” Remus interrupted. “You already poured me one.”

“Shots! Jamo!”

“Oh fuck – no, please –”

It was too late. Fab had already swivelled behind the bar and tugged two shot glasses out and set
them on the bar. Remus watched on with a grimace as Fab went digging for the “good stuff” under
the cabinet. He pulled out a near full bottle of Jameson with a precarious looking label on it before
slamming it on the counter next to the shot glasses.

He grinned wickedly before pouring the shots. He slid one across to Remus, who tentatively
picked it up. He wore a grimace as Fab started his toast.
“To big dreams for me boy, Remus.”

“Cheers, oh god –”

“May he finally find a nice piece ‘o ass so he stops starin’ at mine.”

“I don’t stare at your—”

“And may he finally get a fecking good night’s rest!”

“Okay, you’re done! Please!”

Fabian clinked their glasses together. “Cheers.”

He sucked the shot down like it was water. Remus took it like it was battery acid. He sputtered
wildly, twitching with every single taste that landed on his mouth. He set the shot glass down with
shaking hands before ruffling through his denim jacket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He
shoved one between his lips, lit it and pulled hard. He was desperate to get the taste of the alcohol
out of his mouth.

Fabian was unaffected.

“So,” He said. “Tell me more. What’s the deal? What label? Come on!”

“I don’t know much,” Remus replied, cigarette between his lips. “We’re supposed to call them
today to set up an appointment. Let me shoot Pads a text.”

“Tell him Daddy Fab misses him,” Fabian looked absolutely manic as he said it, wiggling his
eyebrows.

Remus scoffed. “I, most certainly, will not.”

He dragged his phone out of his pocket to write off a text to the band. The group chat name was
like headlights beaming into his tired, slightly buzzed eyes.

13:03 MaRauDERZZ <333

moony(13:02): oi any of u lot call the label today? Told fab.

Says congrats.

He took a drag on his cigarette. He hated having a phone. Between texts and social media, James’
and Sirius’ phones were constantly going off. Remus didn’t know how they managed it. Just as he
went to shove the phone back in his pocket, it buzzed. He brought it back to his eyes.

padfoot the prettiest(13:03): tell bb fab I said

cheers luvr. xxx

prongs(13:03): called 2day. going in on mon. at the

office in Kensington @ 2pm. woo!

padfoot the prettiest(13:03): god ive gone in me pants

with excitement

prongs(13:03): that’s vile

wormy(13:03): ew rlly Sirius

padfoot the prettiest(13:04): you lot are boring me

moons give me some luv

moony(13:04): im working like u all are

suppose to be

wormy(13:04): whats work

prongs(13:04): work?

padfoot the prettiest(13:05): im rich

moony(13:05): fuck off

He shoved his phone back into his pocket with a smile and looked up to meet the piercing gaze of
Fabian. Remus flinched.

“You are downright terrifying .”

“Who you textin’?”

Remus took another sip of his beer, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks. “I told you. The lads.”

“You seem awful chipper for just those idiots,” Of course Fabian was sceptical. He knew the
telltale blush across Remus’ cheeks from when Joe’s wife Birdie called him cute.

Remus shrugged before setting the pint down. “Just Prongs being funny, s’all.”

Fabian hummed, letting his chin rest in his palm. “Oh that Prongsie. He’s just such a doll.”

“And aggressively straight. He also tried to hit on the talent scout.”

“He did not!” Fab scoffed, standing up straight. “She gon’ let him take her out?”
Remus laughed, heavy and deep. “She’s gay .”

Fabian gasped dramatically, hand flying to his chest. Remus really lost it then, heaving with loud
laughs as Fab looked utterly appalled that such a travesty had happened. Finally, Remus’ chortles
died down and Fab, with eyes still wide, slumped into the barstool he was previously sitting in. He
took a long swig of his beer.

“He’s hopeless,” He said.

“Hopefully someone will one day find it cute.”

“Being a right prat? Hard no, but much love to ya for thinkin’ he has a chance.”

“You think none at all? Even with those biceps?”

Fabian turned towards Remus with a smug smirk. “Are you tryin’ to tell me somethin’ Lupin?”

“James is not my type,” Remus laughed. His type was shorter and prettier and darker and –

“What is yer type then? Never seen you with a bloke before.”

He shrugged. “Dark.”

“That’s it,” Fabian dead-panned. “Just dark ? Bloody hell, I can be dark for you mate.”

“Oh shove off.”

“Just saying,” Fab pulled at his beer again. “You should be let yourself chat up some lads. May be
good for you. If not, better than a wank.”

Remus snorted then shrugged. He had a specific maggot so deep in his heart that he was sure not
even a shot of penicillin straight to it could relieve the infection. Sirius had burrowed his way up
through the dirt and dug his claws into Remus with no chance of ever leaving. Remus was certain
that no one could dislodge him, not matter how rough or good the fuck was.

He sighed. They sat, shoulder to shoulder, listening to the clicking of the record peel over and the
nasally breathing of Joe. The music turned and the kick of the guitar started scattering around the
bar. Fab squeezed Remus’ shoulder.

“Back to it, lad,” He said. “Only four more hours until Maeve comes to take over.”

Remus sighed, looking down at the dodgy lines he’d scribbled in his bound notebook. The
sentiments from his session with Anderson were still in the front of his mind as he started his shift
at Paddy’s. The words scribbled down were too frou-frou to ever be put in a song. They crowded
the rest of the words scattered on the page, shoved in a corner in blue ink.

you think i’m the moon

all bright in the sky

i know you’re the stars

because you shine brightest in my eyes

--

Monday came in like a flash of lightning. The weekend had been boring, only one small gig
playing in Middlesex for a university house. They played mainly covers before trying “Chop”
again. Seeing as the rowdy crowd of eighteen-year-olds weren’t exactly music aficionados, it
wasn’t well received. It wasn’t poorly received either; there were a few roaring cheers, mainly
from Emmeline (who then slept over and wailed louder than ever). Their half-assed set was how
they were going into their Monday meeting with Order of the Phoenix and it had everyone a little
jittery with nerves.

Remus had pulled the singular dress coat out of the back of his closet. It hadn’t been worn since
he’d gone to Fab and Gid’s older sister’s wedding. He threw it over a white tee, shoved the dust off
his shoulders and set to lacing up his boots. His curls were unruly as ever but seemed to look okay
as he stepped out of his room. He walked into his living room and felt a bit better when he looked
at James’ hair.

It looked no better than it did on any other day, poking out left and right and covering half his face.
It was a complete juxtaposition to the pressed blue suit and tie he was wearing. He adorned his
tried and true Italian oxfords on his feet and was holding a briefcase.

Peter, too, was wearing a suit. It looked way too big on him, slouchy and bunchy at parts. He didn’t
have a tie on and somehow, Remus thought he would’ve looked better with one. He was wearing
his signature beat up Chucks on his feet, hole at the big toe be damned.

Sirius looked godly.

Then again, when didn’t he.

His hair was artfully waved in a way that no one but Sirius could muster. He’d lined his eyes with
kohl and they made his grey eyes pierce in the light. He’d pulled out his best leather jacket, one
that was probably worth three months of Remus’ bartending salary. His jeans were immaculately
clean, boots shined to catch the white light from the bulb above. The shirt under his jacket was skin
tight, curving across his chest and stretching over his shoulder. Remus twisted his fingers together
to stop from reaching out twirling a lock of hair around his finger.

Remus padded over to the other three men and gave them a once over. They looked appalling.
Peter and James looked ready to sell stocks, Remus looked like he was going to a grade school
dance and his mam had forced him to put on a suit jacket and Sirius looked like fucking
Morrissey.

“We look a mess,” He stated, half hidden behind a choked half laugh.

Sirius threw up his arms. “Thank you , Moony. This is why he’s my favourite.”

“What’s wrong with my suit?” James asked, smoothing his hands over the front of his jacket.

“Are you going to bloody court?”

“I wore this to my first appearance in court, yes,” James countered.

“And you haven’t been since. So much for that law degree.”
James gasped dramatically.

Peter snorted. Sirius whirled on him. “You look like a baby in a man’s outfit.”

“HA!” James barked out. Remus laughed along, shaking his head. It was Peter’s turn to look
outraged.

“And what about Lupin?!” Peter cried.

Sirius spun again. He raked his eyes from the top of his curls to the tips of his boots, gaze sharp
and calculated. Remus’ face felt hot and he swallowed hard. Sirius waved a hand.

“He’s fine,” He mumbled. “You lot back to the dressing room!”

Sirius shoved the two of them into his room and began fluttering around them. He pulled James’ tie
off, gave Peter a pair of non-ruined Converse, smashed James’ spikes down with some sort of goop
and traded their suit jackets for one of Sirius’ less important leathers and a long duster. James
pulled on the lapels as Remus walked into the room, leaning into the frame with his arms crossed
over his chest.

“Prongs, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in leather,” He commented.

Sirius threw him a smirk over his shoulder from where he was adjusting Peter’s collar. “You
jealous I didn’t give you one, Moony?”

“I have my own,” His face was hot again and he wondered how he ever made it through a day with
the man at that point.

“Right, out we go lads!” Sirius cheered.

The four bumbled out of the rackety old wood door to Sirius and Remus’ flat and onto the streets.
James had offered to grab them an Uber but Remus insisted on the tube. Peter groaned about the
heat but followed along regardless. They all wove their guitar cases through the turnstiles and
stumbled down the stairs to shove themselves, shoulder to shoulder into the seats. Sirius bumped
Remus’ shoulder with a grin. He was still wearing his Ray-bans despite them being underground.
His smile was delicious, wide and full of the same excitement that was causing his leg to twitch.
James reached across and stilled it with one large hand.

“You trying to feel me up, you tart?”

James smirked. “That’s later, my love.”

“You guys are gross. Is anyone melting?” Peter complained.

The rest of the ride was quiet and filled with twitches of excitement from all four men. Order of the
Phoenix Records was situated on the corner of the gardens, a block away from the Royal College
of Music. It was a tall, narrow building with an electric yellow neon Phoenix bursting from the top
of the building. The main lobby was an ornate, Pollock-like place with splatters of black and red
slashed all over the furniture and counter. A small woman led them to the lift and escorted them to
Dorcas’ office on the twelfth floor.

The doors shuddered open to a glass box with sweeping views of the gardens, the palace sitting
close by and looking as royal as ever. A small black desk sat in the front of the box. An eastern
Asian man with thick eyeliner, large stretched ears and a wild silver bar perched between his
eyebrow sat at the desk. He gave them all a huge smile as they walked in.

“Thank you, Bea,” His accent was posh and Remus caught a glitter of silver in his mouth as he
spoke. “Welcome Marauders! I’m Benji. It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Cheers, mate,” James said as he reached across the desk to shake Benji’s hand. He looked a bit
ridiculous in Sirius’ jacket but it was much better than the suit/briefcase combo he was sporting
before.

“Dorcas is in the conference room if you’ll follow me,” Benji wound them through the glass box to
another glass box. Dorcas was perched in a chair at the head of the table, purple boots kicked up.

“Welcome!” She said as they all shuffled through, grins strong and bright.
Remus took the door from Benji’s hand as he was the last one to enter. He caught Benji’s pinky
with his own and looked up in apology. Benji had a slick smirk across his face and gave Remus the
once-over which made him blush and jerk his hand back. Benji laughed as he left. Remus felt
stupid. Luckily, Dorcas and the rest of the band didn’t notice as they were too caught up in
greetings. He stuck his clammy palm out to shake her hand. She smiled at him then motioned for
them all to take seats next to her. James pulled on the lapels of his jacket again.

“How was the journey? Hope not too bad.”

“Well it was –” James started.

She completely cut him off. “Right so here’s the thing. We like you. We really do. My boss,
Dumbledore, you’ve heard of him, yeah?”

Remus felt himself nod, jaw slack. Dumbledore was a production god . He’d worked with The
Clash in the seventies, The Cure and The Smiths in the eighties, Oasis in the nineties and was
currently on the docket for Bonny Sunset, The White Stripes and Arctic Monkeys. He was
absolutely wicked on guitar and had a sort of scientific way about how he produced. If they could
swing a gig with him, they were sure to rocket to the top of the charts in no time.

“Is the pope catholic?” Sirius snorts. “’Course we know Dumbledore.”

Dorcas nodded. “I figured as much. Well, I played him the gig at the pub. He loved the original
you played and thinks you lot have a real talent for music. Your lyrics are unique. The guitar
playing is right-on and the drums are absolutely electric. He wants a three song demo to be played
in front of him and the other exec’s in a month. How does that sound?”

“Three?!” Remus blanched. He had three songs. Three half-assed, backwards, childish musings
from when he barely knew a simile from a metaphor. These songs were not nearly good enough to
be played for an audience of stray feral cats, let alone recorded for the Dumbledore.

Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, Moony,” He cheered. “You have that whole book
filled with snippets and chords. We can pull something together, right?”

Remus twitched. He looked at James, who’s smile was just as big as Sirius, then Peter who looked
like he was about to boot at any given moment.
“We can – er try?”

Dorcas clapped her hands together. “Excellent! We’ll set up the studio for you and you have full
range of all of the facilities here. Our audio engineer, Bill, is great. He’ll be at your hands as well.
Shall I take you to the studio?”

Sirius popped up immediately. “Absolutely!”

Remus felt as Peter looked. This was all going way too fast. He expected there to be some sort of
contract review, maybe another demo of sorts? But no, they were flying into the studio like bats out
of hell.

Baby bats.

Bats with very small, inexperienced wings.

Dorcas shoved the heavy door to the recording studio open. There were rows upon rows of
switches and triggers lined up in front of a black, plush chair. In the chair was a tall, lanky man
with electric red hair. It was long enough that it curled around his ears. He was wearing a big pair
of thick-framed glasses and had a pair of headphones half on and half off. As the five walked
through the door, he held up a finger, causing Dorcas to stop in her tracks.

He leaned towards the microphone next to the switches and spoke into it, low and gravely.

“Alright, Evans, give us hell”

Remus craned his head to look through the glass separating the mixing board and the actual
recording booth. Sitting at a set of drums was a very pale woman with freckles all over every
surface of her skin. Her hair was as red as a fire truck, tied loosely in a knot at the back of her head,
held back by a set of headphones. Her bangs were stringy and slick with sweat, which also was
glistening off her bare arms. A smattering of black and grey flowers wound its way around her
bicep. Her eyes were trained on the snare in front of her, head bobbing in time with the metronome
that was clicking.

As the beat hit, she started tapping her drumsticks against the snare in line with the guitar that
came blaring through the speakers. She banged on the cymbal with such an intensity, thrashing her
head forward and knocking the headphones to fully cover her ears. The combo of the guitar and
her drum playing roared louder than ever, echoing through the room. The singer started and Remus
felt a strange sense of déjà vu. He turned toward his friends.

“Bloody buggering fuck,” James cursed. He slapped Remus’ shoulder. “Do you know who that
is?!”

“No but it sounds very –”

“That’s Lily fucking Evans! Drummer for Bonny Sunset. Oh god she’s absolutely brilliant, isn’t
she?”

Sirius poked his head between the two men. “Prongs has had a crush on her since their first album
came out.”

“Can you blame me? I mean look at her! She’s absolutely incredible,” James was absolutely
besotted. Remus had never seen him like this, so obsessed and so impressed all in one go.

Remus gave him a shove then leaned in. “Pick up your jaw, mate. You’re drooling.”

“What are you on about?” Came Peter, shoving under James’ arm.

Sirius shoved his head back. “Piss off, Wormy. The adults are talking.”

“Oi!”

The four stopped moving and looked back to where the red-headed drummer was sitting. She had
stopped playing and only the riff of the guitar was echoing in the studio. It clicked off and the man
in the chair spun around. Both red-heads were sending daggers at the Marauders.

“What the fuck is this peanut gallery?” Lily shouted.

She threw her drum sticks down. James lets out a high-pitched squeal as she rounded towards the
door. She yanked the door open and crossed her arms over her chest as she stood next to the man at
the mixing board, eyebrow raised. She was nearly half the size of Remus but held an attitude that
said she was ten metres tall.

“Lily, Bill,” Dorcas started. “These are the Marauders. We want them to record a demo for us.”

Bill’s grimace dropped and was replaced by a smile. He shoved his hand out. Remus took it as
James was still processing the woman of his dreams in front of him.

“Billeus Weasley,” Bill said. “But call me Bill, please.”

Sirius took his hand next. “Weasley? You know Molly?”

“My sister-in-law,” Bill said, smile still on his face. “You know her?”

“Went to school with Fab and Gid,” Remus answered.

Bill snorted. “God, tell me you’re not as much of a terror as those assholes.”

“Most likely,” Sirius chimed. “But we make damn good music as well.”

Bill nodded. “I heard your song. ‘Chop’ was it? Bloody brilliant and the main chorus is killer.
Wait, I think I have it here.”

He spun around and ticked a few switches and, sure enough, their song from the pub performance
came blaring through the speakers. Sirius’ voice was a bit muffled but it sounded just as good as it
did when they’d played it the weekend before. It gave Remus some hope they didn’t actually suck.
He turned back towards Lily.

Her face had fallen into an amused sort of smirk, brow still arched high into her fringe. “It’s good,”
She said. Her Essex accent was thick and pronounced. “Just you four then?”

“Hi,” James breathed. “I’m James. I love your work. You’re amazing. You’re like a drumming
god. Er – goddess rather. Or god. It’s 2021, you can be whatever and I won’t –”

“I’m Sirius,” Remus thanked god that he was smart enough to cut off James. “Sirius Black,” He
shoved his hand out towards Lily. She shook it hard. He shook Bill’s hand too.

“Black like Black Industries?”

Sirius cringed but still smiled. “That exact one, yes.”

She snorted. “A bit interesting that a posh little business boy is in a band, innit?”

Sirius, ever calm and collected, shrugged. “Accounting just doesn’t get my rocks off like the guitar
does.”

She eyed Peter, who was wringing his wrists. “Oh! Peter Pettigrew.”

She shook his hand and gave him no other second of attention before looking at Remus.

“Remus Lupin,” He shook her hand as well. Her eyebrows furrowed and she opened her mouth to
speak but Bill cut her off.

“Ah! Our little songwriter right? You’re quite talented.”

Remus felt the tips of his ears rouge. “It’s alright,” Lily was still giving him a strange look. She
opened her mouth a second time and the door swung open.

“Remus!”

Everyone’s head whipped around. Remus’ jaw fell slack.

“ Marlene? ”
A blur of blonde hair threw herself into Remus’ arm. She wound hers around his neck and laughed
into the crook of his neck. She pulled back and smacked him lightly on the cheek.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Her accent was similar to Remus’, albeit much stronger.

Remus laughed. “Dorcas saw us play and wanted to hear a bit more of us.”

“That Dorky,” Marlene cooed. “Always on the hunt for the best talent, isn’t she?”

“Shove it, McKinnon,” Dorcas grumbled.

“Wait, wait,” James bumbled, finally regaining half of a brain cell. He shook his head and pointed
at Remus. “You know the lead singer of Bonny Sunset?”

“Yeah, what the fuck, Moony!” Sirius accused. “We didn’t know this was your Marlene.”

Marlene turned and smirked before pinching Remus's cheek. “Oh I’m your Marlene am I?”

“I’m still so confused,” Lily said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Me too,” Dorcas said. “What is happening here?”

Marlene laughed again, tipping her head back so Remus can see the full of her septum piercing. Her
fluffy blonde curls got him in the mouth as she slung an arm around him, tugging him down a few
inches to meet her.

“Remus and I grew up in the same town,” She explains. “We used to write songs together and were
in a shit little band called The Ending. Then he shipped off to his swanky little boarding school and
left me all alone in llandovery to fend for myself.”

“Which is where I met them,” He motioned towards the three other men in the room, all in various
states of confusion.

Marlene hummed. “The infamous Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail.”

“Hey!” Sirius said, brows knit with a childish frown on his lips. “Those are secret nicknames.”

“Pads,” Remus pleaded. “We use them every day.”

He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Still.”

Lily clapped her hands together. “As darling as this was, I have a song to finish.”

“I think were done here, Lils,” Bill corrected. “I just wanted that first part again. The rest of it
sounds wicked.”

“So I suppose it’s our turn to slide in?” Sirius said, shoving a still slack-jawed James closer to the
recording booth. James tripped and flew into the wall, effectively waking him from his Lily-
induced stare.

“We’re playing?” He said.

Lily shrugged and patted Bill on the shoulder. “Come on Marls, let’s go find Mary and get some
food while these sods try and pull together something.”

“Bye Lily,” James whispered as she left.

Dorcas rolled her eyes. “I’ll leave you boys to get to know Bill. I’ll text you so you have my
number and can let me know how it goes.”

She left the room and James slumped to the floor.

“God, she’s even more lovely in person.”

Sirius thwacked him upside the head. “Come on Prongs, let’s make music so you can impress your
new lady.”

--

Three hours later, shirts were fully unbuttoned, jackets discarded and bags of crisps were littered
between the plush red couches of the recording room. Sirius was fiddling with the bass on the
floor. James was batting away at the snare in the booth. Peter was tossed backwards over the
couch. Bill was taking long pulls from a joint that Remus had shoved in his pocket earlier than
morning. He handed it back to Remus who was rattling a pen against his leather notebook.

He groaned and ran a hand through his curls before slumping back against the couch. Sirius looked
up. He’d shoved his meticulously waved hair into a bun as soon as Dorcas left and it was currently
threatening to escape such confines.

“What’s wrong?”

Remus pulled at his hair again, exhaling out the puff of smoke he’d just taken in. “The song is
missing something.”

“What’s it missing?”

Remus had managed to scrap together a smattering of lyrics from all of the messy pages of his
notebook to shove together something that made sense. Sirius had been working on a beginning riff
for a few weeks now and James was so musically inclined he’d paired a beat with it in a matter of
seconds.

The first chords Sirius played were killer, setting up the entire feel of the song, and were seamless
into a piece that Remus had written the week before that had no notes attached yet. The lyrics were
smart, a build-up of all the wicked musings of misery that Remus had felt when he was deep in his
valleys of depression.

Somehow, it was still missing something.

Remus pulled at his hair again. “It needs some other lyrics with the chorus. It’s too bare and too
neutral for such a powerful chorus.”

Sirius swung the bass to the floor and picked up the guitar. “During which part? The dun dun la la
la la la part?”

“The what ?”

Sirius played the chorus notes, mouthing along to them as he went.

Remus sat up, ramrod straight. He pulled on the joint. “Wait, sing that?”

“ Dun dun la la la ?”

“Yeah like over the song. I’ll play the riff,” Remus grabbed for the guitar. Sirius handed it over
easily. Remus played the notes, staring at Sirius as he went.

His voice sounded like honey in the quiet of the room. James poked his head of out the booth.

“ I want to give it to you, I want to show you some. Dun dun lalalala! Dun dun lalalala !”

Remus made a noise of excitement, throwing the guitar against the couch. He leaned in on his
elbows. “Okay, okay, we’re getting somewhere.”

He grabbed at the guitar again, buzzing with electricity, and played the chorus on repeat. Sirius
came up to his knees, bobbing his head along as Remus played. Finally he grabbed at Remus’s
knee cap, eyes blown out wide.

“Wait, start it from the top,” He commanded.

Remus started again. Sirius’ voice dipped in so smooth it could’ve cut diamond.
“ I want to give it to you, I want to show you some. Ou ou lalalala! Ou ou lalalala !”

Remus screamed and threw the guitar aside to grab at Sirius’ shoulders. Bill clapped along
excitedly.

“That’s it! That’s bloody it Pads! You genius! You weird-noise making genius!”

He flung himself into Sirius’ arms, hands knotted in the shirt he was wearing. The two tumbled
onto the ground. Before he could register the precarious situation he’d put himself in, James
launched himself on top of Remus. Pete came after and soon they were all groaning and throwing
elbows this way and that. James smacked Sirius hard on the bum.

“That’s my little musical baby!” He jeered.

They all tumbled off each other and looked up at Bill. He wore a shit eating grin. “Well,” He said.
“Go on and get in there!”

The four each took turns playing in the booth until Bill was happy with the result. Peter and Remus
harmonised with Sirius on the chorus until the last one when Sirius dropped the octave and half
sung, half spoke it. James played like a maniac, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead as he walked
out. In the end, their song was chorusing through the studio and all five men were dancing around
in their socks like idiots. Sirius grabbed James in one arm and Remus in the other and knocked
their heads together.

“Second song, lads,” He said. “Second bloody song.”

“Second of many!” James cheered.

Remus wondered if he should tell Dr. Anderson that his ‘what ifs’ were slowly all becoming
‘nows’. He wondered if this was a universe in which he lived where only the positive ‘what ifs’
existed. He wondered if he was finally getting his chance at making it to the top of the hill.
 Three
Chapter Notes

Bit shorter of a chapter! Again, there is a playlist posted in other chapters. Feel free to
check it out!

Three

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! The tube got stuck then I had the guitar and it got caught and –”

Fab laughed, deep and heavy. “Calm down, you mad man,” He was drying off pints, smiling up
the frazzled man in front of him.

Remus was thoroughly disheveled. He’d swung through the door of Paddy’s at breakneck pace,
guitar case swinging wildly next to him. Recording and working was hard. The four Marauders had
been slaving away for the past week with Bill. Everything was much harder when it was for a
professional and ever harder when it was for the professional that was Dumbledore.

“Oulala” had been an absolute hit out of the gate yet still needed some tuning and tweaking in post.
Bill tended to overwork a lot of their sounds which angered Sirius (who was adamant that raw
music was the best kind) and made Remus fully uncomfortable (he agreed with Sirius but was not
nearly as combative). James had been mediating between the band and the audio engineering and
was doing a fairly good job. Peter was just happy to be there and have a steady supply of crisps.

“Chop” was in a much better place according to Bill. Sirius had a few vocals he had needed to re-
record and the rest had other vocals to harmonize with him. James’ blisters on his hands were so
bad he’d not been able to re-record his final chorus which made him a bit sullen. Peter fucked up
the background guitar in a way that only Peter could and could not fix his mistake over the seven
separate recordings. This caused Sirius to become so frustrated that he’d stormed out. The man had
nearly blown through a whole box of fags before James dragged him back up to apologize to Peter.

On top of their first two songs, they were without a third. Remus spent most nights when he wasn’t
working scribbling in his notebook with a pen. Once, he’d woken up with black ink all over his
hands and had been fervently made fun of by Bill in the studio. The problem wasn’t a lack of
content, it was just taking all of his musings and making it into something mildly musical. His
hands were slowly becoming as worn out as James’ from all the strumming he’d done at odd hours
in the night. Sirius usually came into his room around two in the morning and threw something at
him to make him finally put the guitar down and go to fucking sleep.
Overall, the four were exhausted. Peter and Remus were the only ones who worked, James sitting
on his parent’s fortune and Sirius sitting on his uncles, and were shells of the humans they were
before Order of the Phoenix. Most nights, Remus would flop onto his bed with his Docs still laced
and his jumpers still on. Fab had been rather good about not expecting too much from him (there
wasn’t much ever to do at Paddy’s) and usually made some half-assed joke about him being late
but still would pay Remus for a full shift.

He still felt it to be good practice to apologize when he was late. Which was why he continued to
mumble apologizes and he scurried behind the bar, shoved his guitar in the back office, swung his
jacket up on a hook with his bag and bunched up the sleeves of his jumper to poor Baz a pint. He
shoved it across the bar to the man, who grunted in response, before standing back up to address
the other patrons. He stood with his hands on his hips and huffed, surveying the scene.

Baz and John were the only ones in the bar. Fabian had just poured John a pint. It was nearing five-
thirty and soon the after work crowd of Kieran and Pat would be rolling in which meant two pints
for Remus to pour before he could slump on the counter and write and/or sleep.

Probably sleep.

Fab leaned close to Remus. “Careful, your poor service may scare off the customers,” He
whispered. “Boss may fire you,”

Remus rolled his eyes as Fabian laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “I don’t ever know if I
should take you seriously or not,”

“You should know by now that you most certainly should not,” Fab chided. He waved Remus out
from behind the bar. “Go over there and write in your diary. You’re crowding m’bar,”

Remus snorted but happily obliged, slumping in his normal seat and yanking the leather notebook
out of his tote. It flopped open on the counter, wrinkled from all the pen marks engrained into its
cream colored pages. There was barely any free space between his teenaged jabs about life being
miserable and his sad, sick dreams of being loved by a man who did not even like men. He’d have
to get a new notebook soon but was reluctant to depart with the worn brown of his first gift from
Sirius.

He sighed and began thumbing through the pages. One line in particular stuck out to him, etched in
red angry scribbles amongst looping black ink.
Bullet in the brain, ‘cause my life’s a cliché.

“Christ,” He said out loud, running his hand over the top of his head. He flipped a few pages again,
waiting until he found something had enough punch to pack it with a line about killing himself.
The rest of the writings were in varying shades and thicknesses of black and blue. The bruising
words holding onto the paper like the scars he had latticed across his hands. They told him “never
forget, Remus, that you’re more fucked up than the rest.”

He kept tabbing through pages, going back across years of emotions and memories trying to find
something that other people would want to hear. Another one sprung out at him due to how it’d
been cut out from the corner of a textbook and pasted into his notebook.

What songs do you know? They don’t look like that at all.

That was usable. That was good. He remembered when he wrote that. He’d been sitting in his room
with James and Sirius. They’d just met and the two posh boys were confused as to why some
scrawny sod from Wales had somber music blaring out of his headphones so loudly.

Sirius waved his arms wildly in front of Remus. He shrugged his headphones off his ears, dulling
the roar of the music over his own thoughts. He paused the song.

“What?”

Sirius grinned. He did that a lot. Remus wasn’t sure if he liked it. Sirius jabbed his hand behind
him. A tall boy their age was standing behind him. He was just as put together as Sirius save for
the most ridiculous mess of hair on top of his head. The skin on his bare arms was tan and smooth.

“This is James,” Sirius said. “He’s our age and in my music theory class. You don’t mind us
hanging out here?”

“No, go ahead,” Remus did mind. He wanted to be left alone and he didn’t want another Sirius-
like character bothering him and his music.

“Cheers,” Sirius and James hopped up on Sirius’ bed. Remus shoved the head phones back on his
head and began tapping his pen along the side of his maths text. Sirius waved another hand in
front of Remus.

He shoved the headphones off again. “Yes?”

“What are you listening to?”

Remus shrugged. “I don’t think you’d like it,”

“I love all kinds of music!” James chimed. “Er – well, except country. Don’t quite understand it,”

“Thank god,” Sirius sighed in relief. “Me either! It’s almost as horrid as the batty old Russian
music my mum makes me play,”

Remus blinked at them. He didn’t like country either but he really did not think that happy-go-
lucky-Sirius and his bouncing butt buddy James would be interested in the somber musings of
Morrisey.

“Well?” Sirius had finally stopped prattling on with James and turned his attention back to
Remus. Unfortunately. “Take the headphones out and play it for us,”

Remus tentatively pulled the cord of his headphones out of his iPod. “I really don’t know if you’ll
—”

“Stop being anti-social, Remus,” Sirius chided. “We’re at a bloody arts school. We all like music
so just hang out with us and play us your damn song,”

Remus huffed. “Fine,” He hit play on his iPod, sending the music chorusing through the room. It
was his current favorite Smiths song, straight off of Meat Is Murder that his Da had just converted
into an mp3. The song was dreary as all hell as it reaching the two other boy’s ears.

It was dark as I drove the point home

And on cold leather seats

Well, it suddenly struck me

I just might die with a smile on my

Face after all

“Jesus Christ, mate,” Sirius said. “Are you alright? This is some sad shit,”

Remus shrugged. “I like it. Morrisey is a lyrical genius,”

James let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “I mean yeah it’s genius but it’s putting me in a right
foul mood,”

“I’ll say,” Sirius chorused.

“It’s supposed to make you feel something. Music is supposed to be an amalgamation of emotions.
This song in particular is supposed to make your heart feel like it’s tearing a whole out of your
chest,” Said Remus. “It’s the most impactful music when it makes you feel something. Or at least
that’s what I believe,”

“Sadness is well and good,” Sirius argued. “But haven’t you heard a song that’s made you really,
really happy?”

Remus shrugged again. “Not particularly,”

Sirius jumped up and wrenched the iPod out of Remus’ hand, silencing Morrisey. “Then you
haven’t heard the right music yet,” He waggled his eyebrows and picked up his own iPod,
spinning the wheel to sort through the songs he had.

“You heard of Franz Ferdidnand?”

“The guy who started the first World War?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “No, you knob. It’s a band. Shut up and listen,”
He clicked play and the strumming of a guitar started to kick through the speaker. Sirius stood up
on his bed and started the most dramatic air guitar ever, causing James to giggle and begin
drumming on his knees. As the lyrics started, Sirius started to sing along, causing a warm blush to
creep across Remus’ face. He shoved his face back into his textbook and shook his head.

“Oh come on you moody prick!” Sirius crooned. “You can’t tell me this song doesn’t make you
happy. This is music! This is the wonders of music!”

Remus rolled his eyes. “This just doesn’t make me feel anything. Let alone anything Morrisey
makes me feel. This doesn’t feel like my kind of music,”

“Remus, mate,” James said. “This is the song contains more serotonin than my brains ever made
itself. Just let yourself feel it!”

Remus shook his head again, eyes still glued to the text. James and Sirius kept on jamming out to
the song as Remus scribbled into the side of his textbook.

WHAT SONGS DO YOU KNOW? THEY DON’T LOOK LIKE THAT AT ALL.

His head falling off of his palm and slamming into the top of the bar was enough to wake Remus
from his dream state. His chin thudded against wood as he cursed under his breath, rubbing at it
absently. He looked up to see Fabian giving him a concerned look.

“If you need to go home, you can,” Fabian said softly. “You seem out of it,”

Remus shook his head. “I’m good, Fab,” He replied. “Plus look at this crowd coming in,”

Sure enough, Fabian turned over his shoulder to see a couple dressed in absurd outfits with big
backpacks pulling at the door of his pub. They looked completely out of place in a pub that played
strictly rock music from the last twenty years and had never had a patron other than a regular step
into its hallowed grounds.

“Hello!” Fabian greeted. “What can I get you?”

“Oh hi there!”

The man who’d replied had the thickest midwestern American accent that Remus had ever heard.
It was so comically exaggerated that he had to cover his mouth to keep himself from snorting too
loudly. He was dressed like he was going backpacking in the beginning of the summer, not in a
pub on a rainy March day in London. His socks nearly hit his knees and were covered with big
hiking books. He wore beige shorts with too many pockets and tucked over his big belly was a
floral short sleeve button up. However, the most ridiculous part of his attire was his huge bucket
hat that kept falling over his eyes. He was looking around the bar with wide eyes before giving Fab
a big grin.

“You folks have any Budweiser?”

Fab made a face. “I may have some but wouldn’t you like to try a local? Maybe a Fullers? Me, I’m
partial to a Guinness,”

“Oh shore yeah!” Said the woman besides the man. She was equally as inappropriately dressed in
sun hat and slides. She smacked the man. “Come on now, Don! Let’s embrace culture!”

“I’d like to embrace a damn Bud,” He grumbled.

Fabian slapped two pints down in front of the couple. “Cheers,”

“Oh, ‘cheers’,” The woman said. “How festive!”

Fab gave a weird half laugh before turning to Remus and shaking his head, bewildered expression
still on his face. Baz and John were just as amused with their new guests as Fabian and Remus
were. They kept giving each other odd glances as they watched the couple each pick up their beers
and sip.

“Holy Toledo!” The woman exclaimed.

The entire bar turned to watch her. Remus couldn’t help himself, he burst out laughing. Soon
enough, so was Fab. Even Baz gave a snort of amusement that Remus had never heard before. The
woman began to laugh along as her husband grumbled again under his breath about “this isn’t as
good as an American beer.”

“What!” She said again.

“What the bloody fuck,” Fab said between hysterics. “Is a ‘Holy Toledo’?”

“Oh, jeez,” She said again. “Toledo’s where we’re from! Ever heard of Ohio?”

Remus was choking he was laughing so hard. “Heard of it,”

“Well it’s an old saying,” She explained. “That just means like ‘Oh gosh!’ but it’s more fun, ya
know?”

Fabian had lost it by then and way crying real tears that were spilling onto his tee shirt.

“Oh it’s certainly more fun!” He howled.

Remus kept on laughing, allowing himself to be happy in the moment for something as trivial as
ridiculous American tourists. He tapped his pen against his notebook, starring at the words he’d
rewritten from the textbook cut out. He smiled as he scribbled his new favorite expletive in front of
them before smacking his pen down against the paper in approval.

Holy Toledo, what songs do you know? They don’t look like that at all.

--

“‘Toledo’, pronounced toll-ee-do, ‘is a city in and the county seat of Lucas County, Ohio, United
States. A major Midwestern United States port city, Toledo is the fourth-most-populous city in the
U.S. state of Ohio.’ Well bloody hell, that sounds horrid. I haven’t ever even heard of Ohio!”

“Wormy,” Sirius drawled, lit fag between his index and thumb. “You didn’t know where Marseille
was nor did you know where Wales was when we met Moony. That’s in our own country,”
Peter frowned. “You know I was never good at geography,”

“It doesn’t matter what the city is,” Remus said sharply. “No one in England is gonna know it.
That’s why it works. It’s a random exclamation that makes people be like ‘what the fuck is this’
and then has them think about the lyrics,”

James sat up straight and grinned. “I think it’s bloody brilliant,” He said. “What’s the rest of the
song looking like?”

Remus grabbed the guitar sitting in Sirius’ lap and yanked. The other man shoved it along then
went back to lazily inhaling the smoking carcinogen in his hand. Remus strummed once, twice then
launched into a string of chords.

A, f-sharp minor, c-sharp minor, c-sharp minor, c-sharp-suspended.

A, f-sharp minor, c-sharp minor, c-sharp minor, c-sharp-suspended.

A, f-sharp minor, c-sharp minor, c-sharp minor, c-sharp-suspended.

He put his hand down and looked up at his bandmates. Sirius and James both had an eyebrow
quirked and a mildly impressed look on their faces. Peter’s brows were wrinkled in confusion.

“That’s quite good,” James said. He began tapping his foot on the ground, hands on top of it and
bobbing his head. “I can hear the drums along,”

Remus nodded. “It’s just a main riff. I don’t have a bridge yet but I figured it needed to be
something catchy and a bit happy,”

Sirius turned completely towards Remus. His grey eyes were steeled on Remus. It made the strings
in Remus’ heart tear a bit. He always watched with such an electric intensity. Sirius raised a brow.

“Happy?”

“Yeah to juxtapose the lyrics a bit,” Remus nodded toward the table.
Sirius grabbed Remus’ notebook off the and ran a black-painted nail down it, eyes scanning quick
and easily like he was reading something he’d read a thousand times before. He huffed before
cursing under his breath.

“Fucking Christ,” He breathed. He tossed the notebook back on the table, eyes panning back to
lock with Remus’. He spoke with an uncharacteristic somberness, voice low and quiet. “I’ll say.
‘Bullet in the brain?’ You don’t really think like that do you?”

Remus shrugged, fully aware of the mood in the room turning down a one-way road to a
conversation he’d rather not have. “I used to. But you know I’m okay now,”

James grabbed his shoulder. He shook him softly. “You know we’re always here for you, right?
Anytime. Anywhere. Anything, Remus,”

“I know,” Remus shrugged him off. He grabbed the notebook from the table. “I like this song
though. I think it portrays mental illness well. Horrid words hidden behind nice chords. No one
knows the point until they really look,”

Sirius snorted lightly. Remus looked back up at him. He had a crooked smirk on his lips, smoke
pooling out of his nose. He shook his head in disbelief. “You really are a poet, Moony,”

It was Remus’ turn to snort. “Just your personal Slyvia Plath,”

Sirius grinned wider. It was the grin that made Remus’ bones melt and sent him into a big pile of
skin. He turned his head away, letting the heat of his smile light the tips of his ears red.

“I used to work with a band called Slyvia Plath,” Bill said from his reclined chair next to the
mixing board. He was holding a joint that Remus had rolled earlier that day. “Or Salvia Plath was
it? Whatever. They were goddamn depressing but they always had the best weed,”

“I am offended on behalf of Remus’ dealer,” Sirius said, finally snubbing out the butt of his fag on
the overflowing ashtray on the table. “You know we have the best weed,”

Bill shook his head. He gestured to the joint in his hand. “This is good, don’t get me wrong. But
their shit was next level. Utterly insane. I was high for days. Maybe still am,”

“You just smoked a blunt and a half, mate. You’re stoned,” James deadpanned. Bill shrugged.

Remus tapped at the notebook again. “So you like it?”

“It’s good,” James said. “Sirius singing?”

“If he will?”

That bloody grin was going to ruin him. “Anything for you, Moony, darling,”

“Right,” Remus said, staring at the page. “It just needs a chorus,”

Sirius grabbed for the guitar that Remus had previously stolen. He pulled it into his hands and
began strumming the chords Remus had played. Sirius’ memory always amazed Remus. He could
hear something once and immediately know how to play it across one of the eight instruments he
had learned how to play.

“What’s the lyric?”

“ ‘I know, yes, yep, I know,’ ” Remus recited, eyes fixed on his own notebook.

Sirius nodded then went at the guitar again. He played the chords harder than Remus had,
strumming like he was trying to pour everything into the guitar. He sang along as he did. His voice
was so lovely, so sharp and clinging on to his being. He sounded like a siren to Remus, utterly
entrancing and full of misery and wonder all in one. He sung the line over and over as he
strummed, playing it on repeat and thumbing away at the strings. Finally he cut himself off and
looked up.

Remus blinked. “That was – that was not how I wrote it,”

“Oh,” Sirius said. “How did you write it?”

“Just to be said once but, that was better. That was so much better,”

“Oh. Good,” He sat the guitar down and rested his hands on his knees before looking back at
Remus. A lock of hair was escaping from the knot at the back of his head and cutting his face in
two. He peered through the locks to catch Remus’ eye. “It’s supposed to be us, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Remus said softly. “I figured we should sing it all together. It’s a way of you all letting me
know that you know I’m hurting and you’re sorry. That, I’ll be okay,”

The air was thick when he swallowed it. James was looking at him like the concerned parent, Peter
still confused and Sirius holding a rare grimace on his face. Sirius sighed before straightening back
up. He glanced up at Bill. “What do you think Billiam?”

There was a pregnant pause before Bill laughed, completely astounded. He pulled on the last of his
joint before pushing it into their ash tray. “You boys are bloody brilliant, you know that right?”

“We did go to arts school,” James said.

Bill shook his head. “Arts school can’t teach talent,” He said. “It only improves it,”

James smacked his hands on his thighs before standing up. “Let’s get at it, lads,”

They spent that afternoon into the evening recording the song which Remus had dubbed “Holy
Toledo” appropriately. James had no hard time starting them off which a beat. He sat in the booth
with headphones on, listening to the sound of Remus playing the riff over and over. He nodded and
weaved his head until his foot was smattering away on the bass and drum sticks became an
extension of his hands playing on the snares. He played more gently than he usually did due to the
welts on his hand being half healed. It only took two tries for Bill, and the band, to be happy with
it. Remus played the guitar and Sirius strummed at the bass. Peter sat out and gave nods of
encouragement. Then Sirius sang in his lovely, strong voice and James, Peter and Remus sang
around it.

In the end, “Holy Toledo” became Remus’ favorite of the three songs on their demo. It captured
the essence of his teenage years with such a magnetizing brilliance. The sad was there but it was so
mottled by the happy little guitar tab, the thrumming beat and the echoing of his friends voices in
his ears. He found himself a bit grateful for a time of such duress. It’d given him lifelong friends
and a whole pile of material to pick and choose from like it was a pile at a charity shop. Somehow,
he’d managed to take a positive out of his stolen teens.

They wound up leaving the studio around one in the morning and pushing out of the glass doors of
Order of the Phoenix Records and onto the bright streets of London. It was an uncharacteristic,
non-rainy day in March. The sidewalks were lined with people for such a late time in the night.
They were all smoking, chatting or laughing as they brushed past the Marauders. Remus supposed
it was what normal people who worked a steady nine-to-five did on the weekends: got pissed as
Lords to blow off steam that was built up during the week. The band had never known that life.
Each of them had been off their asses on a random day of the week at least once, probably more
than that.

Sirius and Remus waved goodbye to James and Peter and took off down the street. Sirius reached
up to swing his arm around Remus’ neck and tug him down to Sirius’ face.

“Fancy a pint? I’m itching for one,”

Remus laughed. “When are you not?”

They ended up at an overly-crowded and overly-rowdy pub after Sirius had been given the once
over by a leggy blonde in a tight PVC skirt. He hadn’t seen her since the initial prowling outside
and was glancing across the pub to see if he could find her. Remus tugged on the side of his jacket
to pull him back to his stool.

“Will you stop that? You’re making yourself look desperate,”

Sirius slumped back into the stool, smirk on his lips. “What if I am desperate?”

“You have Emmeline,” Remus stated, trying to keep his voice from sounded annoyed. He sipped
his beer. “Don’t think she’d be too happy,”

He waved his hand before sinking into his own beer. His rings clattered against the side of the
glass. “Em and I have a special understanding. She knows I can’t be tied down,”

“Can’t be tied down,” Remus mused. “As if you haven’t been friends with the same group of
people since you were fourteen,”
Sirius laughed and turned towards him. He looked fondly at the other man. “That’s different,” He
said. “I knew you’d all be for life the moment I met you. Em isn’t my for life. I’m not hers either.
We just like the now,”

“God, how stoned are you?”

Sirius tossed his head back as he cackled. “I’ve only had fags tonight. You’ve been puffing away
like Cheech and Chong all day,”

Remus hummed into his pint. “Keeps me even,”

“I know it does,” Sirius agreed.

He pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his jacket before tapping them against the bar. One popped
out at him and he shoved it between his lips before jostling around in his pockets for the black
lighter he always had on him. It had “MPWP” carved in the side of it, a gift he’d received on his
sixteenth birthday from James. He sparked it against the tip of the white stick, sucking his cheeks
in and making his sharp cheekbones harsher in the light. He held it in his chest long enough that it
came out in milky strands which he sucked back up his nose. He finally blew it out through pursed
lips.

Watching him smoke was one of the seven wonders of Remus’ world. He blinked twice when
Sirius turned to offer him the lit fag. He took it, hands cautious to not touch Sirius’, lest he explode,
and pulled on it. It tasted like Remus would imagine Sirius to taste: tobacco and mint. He blew it
out and gave it back to the raven-haired man.

Sirius pulled again before speaking. “You ever think you’ll settle down, Moons?”

“Where’s this coming from?”

Sirius shrugged. “Just wondering,”

“Dunno,” Remus said honestly. “If I find the right person, yeah,”
You are my right person, He thought but didn’t say.

“I don’t know if I will find mine,” Sirius was tapping the ash into the tray on the top of the bar.
“None of these girls do it for me. They’re nice, yeah, but they don’t make me feel like you all do,”

Remus swallowed. “What’s that way?”

“Like you get me,” He replied, taking another breath of smoke. “Like everything I do makes sense
to you. You never question why I do things. James either. Wormy questions every-fucking-thing so
he doesn’t count. But you and Prongs,” He shook his head. “Always know where I’m at and
always accept it. I mean for fuck’s sake, I just told you I’m being a little man-whore and you’ve
just gone and brushed it off,”

Remus laughed at that. “That’s because we know you and how you have a reason for the
madness,”

“I do,” Sirius says. He turned towards Remus with his lovely grin pulling at his face. “Sex, drugs
and rock and roll, right?”

Remus gave a fully bellied laugh at that before shoving at Sirius’ shoulder. “You tosser,”

“Ah you love me,” He said, turning back to the fag. His hair swooped down the side of his face to
part the two men into their own worlds. Remus snorted, letting the music of the bar echo try and
mute out the thundering of his heart and the spinning of the wheels in his brain. He looked up and
spotted a familiar PVC skirt glistening in the white light. He smacked Sirius lightly and jutted his
chin down the line of the bar.

Sirius whipped his head back to Remus and waggled his eyebrows. “Look what we have here.
Little Miss Mini Skirt,”

“You gonna go say something to her?”

“She basically fucked me with her eyes when we walked in. Of course I am,”
“She’s got a nice face too,”

“She’s got a nice ass too,”

Remus shook his head and plucked the cigarette out of Sirius’ fingers. “You’re a disgusting,
misogynistic prick,”

“I’m not misogynistic!” Sirius protested, batting his eyelashes. “I love women,”

Remus pulled on the fag. “Makes one of us,”

Sirius threw his elbow on the bar, raking his eyes over the slope of Remus’ profile. “You ever
kissed a girl, Moony?”

“I have kissed a girl, Padfoot,” Remus said evenly. “Jane Gilly, remember?”

Sirius “ah’d” with remembrance. “Oh lovely, little Jane Gilly. You broke her heart didn’t you?”

“I’m gay. That tends to break women’s hearts,”

Sirius patted Remus cheek. “My little heartbreaker!” He tutted. Remus swatted his hand away
before passing him back the near-burnt-out cigarette.

Sirius laughed before shoving the cigarette back between his lips. A new song had just begun to
turn over the loud bar. Remus liked this bar. They could smoke, they had good beer and they
played good music. The Killers were a top tier band in Remus’ books and he thought the rest of
their music was a bit underrated. He nodded along to the beginning of the song before Sirius spoke
again.

“What’s it like?”
Remus turned his head. “What’s what like?”

“Kissing blokes,”

Remus stomach dropped to his arse. “Uh,” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Nice? Dunno, it’s
different than girls,”

“Different how?”

“Harder,” He said. “It’s rougher, more needy. You can feel everything their thinking as they kiss
you. They don’t hold back when they’re so sure of themselves. It makes everything more intense.
Girls is just like soft and calculated and that just doesn’t do it for me. I like a little edge,”

Sirius hummed before turning to look at Remus. His smirk was back. “You’re so gay,”

Remus snorted. “Thanks, I’m aware,”

“And so poetic, really Moony. I think you missed out on a career here,”

“Piss off. Writing songs is like writing poetry but less cliché,”

Sirius slapped him on the shoulder. “A very wise man once said ‘life’s a cliché,’”

“Is that wise man named Remus Lupin? Because I do believe I wrote that,”

“It is,” Sirius was standing now and tossing the butt of the cigarette in the ash tray. “You should
meet him. I think you both would get along,”

“Why? ‘Cause were both depressed sacks of shit with a proclivity for musical genius?”

“Exactly,” Sirius shook his head out, sending his waves out from behind his ears to settle on the
tops of his shoulders. He turned and began stalking off towards the PVC girl. “And you’re both
stunningly handsome,”

Remus twitched and opened his mouth to speak but Sirius was shouting back at him over the
music. “Don’t wait up for me!”

Remus wouldn’t try, but he knew he would wait for Sirius anyways.

The next morning was horridly cold. The air was biting through the seam of Remus’ window when
he woke up, sun shooting into his eyes. Telling him the night was over and thus the monotony of
his half-normal and the chaos of his half-punk rock life was starting again. He threw himself out of
bed, lungs aching from the amount of smoke he’d put them through as he waiting for the smash of
the door when Sirius came home the night before. He rubbed at his sternum, feeling the stab of
nerves firing too hard and too fasts. He winced before throwing his head in his hands. His heart
was racing and thrumming and beating far too fast for his liking.

He needed a smoke.

Cigarettes before breakfast was fine right?

He lit one and sat perched on his bed, blowing smoke out of the open window. He wrapped his
arms around him tightly, sleeves of his jumper covering his hands and dropped his head to arms,
breathing in the freshness of the tobacco, March air and the twittering of the birds outside. The sun
was starting to warm the world and slap the bitter cold off the face of it.

The door to his room slammed open. Remus snapped his head up. Sirius stood in the doorway,
shirtless and sporting only a pair of black sweats. His eyeliner from the night before was smudged
all over his face and Remus couldn’t help but notice the collar of bruises forming around his neck.

“It’s bloody cold in here!” He shouted.

Remus hummed. “Having a smoke,”

“Nothing wrong with that but close the damn window,”

“You know how Birdie gets,”

Birdie was their landlady. She was decrepit, bitter and every time they walked by her flat on the
first floor, something utterly foul was poisoning the air they breathed. She’d been very adamant on
a no smoking policy when they moved in, eyeing the tattoos on Sirius’ skin like one might look at
a swastika. She’d already caught Remus once and Sirius another time. Sirius claimed he smoothed
it over but Remus had reservations.

“Oh that old bitch won’t know a thing,”

Remus shut the window. He still felt the wind creep through the crack and tickle his toes but he
delighted in it, the chill of the air. He took another drag before turning to Sirius.

He jutted his chin up. “What time’d you get back?”

“Dunno,” Sirius marched over and plopped on Remus’ bed next to him. He was shining in the
sunlight streaming through the window, light casting lines across his tattooed skin. Remus’
favorite one, the phases of the moon across his collar bones, was on full display this morning. “She
kept insisting on shots,”

“Right,” Remus said. He took a deep breath in and turned to look Sirius in the eye. They spoke at
exactly the same time.

“Please try and keep it down –”

“—I know they’re loud I’m sorry,”

Sirius chuckled before running a hand over his face, smearing his eyeliner even further. He grinned
back at Remus, bringing a hand towards the fag and peeling it out of Remus’ hands. He hissed at
the cold before dropping the cigarette in his mouth. It sat there as he reached back out and
enveloped Remus’ hands in his own.

“Christ, Moony,” He hissed again. “You’re as cold as ice,”

He loved these little moments of physical affection with Sirius. Most of Sirius’ touches were
reserved for the vaguely homoerotic fights or embraces he had with James. Remus was a man of
words and Sirius knew that. What Sirius didn’t know was that Remus was a man of Sirius’ hands.
He loved the long, callused fingers and the words etched across them in harsh black in. “Toujours”
was printed into his knuckles. It was Sirius’ way of taking his family’s motto and making it his
own.

Sirius squeezed Remus’ hands and Remus tipped his head up to look the man sprawled across his
bed in the eyes. Sirius had a sad smile on his lips.

“I am sorry about the girls,” He said. “I know the walls are thin and I’m sometimes a shit
roommate,”

“You’re not a shit roommate,” Remus replied softly. “We just need to move,”

Sirius sighed. “It is so hard being such a good lay in such a thin-walled apartment,”

Remus yanked his hands out from Sirius and grabbed a pillow before sailing it into Sirius’
stomach. Sirius was howling with laughter as he fought against Remus, grabbing at his arms to stop
the assault that Remus was forcing on him. Sirius finally rolled off the bed and onto the floor, still
hysteric with laughter. Remus chucked the pillow at him.

“Fuck you,” He said through his own laughter.

Sirius lifted himself off the floor and threw the pillow back at Remus with one hand. He kept the
hand out stretched to Remus.

“Come on,” He said. “We’re gonna be late again and I’d rather not face the wrath of James for a
second time this week,”

Remus put his hand in Sirius and allowed him to pull him up, delighting in the final touch of Sirius
that he’d have for the foreseeable future.

--
The month the Marauders had been allotted for the recording of their demo had flown by faster
than the speed of light. The day of the listening at Order of the Phoenix had come barreling down
the timeline like a freight train. Remus was back in his vaguely professional attire and fidgeting
with his jacket as the four Marauders sat outside Dorcas’ office. She was pitching them to
Dumbledore and the Execs as they all squirmed around outside. Their month of work with being
displayed to a bunch of people whom they’d never met. Maybe it was just that he was nervous, but
Remus was second guessing every line he’d ever wrote. He sighed then looked to his right. At least
he wasn’t as much of a mess as Peter was.

James sunk his hand into Peter’s bobbing knee.

“Peter, I will kill you,” James threatened. “You’re making me mad,”

Peter started jostling again. “What do you think they’re doing? Do you think she has that photo of
us we took a few years ago? Oh god what if they watch our set from Manchester! I was awful that
night –”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sirius gritted between his teeth. “Here she comes,”

Dorcas pushed into the waiting room, grin spread wide across her purple lips. Her braids were
swinging behind her as he walked, brushing against the white of her pressed suit. She motioned to
them to follow her and the four men basically fell over to push themselves through the door.

Inside the room was a long glass table with a myriad of older people peering at the leather-clad,
bumbling twenty-somethings that were tripping over themselves. At the head of the table sat
Dumbledore. He looked ancient but had a very cool, put together look about him. His hair was long
and near white, slung into a low ponytail around the base of his neck. Like everyone else in the
room, he was wearing a suit. His suit looked far more expensive than any of the others. Black and
red tattoos poked out from the collar and the ends of his sleeves. Perched on his crooked nose was
a pair of yellow lensed, black rimmed glasses. He sat with a small smile on his face and his hands
folded in front of him.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” He said. His voice was much lighter than Remus would’ve expected from
his appearance. “Please have a seat,”

Peter and James both tentatively sat down in a chair. Sirius swung himself into one with all the
poise and grace in the world. Remus slumped next to him, cracking his knuckles as he went.
Dumbledore stood. “We’ve listened to your demo and we have some questions,”

“Well, let’s have them then,” Sirius said. Remus could’ve punched him.

A scary looking man with a glass eye and a ghastly scar across his face made a gruff noise before
speaking. “Whom of you writes?”

“I do,” Remus said softly. “I do lyrics and everyone else helps out with instruments as needed,”

The man hummed. “You ever considered therapy?”

Some of the room laughed at that. Remus felt his cheeks get pink as he tried to stutter out a reply.

“Alastor,” Dumbledore cut in with a hand on the man’s shoulder. He turned back to Remus.
“Excuse him. He thinks he’s funny,”

“I am funny,” The man, Alastor, replied. “You may be fucked in the head, kid, but you write some
damn good music,”

Remus felt his hand twitch with the need to crack his knuckles again. “Oh, thank you,”

“And the singer is Mr. Black?”

Sirius grinned. “The one and only,”

Alastor hummed and then tipped his head. “A far cry from your father’s business, isn’t it?”

Sirius’ jaw clenched at the mention of his family. “Not all of us are motivated by money,”

“Ah, motivation of passion for the arts!” Dumbledore crooned. “My favorite kind of artist is the
one with nothing to lose and everything to gain,”
“That’s us, sir,” James replied.

“It shows in the songs,” Alastor grumbled. “They’re unusual for a rock group. Drenched in
metaphors,”

Remus cleared his throat. “I like creating music that makes people think. One of my favorite bands
is The Smiths. They do that a lot,”

“Morrisey a right prick though,” Alastor said again.

Dumbledore laughed and patted the man on the shoulder. “He wasn’t too bad. He just had a
penchant for aggravating you,”

Alastor said something undistinguishable under his breath.

“We really like the three songs you’ve prepared for us,” A dark skin man across the table from
Alastor said. “We think you lot have a unique sound and can bring a lot to the industry that’s been
missing for a while,”

“Thank you,” James replied in earnest. “That means a lot,”

“We’d like to release ‘Holy Toledo’ as a single,” Dumbledore explained, moving around the table
to come closer to where the Marauders were sitting. “While we get feedback on it, we want to start
working on your album. Alastor Moody will produce alongside Bill Weasley. The debut will then
be used to gauge whether we should start on a tour or not,”

The words were swimming in Remus’ brain like a bullet through water. Single. Album. Tour. He
almost couldn’t believe it. He looked at Sirius, who was smiling from ear to ear, then to James
who was sitting slack jawed next to him. His heart stuttered in his chest a bit. This was it. This was
it.

“So you’re signing us?” James whispered.

“Yes, Mr. Potter,” The dark skinned man said with a smile. “We are,”

“Congratulations,” Dorcas said softly from behind them.

Remus felt dizzy. He’d been waiting for this day since he got his first Oasis album, since he’d
strummed his first guitar, since James suggested they all form a band. It was everything. He felt he
could fly, soaring over the trees below him and yell at them as he climbed higher and higher. He
was doing it. They were doing it.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Sirius cursed as he pulled at his hair. The room erupted in laughter again.

Dumbledore opened his arms as if to invite them in. “Are you in?”

“Fuck yes,” James breathed. The room erupted into claps of praise. Sirius grabbed Remus’ hand
under the table and squeezed. He tipped his head to look into the beautiful Sirius Black grin
starring at him.

“Fuck,” He mouthed as the room died down. A glass of champagne was put in front of each of the
band members, Dumbledore and Alastor.

“To new beginnings,” Dumbledore said. “And to our Marauders!”

The glasses clinked between the four.

This must be what heaven feels like, Remus thought.

The room was quickly emptied save for Alastor, Dorcas, the band and Dorcas’ assistant Benji.
Benji was flittering around the room, shoving papers and pens into each of the band’s hands.
James, forever trying to find some use for his law degree, read the contract meticulously before
anyone signed. With his seal of approval, the four signed their music and their futures to the Order
of the Phoenix Records.

Dorcas was still going to be managing them as they continued their foray into the land of music
and offered them all a drink to celebrate. They returned to the bar in which Sirius and Remus had
been a few weeks prior, shoving into a booth while Dorcas perched herself in a chair on the end of
the table.

“Cheers, lads!” She sang over the roar of the music. Their pints all hit together. Each member took
a sip.

James sat his beer down. “I do believe I should apologize, Dorcas,”

“Oh god, not this again,” She whined.

“How was I supposed to know you were a lesbian? Also that you’d want to actually talk to us about
our music? No one ever wanted to talk about our music!”

“Prongs, you’re making it worse,” Peter said.

Dorcas held a hand up. “Stop there, Potter. Apology accepted. You got here and that’s all that
matters,”

James smiled brightly at her before slinging an arm around her shoulder and bringing her to his
chest. She stuttered a bit at the force and her beer sloshed around in its glass.

“This is the start to a beautiful friendship, Dorky!”

Dorcas groaned and shoved herself out his arms. “Do not call me that, Christ,”

“Nicknames are kind of our thing,” Sirius drawled, tapping his ringed fingers against his glass.

“Yeah what the hell is up with that?”

“Up with what?” Remus answered.

Dorcas waved her hand. “Like why do you all call each other what you call each other?”

Sirius hooted with laughter. He slapped his palm on the table before sending an pointer finger at
Dorcas. He spoke as if he’d been preparing the monologue his whole life. “That is a lovely
question, Miss Meadowes,”

Sirius slung his arm around Peter’s neck, jerking him down into Sirius’ armpit. “This here is
Wormtail,” He narrated. “On the account of him owning a pet rat in year ten that he named Worm.
‘Why did he name the rat Worm?’ you ask me. Well,” He motioned to Peter.

“He was a little wormy you know?” Peter said softly with wide eyes. “He’d squeeze out of my
hands all the time and then I’d lose him for like two hours and I couldn’t find him,”

“Never forget when he was sitting in the toilet as I went to have a wee,” James said shaking his
head. “Scared the piss out of me,”

Dorcas raised an eyebrow. “You lost your pet rat?”

“Named Worm!” Sirius chimed in. He let go of Peter and reached across the table to ruffle Remus’
hair. Remus swatted at him and he sat back down with a smirk.

He pointed back at the taller man. “That right there is Messer Moony. He used to be Moody
because he was always listening to somber ass music, the git. But then in year eleven, James got
into a habit of pants-ing him. I believe I’ve seen Moony’s arse more times than I can count,”

Remus was busy trying to muse his hair back into something acceptable. “I still think you scarred
Professor Bins,”

“With an arse as white as your, I’d be scarred too,” Sirius commented.

“What have I gotten myself into,” Dorcas mumbled under her breath as she pinched the bridge of
her nose.

“Then this one,” Sirius continued on, completely ignoring Dorcas. He jabbed a thumb at James
who looked a bit like a deer in headlights. “Is Prongs. On the account of him having stabbed both
Remus and I in the hand with a fork,”

“A fork?!” Dorcas gasped.

Both Remus and Sirius raised their hands. Remus’ four holes were sticking out prominently from in
between the crisscrossed other scars across the back of his hand. Sirius’s were punctuated by the
four black inked circles that swooped around the white scars. Dorcas yipped and immediately
scooted her chair away from James. He feigned hurt.

“It was only twice!” He protested.

“Twice is two times too many!” Dorcas replied. “How the fuck does that even happen?”

James sighed and dropped his chin into his palm. “Molly Pritcher,”

Sirius smacked him lightly on the side of the face. “Bloody Molly Pritcher,”

“She was just so lovely,” James continued. “I couldn’t help but stare. But then I went to jab a
potato and fucking Ernie Jones was trying to put the moves on her. I jabbed at the potato a little too
hard and speared myself a Moony instead,”

Remus was laughing now. Dorcas looked appalled. “Then he got Sirius the next week,”

“Rest is history!” Sirius threw his hands up, looking content with his measure of narrating.

“You didn’t tell her yours, Padfoot,” Peter crooned, leaning his head into Sirius’ space. Sirius
shoved his head away.

“I don’t know if I want to know,”

Remus laughed again. “Oh know you do,” He pointed at Sirius. “One time this idiot got so stoned
and tried to shower but forget his shower shoes. Now, normally, one would just go get their shower
shoes. But Padfoot, our lovely idiot, decided to take pads from the ladies loo and wrap them on his
feet,”

“I won’t be slandered for my innovation!” Sirius protested. “Padfeet is the next great thing,”

Dorcas forehead hit the table. Her hands were woven in between the braids on top of her head that
she was trying to rip out. James patted her on the back.

“Don’t be too sad, Dorky,” He comforted. “At least we’ll make you some good music!”

Dorcas lifted her head. “You better, so help me god, or I’m dropping you all off the nearest cliff,”

Remus laughed along with his friends. He looked at Sirius and caught the telling mischievous glint
in his eyes. It was the same one that he had every time he came up with a ridiculous prank at
school. It was pure, sweet and reminded Remus of a time when he met the a young boy with wavy
black hair who was sitting on a bed in a tiny dorm. One, pale, bare hand outstretched towards him.

“Sirius Black, pleasure to meet you,”

“Cheers, I’m Remus,”

“Remus? What kind of bloody name is that?”

“The good kind. What kind of name is Sirius?”

“The good kind,” He poked his tongue out before breaking into the first Sirius grin that Remus
would ever see. “I like you, Remus. I think were going to be best friends,”

Remus snorted. “Sure, Sirius,”

If only that Remus could see them now.

 Four
Chapter Notes

Hi! Im so so sorry that this is so late. I have been in a real bad slump with writing and
just had no motivation. Luckily, this chapter didn't turn out too terribly in terms of plot
etc.

Enjoy!

Chapter TW: mention of child abuse, drinking, smoking, mention of panic attack

Four
Their next concert was on Remus’ twenty-sixth birthday, another real gig. Real in that it wasn’t
someone’s basement. Real in that it was an actual establishment set up for music and had lights and
audio engineers and god knows what else. Real in that they were playing their own music.

It has been Dorcas’ idea to have them play their own music. “Free marketing,” she had said as if
she hadn’t sat in the meeting with the band and the PR team last week and had not created a band
Instagram account for the sole purpose of marketing. She’d insisted they play at least two of their
own songs and so they’d settled on “Oulala,” as Sirius had done the rework on the bridge with
Moody the week prior, and “Holy Toledo,” as Remus loved when they played it and well, it was
his birthday. They’d filled in the rest of their set list with covers of their favorites: The Black Keys
for Peter, Nirvana for Sirius and Blur for James.

The show was at a bar that usually hosted much bigger acts but seeing as Dorcas was not only the
manager for Marauders but was also the manager for Bonny Sunset, she seemed to have earned
people’s trust. The manager of the bar was a bit skeptical about selling out but all it took was
Marlene reposting their setlist on Instagram (with a jab at Remus being her protégée) and the show
was completely bought out before the night had even started.

Remus had taken up his pre-set joint by himself in the alleyway as the rest of the band tuned their
instruments. He blew smoke into the air when the door to the dressing room clattered open. In a
bizarre sense of déjà vu, Sirius came stumbling out into the alley. A cheeky smile was stretched
across his mouth.

“Birthday boy!” He shouted. “Care to share some of your delicious herb with your roommate and
bestest friend?”

“Aren’t you supposed to bring me joints on my birthday?” Remus passed it over to him.

“We all know you hate your birthday,” Sirius pulled sharp on the joint before blowing it out his
nose. Always blowing it out his bloody nose like some sort of punk rock demon, spitting fire and
sending the rest of the steam out his nostrils.

“And thus, we refuse to get you anything,”

“Touché,”

It was true. He hated his birthday. Which then, of course, was why every year was more
aggressive than the next. It was precisely why Remus wasn’t surprised when Sirius held out a
small black box to the man who was currently smoking himself into numbness. He sighed.

“Padfoot, your prick,” He chastised. “I said no gifts!”

“No means yes,” He plucked at the pilling denim button up on Remus’ arms. “Plus, I only consider
this half of your gift. I think I ought to buy you a new shirt. This one is dreadful,”

Remus swatted his chipped black nails away. “I like this shirt,”

“It’s covered in holes and smells of Effie’s old mink, Moony,”

“Fuck off,” Remus turned the box over in his hands. It was black velvet, something that one would
expect an engagement ring to be in. His heart stuttered at the idea. He opened the clasp and sure
enough, there was a ring in the box. He looked up at Sirius, who wore a shit-eating grin.

“Are you proposing?” Remus asked.

“I may be,” Sirius replied. He took the box from Remus’ hands and pulled the ring out before
dropping to one knee and sighing exasperatedly.

“Moony,” He began. “Light of my life, holder of my soul and writer of such genius as ‘Oulala’—”

“Technically, you wrote that part and therefore named the song,”

Sirius frowned. “Shut up, you’re ruining my proposal,” He cleared his throat. “Anyways, Moons.
Moony. Moonbeam. Mooneroni and Cheese. Moon of my life –”

“God, I pity the woman you end up proposing to,”

“She will be far more grateful than your disrespectful ass,” He pulled the ring out and grabbed for
Remus’ hand. “Will you do me the honor of being in a band with me until we grow old and crusty
and our fingers fall off from playing too much?”
Remus let out a hearty laugh, tossing his head back. “Give me that and get up you tosser,”

He plucked the ring from Sirius’ hand and looked at it. The entire thing was a shiny, polished gold
that was picking up the light of the lamp in the alley. It was entirely smooth save for an intricate
“R” that was embellished into the surface of the ring. It was very similar to the gaudy silver ring
that Sirius wore on his thumb, embellished with the crest of the Most Ancient and Noble House of
Black. Remus turned it in his hand, looking at the curve of the inside when he caught the
inscription.

Mischief managed.

He smiled to himself then looked up to share the emotion with Sirius. Both of them were grinning
wildly. The inscription was something the four of them had called over voice memos whenever
they’d finished a prank like they were ten with walkie talkies instead of fifteen with iPhones. Over
the years, it developed into something they would say to each other in times of need. Mischief
managed turned into “I’m sorry” or “I love you” or anything else they wanted it to mean. The
phrase was their funny little way of being sentimental to each other. It became their comfort.

“Sirius, I can’t take this,” Remus said softly.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a gift,”

“I hate birthday gifts,”

“Not a birthday gift. I got them for Prongs and Wormy too. Record signing gifts!” Sirius paused
and locked eyes with Remus. He had the look in his eye that he always had when they spoke of
something that wasn’t jovial and youthful. It was reserved for tough conversations and serious
emotion. It was pity and empathy all wrapped in a neat box made of silver eyes and a slight quirk
of the right side of his lip.

“You deserve it, Remus. You’re amazing, you know that right?”

“I’m alright,”
Sirius shook his head somberly. “No, you’re amazing. You got us here. The way you write, god,
it’s magical. You’re magic,” Remus watched his hand twitch at his side. Sirius sighed.

“I don’t think we’d be nearly as good without you,”

“Thanks Pads,” Remus muttered, hand running up to palm at the back of his neck. He looked up
meet Sirius’ eyes again. They were watching him with a careful precision, scanning over the scar
that jutted across his nose and split his eyebrow in two. He looked beautiful as ever, like Hades
himself had risen from the fiery gates of hell to strike the strings in Remus’ cold heart and send it
beating away into a mess of knobby knees and sweaty palms every time he did so much as raise an
eyebrow.

Remus sighed. Sirius’ eyebrows creased and he opened his mouth as if he was going to say
something before jamming it shut again.

“What?”

Sirius shook his head, breaking eye contact from Remus. “Nothing, nothing,” He pulled at his hair,
cheeks turning pink. He snapped his fingers and looked back up to Remus. “Oh, when we sing you
‘Happy Birthday’ on stage, don’t kill me. It was Prongs’ idea,”

Remus groaned before shoving the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. Sirius laughed and all at
once, the confusing swirl of their relationship was whisked away into the night in the descent of
Hades back into the Underworld.

Sirius shoved his shoulder. “Happy Birthday, Moons,” He turned on his heel and sauntered back
into the dressing room. Remus stomped out the last of his joint under the heel of his boot before
following him.

He was greeted with James in a ridiculously pointy birthday hat, noise maker poking out of the side
of his mouth. He blew it loudly, causing Remus to flinch, and held up a sign on an ordinary piece
of computer paper.

HAPPI BDAY MOONCAKEZ!!!11!!

“Oh, good god, what is that?” Remus said as Sirius rushed back towards him, similar pointy hat in
his hand.

Remus jumped away from the other man but was then pined in place by Peter. He tried his hardest
to moves away from Sirius’ hands but soon enough, the underside of his chin was being smacked
with elastic. Peter shoved a noise maker into Remus’ mouth. The three other Marauders moved
away to glance at their masterpiece, James with his hands on his hips, Sirius with his crossed
across his chest and Peter with his shoved between his teeth. Remus blew the noise maker once. It
gave a noise caught between a dying goose and a kicked cat. Sirius nodded.

“Good, that’ll do,”

James shoved his guitar in Remus’ hand before wrapping his hand around the birthday brat’s wrist
and dragging him down the hall to the stage. Remus fumbled with the hat the entire way and was
kept at bay by a very apologetic Peter while Sirius shoved at his back. They all lined up backstage,
Remus’ wrists caught between Sirius’ hands to keep him from grabbing at the hat which was
slowly slipping down his head and pushing his hair over his eyes.

“This is a very precarious situation you’ve gotten yourself in, Lupin,” Sirius drawled, hand still
clamped around Remus’ wrist.

“Please let me go,” It was a whingy, desperate sound.

Sirius chuckled before pushing the hat back up his head. He caught Remus’ gaze, the side of his
lip caught between his pearly white teeth. He patted Remus on the cheek. “Not unless you’ll be a
good boy,”

The comment went straight to Remus’ cock. He blinked twice before giving one final yank and
pulling his hands out of Sirius’ grasp. The dark-haired man winked before trotting out on to the
stage, bass held in his hand. He leaned into the microphone.

“Hellooooo! We are Marauders and it’s our guitar player’s birthday!”

Remus shoved a hand in his pants, trying to shift the tent in his trousers from being seen by a very
large crowd of people who were there to watch him play his silly little songs and not there for a
private viewing of his bits. He threw the hat off his head and slung the guitar around his neck
before plugging it in and riffing through the first few chords of the song, off stage. James took that
as his cue to play in and soon enough, Peter and Sirius had joined in on the beginning of their song.
Remus walked on stage to the cheers echoing through the pub. Sirius was still looking at him as
they played into the first verse, smug grin across his face. Remus was very lucky the guitar was
covering his crotch or else he’d have everyone staring at the effects of the lovely, sinful Sirius
Black.

The first four songs of the set had gone so well that the crowd was positively buzzing by the time
Sirius’ had announced that they would be singing to the newest twenty-six-year-old. It was
horribly off key for a group of men who claimed to call themselves musicians. Cheeks rouged and
fingers stuttering wildly, Remus started in on their final song. It was the first time they’d be playing
it live and somehow that made it all the more daunting.

He played the tab just the same as he had when he’d originally proposed it to the band and waited
for the clattering of James playing them in. Sirius had given up the bass to Pete for the song, fully
focused on the words that Remus had wrote. He gripped the microphone with one hand as he sung.

“I went to the store today

Met a purple John, he said

You've got eyes in your head”

The thing that made Sirius Black an excellent performer was ability to entice the crowd. Even
without the guitar, he bobbed around like he was playing it, swaying his black hair to the beat in
which James was thrumming away in the back of the stage. He was magnetic and Remus couldn’t
keep his eyes off him.

“List 'em like I kept you spangled, keep,

I told you that the truth is in the day, go”

Peter and Remus stepped up to their own microphones, playing the cords harder than in the verse
just as Sirius had done in front of Bill. The sang into the microphones, echoing around Sirius’
lovely little voice with its melodic rasp. Remus caught eyes with one fan as he sang. He had blonde
hair and was wearing a very deeply cut purple top. He waggled his fingers at Remus, causing him
to forget that he was playing music live, on a stage, in front of people. He tore his eyes away as the
second verse started, the song’s namesake.

“I went to the parking lot

That’s a nice smile okay

Life is just a euphemism

Holy Toledo, what songs do you know?

They don't look like that at all”

This chorus, he kept his head down, looking at his fingers skittering across the neck of the guitar.
His lips were pressed against the cool metal of the microphone, singing with all the strength he
could muster before landing on the last riff of the chorus and laying him palm flat against the
whammy to send the reverbed note through the speakers. The bridge was his favorite part, quiet
enough to hear the words that had made Remus’ heart ache when he saw them written in jagged
red ink by his own sloppy hand.

“Someday I will find a way

Bullet in the brain 'cause my life’s a cliché”

He turned his head to see Sirius looking at him, mouth pressed to the microphone, his eyes were
glossy in the stage lights. Sirius sang the bridge on repeat, mouthing into the microphone which
was currently curled in his palm. Remus wondered if he knew that he held Remus’ heart in his
hand like that, clutched desperately and hard. He could almost feel Sirius’ hand tighten as his voice
cracked, the beat kicked in again to play the chorus. Remus stepped back to his mic, dropping the
gaze that Sirius was burning into his soul to sing the words that had been said to him to many times
before.

“Remus, please,” his voice hiccuped at the end. “Come on. You need to breathe.”

“God, Sirius, it hurts,” Remus cried.

“I know, Remus, I know,” He whispered, hands going down to squeeze at his hands. “I know but
you can’t – you can’t do this. You have to try and breathe. Please, Remus.”

“They’re gone. They’re so gone. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault and I – I can’t feel anything but
sadness. I can’t be this way anymore. I can’t. I can’t–”

“Remus, please,” Sirius cried, the desperation in his voice harsh. “Please, breathe. I’ll get you
help. I’ll fix you, alright? I promise I’ll help you. I – I can’t lose you.”
“I can’t.”

“I know. I’ll help you,” Sirius said, voice just as small. “I know and I’ll help you.”

The final line of the song snapped him back into reality. The crowd was going absolutely wild.
James was standing next to him, looping an arm around his shoulder. He leaned into Remus’
microphone.

“One more time for our birthday boy!”

The crowd roared again. James shook his shoulders and Sirius waltzed over, grin plastered on his
lips. He grabbed Remus’ face in his hands and shook.

“Brilliant,” He screamed above the crowd. “Bloody brilliant, you are,”

The entire world felt it had slowed down. He held Remus’ face for a second too long, letting
Remus vision become a blur of black and grey much more than he usually would allow. The sea
behind his eyes began to roar to life as he searched Remus’ face. His lips parted out of their smile,
sweat tumbling down his temple. Remus watched his eyes dip lower and lower and lower and
watched the pupils begin to take up more and more of the sea as his gaze became fully focused on
the pinks of Remus’ lips and the whites of his teeth.

His gaze pulled back up and the world began to spin normally again, sounds of the crowd coming
back into his ears. Sirius grinned again before shoving his face to the side. He spun on his heel and
stood up to be level with the microphone.

“Thank you again! We are Marauders!” He yelled. The crowd roared again. “Meet us at the bar for
drinks on me!”

The crowd got somehow louder with the mention of free drinks. Sirius spun on his heel again,
bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he raised his eyebrows at Remus and saunter off the stage.
Remus followed, vision still whirring in grey and lips still aching for the sensation of being kissed.

--
After nipping through fours lines consistent of four overpoured shots of tequila, two full joints, six
bottles of beer and a pack of cigarettes, Dorcas had managed to get the entire band out of the
backstage room and into the bar to be treated with the roars of the fans that had stayed behind to
greet the rising stars. Emmeline threw herself into Sirius’ arms and then the two snuck away from
the cluster of people standing in front of the door to backstage. Marlene was there and wrapped her
arms around Remus with a wide smile.

“God, you lot were amazing!” She said into his ear before affectionately cupping his cheek.

Remus pulled his head out of Marlene’s grasp and let the heat creep onto his cheeks. He smiled
back at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Supporting the newest addition to Order of the Phoenix, of course!” She laughed. “Brought the
rest of the girls too. Figured you might like someone to show you the ways,”

Just as she spoke, the fiery red of Lily Evans’ hair pushed through the crowd, elbows out and
swinging. She gasped as she finally reached Marlene and Remus, who both stood a half foot above
her. Her fringe was much less sweaty than the last time the band had seen her and was swaying
over her eyebrows.

“Fucking hell,” She mumbled. “You guys have some crazed fans,”

“They’re just passionate,” Came James’ voice from seemingly nowhere. He stood rim-rod straight,
ever the posh boy. “I’m James. We met at the studio,”

“Yeah, I remember,” Lily replied. She didn’t even attempt to hide the way she looked at him from
head to toe with a mild grimace of disgust. “You mucked up the opening fill of that Blur song
pretty badly tonight,”

James smirked. “Maybe you can show me how you’d play it?”

“Not bloody likely,”

“Lily,” Marlene tutted. “Be nice,”

Lily snorted and crossed her arms across her chest. “I’m being nice by being honest. Bit beyond
fixable, eh?”

James just stared at her, mouth slack and beer in his hand. The four stood in silence until Lily blew
her fringe off her face and stomped off behind him, mumbling under her breath about how much of
a weirdo he was.

“Well,” Marlene sighed. “That went well,”

Remus carded a hand through his hair and laughed awkwardly before shoving James in the
shoulder. He said nothing, sipping his pint before finally speaking.

“I’m in love with her,”

Marlene laughed while Remus cringed. She put her hand on his shoulder. “Good luck, Jaz,”

“Lily’s a bit of a tough shell to crack,” Said an unfamiliar voice.

Remus looked to Marlene’s right to see another woman. She was shorter than Marlene and Remus
but still a head taller than Lily. Her skin was the color of honey and her hair was the color of a
Mars bar, tightly wound in finger curls that looked as though they’d been twirled around her pinky.
Her eyes were the same amber color as Remus’ but held all the warmth and joy his lacked. Her lips
were coated in a thick purple lipstick and crooked into a tight smile. Her nose had a swirl of gold
poking out of it. She stuck her hand out towards Remus. Her nails were painted the same shade of
purple as her lips.

“Mary McDonald,” She said. “Guitarist of Bonny Sunset. Remus, right? Marly loves you,”

Remus took her hand. “Remus, yeah. Cheers,” He pulled his hand back and instantly went to rub at
his neck. He looked at Marlene. “You talking shit, McKinnon?”

“Yeah about how you ditched me for your posh-o boarding school,” She raised an eyebrow. “We
could’ve been in a real band instead of you and that gaggle of idiots,”
She motioned behind Remus. He turned to see James holding Peter in a headlock, sloshing beer all
over the floor. Sirius had since returned from doing God-knows-what with Emmeline and was
egging James’ on, taking swigs from the bottle of tequila he’d brought with him from behind the
stage. Remus snorted and looked back at Marlene. Her eyebrow was still raised, arms crossed over
her chest. Mary was grinning. He shrugged.

“They play well despite being a gaggle of idiots,”

“I’ll say,” Mary took a sip from the glass in her hand. It was purple and Remus was beginning to
see a trend. “That first song was absolutely brilliant. How do you come up with all those noises?”

“What noises?”

She waved her hands a bit. “The la la la? I mean it sounds stupid when I say it but you guys are
amazing,”

“It’s all Sirius,” Remus supplied. “He makes all these weird ass noises when he’s doing nothing
and his brain is just so musically inclined that everything is a melody. He did the chorus for Holy
Toldeo too,”

Mary eyebrows knitted together. “Yeah what is a Toldeo?”

“Oi!” Marlene called over Remus’ shoulder. James took the chance to tackle Peter to the ground.
Sirius turned his head, mouth pressed to the bottle.

“Come here and talk music with us instead of dicking around like a bunch of apes,”

Sirius smirked and sauntered over. “Ladies,” he drawled. He took Mary’s hand and kissed her
knuckles. She was entirely unamused. “Who may I have the pleasure of meeting?”

“Mary. Bonny Sunset. Guitar,” She dead-panned before cocking her head. “Didn’t I see you
sucking face with some cute Asian girl in the bathroom?” She yanked her hand back and gave him
a tight lipped smile. “Pleasure,”
Sirius laughed before wagging a finger at her. “Oh I like you,” He turned to Marlene. “Miss Marly,
lovely to see you again, darling,”

“Likewise,” She replied. “Remus was just telling us how you came up with the chorus for Oulala.
Says you make all sorts of funny little sounds,”

He took a swig out of the bottle before pressing it into Remus’ chest and throwing an arm around
his shoulder. “You can make music out of anything, really. Any words can be transformed into a
melody,”

Lily pushed past his shoulder to stand behind Mary and glare over the men’s shoulders. “Tell your
mate I’m not fucking meat for his slaughter,”

The four turned to look at James. He wore a sheepish grin and waved slightly before turning on his
heel and nearly running to the bar. They turned back around as Sirius tutted. He raised a finger
before pinching one eye shut, deep in thought.

“Tell your mate,

I’m not fucking meat for his slaughter,”

Remus, despite his best efforts, let his jaw fall slack. Mary and Lily wore similar expressions.
Marlene had a knowing smirk. Sirius shook his head. “No, no, it’s not right. Maybe a C minor on
the last phrase?”

He sang it again, pitching up the word “slaughter”. Marlene snorted and shook her head before
slowly clapping her hands together. “Bloody hell, Black,” She said. “That was impressive,”

Sirius bowed before pulling the bottle back out of Remus’ arms and tipping it back. “You’re one to
talk. I’ve always been a fan of Bonny Sunset,” He shoved Remus’ shoulder. “You were Moony’s
best kept secret,”

Remus rubbed at his arm. “I told you about Marlene,” He grumbled. “Never told you which
Marlene,”

“Moony?” Mary said under her breath to Lily as Marlene shrugged.

“Everything I learned about writing is from Remus,” She said. “He’s a genius. Was always waiting
for him to win some sort of award for his writing,”

Sirius patted him on the cheek. “Not punk rock enough for Moons,”

“Moons?” Mary whispered.

“Get used to it,” Marlene said lazily over her shoulder she turned back to the men and jerked back
before breaking into a smile. “They’re playing a Remus inspired song now,”

Sirius pointed to the speakers. “Whirring, isn’t it?”

Lily nodded. “God, love this one,”

“Colours run prime, paint a picture so bright’ is a Remus Lupin line,” Marlene said. “Believe we
wrote it in the summer after year nine,”

“Shouldn’t I be getting royalties?” Remus mumbled.

“You’ll get your own royalties soon,” Mary replied, head bobbing away at the riff echoing through
the bar. Her hands were twitching at her sides, playing invisible chords in the air.

“Is it weird,” Remus started, eyes boring into Marlene’s green ones. “Hearing your own voice and
your own words in a pub?”

Marlene grinned wickedly. “It’s a high you get from the first drop riding a roller coaster, all up in
your head and makes you feel fucking breathless and weightless, but it lasts longer than a few
seconds. It lasts goddamn hours,”

Sirius whistled low before tipping back the bottle again. Remus grabbed for it and took his own
swig. That warranted a drink.
“You really think we’re good enough to make it, Marls?” Remus said softly.

She walked past him, stopping shoulder to shoulder and grabbing his hand. She squeezed softly. “I
know you are,”

She and the rest of Bonny Sunset left the bar an hour or so later. They had a morning session with
Moody and they were sure he’d be hungover and didn’t want to make it worse by nursing their own
headaches and rolling stomachs. The bar had somehow gotten quieter yet rowdier as the night had
progressed. James had been following Lily around like a lost baby deer until she left (flipping him
two chipped-nailed middle fingers as she went) and he had slumped down on a couch next to
Dorcas since then. The two had engaged in a very intense conversation that ended with Dorcas
patting him on the knee before she too left. Pete was quick after that, citing the seven AM alarm he
had as his excuse. James had then slumped next to Sirius at the bar, hair sticking up worse than
normal, and was scribbling away on a napkin.

Sirius laughed at him before nudging Remus’ shoulder. “Whaddya think he’s writing?” He fake
whispered. He always lost his perfect English when he was this drunk.

Remus peered around Sirius. “Love notes to Evans,”

James turned to glare at them before yanking the napkin farther away from his two laughing
friends and blocking them with his back. Sirius took another swig of his beer before nudging
Remus again.

“Got any fags?”

“We’re inside. You can’t smoke inside,”

“I’ll be discrete,”

Remus snorted. “No you won’t, you wanker. You’ll start blowing smoke rings into the bartender’s
face,”

“Please, Moonbeam dearest?” He whinged. Remus turned towards him. Sirius wore his signature
puppy pout, with his eyes more glazed over than usual, tequila shining behind them. Remus sighed
and shoved his hands into his pockets before throwing the carton of his perfect rolls on the counter.
“Don’t get caught,” He warned.

Sirius smiled and plucked one out before shoving it between his mouth. “Cheers, Moony,”

He took a long pull, letting the smoke drift up his nose as he always before turning into his arm pit
and blowing it out. He shoved the lit cigarette under the bar with one hand before grabbing at his
pint with the other hand. He coughed into it.

Remus rolled his eyes before going for his own pint. “You’re going to kill yourself if you keep
smoking that much,”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Marijuana connoisseur,”

“Weed is used as a medicine for people with lung cancer. I’m just cancelling it out, really,”

Sirius gave him a pointed stare, one eyebrow arched. “That is not how that works. I passed my A-
levels enough to know that,”

“Passed?” Remus questioned, his own hand playing with the joint eyeing him up from the carton
still on the counter. “I do believe that I was the one who took that chemistry final for you,”

Sirius waved a hand. “Still would’ve passed. Also, I believe I took your maths A-level, didn’t I?”

“You may have,” Remus said into his pint.

“Then we’re even,”

“I did all your English projects. We’re not even,”

Sirius snorted. He leaned on one hand before bringing the cigarette back up to take another drag.
He blew it out threw the smirk in his lips. “You’re just nervous cause you’d miss me,”
“Miss you?”

“If I kicked it,”

It was Remus’ turn to snort. “Maybe for a day,”

“You’d be lost without me,” Sirius countered.

“I’m lost with you, Pads,”

“But the good lost. You’d be devastated without little ‘ole me around,”

Remus’ nose twitched. “No,”

“Yuh-huh,” Sirius said.

“Not really you’re a collosal pain,”

“You would,”

“You never replace the toilet paper,”

“Moooony,”

“You have sex so loudly,”

“You like hearing me have sex,”

Remus twitched as he tried to sip his beer. “It’s disgusting hearing that much of you, mate,”

“You like it. You like me,”

“No I actually despise you. Effie paid me to be your friend,”

“Effie would never! Well, maybe for Prongs,”

Sirius had gotten out of his seat and was currently blowing smoke into Remus’ little anti-Sirius
bubbled he’d made around his head. It was usually a Sirius-free zone and here he was breaking
into it for the second time that night. He felt the taste of the tobacco despite pressing his lips so
tightly together that his jaw would break.

“Face it, Moony,” He whispered. “There’s something about me that’ll you’ll never get anywhere
else. Not from Prongs, surely not from Pete and probably not from Marlene. I’m a rare collector’s
edition of a human and not one you’d ever like to part with,”

Remus finally allowed himself to turn his head. Sirius’ face was inches away from him. His lips
were red with the coursing of the alcohol through his veins, cheeks pink to match. Tendrils of hair
were escaping from where he’d shoved it behind his ears. His eyes were slightly glazed over with
drunkenness. As soon as they met Remus’, they switched, becoming darker and wider with
something that was salacious and seducing. He let a long breath out of his nose and Remus could
taste the same intoxication swirl he had minutes before: mint and tobacco leaf. He ached to push
forward, to capture those lips with his own and suck the taste right out of his tongue. His hand
twitched, causing it to smack into the side of his pint and send it spilling all over the bar.

“Oh, buggering fuck,” He cursed, grabbing napkins while Sirius slunk back into his seat. He tried
dabbing at the spill but he’d nearly had a full pint and it was dripping over the sides. His trousers
were soaked. He cursed again and threw the napkins on the counter, getting up to stalk towards the
loo. Sirius sat, puffing away at the cigarette silently.

James grabbed at his sleeve as he passed him. “Moony! Look!” He shoved the napkin into Remus’
hands. It was written in James’ barely legible chicken scratch. He pointed at some of the words in
the bleeding black ink. “I wrote this about Lily. Do you think we could use it?”

“Prongs, what does this say?”

“’She says that I drink too much. I'm fucked up, and she hates my guts. She says I need to grow
up.’ Brill, innit?!”

Poor, poor, James. Remus gave him back the napkin. “That’s great, mate. I have to hit the loo.
Excuse me,”

He nearly ran into the bathroom. His heart was stammering in his chest as he grabbed the sink
basin. His knuckles turned white. He took in a shaky breath before forcing himself to look into the
mirror. It was splattered with water and god knows what else, creating a vaguely dirty looking
version of Remus. He took another breath, looking at the distorted image in front of him.

Calm down. You’re drunk. He’s drunk. He’s a flirty little bugger but it means nothing, none of it
means—

“Oh hello, babe,”

Remus jumped so fast and so hard, his head clattered into the light above the mirror. He cursed
before turning and looking at the source, hand rubbing absently at the bruise he was sure to have
on his head.

The man from the front row, still clad in the gaudy low cut purple top. He had matching blonde
hair spilling out from between the shirt. He, too, had eyes licked with the poision of alcohol and
was swaying slightly as he shot Remus a look of pure sleaze.

“Hi,” Remus breathed, still rubbing at his head.

The man sauntered closer to Remus. “You’re in the band right?”

“Uh, yeah. I am,” He pushed himself as far against the sink as he could, making sure to actually
take in the space the lamp was residing.

“It’s your birthday, right?” His words were slurred.

“Yep. Yep, it is,”

The man was so close now. He ran his index finger down Remus’ chest then down to play with the
buttons on his denim shirt just as Sirius had before the gig. His chin jutted up towards Remus.
Remus swallowed hard.

“How do you fancy a nice little birthday gift?” He drawled. His hands went down to Remus’ belt
loops. He thought about how those hands were coated in black nail polish, much like the hands of
the man sitting at the bar.

That may work.

Remus tipped his head up to meet the man’s eyes. They were a stony blue, half of what he wanted
and half a bit too cerulean for his tastes. He smiled more like peppermint than the cool spearmint
of Sirius. The hair was all wrong, too light and too little.

It’d have to do.

“What is this gift you have for me?” Remus breathed.

The man dipped his hand lower and fully cupped Remus through his trousers.

“Why don’t you find out,”

Remus surged forward and pressed his lips into the mans with a force kind to the Trojan horse
parading through Troy, trying to forget all of the grey eyes and inky black tattoos and raven-haired
men with crooked smiles and skin as white as his teeth.

--

Remus adjusted his trousers and looked at the scrap of paper sitting in his hands. Gilderoy
Lockheart. Yeah, he wouldn’t be getting a call. Bathroom excursions never got calls. Not that
anyone Remus allowed himself to be intimate did. He made one last check to see if his fly was up
before walking back over to where James was sitting at the bar. He looked around for Sirius, taking
into account Gilderoy’s location where he was very noticeably trying to not look at Remus.
He sat down next to James in Sirius’ abandoned seat. “What’s this you’re writing Prongs?”

James turned towards him slowly, shoving the napkin as he went. “Do I have to read it to you?”

“Er – you may,”

James cleared his throat. “‘This girl thinks that I'm a freak. She's been ignoring my calls. We
haven't spoken in a week. I get so drunk that I can't speak. Yeah, nothing's working, and our
future's looking bleak,’”

“Fuck,” Remus half-laughed. “That’s quite good,”

James shrugged. “Glad we could make something out of my misery,”

“Where’s Padfoot?”

“Went home with Em,” James said. Remus groaned. “I take it that’s bad,”

“I hear them through the walls,”

James cringed. “Yikes. I’d invite you over but my place is a proper mess,”

“It’s fine,” Remus sighed. “Take the tube with me?”

James nodded. The two left the bar and stepped out into the brisk March air, walking slightly
crooked as they navigated the sidewalks of London.

The night went by rather smoothly. Remus had heard no Two Feet and had heard no screechy
moans, perhaps because he’d gotten home after them. Regardless, he had a full night sleep and was
feeling rather chipper when he woke the next morning. He padded into the kitchen, feet bare and
wearing his PJ trousers low on his hips. His signature sleep jumper was slumped on his shoulders,
curls sticking up wildly. He paused as he took in the two figures in the living room.

“Sorry, didn’t know we we’re having guests or I’d dressed better,”

“Shove it, Lupin. I’ve seen your bare arse more times than I can count,”

Sirius chuckled and threw a pillow at the owner of the voice. The man was almost a mirror image
of Sirius, sharp jaw and blistering grey eyes. His hair was shorter and curler than Sirius’ and was
swooped back elegantly from his face. He was dressed far nicer than Sirius would ever dress,
pressed black trousers and a crisp white button up. He caught the pillow Sirius threw and let it drop
to the floor.

Sirius was still laughing. “Moony, making you Moony is the best thing to happen to me,”

“Not sure Reg can say the same,” Remus mumbled as he set the kettle on.

The second man shrugged. “Not my cup of tea but I understand the appeal,”

Sirius snorted at that and Remus felt the tips of his ears go red. He poured himself a cup of tea
before padding over and plopping down on the couch next to Sirius (yet somehow as far away as
possible). A record was spinning away on the player under the telly and music was softly filling
the air between them.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Regulus,” He said.

“Anytime,” The man named Regulus deadpanned. He jutted his chin towards the turntable.
“You’ve got a good record collection, Lupin,”

“Is this why you’re here?” Remus said as he sipped at his tea. “To listen to my records? Aren’t you
some big time business man? Can’t you buy your own vinyl?”

Regulus held his arms out, smile on his lips. “I’m here for brother bonding,” He said. He reached
forward to grab his mug off the coffee table. “Plus it’d take me years to cultivate a collection like
this,”
“Brother bonding!” Sirius echoed, raising his own mug.

Regulus Black was a fairly good younger brother, Remus reckoned. He was the kind of younger
brother that he thought he would like to have. After Sirius had run away from his family to pursue
music and not join the Black Inc., Regulus had tried his best to keep in touch with his brother.
There were times when it was hard but Reg always was there for Sirius, no matter what his
smarmy cousins spit at him or about him whenever they could. Did he stick up for Sirius when he
left? Not particularly. Did he tend to play Devil’s advocate or side with his evil parents? Well, yes.
But Regulus still cared for Sirius and that was what mattered to Remus.

Regulus was a fairly good brother.

“So what does brother bonding entail?” Remus questioned.

“Shitting on the cousins,” Sirius quipped.

“Talking about how the company is tanking,” Regulus answered.

“Prodding Reggie about his dating life,” Sirius went on.

“Not asking Sirius about his,” Regulus countered.

Sirius waved his hand. “The usual, really,”

“Sounds riveting,” Remus mumbled. “What’s the newest gossip about the Noble and Most Ancient
House of Black?”

Regulus picked the pillow that Sirius had tossed at him up and began picking at a stray thread.
“Bella’s getting married,”

“Is she now?” Sirius had perked up. “Who’s the unlucky bastard?”
“Rodolphus Lestrange,”

Sirius gasped dramatically, hand to his heart. “But wasn’t he engaged to Meredith Zabini?”

“It seems as though he has been swayed by her kind nature,” Regulus replied.

Remus snorted. He’d met Bellatrix Black. She was clinically insane and he’d run into her at the
psychiatric hospital a few times before her mother had yanked her out to preserve her image. She
was anything but kind.

“So when’s the wedding?” Sirius had gotten up to refill his mug and was wandering behind the
island of their kitchen.

Regulus shrugged before tossing the pillow in Sirius’ empty seat. “I don’t know. Probably not for a
while. You know how Aunt Druella likes to plan weddings,”

“God, the Malfoy wedding was bloody absurd,” Remus commented. Regulus gave him a weird
look. Remus shrugged and spoke softly. “Sirius showed me on Instagram,”

“Speaking of which, why did at-marauders with two z’s follow me?”

Sirius reappeared at the couch. “Our band has been signed, dearest brother,”

“Bloody fucking hell,” Reg said, carding a hand through his hair. “That’s great. Congrats,”

Remus and Sirius both raised their mugs in salute. Regulus was more toned down than his brother.
A slew of curse words and a “congrats” was the best they were going to get.

“Did you tell them?” Reg continued.

Sirius sipped his mug. “Tell who?”

“Mother and father,”

Remus watched as Sirius’ shoulders tensed at the mention of the two people in his life who truly
could not give two fucks if his band signed a record deal or not. The air was thick with the sounds
of The Strokes when Sirius set his mug down. He looked at his brother with all the ice in his veins.

“No, I didn’t,”

“Why not?”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘why not’, Regulus? They kicked me out for being in a band and now
you think they’re going to be happy because I got signed?”

“They still care about you, Sirus,” Regulus’ voice was still even.

“Fuck off,” Sirius snapped. “They could care less,”

“So you’re just going to wait until they start hearing you on the radio then?”

“What else am I supposed to do!?” Sirius was yelling now.

“Pads—”

“You’re bloody delusional if you think they would care about me becoming big. They probably
want me to stay hidden, swept under the bloody rug as so to not tarnish the reputation of Black
Inc.,”

“You’re being irrational Sirius—”

Sirius let out a laugh of malice. “I’m irrational? God, Regulus. We have this fight every time you
mention them. You think I’m supposed to be rational about a family that beat me and kicked me
out for not wanting to be abducted into the family cult?!”
“You make it sound like our childhood was awful,” Regulus scoffed.

“Mine was!” Sirius screamed back. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. He pointed at himself
as his voice finally came down to a normal level, the sentence bit out in a painful whine. “Mine
was,”

Regulus was standing now, shaking his head. “The world isn’t your sob story,” He snapped as he
pulled at the door of his apartment. “Their methods weren’t perfect but who’s parents are. They
cared about us and tried to give us the best life possible. Don’t delude yourself into thinking they
didn’t,”

Sirius laughed again then broke into the most twisted grin Remus had ever seen.

“You’re delusional,”

Regulus said nothing, shaking his head as he scoffed. “I came here to tell you something
important,”

“Well then,” Sirius snapped. “Spit it out,”

“Mother’s sick,”

Sirius gave a hysteric chuckle. He lifted his hands up then let them drop. “Is she dying?”

Regulus looked at the floor. “Stage four cancer,”

“Good fucking riddance,” Sirius snapped back.

Regulus said nothing when he looked up, digust and disdain present on his face. Hewalked out of
the door, slamming it behind him. The record was still spinning as Remus stood up, cautiously.
“Sirius—” He started.

“Fuck!” Sirius screamed, slamming the open cabinet shut with a bang. Remus jumped.

He walked behind the kitchen island and pulled at Sirius’ wrist. “I’m sorry, Sirius,”

“Fucking perfect Regulus,” He sneered. “Works at the family company in a top role. Has a fancy
car and a perfect finance. He can go fuck himself. Walburga too, the nasty cunt,”

Remus pulled at Sirius again and brought him to his chest. He rubbed in between shoulder blades
with the palm of his hand. “She’s still you’re mum,” He said. Sirius pulled back and looked at
Remus with fire in his eyes, nails digging into his arms.

“Don’t,”

“I mean it’s okay for you to be upset,” Remus said quickly. “That’s she’s dying,”

Sirius shook his head. “I don’t know what to think,”

Remus smiled at him softly, rubbing his thumb over the vein in his forearm. “I’m sorry,” He said
again.

Sirius sighed then let his head dip down, hair becoming a curtain in front of his face. His grip on
Remus’ arms loosened. He banged his head lightly against the front of the other man’s shoulder.
“Thanks, Moony,”

He pulled back and gave Remus a weak smile. He pushed off the side of the counter and stalked
towards his room, gently closing the door behind him. The soft crooning of The Strokes was
blurred out by the electric roar of The Pistols, a sure sign that Sirius was in a foul mood. Remus
sighed and pulled the needle off the record, letting John Lyndon replace the croon of Julian
Casablancas.

He stalked into his own room and cracked the window next to his bed. It was a weirdly warm
March day in London and the breeze felt nice. Sirius was still blaring music, loud enough that he’d
probably get a nasty text from Birdie later in the day. Remus sighed and pulled a spliff off his desk
along with his leather notebook. He flipped to a blank page before lighting up and blowing his
anxiety about the Black family out of the room in a puff.

He thought of Sirius and all the horridness he’d been through. Abusive parents, kicked out at
sixteen, scrapping by until his uncle died and left him a fortune he could barely keep track of. The
man could barely catch a break and now his brother was coming in to drop a bomb after stirring up
a fight. Coping with sex, smokes and rock ‘n roll only lasted for so long, Remus knew himself. It
was like ringing out a towel too many times to get the water out, causing it to pill and break from
the sheer amount of force put into trying to be dry once again. He began to scribble down on his
notebook, spliff poking out of the side of his mouth.

Hang me up to dry

You wrung me out

Too too too many times

He set his pen down and pulled on the spliff again. He wished he could make it better. He wanted
Sirius to be happy. Was it because he was in love with him or loved him? Remus didn’t know. He
just knew that every time he heard The Sex Pistols blaring across the hallway, his hear broke a bit
more than it did when it was Two Feet.
 Five
Chapter Notes

A/N: Mentions of car crashes, PTSD, grooming, drugs, grief, drug abuse and a whole
slew of other unsavory thoughts at the beginning of this chapter.

Also I don’t hate the song I chose for Death Eaters! I just needed to roast something as
the Marauders would for any song Snape wrote.

Enjoy the playlist here!

Thank you to Kit for Beta-ing!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Five

April twelfth was just like any other day.

Specifically in the fact that it wasn’t “just a day.”

It was the worst day.

Remus didn’t like to think of April twelfth just like he didn’t like to think about red Mini Coopers,
just like he didn’t like to think about his mum’s cawl or his da’s hearty laugh. The day normally
started off fine, but by the time he’d reached his mandatory session with Dr. Anderson, he was
beginning to feel the cracks in the fine china of his brain begin to shatter the walls he’d built up on
that day.

The cracks the year he turned twenty-six began as he pulled a mug for his tea out of the cabinet. It
was a mug with an odd looking sheep drawn on it, sold at the local market in Llandovery. It had
been a gift from Hope Lupin after he told her he was accepted into the Hogwarts School of the Arts
on full scholarship. Hope had given it to him as a reminder of home during his time in the Scottish
highlands. He felt the break sting as it landed itself in his chest. He put the mug back and pulled
out a different one, something garish that Sirius had brought back from a trip to Lisbon.
The second crack happened as he got ready for his appointment. Fabian had given him the day off
and the band had shoved their recording session to the evening at Remus’ request. Sirius had
wanted to cancel it all together but Remus had been adamant that April twelfth was just another
day. As he shoved his feet into his boots, Sirius tipped his head into the doorway. He wore a look
he reserved specifically for that date: a mix between caution and sheer pity.

“Morning,” He said softly.

“Morning,” Remus chorused as he laced his boots.

“Anderson?”

“Yeah,”

“Alright,”

“Taking the tube?”

“Yeah,”

“I can call you a car,”

Remus froze and pinched his eyes shut, willing his heart to stop beating so fucking fast. He took a
shaky breath and looked up. Sirius’ eyes were blown wide as he realized what he had said. He
sputtered over his words, pleading for forgiveness without saying anything about a “sorry.”

“I – I – didn’t mean – I mean –”

“Pads,” Remus cut him off and stood up, grabbing his tote as he went. “It’s fine,”

Sirius balked. “It’s not fine! I didn’t mean to bring it up –”

“Sirius,” He pleaded. “Please stop,” He stood up and grabbed at Sirius’ shoulder, giving it a light
shake to match the light smile on his lips. “I’m okay,”

Sirius bit his lip. “It’s okay if you’re not,”

“I am,”

Of course, he wasn’t.

The second crack had shuddered into the first one and made his resolve even less stable than it was
when he woke up that morning with the date lingering in his vision. It was even worse than before
he looked at the stupid lamb on the stupid mug. He pushed out the door and kept his head down
the entire ride to the psychology building. The final crack came when he stepped out of the tube
stop and began to wander down the pavements to the hospital. A warm, deep laugh seemed to
follow him out of the underground and wrap itself around his brain like a noose.

He whipped around to find the source of the sound only to find the hallway of the tube empty and
the laugh echoing in his ears. The last crack jammed into his chest with the force of a lightning
bolt and sent his entire chest crumbling down into ashes.

The world became black and white as he dragged his body into the building and up the lift. He felt
himself looking at his own body move as if he was watching a film and not living the reality
unfolding in front of him. He dragged himself into Anderson’s office, listening to her speak and
only hearing garbled noises, and managed to slump into the chair across from her before he broke
out in wretched sobs.

She handed him a box of tissues and put her hand on his shoulder. He felt them shaking as he
continued to break down into the shatters that he’d lobbed together in a shitty little wall to keep the
damnation of his past from tumbling into his everyday life.

Then again, April twelfth wasn’t his everyday life, and April twelfth wasn’t just another day, was
it?

Anderson pulled the tissue box out of his hands and moved back to sit in her own chair. The world
was still black and grey and muddled but he could make out shapes and faces now. He knew where
he was and why he was feeling as if he’d been hit by a bus.
“How are you?” She said softly.

He snorted. “How d’you bloody think?” His face was still wet with tears. He brushed them away
with the sleeve of his jumper.

“I think it’s the eleventh year anniversary of your parent’s death and this is the best you’ve reacted
on this day,”

“Best I’ve reacted,” He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. “I got to eleven in the morning
before I broke down,”

She cocked her head. “Last year it was ten,”

He laughed again, all of the funny gone. “Looking at the positives are we, Doc?” He snapped.

“Someone has to,” She crossed her knee over the other and rested her hands on top of them. He
didn’t want her to ask any questions. He wanted to just sit there in silence until the ticking of the
clock finally struck twelve and he could rush out in a flurry and pretend he wasn’t constantly
chased by the ghosts of his past.

Anderson had other ideas.

“What’s going on in your head?”

He paused, kissing his teeth in thought. He sighed and let his head fall into his hands. There were a
thousand thoughts running through his head, none of which were any bit coherent or strung
together. For a writer, Remus sure thought his brain was a disgusting amalgamation of verbs and
adjectives in choppy sentences.

“How it’s all my fault,” He settled on.

“But it’s not, is it?” She countered. “You weren’t driving the car,”
Well, no . He wasn’t but he was with the person who was and watched the driver snort line after
line while he laughed along like it was all some big fucking joke. Ha ha, wasn’t life funny? Remus
pinched his eyes shut before speaking.

“I was in the car,”

“So that makes you a victim, doesn’t it?”

A victim. A victim to his own devices, yes. His parents were the true victims, lying in their coffins
and pushing daisies out of the ground for Remus to watch grow. The imagery startled him and his
eyes flew open to shake the sight.

He lifted his head from his hands. “Sure. But I brought that thing into our lives. I was the one who
met him, who fell for his games and who shattered our little perfect family,”

“Remus,” Anderson started. “Mr. Greyback was nineteen when he met you. You were fifteen. Tell
me how that makes you the bad guy,”

He bit his lip so hard he was sure he’d drawn blood. He looked up at her. “I was an arsehole kid. I
didn’t listen to my parents when they said he was bad. I was so blinded by being cared about, so
blinded by the feeling that something once so unattainable was now mine . I didn’t care what they
thought. And it killed them,”

“Kids don’t listen to their parents all the time,” She said. “That is what kids do ,”

He thought about the summer before he’d left for Hogwarts. The heavy weight on his chest when
Fenrir smiled at him. The thudding in his brain when Fenrir told him he was special . The tingling
in his fingers when Fenrir kissed him. The sting when his father had told him to stop seeing Fen.
The aching in his lungs from screaming at his mum, he loves me, he loves me, can’t you see he
fucking loves me? The clattering of the kettle being tossed across the kitchen as he threw a fit
before storming out and slamming the door so hard he nearly broke it off the hinges.

The ice cold wave washing over his body and sending him into shock when he’d gotten out of the
car and plowed past the rubble of his living room to see his mum lying face down on the carpet
that had been dyed crimson with her life. He shook his head.

“So they should’ve been better parents then. Is that what you’re saying?”
She shook her head. “Not at all. I’m saying you were normal and that you being a stubborn kid
isn’t what went wrong in this situation. Greyback is what went wrong,”

“Greyback was me. I was him. We were so intertwined—”

“You were not him,” Her tone was harsh, demanding. “You were not him. You were a child who
thought he was in love when every other thing he had been told is love wasn’t for you. Greyback
didn’t give you real love. He gave you what you thought was love. He gave you that façade and
used it against you,”

He snorted and pulled at the edge of his sleeve. “Yes I suppose a fifteen-year-old doesn’t know
much about real love,”

Anderson sighed heavily. She let her wrists hang off the edge of her clipboard. “Greyback used
you, Remus. He used you because you were young and easily swayed. He was a predator and
unfortunately you became the prey,”

He pulled at his sleeve. “What did I do to be prey?”

“We’ll never know,” Her voice was tired, like she’d had this conversation a hundred times. “You
can never know. All you can know is that it wasn’t your fault. You got dealt a cruddy hand and
now you have to find a way to not lose. You have to find a way to survive ,”

He nodded to himself. He owed it to his parents to survive. He owed it to his friends to survive. To
exist and not join his parents six feet under. He wiped at his nose with the back of his sleeve.

“How can I survive? How can I move on when my sense of love is so fucked? It feels like every
time I try and let myself be loved I panic that it’ll all go tits up again,” His voice cracked at the
end. He winced. How could he sound so pathetic and so hopeless in one sentence.

The bell in the square below Anderson’s office rung out and he cast his gaze down into the
courtyard. It was bleak that day, save for the little girl in the red wellies that he’d seen during his
session in February. She was sitting on a picnic table, legs swinging over the edge and rattling two
dolls in her hands. She laughed at one point and tossed her head back to the sky. Remus watched
her as the silence in the office infiltrated his brain and wrapped it’s hand around his throat.
He finally lifted his eyes when the silence got too loud and the ringing in his ears had traveled to
his eyes. He blinked once and was met with the thin line of Anderson’s mouth. He sniffed again.

“It’s not,” She said softly. “You know a lot about bad love and what bad love looks like. Your
knowledge of bad love is so vast that when you get good love you’ll know it’s good. You know
how to love. You love so strongly, so proudly. You just need to let someone love you and not
worry that it’ll turn into a disaster when it starts getting good,” She ran a hand through her short
blonde hair. “I just wish you would,”

Remus fidgeted uncomfortably. “You’re talking about Sirius,”

She shifted slightly. “He called this morning. He was in a right state over some comment he made
to you about a car? He seemed to think he’d royally screwed up,”

He flinched. “Yeah he offered me a ride here but I said no,”

“He cares so much for you,” She hummed.

“He does,”

“Don’t you think he loves you?”

“No,” He shook his head. “Not like I love him,”

“He may. You just need to let yourself let him in. If you tell him how you feel,”

“No,” He snapped, voice cracking for the umpteenth time that day. “I can’t lose him. I’ll – I’ll
scare him off. If this goes south, I can’t lose him. I’ve lost so much and I can’t bear to lose him,”
He was crying again, tears slick down the sides of his cheeks.

Anderson was quiet. She passed the tissue box over to him again. He took one and dabbed at his
face before letting his head fall into his hands. He groaned and pressed the heels of his hands into
his eyes, trying to get red and grey and black all out of his vision.

“I don’t think he’d let you lose him,” She said softly. Remus shook his head.

His thoughts about Sirius were so muddled. He didn’t want to break Sirius, like he broke
everything and he didn’t want to lose Sirius like he lost everyone. He was forever trapped in the
limbo of wanting him so strongly it made him feel faint and not wanting to lose him so strongly it
made him ache. It was mind-numbingly cyclical and he felt himself circling the drain in his head.

“Let’s go back to your parents,” Anderson broke through his spiral. He tipped his head up to look
at her. The room was slowly fading back into technicolor, the saturation of the blues of Anderson’s
chair looking different than the red of her sweater.

“What about them?”

“What do you wish you could tell them?”

He leaned back into the chair. “Everything,” He breathed. “There’s so much they missed. They
don’t know much about James or Peter or Sirius. They don’t know how well I did at Hogwarts.
They don’t know about Marauders. They don’t know about the bloody record deal I’m currently
struggling through. They haven’t seen me in eleven years, you know? They missed so much,”

Anderson nodded solemnly. She handed Remus her notebook. He looked at it funnily but took it.
The pages were blank, stark yellow with blue lines. He looked back at her.

“Tell them,” She said. “Tell them everything,”

He looked down at the pad of paper. “What good would that do?”

“It’ll force you to write all your accomplishments down. To think of what they would say when
you told them and to realize, you’re doing okay, Remus. It’ll allow you to catch them up on
everything they missed. To see everything you’ve been able to do. To see how you survived this
and you will continue to do so. You’re living and that’s the best they’d want for you,”
He nodded. Maybe it was a good idea. The paper felt heavy in his hands as he shoved it into his
tote.

The session with Anderson ended shortly after a few more prodding questions regarding the album,
the process of recording and what his songs had been focused on. Anderson knew the way he got
his feelings out was via ink on paper and often read through his work searching for the metaphors
Remus himself didn’t even think of when he scribbled them down. She ran a nail over the giant
“R” on the cover and smiled as she said she remembered that Sirius got the notebook for him.
Remus grumbled out a half answer before flipping through to the pages of completed works. She
liked “Oulala”, complimented his use of the towel metaphor for “Hang Me Out to Dry,” and then
promptly asked what a Toldeo was. He laughed and took his leather notebook back after that,
shoving it into his tote with his pad of yellow paper.

He left the psychology building and stumbled into the warm sun of the midday. He still had five
hours until he had to be at the Order of the Phoenix and the air was warm for the time of year. He
wandered to the tube aimlessly, hopping on the Jubilee line on the fast course to nowhere specific.
He ended up stumbling out at Canada Water, headphones shoved in his ears and Morissey seeping
into his brains. It was brisk as he walked closer towards the water, wind whipping the spray from
the Thames up into his eyelashes. He stood at the railing, digging through the tote to find the pad
of yellow paper that Anderson had given him. The noise of the world was drowned out by the
music in his ears. He smiled to himself.

His Da had loved Morrisey.

Every summer, the two would sit on their patio, sipping away at tea that his mother had made as
they listening to the heavy Smiths collection Lyall Lupin had on vinyl. It spun away effortlessly on
the turntable as they watched the grass of their farm swaying in the wind, making sure no stray
lambs were wandering from the pack. Remus remembered how upset he had been that he couldn’t
bring the collection with him to Scotland. Lyall had righted it quickly by nipping off into
Carmarthen and returning with a shiny new iPod and an attachment for their turntable that would
record all their favorites and turn them into MP3s for his son. Remus had nearly cried and was
rarely seen without the iPod for the days leading up to when he left for school. The crackling at the
beginning of the songs were enough to remind him of quiet bleating, bitter drink and the wash of
the country breeze over his unmarred skin.

Greyback never liked The Smiths, never understood them. The Easter break before his parents
passed, Remus had kept the iPod shoved in his backpack, hidden as he ran around with a boy who
his parents despised and would wind up driving their car through their living room and robbing
Remus of the rest of their lives.

He sighed and stared at the yellow paper.

He reached back into his tote to pull out the pen he kept wrapped in his leather notebook before
taking it to the sheet in front of him and scribbling along.

Da & Mum,

He filled them in on Hogwarts, how they’d pranked their Headmistress during year ten and
managed to change all the clocks ahead three hours. He wrote about his A-levels (leaving out the
ones the other boys took for him). He wrote about how he finally managed to get the cord
progression for “Bigmouth Strikes Again” down perfectly. He wrote about how he’d picked up
playing the bass in his free time and how it was so different and yet somehow so similar to the
guitar. He wrote about James. He wrote about Peter.

He wrote so much about Sirius.

He wrote about how Sirius was kind and loyal and an idiot and how he smiled with every bone in
his body. He wrote about how Sirius was somehow both the smartest and most obtuse man he’d
ever met. He wrote about how Sirius put Motley Crüe posters all over his side of the dorm and they
got yelled at for having bare breasts on their walls. He wrote about how Sirius didn’t know how to
work a hob when they moved to London and Remus had to teach him, laughing the whole time. He
wrote about how Sirius loved dogs and stopped to touch every single one he walked by on the
street. He wrote about how Sirius was dealt just as shitty a hand as he was with unsupportive
parents, a brainwashed brother and a slew of insane cousins. He wrote about how Sirius had taken
all of that misery and funneled it into being the best musician he could be.

He wrote about the band. He wrote about Bill and Moody and how he wished his Mum would send
them off with sweets like she would do when he and Marlene used to hangout. He wrote about how
he argued with Bill over who was better Robert Smith or Morrisey and had Bill so heated he’d
stormed out for a fag.

He finished with the words he had yet to say out loud that year.

I miss you both so much. I love you and I’m so, so sorry.

He folded the paper up into a tiny square and held it in the hand of his palm. Morrisey went on in
his ears, adding a fitting soundtrack to the already somber moment. He fished through his tote to
pull out his methanol carton, pulling the single spliff out and the lighter with it. He lit up the end of
it, sending little sparks into the Thames. He stared at the paper in his hand before crunching it into
a ball.
They were gone. Gone and he had only himself to wander the world alone with, flanked by guilt
and shame and memories he wished he could forget. He crunched the ball harder, feeling the tears
prick again at the corners of his eyes. He shook his head, letting Anderson’s words steamroll over
the thoughts threatening to drag him into the abyss of self-hatred.

“You’re living and that’s the best they’d want for you,”

He took the note and let the flame of his lighter engulf it before he tossed it over the railing and
into the Thames.

Let’s get to living then , He thought to himself as he dug back into his tote and pulled out his
leather notebook. He flipped through it aimlessly as he sucked on the spliff. Nothing of
consequence stuck out to him in the first few pages. They were words etched before it all
happened. As soon as he turned the forth page, he knew he’d passed the accident.

The page was much more red and violent, holding his line about the bullet through his brain and
another one about how life was too bleak to exist. He gave a half laugh, trying to not let the
emotions on the paper seep into his brain and send the world into another spiral of panic-induced
black and white. He flipped again and blue ink in the middle of the page screamed at him for
attention.

I am acetone, burning up all my clothes and setting you and I on fire.

This could work.

He bit at his nail before flipping through the pages to one of the blank ones at the back and taking
the pen to it. He scribbled effortlessly, the black and white visions from the morning still fresh in
his mind.

Monochrome deliverance .

That was good. That could work. He bit the end of his pen. He thought of how he’d shoved any bit
of anxiety he had away from Sirius that morning and hidden it to keep Sirius from worrying. How
he’d run out of the apartment to try and hide any further proof of the melting of his brain
happening behind his skull. He took the pen to the paper again.
Don’t want you to see the way I been,

Doled out a bleached persona,

No, no monochrome deliverance

Burns off like acetone.

He smiled to himself. He slammed the book shut and shove it back in his tote before turning on his
heel and stalking back to the tube stop, nodding to himself as he built the chord to the song around
the lyrics hanging heavy on the piece of paper.

--

Remus was in a considerably better mood after he’d wandered around London for the later part of
the day. The sun was hanging low in the sky as he took the Underground the entire way to
Kensington to pop out at Order of the Phoenix. He was still relatively early and figured popping by
Dorcas’ office would be fun.

He pushed into the glass door and was met with the smiling face of Benji. His eyeliner was electric
blue that day, curved into a slick wing. His eyebrow bar had been replaced by an overly large
septum piercing. He waved at Remus and the light caught the metallic silver of his nail polish.

“Hi Remus,” Benji said cheerfully. “Dorcas is busy. Can I help you with anything?”

He rubbed at the back of his neck. He hadn’t expected that. “Er – no. I just wanted to come by and
say hello before heading to the studio,”

“No worries!” Benji laughed. “How’s recording going?”

His eyes were big and bright and he had quite a shiny smile between his lips, inviting and friendly.
Remus thought about what Anderson had said that morning about letting himself be loved. It was
hard to miss the way that Benji always looked at him ever since their first meeting. He let his tote
fall onto the sofa across from the desk and fell down next to it, determined to not let April twelfth
ruin him forever.
“Going well,” Remus said. “Have you heard anything?”

Benji shrugged and stood up, leaning against the desk with his arms across his chest. He was
wearing all black with various cut outs and chains slashing through his top and trousers. “I’ve
heard bits and bobs. That one about Ohio is something,”

Remus snorted. “It’s not really about Ohio. It’s a weird phrase I heard some American say while I
was working,”

“Where do you work?” Benji replied.

“Paddy’s? It’s off Percy by Tottenham Court Road,”

Benji tossed his head back and laughed loudly. “Tell me it’s not the little dump on the corner?”

“It, in fact, is,” Remus replied. “My mate from school owns it and he hired me when I er – left my
other job,”

“Left?” Benji asked with a raised eyebrow.

Remus felt his cheeks heat up. “Okay so I may have been canned,”

“Ooh, a bad boy,” Benji cooed. “Very punk rock of you,”

“Piss off,” Remus said through a smile as he shook his head.

“I don’t believe I will, Mr. Lupin,” Benji bit back with his lips pursed. “This isf my office that you
barged into and now you’re telling me to piss off? Unbelievable really,”

Remus rolled his eyes. “So are you telling me to leave?”

Benji hummed as he took in Remus, lounging on the couch in his beat up docs, busted jeans and a
trench he’d thrifted that had seen better days. He locked eyes with Remus.

“No, stay there. The office could use a bit more artwork,”

“Artwork?” Remus snorted.

“Better believe it, pretty boy,” Benji said as he moved to stand at the front of the desk. “You’re the
best work of art this office has seen in quite some time,”

“Thanks,” Remus laughed as he ducked his head and rubbed away at the back of his neck, feeling
the heat creeping up into his ears.

Benji’s mouth curved into a smirk and he gave Remus another once over. He opened his mouth to
speak when the door from the hallway clattered open. Remus turned his head to see Sirius, clad in
his signature leather jacket, push his way through the door.

He looked confused as he took in Benji and Remus and how they both had smiles etches across
their faces. He let his hand drop from the handle of the door to his side before addressing Remus.

“Moony,” He said. “What are you doing here?”

Remus shrugged. “Was in the area and wanted to say hi to Dorcas but she’s busy so Benji was
keeping me company,”

Sirius nodded very slowly, eyebrows still pinched in confusion before looking at Benji then darting
his eyes back to Remus. “How was Anderson?” He said softly.

“The usual,” Remus mumbled, not particularly wanting to recount his panic attack from earlier that
day. “She said you called,”

“She told you that?” His eyes blew wide as he said it.
Remus hummed. “I told you it was fine, Pads. I don’t know why you don’t believe me,”

Sirius said nothing just bit his lip and continued to look back and forth between Remus and Benji.
He shook his head finally.

“Sorry, sorry,” He said under his breath.

They were all saved by the creaking of Dorcas’ office door opening and laughter spilling into the
waiting room. Marlene’s bright blonde hair popped into view followed by the fluffy afro that
Dorcas had been spotting for the past few weeks. The both stopped short and let their smiles fall as
they took in the three people waiting for them in the office.

“Gentlemen,” Dorcas began. “Did my office turn into Infernos?”

“Sorry Dorcas,” Remus said. “I was just coming to say hi because I was bored. I didn’t realize you
were with Marlene,”

“We weren’t together together,” Marlene said quickly. “Just working on Bonny Sunset stuff,”

“So you were together,” Sirius countered, eyes narrowed.

“Yes,” Dorcas said just as Marlene said “no.” Dorcas rolled her eyes and pushed past Marlene to
lean against the front desk with Benji.

“What are you doing here, Black?”

Sirius slumped down on the sofa next to Remus. He laced his hands behind his head and smiled
the Sirius Black smile before shrugging. “Coming to see what you were doing with Marlene of
course. Mary was wondering where she went,”

“We weren’t doing anything!” Marlene snapped.

The air hung thick in the room as Sirius raised an eyebrow. He raised his hands with a sigh. “Fine,
fine, fine!”

Dorcas opened her mouth to speak and the door was shoved open again. James came bustling in,
face pink and hair in more of a disarray than usual.

“For fuck’ sake, my office isn’t a bloody lounge,” Dorcas bit out.

“Have you seen this?” James tossed his phone at Sirius, entirely ignoring Dorcas who threw her
hands up and began mumbling explicatives under her breath.

Sirius picked up James’ phone and pressed play on the Instagram video, letting Remus peer over
his shoulder to watch. It was on the official Hogwarts page and depicted as very lanky looking man
with no hair and a nose so small it blended into his face and only his nostrils were seen. He looked
like a snake who was being interviewed by a kid with a beanie on.

“So what can we expect from the Death Eaters, Tom?” The kid said.

“Just good rock and roll music,” The bald man said. “We put out our single a few weeks ago and
it’s getting great numbers,”

The video changed to be the same kid with the hat and another man with a long, crooked nose and
greasy black hair. Sirius growled low under his breath as soon as the man came on the screen.
Remus knew who it was before the kid in the hat could even mention his name.

“So Severus, as a graduate of Hogwarts, we’re very proud of the accomplishments you’ve made in
the music world,”

The greasy haired man was given the microphone. “I owe some of my skills to things I’ve learned
at Hogwarts. This school really helped me hone in on my ability to write and produce,”

The interviewer moved the microphone back to speak into it himself. “It’s great to see yet another
Hogwarts alumni in the world. Marauders, a Hogwarts created band, has recently been signed by
Order of the Phoenix records. They too are a punk rock band. How would you say their sound
differs from yours?”
The man wrinkled his nose and sneered at the camera. “For one, our music is good,” He started.
Sirius made a noise of disgust. “It’s nothing fluffy and romantic like theirs. It’s full of real angst.
The way punk music should be,” At this point, Sirius threw the phone back at James.

“I’ve seen e-fucking-nough,” He snapped. “What the fuck?”

“What the hell was that?” Dorcas screeched.

“Fucking Snivelous being a pretentious cunt as per usual,” Sirius replied as he pulled at his hair.
“How the fuck did anyone even pick him up? He’s a fucking shite player,”

James shook his head. “’Dunno but of course the first thing he does with his fame is throw shade at
us,”

“Can someone please explain why something called Snivelous is giving you all bad press?” Dorcas
yelled.

“He went to school with us,” Remus said. “Auditioned for the band when we needed a bassist and
was proper awful and so we didn’t take him on and took Pete instead. He made it our problem. He
was downright nasty to us for the rest of the time we were at school and would constantly try and
get us in trouble with his little band of miscreants,”

“Severus Snape,” James said shaking his head. “The biggest knob in the UK,”

“Snape?” Marlene piped up. “I’m pretty sure he’s mates with Lily,”

“ What ?” James hissed. “She likes him more than she likes me ?”

Marlene shrugged. “I think he’s her Remus,”

“Do not compare that slimy fuck to our Moony,” Sirius chastised. He took Remus’ hand in
between his own and squeezed. “Remus is Hemmingway and Snively is that one fucking YouTube
bitch who tried to write poetry,”
“Gabbie Hanna?” Came Benji from behind his desk. Sirius shot him a look and he went back to
hiding behind the monitor.

“I bet his music isn’t even good,” James snapped.

The door clattered open again and was filled with the familiar voice of Lily Evans. “Probably
better than yours, Potter,”

James whined. “You don’t even know who we’re talking about!”

“The entire hallway heard you screaming about Snape,” She snapped. “Maybe lower your
aggressively loud voice and you wouldn’t have this problem,”

Sirius scoffed. “Are you really defending this tosser?”

“They’re not bad,” She replied. “They’re just a different sound than us or you,”

“Turn it on then,” Marlene said to Benji. “Death Eaters they’re called?”

“Got them,” Benji said. “Oh lord, that drummer looks like he’s snorted a whole kilo of cocaine,”

“Why is this happening in my office?” Dorcas moaned into her fists as James and Marlene crowded
around Benji’s computer to watch the music video he’d pulled up.

Remus stayed firmly put on the couch as the beginning guitar riff started into the room. It was fine,
nothing too interesting. The drums were very basic and they repeated a good ten times before the
song finally changed up. It became a cacophony of all of the instruments that was drowned out by
the screaming of the singer. His words were entirely undecipherable and sounded a bit like
someone screaming under a blanket.

At the computer, Benji, Marlene and James’ eyes were wide with concern. Sirius’ entire face was
twisted in a grimace and Lily even was starting to cringe as the music became more and more wild
and more and more unbridled.

The song was less than two minutes long and by the time it had ended, everyone in the room had a
look of disgust, confusion or anger on their face. There was a heavy silence as everyone started to
process the brutal interpretation of music they had just heard.

James scoffed. “That fucking blew,”

“I’ll say,” Sirius agreed and stood up to begin pacing. Everyone else nodded along to the
sentiment, even Lily who looked a bit uncomfortable to be doing so.

“How do we get them back?”

“Get who back, Pads?”

“Snivelous and the Emo boy band,”

Remus made a face. “Get them back?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Yes, Moony. I’m not letting the wanker trash talk us and get away with it,”

Remus sighed. Leave it to Sirius to be as combative at twenty-six as he was at fifteen. He shook his
head. “What do you propose we do? Write a diss track?”

Sirius snapped and pointed at Remus. “Excellent idea Moonbeam!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I was kidding ,”

“It’d be funny, that’s for sure,” Marlene mused.

Remus gave her a look. “Don’t encourage him!”

“Padfoot is right,” Came James as he stood up and put his hands on his hips. “If Snively wants to
be a gangster and start fights then he deserves it,”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call my friend names and imply he’s in a gang ,”

“Bugger off Evans,” Sirius said as he started for the door. He jerked his head towards the hallway.
“Come on, lads. We’re making a bloody diss track,”

--

It turns out writing a diss track was rather hard.

“How do rappers do this?” James whinged as he pulled at his hair. Sirius threw the filter of his joint
at James. It clocked him in the cheek and he blinked wildly.

“I did a diss track once,” Said Bill. He’d met the rest of the band in the studio and was currently
grinding Remus’ stash of weed up to put in Moody’s pipe. Moody, himself, was missing as he was
working out some of the final production kinks in Bonny Sunset’s newest song.

“How’d you do it?” Sirius said from where he was lounging on the couch. He’d already burned
through a joint and a fag and was fishing for a second as he spoke.

Bill shrugged. “Don’t remember,”

“Helpful as always, Bill,” Remus chimed in from the floor. His chin was resting on the table,
keeping the pages of his notebook open. He tapped his pen against the open pages.

They had nothing. Absolutely, completely nothing that would make a diss track that was not only a
legitimate piece of music and yet somehow didn’t sound like stupid childish drama. James began
banging his head against his knee and Sirius continued to throw pieces of paper at him.

“Snivley,” James mumbled into his thigh. “Snivley. Gangster. Snivley. Cool? Fuck you, Snivley.
Snively eat glass. Snivley smells like ass?”

“Prongs,” Sirius finally said. “Do us a favor and shut the fuck up, yeah?”

James whipped one of the paper balls that Sirius had lobbed at him back at the pale man. “Let’s
see you come up with something better then!”

“Fine! I will!” Sirius said. He darted off the couch and ran into the booth, slinging the headphones
around his ears. Bill watched on, still grinding away at the weed he’d been gifted. He gave Sirius a
thumbs up.

Sirius took a deep breath in the hissed it out before launching into a line.

“ What’s a boy to do if he’ll never be a gangsta?”

Remus shot up from where he was slumped on the ground. He looked at James. The other man had
sat up as well and was watching Sirius intently. He looked back to Remus.

“ Anger in his heart but he’ll never be a gangsta,” James sang.

Bill stood still and glanced over the edge of his wide framed glasses at the tan skinned man. “The
fuck, Potter? You can sing?”

James shrugged. “Singing lessons were required at Hogwarts. I always got poor marks,”

“That didn’t sound bloody poor to me,” Bill replied, finally setting down the grinder. He jerked his
head towards the booth where Sirius was leaving. “Get your skinny ass in there and sing what
Black just sang,”

James stood up very tentatively and shimmied past Sirius, who gave him a very encouraging pat on
the back, and into the booth. He took the headphones and put them on as if they were going to
strangle him, grimace on his face the whole time. He coughed into the microphone then flinched as
it back played into his ears.
Bill spun around in his chair and started fiddling with the switches on the board. He clicked the
speaker and spoke into his own microphone. “Alright Potter, give it your best,”

James sighed before launching into the line Sirius had sung. He paused and Bill gave him a thumbs
up. He launched into his own line and paused again. He had a gravely voice that was bit higher
than his normal speaking voice and was a combination between singing and actually speaking the
line. It was different than the soft, swooping tones of Sirius’ voice but Remus had to give it James:
he didn’t sound bad.

Remus palmed at the microphone switch on Bill’s dash. “Prongs try this: If you move into his
neighborhood, he'll never make a sound,”

“How the bleeding fuck am I supposed to sing that?” James cried over the microphone.

Sirius snickered behind Remus then leaned over to press at the microphone himself. “Just spit it out
in a way that sounds natural,”

“ Natural ?” James screeched. “You just gave me fucking thirty words to sing in one bloody line,”

Bill hit the microphone. “Stop whinging it try it,”

James threw his hands up and grumbled before moving back the microphone. He took a deep
breath in before pressing his mouth to the mic.

“ Ifyoumoveintohisneighborhood he’ll never make a sound,”

Sirius cheered in approval and shook Remus’ shoulders. He hit the microphone again. “Brill,
Prongsies. Absolutely brill,”

“I hate this,” James grumbled.

“He’s gonna throw a fit,” Remus said to Sirius.

Sirius laughed before shrugging. “Maybe Evans will like him more if he can sing,”

“Oi!” Came the muffled voice of James from the booth. He pointed at Sirius then did a foul gesture
with his hands. Sirius just laughed along and threw an arm around Remus.

The song wound up being written between the three of them over a measly hour. They had such
disdain for Snape that it wasn’t hard to come up with ways that he was a complete tosser. Because
James was singing the song, Bill thought it would be cool if the main bit of music was percussion
and the background vocals of Remus and Sirius. In the end, Sirius’ proclivity for making odd
noises came in hand again as they found a chorus to echo the smattering of James’ drum fill. Sirius
had Remus sing the tones first before coming in and harmonizing in a way that only Sirius could.

For the second verse, Sirius darted out of the studio and went running around the building to find
anyone who had a trumpet. He came back with the instrument in hand and started blaring away to
the same tones that Remus and he had sung for the first verse. The musical genius that was Sirius
Black continued to shock his friends and colleagues and had them all shaking their heads at the
madness and beauty behind the added trumpet flares.

In between the second verse and end chorus, James had thought it would be funny to try and mimic
the horrid mess of instruments that was played by the Death Eaters in their song. Somehow, it
worked better than the Death Eaters had made it sound and the resulting flourish was one that
sounded both bad and good at the same time.

Around midnight, the Marauders and Bill sent the mp3 to Dorcas. She called them immediately.

“How stoned are you?” She said into the phone. All four laughed. They were stupidly stoned.
“Fucking christ, this is good,”

“Isn’t it?” Sirius screamed into the phone. “What if we released it as a single?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Dorcas said back. “With ‘Holy Toledo’?”

“I love Holy Toledo,” Remus breathed. He hadn’t been that stoned in months and was bubbling
over the top of himself.
Dorcas muttered something under her breath before speaking back into the phone. “Great. Bill send
it to my email and I’ll work on sending it Dumbledore and Moody and see what they think,”

“Amazing,” James breathed. “Me singing. On a song,”

“Go the fuck to sleep Potter, Jesus,” Dorcas said and hung up the phone promptly.

The four fell into the couch in a chorus of laughter. Sirius pulled a cigarette out of the carton on the
table and shoved it between his lips before lighting it with his MWPP lighter. He stared at the
lighter for a few seconds until James shoved at his shoulder.

“Where’s Wormy?” Sirius said.

“Oh bugger me ,” James cursed, hand flying to his forehead. “I told him we weren’t coming to the
studio because of Moony’s thing,”

Remus turned to glare at Sirius. “I told you I was fine, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Sirius said plainly. “But I didn’t want to assume,”

“Stop worrying about me you tosspot. I’m fine,” Remus spat.

James sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Peter’s gonna be mugged off,”

“Not like he was any help when he was here,” Sirius quipped as he tapped the ash of his cigarette
into the tray on the table. He looked at Remus and James glaring at him. “What?”

“Don’t be a knob,” James said, exhaustion seeping through his voice.

“I’m not being a knob,” Sirius fought back. “You try and tell me he contributes anything to song
writing,”
Remus and James were silent and Sirius held his arms out as if to say “I told you so.”

Remus ran a hand over his face. “Let’s just go home. I’m tired. We can update Pete tomorrow,”

They packed up their bags in silence and walked out the building all together. James gave the other
two men a weak smile before heading off in the direction of his flat. Sirius walked quietly next to
Remus as they ventured down to the tube station.

“I didn’t mean to assume,” Sirius finally said, voice soft. “That you wouldn’t be okay,”

Remus sighed. “Padfoot, I’m tired. Can we discuss this later?”

Sirius nodded curtly. “Sure thing Moons,”

They sat next to one another on the tube in the quiet screeching of the car speeding off down the
tunnel until Sirius nudged Remus. He looked at the other man. Sirius was offering him an earbud.
Remus smiled softly before taking the headphone and shoving it in his ear. Sirius grinned back at
him, all teeth as he started up the music. Tame Impala was somehow Sirius’ sleepy music. He let
his head hit the back of the seat.
 Remus let his eyes wander to the man sitting next to him. He was spinning his signet ring around
his thumb, a sign that he was thinking much too hard about something that didn’t warrant that
attention. His black hair was flayed across the seat like a halo and he looked like a marble statue,
chewing on his cheek and making his jaw bone pop out from his face. Remus sighed and nudged
him. Sirius’ eyebrows raised as he rolled his neck to look at Remus. His eyes looked like they were
glowing in the fluorescence of the light.

That, or Remus was still stupidly high.

“I know,” He said softly. He watched Sirius’ brow knit as he continued. “That you didn’t mean to
assume. But please, stop worrying. I’ll tell you if I need you, okay?”

“I can’t let it get bad again, Remus,” Sirius whispered back. He grabbed for Remus’ hand and
squeezed. “I can’t,”

“It’s not your job to monitor my mental state,” Remus replied. “I’m fine. I’ll let you know when
I’m not. Trust me, alright?”

Sirius sighed heavily. He squeezed Remus’ hand again and gave him a light smile. “Alright,”

Their hands stayed together the rest of the ride home.

Chapter End Notes

End of chapter art by xflattery on instagram. Give her lots of love for this!
 Six
Chapter Notes

A/N: Please check out the playlist for all the songs mentioned.

Thank you SO much to kit for the britisims and beta-ing. Also s/o to hannah for telling
me about the UK equivalent of DARE.

Six

The week after the anniversary was Easter. It was a bit like beating a dead horse watching all the
families flit around the city and laugh together as they began to start celebrating the hols. Remus
felt like he was being slapped in the face with joy everywhere he went and it was making his sour
mood even more sour. James had gone to his parents for the weekend while Sirius was on, what
was effectively dubbed, Remus duty. Remus moaned and groaned about how he didn’t need a
babysitter but Sirius, ever the optimist, had gone on about how it was “Moonfoot Time.” (Remus
did not support the name either).

The Sunday of Easter, Remus was thoroughly annoyed by Sirius’ hovering presence. He’d been
throwing activities at the other man all weekend and Remus was exhausted of watching movies,
doing puzzles and trying new smoke trips. He’d resigned to stay on their lumpy couch with a plate
of cheesy toast and call it a day, but of course Sirius had other plans.

The door to their flat clattered open just as he was rolling into the end of Sirius’ “London Calling”
vinyl. He was shoving the toast in his mouth as something soft collided with the side of his head.
He whipped towards his assailant and was met with the cheeky grin of Frank.

“Get up, wanker,” he said, loudly. “We’re going out.”

“Out?” Remus questioned as Frank moved past him. He picked up what he’d thrown at Remus, his
jacket in a ball, and stalked around the side of the couch as a pair of hands came in to remove the
plate from his own. He looked up to see Alice smiling back at him.

“Out!” She repeated. “Sirius’ idea! We haven’t been out in ages and I’m due for a good night on
the town with my favorite boys.”

Of course it was bloody Sirius’ idea.

“Is anything even open on Easter Sunday?” Remus tried to argue.

Sirius flew into his view and ruffled his hair. “It is in K-town.”

“K-town? What the bloody fuck are we doing in K-town?”

Sirius shimmied his hips in time to the song echoing through their flat. “Ooh a little Clash? Should
I sing The Clash tonight, Frankie?”
“’Dunno mate,” Frank laughed. “All I know is what I’m singing which is—”

“’Bloody Well Right’,” Sirius and Alice groaned together.

Sirius waved his hand. “Yes, yes. So help us god.”

“Singing?” Remus said quietly.

“The question was what I should sing, Frank,” Sirius kept speaking as he pulled the blanket off of
Remus’ lap and took to pulling his legs off the couch.

“’Geroff,” Remus grunted and pushed Sirius away. He stood up and pushed Sirius’ shoulder before
stalking off into the kitchen.

“I do love when you do Brittney, Sirius,” Alice cooed as she followed him.

Sirius scoffed and pushed past the two of them to start rummaging through the fridge before
pulling out a bottle and pounding the top of it against the counter. Remus groaned. Birdie already
yelled at them for the other marks on their beat-up counter. He took a huge glug.

“I can do better than Brittney, Alice. I’m a recording artist now.”

“Big shot recording artist. Of course,” Frank teased.

Sirius pulled another beer out and before Remus could protest, he was knocking the top off of the
bottle on the counter again before handing the beer to Frank. They clinked together. “I’d like to see
you try and snag a deal with the biggest label in the UK. Beer, Moons?”

Remus stared blankly at his friend. “What the fuck?” He breathed.

“We’re going to karaoke,” Sirius said as if that was something they did with any regularity. He
gave Remus a once over. “Are you wearing that?”

Remus looked down at his tartan pajama pants and his sleeping jumper that has one too many moth
holes. He lifted his arms up incredulously before letting them fall down to his sides.

“No?”

“Go on and get changed then,” Sirius jutted his chin towards their rooms. “Chop, chop. Haven’t
got all day Mooncakes. We have a nine thirty booking to catch,”

“A reservation? For singing?”

Sirius tutted. “I don’t make the rules, Mooneroni. I just follow them.”

“When have you ever followed the rules?” Alice laughed.

Sirius bit his lip in thought before standing up like the bulb in his head had been lit. “I always pay
for the tube.”

“You do not,” Frank chuckled as he sipped on his beer. “You have jumped more turnstiles than
you can count.”

Sirius began to count in his head, ticking off his fingers as he went. Alice giggled then ran a hand
down Remus’ arm. “Go on, love.”

“What the fuck?” Remus breathed again.

He was in awe as he pushed past Frank and Sirius and into his room, shaking his head in disbelief
as he heard Sirius shift the record player back to the beginning. He grabbed whatever pair of
trousers was lying closest to him and was working on finding a decent smelling tee shirt or jumper
when his phone started buzzing. He picked it up and furrowed his brow at the unusual number
popping up on his screen. No one had his number since he rarely gave it out.
16:22 +0 22 88 22 90 11

unknown(16:22): hi remus! It’s lily evans from

bonny sunset. i got your number from Marls.

I’m stuck in London for the hols and was

wondering if you were around? Marls said

you don’t go home. want to fuck about together?

He smiled to himself as he thought of Marlene. Good, kind Marlene who would not only have kept
his number from so many years ago but, would’ve then passed it along to someone who was in
need of company. He saved the number in his phone, tallying thirteen contacts as he went, and sent
out a quick reply.

remus(16:23): hello! sirius is dragging

me out to a karaoke bar? could be awful.

remus(16:23): could be more than awful.

remus(16:23): care to watch the shitshow?

lily evans(16:24): sounds atrocious.

lily evans(16:24): I’m in.

He popped his head back out of his room, one hand shoving through a jumper that was the least
smelling in his collection of dirty laundry. “Oi! Where we goin’?”

“Who’s asking?” Came Frank over Alice’s reply of “Bao!”

“Cheers!” Remus yelled back. He put his head back into his room and quickly sent Lily a reply. He
grabbed for his wallet and shoved it into his back pocket before wrestling his feet into his boots
and moving back into the living room.

Sirius smiled, tight lipped, as he walked back in. “Alright?”

“Yeah, alright,” Remus replied as he combed a hand through his curls. “Lily Evans is in London
too and is meeting us.”

“Lily Evans?” Frank balked. “Of Bonny Sunset?”

Remus shrugged. “That one.”

“Bugger me,” Frank said. “We’re friends with celebrities, Al.”

Alice laughed and patted her husband on the arm. “Sure, darling.”

The four scuffled out of the flat and into the London night. Sirius dragged them up and down the
tube, knee bouncing wildly as he struggled to sit still. Remus felt exhausted just watching him.
They finally popped out and were greeted with a garishly neon sign that stated that the building
was indeed “OPEN” and was open for “ALL NIGHT KARAOKE.” Remus groaned and dragged
his feet when he felt Sirius shove at his shoulder.

“Don’t be such a negative Nancy, Moony,” He chastised. “This is supposed to be fun!”

Remus groaned again but let himself follow Alice through the door. “How is something we do for
work supposed to be ‘fun?’ We do this daily.”

“Do something you love and you won’t work a day in your life,” Sirius said.

“Do you even know who said that?”

“No. Tell me my little poet.”

“Marc Anthony. He’s not even a poet, you knob.”

“Oh he sings or something? Beats me but also, I could give a fuck.”

Remus sighed deeply.

His spirits picked up a little when he saw the petite redhead waiting for them in the building, hand
already curled around a drink. She gave him a smile and a nod. Her arms were bare as usual,
showing the winding lillies around her freckled arms.

“Alright, Remus?” She said when they got close enough where she didn’t need to shout over the
music.

Remus scoffed. “Alright as I can be seeing as I was dragged off the sofa and had my cheesy toast
removed from my hand.”

“Well I would’ve dragged you out anyways,” Lily replied with a smirk. “Awful sad to be sitting at
home on the hol, innit?”

Remus said nothing but allowed his face to fall into a grimace. Lily laughed, tossing her head back.
She was lovely and Remus was starting to understand James’ obsession. He turned back to the bar
and ordered himself a pint, absently tapping at his carton of fags in his pocket that he’d much
rather be diving into.

He turned back towards the group, pint in hand and was met with the shit-eating grin of Sirius
Black. Remus jumped slightly, sloshing beer on his boots. “Christ Padfoot,” he hissed.

“So I got us a room,” The offender in question continued on. “We have to get drinks out here at the
bar but, otherwise, the room is ours to deface.”

“Really?” Alice questioned. “They actually said ‘deface our room’?”

Sirius bobbed his head from side to side. “Well not so eloquently but, yes. So off you go.”

The group began to walk towards a brightly pink hallway lined with doors and Remus scuffled
behind them. Sirius turned back and looked at him, eyebrows pinched and a frown etched into his
pretty pink lips.

“You’re in a foul mood tonight,” He stated.

Remus laughed humorlessly. “Just not my way of spending the hol.”

Sirius pursed his lips. He turned and grabbed Remus by the shoulder before shaking him lightly.
“I’m trying to erase the fact it’s a holiday,” He said softly. “Trying to help you, me, any of this lot
who needs it really, think of this as just any other day.”

“We don’t do karaoke on any other day,” Remus muttered.

Sirius’s hand left his shoulder to cup Remus’ face. His fingers felt like fire against Remus’s skin
and Remus had to force himself to not flinch away. His eyes held that stupid fucking look of
concern and pity all wrapped into one. His thumb stroke across the scar on the high of Remus’s
cheek bone.

“Just try and forget,” He whispered. “For me?”

Remus could do nothing but nod curtly and wait for the touch of Sirius’ finger to stop burning its
way through his skin and shocking his heart. Sirius sighed before removing his hand and letting it
drop to his side. He jutted his head towards the door.

“Come on, I’ll let you pick my first song,” And the Sirius Black grin was back, all pearly and
white and shining into his already on fire heart.

Remus waved him on. “Gonna go have a smoke. Pick for me.”

“Alright,” Sirius agreed before turning off and basically running down the hall. Remus sighed and
pulled at the curls on top of his head.
He fucking hated how much he loved Sirius Black.

--

Remus took more time than necessary to burn through a fag and a joint outside the Karaoke bar.
The wind whipped aggressively against his cheeks and he was actually happy to have his skin
feeling numb instead of on fire from Sirius’ touch. He shook his head out a few times before
walking back into the bar and following the sound of Supertramp through the halls into the room
that Sirius had gotten for them.

True to his word, Frank was singing “Bloody Well Right”, horribly off key and more so screaming
into the microphone than actually singing it. He barely noticed Remus push past him to sit down
next to Lily and take his beer from her hand.

“You missed the lovely air guitar solo in the beginning,” Lily said as she sipped on her own drink.

“How could I?” Remus deadpanned as Frank launched into, what looked like, another guitar solo.

Lily nudged him with her shoulder. “Alright there?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You looked a little peaky there for a second, that’s all.”

Remus sighed as the trumpets blared through the end of the song and Frank bopped around the
room like a buffoon. “Yeah, just don’t like holidays is all.”

Lilly hummed in agreement. Alice had gone up to stand next to Frank with the second microphone.
The second song kicked in and Remus had to laugh. Somehow, Frank and Alice singing “Barbie
Girl” was fitting.

“Family shite?” Lily asked.

“Pardon?”

“Family shite? Is that why you don’t like holidays?”

Remus’s hand went back to pull at his hair. “Yeah. Don’t have much family left.”

“Me either,” Lily continued, turning back to look at the show unfolding in front of her. “Parents are
dead and my sister fucking hates me.”

Remus had to laugh. He wished he had a sister who hated him. “What did you do to make her hate
you?”

“Got famous,” Lily shrugged. “She was a gifted flutist and thought she was going to join a
Philharmonic somewhere. Imagine her surprise when her little sister who’s been banging on drums
in the basement for twelve years is going on world tours while she’s stuck in Surrey with her stuffy
husband.”

“She sounds like a bitch,” Remus snorted.

“Oh she is.”

The song ended and next up on the stage was Sirius. He’d ditched the jacket and was only wearing
a Stones shirt, tight on his biceps and loose around his neck. His wavy black hair barely touching
his shoulders.

He coughed into the microphone. “This one goes out to my Moony. Year thirteen, bunking off
music theory to do shrooms. Please enjoy.”

Frank and Alice cackled, fully aware of the situation. Lily turned towards Remus.

“Why are you a Moony?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

The music started and immediately Remus was sucked back into the vortex of memories that
constantly swirled around him. Back to green grass and blue skies of the Scottish country-side.

“Moons,”

“Yeah?”

“Do you feel it?”

“A bit. You?”

“A bit, yeah. The sky looks bluer.”

“Bluer isn’t a word arsehole.”

“Sorry Sylvia Plath.”

“The Bell Jar is a work of art and I stand by that.”

“Whatever you say depresso espresso,” He giggled. “Depresso espresso!”

Remus had to giggle along. “Makes it more fun for sure.”

“I think we’re feeling it, Moony.”

“Oh I’d say we’re feeling it, Padfoot.”

The two launched into a fit of hysterics, giggling and rolling around in the green grass of the land
outside their school. Remus palmed to the right of him, grabbing for Sirius’ iPhone. He held it over
his head and squinted. Sirius noticed.

“Why you holding my phone?”

“Trying to see what song this is. Why? You worried Jane will send you a nudie while I have it?”

“It wouldn’t do anything for you so, no. I’m not,” He rolled his neck. “It’s the Pixies. You like?”

“It’s good. Fitting, really.”

“Where is my mind?” Sirius sang along. “Wheeeeere is my mind?”

Remus giggled again. He turned to look at the man lying next to him. His pupils were blown wide
and making his eyes much darker than the pale blue he knew them to be. His hair was knotted on
top of his head, a style he’d recently picked up. His shirt was unbuttoned, tie tossed somewhere
else, and the pale of his collar bones was shining in the afternoon sun. Remus watched the glare
catch along the curve before dragging his eyes back up to meet Sirius’.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Sirius said.

You. Remus wanted to reply. He bit his tongue and shrugged.

Sirius took his own hand and brought it up to scoop across his chest. “Been thinkin’ about a new
tattoo.”

“Mm, what of?”

“Phases of the moon. For my Moony.”

Remus coughed violently and sat up from his reclined position to retch into his hands. Sirius sat up
with him and pounded on his back a few times, causing Remus to sputter and finally catch his
breath.
“Thanks,” He wheezed.

“We really do need to lay off the fags,” Sirius said.

“Says you,” Remus fought back. “You smoke a pack a day.”

“If only they weren’t so bad ass,” Sirius mumbled under his breath. “What did I say?”

“Nothing,” Remus quipped. “Nothing, really,” He looked back at Sirius and caught his eye before
speaking softly.

“You’d really get a tattoo for me?”

“Course, you’re my person,” Sirius started. Remus’ heart stopped. “You and James and Pete. All
my people.”

He heart started beating again. He bit his lip. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed with a smirk. He shoved Remus’ shoulder. “Stop being such a ponce.”

“I am a ponce. I can’t not be one.”

“You know what I mean,” Sirius looked around the land. He turned back to Remus with a devilish
grin. “Oi, you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“I never know what you’re thinking, Pads.”

“Minnie’s car is over there. Should we decorate it?”

Remus grinned. “I do think it needs some flourishing, don’t you?”

The claps of Alice and Frank shook Remus from his memory. He blinked and looked at Lily who
was giving him an odd smile. He nudged their shoulders together before looking back towards the
stage where Sirius was giving an artful bow.

“God that was an amazing day,” Frank sighed.

Alice laughed along. “Never seen Minnie so buggered off.”

Remus let out a nervous laugh. Right, the prank. Not the day spent rolling around in the grass
absolutely pissed off their arses as Sirius said the first sincere thing he’d said to Remus since he’d
peeled him off the floor of their bathroom after his parents had –.

“Good practice for your first real show, Black!” Lily shouted. Sirius flipped her the finger with a
smile on his lips.

“Fuck off, Evans,” He drawled as he tossed his hair over his shoulder. “Your turn?”

“My turn?” Lily shrieked. “Oh, no, no, no. I don’t sing,”

“Not even background vocals?” Remus said.

Lily shook her head fervently. “Nope. All Mary.”

Sirius took her hand and wrapped it around the microphone he was still holding. He grabbed her
wrists and yanked her up. She looked flustered as Sirius dragged her all the way up to the stage and
pulled a stool out for her to sit on. He patted it gently.

“There you are,” He said. “Just like playing the drums on stage.”

“This is not like fucking playing the drums,” Lily spat. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”
Remus guffawed and clapped his hands together before whistling. “Come on Evans!”

Sirius pointed a finger at him. “You’re next Lupin,” He taunted.

Remus swallowed as Lily began flicking through the book of songs that Sirius had sat on her lap.
She smirked and went over to key the number in before kicking the stool off to the side of the
stage. Alice whooped as she did. The music started up and Lily turned around. She started
bouncing her knee along to the humming of the guitar. The main riff kicked in and her red hair
started to float through the air.

“Oh yeah,

Oh yeah,

Oh yeaaaaaahhhh!”

Lily turned around and was still bopping her knee along to the beat. She pointed at Sirius as she
began to sing again.

“Hello again, friend of a friend, I knew you when,”

She banged her head out to the fill of the drums, ever the drummer.

“Our common goal was waiting for the world to end,”

She banged her head around again. Alice had gotten up and was cheering while spinning her
cardigan around her head.

“Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend,”

More head banging before she dropped to her knees and sung loudly into the microphone again.

“You crack the whip, shape-shift and trick the past again,”
As the drums kicked in again she raced forward in front of the other four who were clapping along
to the song.

“I'll send you my love on a wire,”

She swung her leg over Remus’ hips and arched her back away from him. Her long hair was
tickling the cuts in her knees. Instinctively, he reached out to grab her hips, laughing as he went.

“Lift you up, every time, everyone, ooh, pulls away, ooh”

She removed Remus’ hands from her and stood up again before launching into the highest, loudest
notes she’d gotten to all night.

“From yooooouuuuuu!”

She banged her head along to the drums before backing up and bobbing along to the music. Remus
glanced at Sirius and saw he was absolutely awe-struck, jaw slack and eyes bright as they were
when he first heard The White Stripes when they were at Hogwarts. Lily raced back forwards as
the next line began up behind her.

“Got balls of steel, got an automobile, for a minimum wage,”

She put a foot up next to Sirius’s hip and sung the entire line into his mouth, causing him to drop
his jaw even more. He grabbed for her but she kicked away as she turned back out to drop her tiny
body across Alice’s lap. Alice ruffled her fringe as she stood back up.

“Got real estate, I'm buying it all up in outer space,”

She pointed at Frank for the next line, which she hit with wild precision for someone who never
sang, let alone never sung background vocals.

“Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend!”
She went back to the stage and held her arms out.

“You crack the whip, shape-shift and trick, the past again!”

She launched into the second hook and bopped around on the stage, shaking her head and swinging
the cord of the microphone around like she was the front man of her own band instead of Marlene.
The guitar picked up as the final notes were sung by the vocals of the track. Lily took a bow and
Frank whistled while the rest of the group clapped on enthusiastically.

Lily walked over to Remus and dropped the microphone in his hand with a wink. “Good luck,
Moony.”

“Christ, mate,” Frank breathed. He shook his head. “I don’t think you can follow that up.”

“I don’t think I could,” Sirius laughed.

Remus wound up not following up Lily’s performance. Then again, he did sing “This Charming
Man” which, despite its title, was not charming at all. Sirius got them shots as Frank launched into
another Supertramp song in his raspy tenor. They went down like water as did the next four pints
that Lily and he had traded off. Lily and Alice did a duet to some pop song Remus couldn’t be
bothered to know the name of. Sirius then took to the microphone again to launch into “Rebel
Rebel” before handing it off to Alice. She switched up the entire night to launch into “Don’t Rain
on My Parade” and use the voice that she’d cultivated during years of theater at Hogwarts. By
then, Remus was proper pissed and had no qualms about launching into “Touch Me” with an
enthusiasm Jim Morrison would be proud of.

The whole group was cackling at Remus’ final lines and the way he’d flashed them a silver of skin
at his hip during his final lines as a staff member popped her head in with another round of shots
and announced to the group that they had fifteen minutes to spare. Sirius downed the shot before
ushering Remus off the stage to flop next to Lily on the couch. He rolled his neck to look at the
woman who flashed him a toothy grin before launching into laughter of her own.

“Alright, alright,” Sirius said into the microphone. “Last song of the evening and we all know
where I’m going with it.”

The music started up and Sirius started moving along to the music. His hair was more tussled than
when they had arrived and his eyes were a bit droopier due to the many vodka sodas he’d been
shoving down his throat during the evening. He still looked as lovely as ever and Remus felt
himself unable to look away as he started singing.

“Slip inside the eye of your mind. Don't you know you might find a better place to play?”

Lily nudged Remus. He leaned in to let her whisper in his ear. “You all are a good time,” She said.
“We should do this again with the rest of us.”

“The rest of us?” Remus questioned.

“Yeah!” She shrugged. “Marlene and Mary and Pete and…I suppose Potter can come.”

Remus chuckled and shook his head. “He grows on you, you know? I couldn’t stand him when we
met,”

“Did he chase you around telling you how amazing you were like a psycho?” Lily said with an
arched brow.

“No,” Remus replied. “But he did tell me The Smiths were depressing and it was just as foul.”

Lily swatted his shoulder with her hand. “They are depressing, love.”

“Morrisey’s a genius!”

“Yes, yes, he is—”

“I don’t know why everyone—”

“Oi!” Came Sirius from the stage. He pointed at Remus. “Shut up and let me get to my chorus!”
Lily and Remus giggled from the bench. Lily let her head rest on Remus’ shoulder as they watched
Sirius finish the verse and strum along in the air before the chorus hit.

“And so, Sally can wait! She knows it's too late as we're walking on by,”

There was something about Sirius Black that made it so that you couldn’t look away. As Remus
watched him continue to belt into the microphone with his lovely little voice that was full of years
and years of training, he couldn’t help but notice every little thing that made Sirius so wonderful.
He was the most beautiful one in the room when they walked in and continued to look so even after
downing glass after glass of liquor. His skin was perfect, glistening under the slight sheen of sweat
from standing in front of the lights for so long. His mouth curved artfully as he sang into the
microphone with his throat bobbing along. His hand with those long, delicate fingers that he
wrapped around Frank’s shoulder as they both sang the chorus.

Remus sighed deeply. He wrinkled his eyebrows and looked to his left at the woman glancing up
at him from his shoulder. She wore a knowing, sad smile.

“You love him, don’t you?”

Remus looked back up to see Sirius belting into the microphone with Frank, Alice sauntering along
by them. Here was this man who, with no support in his career for most of his life, had launched
them into a bed of stardom and fame due to his silly little words and his penchant for unusual
sounding music colliding with classic rock. Sirius had been beat down so many times and was still
standing, still smiling. He was as happy as ever, as optimistic as ever. Remus envied him. They’d
both been dealt shitty hands and yet somehow Sirius walked away winning while Remus was down
forty quid. He smiled to himself.

“'Cause you ain't ever gonna burn my heart out!”

“Yeah,” He said back to Lily. “Yeah, I do.”

Lily sighed and burrowed her head into his arm further. “He makes it hard not to, doesn’t he?”

Sirius had launched into the final chorus and preceding outro with more gusto than ever. His voice
was drowning out Frank and Alice’s and it looked as if all the lights on the stage were pointed at
him. He looked out and met Remus’ eye, tossing him a sly smirk and a wink as he belted out the
final line.
“So don’t look back in anger, I heard you say,”

Remus bit his lip to stop his smile from becoming too big.

“He really does.”

--

The next morning, James and Peter still hadn’t returned from their trips home which meant that
Remus was stuck with Sirius.

Stuck with Sirius and a brutal hangover.

He groaned as he walked into the living room and flopped onto the couch. Sirius was lying face
down on the carpet. He moaned as well in greeting.

“You too?” Remus said.

Sirius grunted. Remus pulled his hands through his hair and let them rest on his face as he groaned
again. He peeled them down the sides. “Fuck, we’re too old for this.”

Sirius snapped his head up. “We are twenty-six. We’re barely old.”

“We’re old enough to not stay out until 2 AM, pissing about,” Remus said from underneath the
pillow he’d shoved over his head.

Another pillow flew and dislodged the one from his face. He looked down to see Sirius had sat up
and was resting his chin on his elbows on his knees. He smiled sheepishly.

“You did have a good night, didn’t you?”

Remus groaned which caused Sirius to bounce up and thwack him in the face again with the
pillow.

“You did! You did!” He sang.

“Leave me alone, antichrist! The power of Christ compels you!” Remus yelled back before getting
another mouthful of pillow.

Sirius laughed before settling on the couch and resting Remus’ feet in his lap. He shook one in his
hand and squeezed. “So did you?” He repeated. “Have fun?”

“I did have fun, Pads,” Remus said sincerely. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Moonbeam,” He patted Remus’ foot again. “Speaking of which, I know what’ll
get us out of the hell that is one too many vodka sodas: a good fry up.”

Remus snorted. “You? A fry up? Tell me when you’ve ever had one, posh boy,”

Sirius shoved Remus’ feet off his lap and Remus began to laugh at the pout spreading across
Sirius’ face. Remus toed Sirius in the face which made Remus laugh harder as Sirius sputtered in
disgust.

“Bloody hell, mate,” He spat. “Do you even wash those?” He moved off the couch and stood with
his hands on his hips in a very matter-of-fact way. “I have had a fry up.”

“Really?” Remus teased. “When?”

“Effie makes them.”

“James’ mum makes a greasy, disgusting mess of a fry up?”

“Well, she uses avocado oil because she’s worried about the fat.”
Remus howled in laughter, grabbing at his stomach. It wasn’t soon after that a pillow was hurtled
against his pounding head. He snorted and wiped the tears from his eyes as he sat back up, shaking
his head.

“Come on, Paddycakes,” He said through chuckles. “I’ll take you to get an authentic, English fry
up.”

“Paddycakes?” Sirius questioned with a smirk. “That’s new.”

Remus shrugged, trying to make the blush on his neck hide beneath the shoulders of his jumper.
“You call me Mooncakes. Seems only natural.”

Sirius laughed. “Oh love, nothing about us is natural.”

The two went off to their respective rooms and changed (Remus battling with the inevitable tent
that had sprung in his pants due to Sirius calling him “love”) before grabbing their keys and
clambering out of their flat. They nearly snuck by Birdie’s before the door flew open and Birdie’s
screech echoed down the hall.

“Mr. Black!”

Sirius turned to look at her over the shoulder of his jacket. He turned back and grimaced as Remus
before whipping to face his landlady with a smile.

“Birdie, darling! How are you?”

“Don’t give me that shite,” She barked, finger pointed at him. “Lucy smelled cannabis in the
hallway the other day. I know it was you.”

Lucy was their neighbor across the hall. She was a professor at UCL and was pompous, bitter and
all around a true cunt of a woman.
“Me?” Sirius fake gasped. “I would never smoke the devil’s lettuce!” He scoffed. “I have been
raised better. Y-sort-it, y’know? Attended my anti-drug assemblies and all!”

He reached down to grab at Remus’ shoulder, finally the same height as his roommate. He wound
an arm around Remus’ neck. “Now Remus here,” He started. “Wouldn’t you believe he has chronic
pain syndrome? Such a shame as he’s such a lovely, lovely boy!”

“Padfoot—”

“I am so sorry he’s been out of hand!” Sirius continued as he began to pull Remus out of their
building. “He’s just been in so, so much pain so if you’d just let him off with one more final
warning then we’d be ever-so-thankful!”

“I’m warning you Black!” Birdie shouted after them. “One more fuck up and you’re out on the
bloody streets!”

Sirius shook Remus’ shoulders before looking at him. “You hear that darling? You’ll make us
homeless!”

“Sirius—!”

“Thank you Birdie! Ta for now!”

“I’m serious Black!”

Sirius stopped, one foot in the door. He pressed a hand to his chest. “No, I’m Sirius Black,”

Birdie rolled her eyes but Remus was cackling as they pushed out into the street. Sirius rummaged
through his pockets and procured a fag that he lit with ease.

“I don’t smoke inside, idiot,” Remus said as he pushed at Sirius’ shoulder. “What were you doing
the other day?”
Sirius shrugged as he pulled on the cigarette. “Pete got a new bong. Killer, by the way.”

Remus groaned and plucked the stick out of Sirius’ mouth.

“You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

“We’re gonna be famous soon, Moons. First paycheque, I’m getting you out of there.”

Remus rolled his eyes but ducked his head down to stop the smile from creeping across his lips.

One greasy fry up later, Sirius threw his cutlery down on the plate, making it clatter against the
empty ceramic. He shook his head in amazement before pounding a fist against his chest.

“I may have stopped my heart but bloody buggering fuck, if that wasn’t the best damn thing I’ve
ever eaten.”

Remus laughed around a mouthful of sausage. He shrugged before speaking through his half-
swallowed food. “Immmfsgood!”

Sirius nodded. He leaned his elbow on the table. “Oi, you got your notebook?”

Remus said nothing before rummaging through his tote and holding up the beaten leather.

“Good,” Sirius replied, grabbing it out of his hands. “Show me what you’ve got. We’re only three
songs into the album and I refuse to let James put ‘Gangsta’ on. No one says that.”

Remus just shrugged and shoved more sausage in his mouth as Sirius laid the notebook open on
the linoleum table. He flipped to the back of the book, trying to find the fully written pieces instead
of the bits and bobs of phrases that had yet to be strung together. He skimmed past the
aforementioned three songs and landed on Remus’ newest brain child: the song he’d written after
Regulus’ explosive exit from their flat.

Sirius nodded along to the lyrics before looking back up at Remus. “Got a riff?”
Remus shook his head. “No, it’s got nothing.”

“I’ve got a bass riff,” Sirius said as he leaned back in his chair. “I need something to add it to. Also,
after your little performance last night, I think you should sing.”

“Me?” Remus choked. “I missed like half of Morrisey’s notes.”

“’Cause they weren’t in your range. This,” He flicked the notebook page. “This I could put in your
range.”

Remus looked back down at the paper before setting down his fork. “It’s supposed to be for you to
sing,” He said softly. “About Reg.”

Sirius waved a hand. “I sing songs you write for me all the time,” He said. “Let me take the back
burner on this one. You’re just as talented as me.”

Remus snorted. “I don’t know about all that—”

“You are,” Sirius said firmly. “Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not.”

Remus looked up at Sirius through his fringe. “Alright fine, I’ll sing it.”

They left the restaurant and took the Tube to Order of the Phoenix. As it was the day after a
holiday, the entire building was eerily quiet. Sirius and Remus used the keypad to get into the
studio. The lights came on slowly and flickered a few times before finally deciding to rouse
themselves from their sleep.

Sirius plopped into his normal spot on the couch and grabbed for the bass that was kept next to it.
He pulled a fag out of his pocket and shoved it between his lips before lighting it with his silver
zippo. He pointed at Remus then wordlessly started strumming away at the instrument.

G chord, G chord, G chord, E chord, E chord, E chord.

G chord, G chord, G chord, E chord, E chord, E chord.

G chord, G chord, G chord, E chord, E chord, E chord.

It was heavy. It was dark. It was exactly what Remus envisioned for a song about Sirius’ falling
out with his brother from their childhood days.

“Yes,” Remus said. He shook his head. “Just yes,” He grabbed his notebook and looked at the
lyrics in front of him. He motioned towards Sirius who began to play again. Remus started to sing,
his voice cracking slightly but full of emotion and angst and everything that he knew was brewing
up in Sirius’ chest like a potion.

“Now, hang me out to dry. You’ve wrung me out, too, too, too many times,

Now hang me out to dry. I’m pearly like the white, the whites of your eyes,”

Sirius made a squeaky humming noise of excitement from behind his fag. He set it down on the
ashtray and moved to muse Remus’ hair. “I knew you’d get it you brilliant little man.”

Remus smiled before sighing and shaking his head. “Alright so this is a song about you,” He
started. “What would make it more you?”

Sirius snapped his fingers. “Piano.”

“Exactly,” Remus snapped back.

Sirius clambered around the coffee table as Remus took Bill’s seat at the control panel and started
to light up a joint. The fry up had done him good but the anxiety in his chest needed something
more medicinal to calm it. He watched Sirius slide the piano in the studio open and then run his
fingers down the keys. He looked back at Remus and waggled his eyebrows.

“Play the bass!” He yelled through the glass.

Remus spun around and grabbed the instrument from where Sirius had left it, joint still hanging out
of his mouth. He settled back in Bill’s chair before strumming the chords just as Sirius had done
while he was on the couch.
G chord, G chord, G chord, E chord, E chord, E chord.

Sirius began playing along with the bass, same chords as he did in the settee.

G chord, G chord, G chord, E chord, E chord, E chord.

The continued for a few minutes, Remus quietly singing the words to himself behind the control
panel. Just as he thought he liked the rhythm, Sirius went and played something almost attune to a
kid smashing on the piano. Remus stopped abruptly and slammed on the microphone to the studio.

“What the fuck was that?”

Sirius looked up. He pointed at the keys. “That? Oh I was just fucking about.”

“Do it again.”

“Again?”

“Yes.”

He played it again, over and over as Remus started in on the bassline. He swore under his breath
and then smashed the microphone again.

“It fucking works.”

“Does it?” Came Sirius, sincerely shocked.

Remus pushed off the chair and went into the studio next to Sirius. He propped a leg up on the
bench and started the bassline again. Sirius played along in the same progression before he
launched into his smattering of the keys. Remus screamed.
“Why does it work? Why does it work?”

Sirius shook his head fervently. “I don’t know but it does!”

“Christ, Sirius,” Remus breathed. “You’re a bloody genius.”

“All I needed was a song to show how much I hated traditional piano playing,” Sirius laughed. He
banged on the keys once before looking back up at Remus. “Guitar next?”

Remus nodded.

By the end of the day, they’d managed to write, record and half produce the song they had started
over a pile of eggs drenched in butter and sausage so fattening it could clog an artery in one go.
Sirius had done a very simple drum fill to go along with the rest of the song and Remus had very
tentatively recorded it. After they managed to figure out how to work the control panel, they
somehow ended up with a decent song. They sat on the couch and listened to it a thousand times
that day, bobbing their heads along in tune to the beat.

“James is gonna be so mugged off,” Remus said as they sat smoking their third spliff of the
afternoon. “We wrote a song without him.”

Sirius waved a hand. “He’ll probably add some sort of Potter-like flare.”

“I can’t believe we just wrote that,” Remus said, incredulously.

Sirius laughed. “You and I make a good team, Moons. You get my trauma and I get yours. Almost
scary how well we get it.”

“Yeah,” Remus sighed as he tapped out the filter of the spliff in the ashtray. “Trauma is my
specialty.”

“Sure is,” Said Sirius. “Tapping into the hearts of men and women everywhere.”
“Yeah,” Remus mumbled.

If only I could get into one heart,

 Seven
Chapter Notes

TW for this chapter: gay slur (nothing terrible), drinking, more smoking, graphic
description of child abuse, Frank being a lad.

S/o to Kit for being the best beta a gal could ask for.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Seven
“Hello everyone! We are the Marauders and this is Chop!”

The rattling of drum sticks together brought Remus’s face up to look at Sirius. James counted them
in and off they went, Remus plucking at the strings of the guitar as Sirius strummed along on the
bass. Peter had a work obligation and was missing from the stage that evening.

The end of April brought with it more concerts, more recording sessions and more music. Sirius
and Remus had presented “Hang Me Up to Dry” to James and, instead of erupting in a fit of anger,
James took to the kit and started pointing out where Sirius should’ve added extra flares or changed
up the fill. In addition, their EP with “Holy Toledo” and “Gangsta” had been released and garnered
a decent amount of attention. Sirius had screamed in James’s face and threw himself into Remus’s
arms when they had heard it on the radio for the first time. Dorcas had been ecstatic about the
reviews they were getting. Everyone was writing them up as the next greatest in punk rock. Sirius
was so chuffed he went and tattooed “Holy Toledo” into his bicep using the rickety old tattoo gun
he’d bought in year thirteen.

The summer was continuing to look more and more promising for the band as they swung into
their next gig. The crowd was larger, rowdier and every single song that was on their setlist was
one of their own. They made their way from “Chop” to “Gangsta” to “Oulala” to “Holy Toledo”
and decided to end on “Hang Me Out to Dry.”

Remus was nervous as he watched Sirius fiddle with the bass. It was not only the first time they
were playing the song live, but it was Remus’ first time singing in front of people other than his
friends. He’d sung it to James during rehearsals and it had left him speechless.

He blew a low whistle. “Fuck me and call me Sally,” James screeched. “That was something
Moons,”

Sirius had just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder before whispering “I told you so,” into his
ear and making shivers run down his legs that curled around his toes and pulled his feet out from
underneath him.

It didn’t help that it was that specific gig that Sirius had invited Regulus. The young Black leaned
against a wall in the back of the pub with his friend, Barty, that Remus had met a few times. Barty
was a shifty guy who looked like he was constantly on something . He assumed that Barty hung
out with Regulus for free drugs from the illicit side hustle that Black Inc. was a part of. Regulus
had never seemed to actually like Barty and tonight was no different. He paid no attention to his
twitchy friend as he chatted up some bird and stood with a beer hanging loosely in his hand and
arms across his chest.

“Hi,” Remus breathed into the microphone. It screeched with feedback and Remus winced. “This is
a new song called Hang Me Up to Dry and it’s about never catching a break,”

He stepped away from the microphone and nodded to Sirius who began in on his alluring baseline.
He bobbed his head, black hair coming to curtain him from the crowd. As he hit his third repeat of
the riff, James played in on the drums with the fill that Sirius had written for him.

“Careless in our summer clothes splashing around in the muck and the mire,”
Remus looked out and caught Regulus’ eye. The two men locked eyes and Remus felt his heart
shudder with the memories of Sirius coming back to school, purple bruises marring his skin or little
cuts nicking his wrists. It was fine, it was all fine, Sirius had said. It never was.

“Careless in our summer clothes splashing around in the muck and the mire,” Remus repeated,
eyes still locked on Reg in the back. He’d arched an eyebrow as the repetition, still watching
Remus.

“Fell asleep with stains, caked deep in the knees, what a pain,”

He grabbed towards the guitar in his hands and stepped away from the mic to suck in a harsh
breath before stepping forward and letting the entire breath out in a stronger way than he had in the
studio. All the while, he never stopped watching Regulus.

“Now hang me out to dry! You’ve wrung me out, too, too, too many times!”

James kicked in again over Sirius’ bass solo, bashing in on the hi-hats in a different way than
Sirius had. It had much more gusto, much more emotion especially when mixed with Remus’
crackling voice. Remus looked back at Regulus as he sung the next line.

“Now hang me up to dry! I'm pearly like the white, the whites of your eyes,”

He looked away from Reg to look down and complete his guitar fill, shaking his curly head in
rhythm as he went. He looked up and watched Sirius slam the heel of his boot on the looper before
swinging the guitar around his torso and flopping into the stool of the piano. He played the chords
as un-gracefully as one with torturous years of piano playing could before bashing his hands across
the keys in the seemingly unmelodic way he’d done with Remus in the studio. He stood up just as
quickly as he had sat down to begin his bassline as the second verse started up and Remus stepped
to the microphone again. His memories melting his brain into the stanza of the song.

“Can you stop fussing over me for one second, Remus?”

“No, you’re covered in bruises. What the fuck happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Sirius—”

“Nothing! Fell out of a tree in the backyard.”

“You don’t have a backyard, wanker. You live in London.”

“Remus just fucking drop it, Christ!”

He reached for Sirius’ bicep and as soon as the pads of his finger grazed the white of his shirt,
Sirius was throwing his entire body out of Remus’ grasp. He looked back at his roommate with fire
in his eyes, lipped pressed together and chest heaving. He let a low breath out of his nose before
surging forward and shoving Remus backwards. He stumbled slightly and went up to try and push
Sirius’ hands away but it was no use. He was mad with rage.

“You wanna know what happened, hm?” He shoved Remus again. “You wanna know so fucking
bad Remus? I’ll fucking tell you!”

He used both hands to shove Remus back against the wall. His head clattered against the wood
paneling and he winced. He tried to move off the wall but Sirius pinned him, the metal of his ring
digging into the skin at Remus’ shoulder.

“Little, darling Regulus broke mother’s fine vase from France. A Black Family heirloom worth
god knows how many pounds. But darling Regulus doesn’t break anything does he? Only
disgraceful, improper Sirius would do something so vile , wouldn’t he?”

“Let go of me Sirius—”

He pushed Remus back again and used his other hand to keep Remus’s hands away. “So mother,”
he spat the word like it was poison. “Decided she should punish her little trouble maker. Took the
cricket bat I got for my birthday and hit me wherever she deemed fit. ‘What a disgrace !’ she said.
‘How awful ,’ she cried. Again and again, slamming the bat into my heels, my legs, my arms, my
jaw. I think at one point it even fucking splintered. I caught a couple shards in my calves after that,
scratches on my cheeks. Ironic, isn’t it? She spent years trying to get me to look ‘proper’ and she
tossed it all away once I’d done something to piss her off,”
He slammed Remus back against the wood again, slamming the same spot again. Remus’s vision
blurred slightly. “Wanted me to be perfect until I did something to ruin her perfection. Fucking
cunt. And you know what? All the while, poor, perfect Regulus watched on. Silently.” He shoved
Remus once more before stepping back and shaking his head lightly.

“That. That is what fucking happened,” he whispered. He turned back and stalked towards his
bed, sitting on the edge and letting his head drop into his hands.

Remus just stared at him, vision still murky with the force that Sirius had put into pinning him
against the wall. He breathed out shakily before finally going to crouch in front of him and peel his
perfect hands away from his face. His cheeks were red and splotchy and a trail of a tear was
skimming down his jaw. Remus brushed it away absently.

“You can’t go back,” Remus said softly. “I won’t let you.”

Sirius snorted. “And where do you suppose I’m supposed to live? I’m sixteen.”

“Your uncle—”

Sirius shook his head and ran his sleeve over his nose. “Alphard’s old and near death. He won’t be
able to be declared a fit parent.”

“Okay,” Remus breathed. He reached out to grab Sirius’ hand. The metal of his ring cold against
his skin was juxtaposing the searing hot it had felt burning into his shoulder only a minute before.
Sirius looked up at his friend, emotion still building in the corner of his bright grey eyes. They were
so close that Remus could make out the blues behind the rings of grey he was so used to. The
whites of his eyes popped out at him like a neon sign.

“But you won’t go back. I won’t let you,”

Sirius gave him a weak smile, eyes still shining from the tears. “Thanks Moony.” He sniffled.
“Sorry I shoved you into the wall,”

Remus laughed softly. “I was being annoying. Probably deserved it.”

“No,” Sirius replied sincerely, shaking his head. “You don’t. You didn’t. You never do.”

The look of Sirius’ eyes was staring back at him as he played the final cords of the song. Only
these eyes didn’t belong to Sirius. They belonged to Regulus Black and they were currently boring
into his own amber ones with the curiosity that was hidden from the rest of his face. He moved
towards the microphone for the final line.

“Now hang me up to dry. I'm pearly like the white, the whites of your eyes.”

The crowd erupted and hands and beers and arms covered up whatever look that Remus was still
trying to decipher on Regulus’ face. He blinked twice then turned when he felt a hand on his
shoulder. Sirius was looking at him with his signature grin and those goddamn shiny grey eyes. He
slapped Remus on the shoulder again before throwing an arm around him in a hug. Remus felt
numb as Sirius let him go. He was pummeled next by James who then grabbed the microphone and
screamed into it.

“We are Marauders! Good night lads!”

--

Afters once again was held at Remus and Sirius’s flat. Once again, Remus had been given DJ-ing
privileges and was, surprisingly, behaving for the most part. James had only veto-d one song and
Sirius had merely grimaced when “Bigmouth Strikes Again” came on over their speaker. He was
busy thumbing through Bonny Sunset’s discography when he was greeted with the face of their
front woman.

Marlene swung an arm around him and ruffled his hair. “What’s up, fucker?”

“Very nice way to greet your eldest friend,” Remus grumbled as he shrugged her off and tried to
settle his hair into something manageable.

“Oldest friend who I barely spoke to after we both left Llandovery, yeah?” She nudged his shoulder
with a half-smile. “Some friend you are.”
“You know I don’t text—”

“Is that why you haven’t answered my text?” Came the voice of Lily Evans. She appeared from
behind Marlene with her hands on her hips, electric red hair tied up on her head and fringe slightly
mused. She punched Remus in the shoulder.

“Ow!” He cried as he rubbed at the spot Lily’s fist had collided with. “What the hell?”

She pointed at him. “You never answered me! I had to come to your stupid gig and watch James
Potter try and woo me by twirling his drum stick obnoxiously all night to make sure you weren’t
dead.”

“Sorry! Sorry!”

Marlene smirked and elbowed Lily. “Potter dropping one was funny as hell though, wasn’t it?”

“Funniest shite I’ve seen this week,” Lily agreed with a smirk.

Remus laughed and shook his head. He looked back at his phone, suddenly remembering what he
was doing. He poked Lily in the hip. “Oi, what’s your favorite song you’ve written?”

“I’ve written?” Lily asked, pointing to her chest. She snorted. “I haven’t written fuck-all,”

“You know what I mean,”

She rolled her eyes. “Uh. I guess the one we did for the vampire movie,”

“Vampire movie?” Remus asked.

“Twilight? Christ, Remus. Do you even know how to use the internet?” Marlene sighed.
“I use the internet!”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Lily mocked.

Remus scowled. “Twilight like the bad vampire stalker book?”

“Yes,” Lily and Marlene said together.

“There’s a movie?!”

“Does your head ever come out of your arse, mate?” Lily replied.

“That is right foul—”

“Shut up, Remus,” Marlene finally snapped. She waved her hand. “We did a song for the third
book slash movie and it’s called Endtapes. Now can you queue it so you can get me a fucking bev?
I’ll be needing it if we’re going to get you caught up to the twenty-first century.”

The scowl never left Remus’ face as he queued the song, a few fan favorites and some other
random song he’d found earlier that week that was oddly reminiscent of the Buzzcocks. He pushed
past the crowd of people in his small living room to stand behind the kitchen island. Fabian was
sitting on it talking to some small Asian woman. He shoved his shoe in between Remus’ arse,
causing the man to yelp. Fabian, of course, howled with laughter. The woman rolled her eyes and
stalked over to where a gaggle of people were talking to James. (Or listening rather, he seemed to
be prattling on.)

“Fucking hell, Fab,” Remus hissed. “At least warn a bloke,”

Fab tossed his head back. “Sorry mate. Haven’t see ya in a minute or so and got a wee bit carried
away with meself,” He turned and was suddenly very much aware of Marlene and Lily following
behind Remus. Fab straightened his back. “Ladies, how are we?”

Marlene arched an eyebrow. “Peachy,”

“Parched,” Lily snapped. She wrenched open the fridge herself and pulled out two beers, shoving
one into Marlene’s hand and taking the other for herself.

Fab whacked Remus on the bicep. Remus winced. It was the exactly spot Lily had sailed her fist
not a few minutes earlier. “Are you not treating your guests? How terrible of him. I deeply
apologize,”

“I’m very much used to the lack of manners of Remus Lupin,” Marlene said with a smirk. “I grew
up with him.”

Fab’s eyes went wide. He grabbed for Marlene’s hand. “You must be the lovely Marlene
McKinnon,” He pressed his lips to her knuckles. “I am honored to meet such a star,”

“Likewise,” Marlene replied, gently pulling her hand back. “You must be Gideon Prewett.”

“Fabian,” He corrected as he tipped his head towards the living room. “Gids over there fighting off
the ladies. I prefer the male persuasion,”

Lily snorted as Marlene shook her head, tipping the beer to her lips before speaking. “Christ,
Remus. Do you have any straight friends?”

“James is straight,”

Lily shrugged. “Bit of a tomato innit he?”

“Tomato?” Remus said, eyebrows pinched in confusion.

“You don’t know if he’s a fruit or a vegetable,”

Fabian howled at that, smacking his hand on the top of his knee. Remus laughed along as he
watched Fab almost fall off the counter in hysterics. As he collected himself, Fabian wiped the
tears from his eyes.
“That is the funniest fucking shite I’ve ever heard, Christ almighty. I think you may have broken
me Miss..?”

Lily shoved her hand out. “Evans. Lily Evans. Drummer of Bonny Sunset,”

“That must be why Potter was staring at you earlier,” Fab took Lily’s hand gently before letting it
drop to her side.

“He’s insufferable.”

“That’s our Potter,” Fabian laughed. “Does one-hundred-and-ten percent at everything,”

“God look at him now,” Groaned Marlene.

The entire group turned to face the living room. James was still talking to the group of girls,
waving his hands wildly before grabbing one of the girls and shaking her. She looked completely
startled and he went on as if nothing happened. He waved his hands again before taking a bottle
from one of the girl’s hands and attempting to balance it on his head. Being that he was, in fact,
James Potter, the bottle tumbled off of his head almost instantly and sloshed into Sirius’s shirt as he
was passing by, hands laced with Emmeline’s. She shrieked as some of the beer went her way and
Sirius scowled at James before taking his own beer and throwing it back in James’s face. James
blinked, drops falling down his face, as the women he was speaking to shrunk away from him in
disgust. As they left, James took Sirius around the neck and began to try and wrestle the man to the
ground.

Remus snorted at the sight. The floor was going to be awfully sticky tomorrow and he had
absolutely no qualms about making Sirius clean it. He turned back to Lily, whose head was tilted
in thought.

“Come to think of it,” Lily said. “Black may be a bit of a tomato himself.”

“Black?!” Fab snorted. “If I had known sooner then I would’ve propositioned him meself,”

Remus shook his head, watching as James finally let Sirius go. He grabbed for Emmeline as he
kicked at the back of James’s knee, sending him wincing off in Remus’ direction. Sirius turned
back to Emmeline and wrapped his entire hand around her throat before bending down to press
their lips together. Remus watched as his tongue slipped into her mouth before he pulled back to
whisper in her ear. It lit a match in his head, setting off his brain like a bomb and making it drop all
the way down his throat and thud against the basin of his stomach.

“No,” He croaked before clearing his throat. He shook his head. “No he’s fully straight.”

Lily tutted. “Whatever you say, Moons.”

“Oi!” Fab yelled. “She gets to call you Moony and I don’t?”

“We spent a hol together. Of course I do,” Lily ran her arm around Remus’s waist and tugged her
towards him. He stumbled as he tore his gaze from Sirius and Emmeline.

“Oh. Yeah. Right,” Remus dead panned as Lily shook him once. He looked back towards Sirius
and was met with his deep grey eyes. He gave Remus a half smile before being tugged out of
Remus’s vision by Emmeline. Remus turned back to Lily and gave her the same weak smile. The
look she gave him in return was knowing.

“Who’s that?” Said Marlene.

Remus turned back to see Regulus pushing through their front door, followed closely behind by the
shifty fucker that was Barty Crouch. Barty looked around the room like a lion looked across the
sahara for its prey. Regulus looked bored. He turned his head and caught Remus’s eye, arching one
eyebrow as he had done at the pub.

“Regulus,” Remus replied to Marlene. He turned to look at both women. “Sirius’s brother.”

“Oh I’ve heard of him,” Lily said. “He’s like the heir to the Black fortune or something right?”

Fab snorted. “Yeah and he’s got his head so far up his arse it’s coming out of his mouth.”

James had finally limped over to the group and was rubbing at the back of his knee as he spoke.
“Oh come on, Fab. He’s not too bad,”

“’Not too bad?’ Do you even hear yourself, Potter?”

“He really isn’t,” Remus agreed. “He was here a week or two ago. He and Sirius looked like they
were having a jolly old time,”

“Let me guess,” Came James. “Until Reg went and ruined it,”

Remus blinked. “He tell you?”

“No,” James shook his head. “Just know the idiots well enough to know everything’s fine and
dandy one minute then they’re lobbing bombs at each other the next minute.”

“Jesus,” Marlene hissed. “They really don’t get on?”

“Family shite,” Remus and James chorused.

“It’s a pity that all the Blacks are insane in one way or another,” James sighed dreamily, turning to
stare at Regulus and Barty, who were beginning to mingle with a group of people. “They’re all so
bloody pretty ,”

“ Tomato ,” Lily sing-songed, causing Fab to break into a horrendous chorus of laughter that
Remus and Marlene echoed.

James looked confused. He patted at his cheeks. “I’m not red, am I?”

Lily nudged his shoulder with her own. It wound up landing more around his chest as she was so
short. “Not yet, you knob. But watch out your little boyfriend’s coming over,”

Sure enough, Regulus was walking toward the group. He stopped to lean on the edge of the
counter, hip pressed into the corner. He nodded at James then turned towards Fab. “Prewett,
right?”
“Pleasure, darling,” Fab drawled as he batted his eyelashes at Regulus. Reg didn’t notice.

“How are we Reggie?” Said James.

Regulus’s eye twitched. “Well. Good show you all had tonight,”

“Thanks!” James replied enthusiastically. He swung the fridge open and shoved a bottle into
Regulus’s hand. He eyed it before sighing dramatically and rolling his eyes.

“Thanks, Reg,” Remus said as Regulus put his lips to the bottle.

He raised one perfect eyebrow again. “Quite a song at the end, Lupin. What was your inspiration?”

Regulus knew the song was about him and Sirius. He wasn’t daft. He was manipulative and Remus
knew he was trying to dig his nails under Remus’s skin and knick at his brain.

“Families,” Remus replied blankly. “They put you through the ringer, don’t they?”

Regulus hummed. “They sure do,” he pulled at the beer again before cocking his head. “You
putting that little song on your little album?”

“It’s not gonna be little— ” James started before Remus cut him off.

“I hope to,” Remus said. He held his voice stead and his eyes locked with Regulus’s. “Is that going
to be a problem?”

“No problem,” Regulus shrugged. “Just as long as it’s not revealed who it’s about. Could be quite
damaging for a family’s reputation. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“No,” Remus bit out. “We wouldn’t.”

“It’s music, Reggie,” James interjected. “It can be about anything.”

“It can,” Regulus turned to look at James as he set the empty bottle down on the counter. His
mouth was curved into a knowing smirk. “But it’s not.”

He turned to Remus again. “Good show, Lupin. Potter. Can’t wait to see what you do next.”

He left the kitchen and walked back towards the living room, to stand next to Barty, who was
looming over some girl as he stuck his tongue out to wet his lips. The music continued to roar in
the background. Remus watched him, blood boiling in his body as he thought about what Regulus
had said.

It was no surprise that the Black family would be concerned with their public opinion. They’d been
the topic of many scandals over the years. Walburga and Orion, Sirius’s parents, had come under
fire for their parenting techniques many a time. Even more so when Sirius left home and started to
live with James and his parents after the incident with the vase over December holiday of year
eleven. Orion was head of Black Inc. and was ruthless in maintaining his perfect public appearance
for his perfect little company. The last thing he needed was a song about Sirius’s pained childhood
and broken relationship with his brother to go sky rocketing on the billboard charts.

Remus, however, could not give a shite. He thought it was about time that the family was put in
their place as the scum of the English business scene. He thought that it was about time someone
acknowledged all the nonsense that Sirius, and truthfully, Regulus had gone through. Never mind
that “Hang Me Out to Dry” was a good song. A bloody good song and would help others in the
world deal with their botched family issues.

“Fuck him,” Remus threw over his shoulder as he reached behind Lily for another beer. “He can
bugger right off if he thinks that song isn’t going on the album. It’s Sirius’s favourite.”

“Are you sure, mate?” James said softly. “The last thing we need is Orion coming at us like a bat
out of hell.”

Remus shrugged and gulped down the beer. “He’s the fucking devil incarnate. I beg him to try and
sue me. I have nothing for them to take. Plus, you’re a lawyer aren’t you?”

“I had one case, Moons,”

“You’re a lawyer?!” Marlene said incredulously. Lily looked at him out the corner of her eyes.

James blushed and brought his hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “Er – I mean I went to law
school and all. I had one case fighting a traffic violation before Padfoot decided we should start
taking the band seriously.”

Marlene tipped her head back and laughed, shaking her head. “Christ, that is too funny. A punk
rock lawyer? Lord .”

“It’s a bit ridiculous innit?” Lily chimed in. “But then again so are you.”

“Ridiculous is a step up from last week when you called me a ‘prickish twat,’ so I’ll take it,” James
had a grin as wide as the ocean smeared across his face.

Lily rolled her eyes. “I still don’t like you,”

“One day you’ll crack,” Fab said as he ruffled James’s hair. “We all do.”

“When pigs fly,” Lily replied and turned on her heel to go stand with Mary and the Longbottoms.

James just sighed and let Fab continue to muse his hair. “God, I love her.”

Marlene laughed. “Good luck, mate. She can’t stand you.”

“I’m telling you, one day we all give in to the joy that is James Fleamont Potter!” Fab said as
James swooned into the counter. He sighed heavily.

Just then, Frank bustled past the crowd to burst into the kitchen. “Lads!” He cheered as he wrapped
an arm around Remus and James. “Who’s on DJ duty? I need you to play my shot song.”

“You have a shot song?” Marlene said.

Frank looked at her blankly. “Of course I have a bloody shot song. Who doesn’t?”

“Me,” James said.

“Never thought ‘bout it really,” Said Fab.

“Not I,” Marlene agreed.

Remus just shrugged. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “What is it Frank?”

“If you said ‘Bloody Well Right,’ I’ll nail you in the bollocks so hard you won’t be able to sit for a
week,”

Frank shoved James’s head away from him. “Piss off, Potter. We all know you scream sing Taylor
Swift when you’re alone.”

“Oi!” Marlene snapped. “What’s wrong with T. Swift? She’s a lyrical genius.”

“Yeah,” Frank snorted. “If you’re a fifteen-year-old bird who’s just been dumped by Baz on the
footy team.”

“I happen to agree with Marlene,” Said Fab. “She’s not only fit but she tugs the heart strings like I
wish someone would tug my knob.”

Marlene and Frank made disgusted noises. Frank shook his head.

“You would like Taylor Swift, Prewett. You big poof.”

Fab held his hands out. “The biggest poof there is. Besides Remus, that is.”
Remus groaned and shoved his phone in Frank’s hands before rolling out of his grasp.

“You’re just gonna let him have free rein?” James cried. “You wouldn’t let me play one song not
an hour ago!”

“I give up,” Remus sighed as he took another glug of his drink. He waved a hand at Frank. “Just
make sure he doesn’t turn on something too terrible then bring me my phone when you’re done.”

Remus pushed his way into the living room, smiling softly at Lily, Mary and Alice before going to
slump in the chair in the corner. His head was feeling a bit muddled from all the booze. There’d
been shots before the gig, pints during and shots after followed by bottle after bottle of whatever
trash-ass beer the party goers had flooded his fridge with. He closed his eyes and let his head roll
back against the headrest of the chair.

“Was a damn good song though, I’ll give you that.”

Remus groaned. One minute was all he wanted. One minute. He ran a hand over his face and
looked up to see Regulus sitting on the coffee table in front of him. He was rapping his signet ring,
the same one Sirius wore on his thumb, against the side of the bottle. He looked so much like
Sirius it was startling. The dark wavy hair, shorter but still moving in the exact same way, the hard
grey eyes and the long, pale fingers. The only difference lay in the curve of their lips: Sirius’s were
set in a perpetual smile whereas Regulus looked like he was always sporting a frown.

“Thanks,” Remus grunted.

Regulus held his beer out in an attempt at a cheers. Tentatively, Remus sat up and let their bottles
clatter together before both men took the bottle to their mouths and sipped greedily. Remus
slumped back in the chair and hitched his leg over his knee, one boot clad foot dangling freely in
the air.

“How d’you even come up with that?”

“Come up with what?”

Reg waved a hand. “Lyrics and whatnot.”

“Now you’re interested?” Remus snorted. “You were just threatening me over there and now you
wanna know about my writing process?”

Regulus sighed and carded a hand through his hair. “I’m trying, Remus. It’s hard to be a good
brother and a good son. I feel like I’m constantly bouncing between opposite sides of the
battlefield.”

“Because you are,” Remus snapped before taking another sip of his beer. He needed a fag. “You’re
trying to fight for good and evil all at once and all you end up looking like is a coward.”

“Evil?” Reg laughed. “You think my parents are that bad, do you?”

“Considering they sent their son back to school covered in welts and bruises on multiple occasions,
yes. I do,” Remus deadpanned. He caught Regulus’s eye. “I’d rather my no parents than your sorry
excuses for parents.”

“Ouch,” Regulus replied without any emotion.

Remus just shook his head, letting the horrid electronic music that Frank had chosen fill his brain
and try and calm the fire burning at the back of his head. He tapped the beer in his hand on the
armrest of the chair. He turned back to Regulus, who was still watching him like a snake, waiting
to pounce.

“You both deserved better,” He settled on.

Reg shrugged. “We did. So did you.”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Just saying, we’re all dealt shitty hands. What we do with them is what matters.”

“And going into your father’s shady business is doing something that matters ?”
Reg shrugged again. “Pays the bills.”

“Music does too.”

“Which is precisely why you’re still in this shithole.”

“Oh come off it, Regulus. Money isn’t everything,”

“That is where you’re wrong,” He sipped at his drink again. “Money talks.”

Remus shook his head and sunk his teeth into his lip. He wouldn’t dignify that with an answer.
He’d learned long ago that money didn’t equate to happiness. It never did. In fact, the people he
knew with more money seemed to be the ones with more problems. Regulus and Sirius were prime
examples. He sighed and listened to the song fade into another, a shitty remix of Mr. Brightside.
God, how many songs had Frank queued?

As if he’d been summoned, Frank whirled into Remus’s view and tossed his phone on his lap. He
shot Remus a wink before sauntering over to Alice and wrapping his arms around her from behind.
Remus pulled up the queue and scoffed.

“I knew this wasn’t your picking,” Came Regulus.

“No,” Remus groaned, hand moving up to pull at his hair. Frank had added at least ten songs.
“Fucking Frank trying to pretend he’s at some bloody rave.”

Regulus hummed and pulled at his beer. Remus cleared most of the queue before lining it back up
with a few of his favorites (sans any Morrissey out of fear that James would clobber him.) He
tapped his phone against his beer bottle then looked up. Regulus was eyeing the legs of one of
Emmeline’s very blonde friends who was sauntering past him in a skirt so short that it should’ve
been illegal for her to wear it. Fucking Reg, trying so hard to be understanding and trying even
harder to be there for his brother who’d be nearly burned from the family.

“They just come to me,” Remus said finally.

Reg snapped his head back to Remus. “Hm?”

“The lyrics. They just come to me.”

“Like in a dream?” Reg said with a smirk.

Remus snorted. “No, not a dream. I just see things and write them down, is all.”

“Alright then what do you see here?”

“Here?” He sighed. He ran a hand through his hair again. “I’m a few too many beers in to be poetic
—”

“Oh, humor me. I’m stuck behind a computer half the day then talking to mindless drones the
other half. Indulge me in some creativity,”

Remus shook his head. He and Sirius were really two peas in a pod. He sat up in his chair and
waved a hand. “I usually start with a line then build off it.”

“Okay use my line.”

“Your line?”

“Yeah, money talks.”

“Alright,” Remus said. He looked down, brain working in overtime against the vodka shots and
sloshing amber brews to come up with something, anything to give back to Reg. He finally shot up
and looked Reg in the eye with a smirk.

“Money doesn’t talk. Money screams ,”

Regulus let out a puff of laughter. He shook his head and looked back at Remus. “God, I knew you
were good but bloody hell, Lupin. That was something.”

Remus stood up and bowed. Regulus gave a respectful clap in the heel of his hand. Remus finished
off his beer and motioned towards Regulus. “Another?”

“Yeah. Cheers.”

He pulled the empty bottle from Regulus’s hand and pushed past the crowd and into the kitchen.
The clock above their stove read 2:13 AM. Remus sighed as he threw open the fridge door. The
crowd had died down significantly but there was still too much of a racket going on for Remus to
try and sleep through. He pulled two beers out and went to go back to Reg when he ran into Sirius.

His hair was a mess, all mused and sticking up on its ends. His neck was smattered with purple and
red marks and Remus swore he saw a few teeth marks but forced himself to look back up at his
roommate’s eyes.

“Where the hell have you been?” He snapped.

“Took a little break with Em,” Sirius replied as he plucked a beer out of Remus’ hand.

“Little break? Jesus, Pads, are those hand prints ?”

Sirius tilted his head down, as if he could actually look at anything on his neck, and scoffed.
“Hmmph. Guess so. Why? You jealous Moony?”

“No,” Remus quipped back quickly. Too quickly. His ears started to feel red and he hoped the
alcohol blush on his cheeks was covering his I-have-a-big-fat-hulking-crush-on-my-roommate
blush. “No.”

“I’d let you choke me anytime, Moonykins,” Sirius drawled, letting his hip fall into Remus’s.
Remus scoffed. “Good because I want to throttle you daily.”

“Likewise, darling,” He popped the top off the beer and held the rim to his own lips. He turned
towards the living room, surveying the scene. “Reggie here?”

“Yeah was just chatting with him.”

“He behaving?”

“Yeah, besides a few threats of lawsuits for defamation.”

“Ah, that’s my Reggie!”

Remus snorted. “Sure is.”

“Frank try and take over your phone yet?”

“He succeeded and we got through one horrid remix before I switched back into our designated
lane.”

“Ah, yes. Our punk rock lane. What do you think it’s made of?”

“Broken fenders,”

Sirius laughed and turned Remus. He gave him a light smile before reaching up to swing an arm
around Remus’s shoulder. He shook him lightly. “Hey. If I didn’t tell you yet, you were brill
tonight.”

“You’ve told me several times,” Remus scoffed.

“Proper brill, Moony,” Sirius continued. “I think about how amazing you are daily. Makes me
laugh, really. I got blessed with a lyrical genius as a best friend. You could be the smartest, most
talented person I know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Says the one who can play ninety instruments.”

“Only twelve,” Sirius corrected. He pulled his arm back and squeezed Remus’s bicep. His heart
pattered harder in his chest with the feel of Sirius’s hand curled around him. “Sometimes I think
we’re holding you back.”

Remus felt his brows crease. “What do you mean?”

“You could be off winning Pulitzers and you’re here writing punk music for a bunch of rejects.”

Remus shrugged against Sirius’s hand, dragging his eyes anywhere but the grey pools begging to
be dived in. “I like being here,”

“Well you’re the reason we are here. I know I’ve said it before but I don’t know if you believe it.”

Remus turned to face him. “I believe it,” He said softly. “Actually, Reg just confirmed.”

Sirius huffed a small laugh and their faces were so close, Remus thought he could feel the puff of
air against his tongue. He could count all the blue lines etching through Sirius’s steely grey eyes,
count all the eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, count all the cracks in his face as he smiled.
He quirked his lips to the side, pulling his one dimple out of hiding, and Remus near lost it. He was
drunk. Sirius was pretty and standing in front of him with those big eyes and those lips and he
couldn’t take it anymore. It was so hard being so in love with Sirius Black. All the time was
building up and up and he was so close that all Remus had to do was just tip his head ever so
slightly and – .

“Oi! Lupin you killed my queue! Fuck you!”

Sirius jolted back at the sound of Frank’s voice chorusing through the kitchen, pulling his hand
from Remus’s arm and letting it drop to his side. Remus turned to look at Frank. He let out a shaky
laugh.
“Sorry Frank. This is a strictly alternative rock party. No EDM.”

Frank groaned. “You are a party pooper.”

“He’s got good taste,” Sirius yelled back. “Unlike you, you heathen.”

He looked back at Remus. “Coming?”

Remus sighed deeply and nodded. “Yeah,”

He watched as Sirius pushed back to slump next to Reg on the couch. Remus put his bottle to his
lips and downed half of it.

It was fucking hard being in love with Sirius Black.

--

The next morning started with a bang and the blaring of “Still Ill” coming from Remus’s phone. He
jolted up so abruptly, he promptly fell off his bed and landed on the floor with a thud. His hand
went up to his dresser to grab for the torture device going off at the ungodly hour of the morning
after a night full of tossing back beers like they were water. He barely looked at who was calling
him before he picked up the phone.

“’Ello?” He mumbled into it.

“Elizabeth’s tit, Remus. I’ve been calling you for like a half hour?”

“Marlene?”

“No fucking Santa Claus. Yes, it’s Marlene.”

Remus moaned as he sat himself up against the side of his bed, rubbing at his eyes as he went.
“Time’d you leave last night?”

“Right after the brothers Black decided to put on a rousing performance of ‘Truth Hurts,’”

“ What ?” Remus barked before groaning and rubbing his fingers against his temple. Too loud,
much too loud.

“You don’t remember that?” Marlene said into the phone.

“No, I don’t,”

Marlene sighed. “Well, I didn’t call you to fill in your blanks. I’ve got an idea. Can you meet me at
OTP at two?”

Remus blinked. His brain was not work. “OTP? What time is it?”

“Order of the Phoenix. Its noon. Christ , get yourself a cuppa and maybe another pint and meet me
there.”

With that, Marlene hung up. Remus looked back at his phone and saw that it was indeed, noon and
he’d somehow managed to get a full eight hours of sleep yet felt just as good as when he got two.
He dragged his body back up to roll onto his bed. It was stuffy in his room and all he wanted was a
spliff but was so scared of Birdie and Lucy kicking him out that he refrained. He wasn’t sure he
even had any left as his throat was so raw he’d figured he’d smoked through them all the night
before. He groaned once more then loafed down the hall to his and Sirius’s shared bathroom.

The cold water managed to help a little but he still felt as if his stomach might come out of his
mouth at any given moment. His dressing gown was wrapped tight around him as he padded back
into the room, eyes catching the red of the carton that usually held his various smoking
accoutrements. He grabbed at it and flicked the top open to be greeted with a sole joint remaining.
He huffed and tossed the empty carton in the bin.

“Fuck it,” He mumbled under his breath before sliding the window open and lighting up the stick
in his hand.
The first hit eased him greatly, making his entire body sigh in relief. He flicked on his music and
sucked the entire joint down before digging through his closet and finding the last clean pair of
cords and a denim button up to shrug on. He slid on his boots and then gave his hair the best
tossing he could and pushing out into the living room.

It was a disaster. Bottles and cans were strewn across the couch, spills and stickiness lingering
everywhere. For once, there were no passed out bodies on the couch or the chair. The air smelled
like sweat and warm beer and Remus pulling the front of his shirt over his mouth to try and hide
from the stench as he fumbled out of the apartment.

He arrived at Order of the Phoenix only five minutes past two and was brought into Dorcas’s office
by Benji. His hair was blue that day, sticking out at odd points.

“Rough night?” Benji laughed as Remus stumbled past him and into Dorcas’s office’s waiting
area. He didn’t even need a mirror to know that the bags under his eyes had darkened and his hair’s
once “okay” state was now gone.

Remus laughed back. He shrugged. “Can’t remember much, to be honest, mate.”

“Shame,” Benji cooed. He tilted his head. “Losing all your fun memories.”

Remus shrugged and gave a nervous chuckle. Benji just smirked back. He moved from behind the
desk to go and open the door to Dorcas’s desk. He pressed close to Remus as he wrenched the door
open, giving him a once over and then looking up at him again.

“Well if you want to go make some new ones with me, I’m looking for some company,” He
drawled.

Remus’s jaw dropped. He stuttered slightly then opened his mouth to speak again when he was cut
off.

“Took you long enough!” Marlene shouted from inside Dorcas’s desk room. Dorcas herself was
sitting behind the desk with one eyebrow arched. She’d traded her long dark braids in for shorter,
electric purple ones. She waved Remus in. He turned back to Benji, jaw still slack.
“I—”

“You can tell me later,” Benji said softly with a wink.

Remus just nodded curtly before pushing into Dorcas’s office and slumping into the chair next to
Marlene and pulling his bag off his shoulder. His head immediately fell into his hands with a groan.

Marlene laughed and rubbed at the place between his shoulder blades. “You stayed up after I left,
I’m assuming?”

“I don’t even remember you leaving,” Remus grumbled.

“Well you’re here now,” Dorcas snapped. “Let’s actually do some damn work.”

Remus lifted his head up and rested his chin in the heel of his hand. He waved the other one
ungracefully. “Let’s do some damn work!”

Dorcas shot him a look. “Don’t mock me, Lupin.” Marlene tried to stifle a giggle. Dorcas turned to
glare at her next. “You either, McKinnon.”

Marlene threw her hands up. “I said nothin’!” She turned towards Remus and handed him a piece
of rumpled paper. It looked as though it had been through the ringer: ripped on some edges, burnt
on others and looked a bit brown in some places. He squinted at it then let his jaw drop as he
suddenly recognized the scrawl of the handwriting.

“This mine?”

Marlene hummed. She stuck a finger out to point at the top. “9669” was written across the top in
Marlene’s messy script. His jaw went slack again. He tried to speak but no words came out, only a
muddle mix of sounds and gasps.

“Found it at mum’s,” Marlene said. “Was written in 2010. The summer after—"
“My parents,” Remus finished. He ran his hand over the number and nodded softly. “Yeah. I
remember it. I thought we lost it.”

“Nope!” Marlene replied, popping the p and snatching the paper back from Remus. She handed it
to Dorcas. Dorcas raised one purple eyebrow before nodding approvingly.

“So here’s my idea,” Marlene clapped her hands together. “Marauders are on the rise. Bonny
Sunset is doing amazing. To give Marauders more attention, as well as Bonny Sunset, we do a
duet. You and I. Just like old times!”

“Marls,” Remus breathed. “The song’s in Welsh. No one’s gonna wanna listen to that.”

Marlene pulled another piece of paper off Dorcas’s desk and handed it to Remus. This one was
much nicer than their original song had been written on and much less worn. The same number
was written on top of the page but the words across the bottom were translated into English. Remus
laughed softly and shook his head before looking back up at Marlene.

“You’d really do this?”

Marlene grabbed at his hand and nodded. “’Course, Remus. You’re my best friend. I want the best
for you.”

“God,” Remus breathed as he squeezed her hand back. “I don’t deserve you.”

Marlene smiled softly. “You deserve the world.”

“So?” Dorcas said from behind the desk. “We doing this?”

Remus pulled at his curls. “I don’t see why not. Let me just shoot a text off to the lads and make
sure they’re okay with it. The girls are I assume?”

Marlene and Dorcas nodded together. Remus sighed and whipped out his phone. He pulled up and
groupchat and fired off a quick text to the members of the band. He was surprised the reply was
almost instant.
14:43 MaRauDERZZ <333

moony(14:42): with marls. wants to do

a duet with me? promote marauders

and bonny sunset. that alright w/u?

prongs (14:43): yessir. evans told me bout

it ln. she with marlene?

padfoot the prettiest (14:43): too hungover.

cqnt see. w/e 4 moons. Gn.

moony (14:42): water.

padfoot the prettiest (14:43): cant c. gn.

Remus shook his head, fighting the smirk pulling at his lips as he shoved his phone back in his
pocket and turned to address Dorcas and Marlene. “They’re alright with it.”

“Wonderful,” Dorcas deadpanned. She shoved her face back to her computer screen then whirled
back around to the two of them, frowning. “Well? Get on. Bill’s in the studio already.”

Marlene and Remus clattered out of the room and near sprinted to the studio. Bill was already set
up, fiddling with an acoustic guitar as they burst in. He smiled immediately before diving right into
setting up the correct audio. It only took Marlene one try to get the chord progression right. (She’d
been working on it for a few days before pitching the idea to Remus, sure that he wouldn’t say no).
In the end it only took them about four hours to finish the song.

Remus was lighting up another fag as Bill played it through one last time. Marlene nodded along as
she sang through the speakers. Remus only winced a few times as his verses played. He let the
echo of their synchronized voices fill the air as the final lines of the song played through the
speakers.

“9669 you're on my mind, 9669 you're on my mind,”

Bill clapped his hands together, pushing his yellow tinted glasses up his nose. “I don’t get you
kids,” He said. “Hit after hit after hit. Do you ever stop?”

Marlene laughed. “I’ll stop when there’s nothing left to write.” Remus shrugged in agreement and
Bill whistled low.

“That’s a killer song. What’s the number then?”

“Angel number,” Remus said as he tapped the ash off the cigarette. He sighed. “Lost my parents a
few years back.”

“Lost my brother,” Marlene added softly. “It’s just a song about missing them.”

Bill said nothing and reached for another smoke. He shook his head and pointed between the two
of them. “That how you lot met then?”

“Naw,” Marlene said. She nudged Remus’s shoulder and gave him a soft smile. “We’ve known
each other since we were youngins. Went to school together and all. Before this tosser went off and
got a scholarship to private school.”

“That’s where you met the rest of the band then?” Bill said.

“Yeah,” Remus replied as he stubbed his filter out in the ashtray.

Bill shook his head again and scoffed. “Would’ve thought you’d known them forever. You write
songs just as well with Black as you do with McKinnon,”

“Better,” Marlene corrected. “Like they’re one bloody brain in two skulls, those two.”

“Soulmates then,” Bill said with a smirk.

Remus felt the tips of his ears light up as they spoke. He gave a nervous chuckle and waved his
hands. “No, no. It’s not like that at all. Just good mates.”
“Good mates who look at one another like the world revolves around them?” Marlene replied with
an arched brow. “Tell me you’ve seen how he looks at you?”

Remus didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think of the Sirius Black grin that could
tumble walls and break through army lines. He didn’t want to think of the stupid look of pity and
guilt that he gave Remus every April. He didn’t want to think of the ways he’d caught Sirius
looking at him because the fact of the matter was that Sirius didn’t revolve around Remus; Remus
revolved around Sirius.

“He looks at me just the same as James does,” Remus said quickly. He pulled at his bag and stood
up abruptly. “It’s late. I’m gonna get going.”

“You alright?” Marlene said, brows pinched together.

Remus mumbled some reply before shoving his headphones in and bolting out of the studio. His
feet were in the lead, bringing him back up the lift, back past through the doors of Dorcas’s office
and smack into Benji, who was leaving for the night. Benji laughed as he grabbed Remus’s
shoulders.

“Easy there killer,” He chuckled. “Where’s the fire?”

“Let’s go out,” Remus said quickly. “I’ll take you out. I want to take you – er – out .”

Benji blinked then let his lips curve into a small smile. “Alright. When and where?”

Remus fumbled in his pockets for his phone before shoving it in Benji’s hand. “Just put your
number in and I’ll text you”

“Alright,” Benji repeated. He handed Remus back his phone with a small smile. “I’ll look forward
to hearing from you.”

“Alright,” Remus said back. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the building, hand gripping at
the roots of his hair, trying to figure out why the fuck he just did that.
--

He slammed the door of his flat when he got back, letting the metal of the locks clatter against the
frame. Remus took no time at all to stalk into his room, rummage through his sock drawer and pull
out his stash of cannabis. He took the entire bag into the living room and brushed all the empty
beer cans off the table before setting up his station. Sirius, clearly, was still feeling the effects of
the night before and had barely left his room save for the cup of tea that was sitting empty in the
sink along with a dozen other cans of beer.

Remus went over to their record player and opened the cabinet, flicking through record after record
until finally settling on “In Rainbows” and queuing it up. He sat back down at the coffee table,
shoving the bottles in his way to the side, and began rolling up a whole new set of spliffs and joints
for him to pound through that week.

The music was a welcome distraction from his thoughts which were currently racing. Why did I ask
Benji out? What did Marlene mean by “the way Sirius looks at him”? Does Sirius look at me a
different way? Fuck, fuck, fuck . He shook his head to clear his mind, trying to focus more on the
music and the way his hands were moving rather than his traitorous thoughts.

He burned through most of the album by the time he was finished. As “Weird Fishes” finished, he
pushed his creations into his new carton of fags he’d fetched on the walk home, save for one. He
rolled it in his fingers and looked at the door. Lucy wasn’t home. He hadn’t heard her horrid
singing as he’d gotten home. He laid back on the sticky floor and grabbed for his lighter, sticking
the flame against the twisted end and pulled. He sighed in relief. Cannabis was his lifeline, really.

The song skipped over and “All I Need” started. Remus had to laugh. This would be the fucking
song to turn on as he was trying to work through his thoughts on Sirius. He kept hysterically
laughing as Yorke began to sing.

“I'm the next act

Waiting in the wings

I'm an animal

Trapped in your hot car

I am all the days

That you choose to ignore.”

Sirius meant so much to Remus. He’d been there through everything, holding him tight and
keeping him safe in the best way he could. When he’d broken down, it was Sirius who scraped him
together and got him on the right track. Sirius was the one he went to when things started going
awry. Sirius was the one who made him smile. Sirius was the beating heart in his dead little skin
suit.

It may have been inevitable that Remus fell in love with Sirius. Maybe Bill was right and they were
soulmates, two pieces of the same whole trapped within two different bodies. The way they fit
together was like broken shards of glass, perfectly. It was so effortless to be with Sirius, to exist
with Sirius. The natural flow of Remus’s life was towards Sirius . So why wouldn’t they be the
same planet? Shred apart in the big bang and slowly floating back to one another across galaxies
and time. It could take a billion years, but Remus knew his end was Sirius in some capacity.

He pulled on his joint again, letting the ash fall away and burn the tips of his fingers. The song
ended and he watched the red begin to form on his finger. He sighed and pulled at it again as the
song skipped over. He heard the opening of the door and sat up, joint sticking out of his mouth.

Sirius stood outside his bedroom door, wearing an oversized black Ramones tee. It hung as loosely
off his shoulders as the grey sweats hung off his hips. His hair was thoroughly ruffled and a ring of
unwashed black eyeliner sat under his eyes. He smiled lightly at Remus.

“You look like shite,” He said.

“You too, arsehole,” Remus quipped. Sirius laughed and walked over to the couch. Remus sat back
against the front of it and waited for Sirius to plop down next to him. Instead, Sirius’s head fell into
Remus’s lap, arm dramatically drawn over his forehead.

“I’m dying, Moony,” He wailed as he rolled his head away from Remus.

“Watch the – oof – bollocks!”

Sirius rolled his head back to look at Remus, one eye open. “How are you not dying?”

“Weed,” He said blankly, trying to not think about how close Sirius was to his bits.

Sirius made grabby hands towards the joint in between Remus’s index and thumb. Remus rolled
his eyes and handed the man the joint, delighting in the way Sirius’ lips pulled into a smile that
showed his one dimple.

“Cheers, Moons,” Sirius pulled at the joint and blew it out his nose with a slight cough. “How
many of these we smoke last night?”

“I haven’t the slightest clue.”

“My throat feels like someone’s run sandpaper over it a thousand times.”

Remus grabbed the joint back. “Mine too. Given the feeling, I’d say we’re at about a carton of cigs,
three joints and maybe a spliff?”

“Sounds like a good night for us then,” he rustled his head back in Remus’s lap and held a hand out
to take the joint. He pulled and held his breath before speaking again. “How’s Marls?”

“Good, good. She found a song we wrote back in the summer after the – uh, the accident. She
translated it. We recorded it today with Bill. Gonna release it as a single to get the public more
interested in Marauders.”

Sirius’s brows creased as he pulled on the joint before handing it back to Remus. “Translate?”

“Yeah. It was written in Welsh.”

“Welsh!” He broke out in a smirk and looked Remus right in the eyes. “I didn’t know you spoke
Welsh, Moons.”

Remus shrugged with a fit of nervous laughter, he pulled his hand not on the joint through his hair.
“I do, er rather I did. Not many people to speak it with now.”

“Will you sing it for me?” Sirius said softly. “The way you wrote it?”

“You’re not gonna understand—”

“Don’t care. I wanna hear you sing in Welsh. You’ve never spoken it around me,”

Remus sighed. He tipped his head back. “Turn off the record for a second, yeah?”

“Yessir!” Sirius said enthusiastically as he scrambled off Remus’ lap. He flopped over to move the
needle off the vinyl, letting it whir in disagreement. He smiled at Remus softly before moving back
over and resuming his position, perpendicular to Remus with his head in Remus’s lap. His hair
looked like an ink spill across Remus’s trousers and he ached to take one hand and card it through
the hair that glistened before him. He sighed one last time before tipping his head back and
launching into the song.

“Y tro hyn

Dwi'n gadael bob dim

Ymadael â'r wawr

Y rhifau ben lawr

Y rhifau

9669

Collais dy law

9669

Gafael yn awr”

He looked back down at Sirius and saw that his jaw was hanging loose, eyes sparkling but pupils
blown wide. He shifted slightly then sat up again. He shook his head and looked Remus, leaning
towards him with his jaw still slack. He scoffed slightly before speaking softly.

“Why don’t you do that more?”

Remus tore his gaze away from Sirius and made some wave of his hand. “It’s too hard, sometimes.
Reminds me of them.”

Sirius was still watching him. Their fingers were so close, he reached a pinky out to tap at Remus’s
index finger. Remus looked back at him with wide eyes.
“You don’t think they’d want you to?” He whispered.

“They would,” Remus replied. “Da was always adamant about keeping Welsh in the family.”

Sirius nodded, tipping his gaze down, pinky still poking at Remus’s finger. He looked up at the
man through his eyelashes and spoke in a tone that Remus had never heard before. It was
somewhat seductive, somewhat tentative and had none of the joking lilt that Sirius usually used.

“Well, it was utterly beautiful. And I think you should use it more often.”

Remus smiled slightly before pulling his lip between his teeth. “ Iawn ,”

“Yawn?” Sirius replied, smirk on his lips. He turned back to pull the needle back on the vinyl. “I
didn’t yawn. I suppose I could though. I’m knackered.”

Remus laughed at him as the song started in again. “No. Not ‘yawn’ but iawn . It’s Welsh. Means
okay.”

“Okay?” Sirius had shimmied back over to Remus and had once again resumed laying his head in
his lap. He grabbed for the hand that wasn’t still holding the joint and Remus’s let him have it. He
hoped that his heart beat wasn’t thrumming loud enough that Sirius could feel it in his fingers. But
he also hoped he could. He wanted to tell him, this is what you do to me . You make me feel like
I’m jumping off the highest cliff of the highest mountain with no parachute and I’m free falling
through the air with no sign of the bottom.

“Okay,” Remus repeated as he felt Sirius’s thumb stroking at his palm. The song had flipped again,
landing on House of Cards and filling the air with Yorke’s croons instead of the hammering of
Remus’s chest in his ears.

They listened along silently, Sirius still stroking at Remus’s hand as the music began to fill the
room. Remus felt like he was floating, he tipped his head back and let the lyrics drown out the
blood in his veins, the skin against his skin and the way he desperately wanted to just touch .

“I don’t wanna be your friend. I just wanna be your lover,”

He looked down so that his eyes were boring into the shape of Sirius’ face, studying the curve of
his cupids bow on top of his lips, puckered to pull smoke from the joint. His one hand was toying
with the collar of Remus’ jumper now, pulling at a loose thread. It was breaking his concentration
to have his fingers so close to his neck, where he wanted Sirius to grasp him until he bruised. In
order to peel his mind from the sudden urge do something stupid, he reached out and just gently
ran his hand through Sirius’s hair. It felt like as rich as silk and as soft as cotton. It didn’t help one
bit as Sirius looked back up at Remus, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
Sirius smirked before speaking in a tone barely above a whisper.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Remus shrugged and pulled the joint from Sirius’s lips. He brought it up to his own before pulling
on it softly then sticking it back in Sirius’s mouth. He let his fingers ghost over the point of his top
lip ever so gently. It was as moist and soft as he had imagined it to be, glistening from where he’d
just wet them and feeling ever as kissable as Remus knew them to be. He ached to throw the joint
onto the rug and let the flames engulf them as he lost himself in Sirius’ mouth. He opened his own
and sighed shakily before leaning back and letting his head rest against the seat of the couch, eyes
fluttering shut and trying to not think of the man lying in his lap, almost begging Remus to pin him
to the floor and run his tongue over every part of his skin.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re bloody in love with me,”

Remus snapped his head to look at the man lying in his lap. He blew smoke out of his nose. Remus
felt his mouth open to breathe in the taste of the smoke with the lingering feel of Sirius’s breath.
He was utterly beautiful, all long eyelashes and shiny grey-blue eyes that looked like the oceans
off the cliffs of dover. They were bright and wide, holding a curious glint in them that never left.
The slope of his nose was so graceful like Michelangelo himself had smoothed the surface of it.
His lips were parted, chest heaving as he sucked in a harsh breath. Remus couldn’t sit there
anymore without pulling him into his lips and answering that question in action not words.

Then again, there weren’t words to describe the feeling all over his body he had for the god that
was his Achilles in front of him. He wondered if Patroclus could describe the feeling. He wondered
if words could even be used to describe the bubble that started in his toes that washed over his
entire being like a wave and ended in every point where he was touching Sirius. He hand went
back from Sirius’s hand to brush over the high point of his cheek, as if his fingers would somehow
dull the ache in his lips.

“Because I am, Sirius,” He whispered.

Sirius opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the clatter of the door banging against the
wall behind it. Both men snapped their eyes to the source of the noise, Remus ripping his hands
from Sirius and awkwardly throwing them behind his head. The intruder was none other than
James, hair ablaze and glasses crooked.

“Oi! You havin’ a cuddle without me?” He snapped.

Sirius laughed. “Never, Prongsie. Come on over.”

He sat up slightly as James clambered over the back of the couch to flop down next to Remus and
rest his head on the man’s shoulder. He held three envelopes in his hand. Each was addressed to a
man sitting against the couch. Sirius ripped his out of James’s hand and then went back to settling
in Remus’s hip.

“What’s this?” He said.

“Went by the Order to grab a copy of our mixtape and Dorcas gave me these. Royalties checks !
We’ve bloody made it lads!” James yelled.

“Pipe down a bit,” Sirius chastised. “I’m still hungover.”

“It’s like seven in the evening?” James replied.

Sirius shrugged. “Not all of us are blessed with the Potter anti-hangover genes.”

“Fuck you, mate,” Laughed Remus as he took his own envelope from James. He tore his fingers
into it and pulled the check out, staring at the numbers as they jumped off the page at him.

£5,032.21.

Remus nearly screamed. He bolted up from the ground and paced around the room, pulling at his
hair and cursing wildly. He turned back to Sirius and James who were both nearly as excited as
they were.

“What the fuck!” He screamed and waved his arms wildly. “Five-thousand pounds! This is two
months pay for the pub and our song’s been out like a month! How are you not freaking out!?”

“It’s a lot of money, Moons,” said James. “It’s like a monthly pay out for a case at the firm.”

“Alphie gives me more in inheritance each month,” Sirius drawled. He turned to Remus. “Does this
 mean we can move out now?”

“Fuck yes we can!” Remus screamed. “I can’t believe you aren’t losing your shite over this! People
like us! Five thousand bloody pounds! That’s like a million streams!”

“It only goes up from here, mate!” James said as he bopped up. He shook Remus’s shoulder and
looked back down at Sirius as he spoke. “Money talks.”

Remus grinned and shook his head as he spoke.

“Money doesn’t talk, money screams .”

Chapter End Notes

Instagram post created by me.

Mid-chapter art created by El Flattery. Commissioned by yours truly.

Follow me for updates & general disasters.

 Eight
Chapter Notes

CW: Blood, fighting, broken nose, being too high, mention of sexual harassment (no
actual harassment),

Beta’d by the lovely Kit as per usual.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Eight
Remus supposed he should give James some credit. The song he’d penned on a napkin after being
rejected by Lily didn’t turn out too bad. He had run into the studio like a bat out of hell after he’d
finished it, waving the piece of paper (napkin stapled to it) wildly.

“I finished it!” He yelled.

Sirius turned to look at his best friend. He was lounging on the couch like a goddamn Greek statue,
smoking at the spliff that he’d stolen from Remus leisurely. “Finished what?”

“My song ,” James drawled. He wacked Sirius on top of the head with the paper, causing the
former to grumble. “I wrote it after Moony’s birthday concert. Lily had called me every name in
the book and I was feeling down about our future marriage and voila! A hit song.”

“Better not be like ‘Gangsta’,” Said Alastor Moody from the control panel where he was trying to
work through the vocals that Sirius had recorded the day prior. Bill was too hungover that Friday to
join the rest of them and Moody wanted to check in to make sure they were making decent
progress. So far, he loved most of the album. However, Moody hated “Gangsta.” He thought it was
bad music and fully refused to put it on the album, despite hours of James whinging that it was a
great song.

James scowled. “It’s not. You’re just a bitter old man who doesn’t recognize my genius.”

“Get your head out of your arse, Potter,” Moody snapped, still fiddling with the control panel and
refusing to look at James.

“Let’s see it then, Prongs,” Remus said. James let the paper float down from his hands into
Remus’s lap. He plopped down next to Sirius on the couch.

“Needs some Padfoot slash Moony love but I’m proper chuffed about it.”

Sirius grinned. “Everything needs some Padfoot love,”

“Shove off, Black,” James groaned. He looked back at Remus with wide, nervous eyes as he
chewed on his lip. “Well? What’d you think Moons?”

Remus scanned the paper. It had the bones to be a good song, just needed a bit of tweaking. He
sighed and grabbed for his pen, scribbling away on the paper. It was much more forward than any
of the songs he’d written. The song wasn’t laced with metaphors or full of allegories about being so
sad he could barely move. He canned the entire second verse of the song that James had written
about Lily being gorgeous, added in some forward angstiness about the numbness of not knowing
whether he wanted to exist or not. It fit in with the general tone of their other songs and drew a bit
more cohesion between them.
James’s chorus was good. It was the initial line he’d spat at Remus as Remus was sprinting away
from Sirius to avoid doing something stupid. “Three beers and I’m so messed up. Fucked up and
she hates my guts.” It certainly packed the punch and it certainly was James. Remus snorted.

He set his pen down. “It’s good, Prongs.”

James fist-bumped the air, squirming in his seat before sighing and reclining, arm outstretched to
take the spliff from Sirius. He pulled on it and coughed, waving the smoke out of the way. “I have
a drum fill too,” he said through a sputter of wheezes.

Sirius gestured to the drum kit in the studio before taking back the spliff. “Play away, maestro.”

James was giddy as he sprinted into the studio. He shimmied into the stool and pulled out his drum
sticks, twirling them before looking up at where Sirius and Remus had joined Moody at the control
panel. Remus nodded at him. James sighed before launching into the fill.

It was aggressive and it was wonderful , full of snare bashing and cymbal crashing at a pace so fast
it was hard for Remus’s eyes to keep up with where the drums sticks were next. James played
fervently, throwing his whole body into the drums, hair flying about wildly and glasses sliding
down the bridge of his nose. He was manic, truly and yet somehow was making sounds that
hugged Remus’s ear drums and filled him with warmth.

James finished with a final bash of the high hats and reached out to still it. He cleared his throat,
pushed his glasses up his nose and blinked before looking out at the three other men with a shit-
eating grin.

Sirius reached across to palm at the microphone, wearing his own smile. “ Fuck ,” was all he said.
Remus laughed and watched James join in, pulling a hand through his hair. Moody shook his head
and slammed his fist on the microphone.

“Alright, kid. That didn’t suck.”

“’Course it didn’t bloody suck!” James cried. “I told you I was a genius, Moody.”

“Don’t get ahead of yerself,” Moody chided. “Lupin just scratched an entire verse of yours.”
James waved a hand, standing the moving back into the other room. “Yes, yes. Remus is our
resident musical prodigy. I get it.”

He stood next to his friends and let out a puff of air, hands on his hips. He turned towards Sirius.
“You’ll sing it?”

“I’m not fucking singing about your obsession with Evans,” Sirius chortled. “You sing it!”

“I can’t sing! Moody hates Gangsta.”

“It’s awful,” Came Moody.

James rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. But I am not trained like Sirius to sing.”

“Me either and I was still forced,” Remus grumbled.

Sirius put a hand on his shoulder and shook him. “And we got a killer song out of it. Prongs can try
his hand again. I have a feeling this one will be good.”

James groaned and spun on his heel before picking up the paper Remus had left on the table. He
raised his eyebrows at the second verse before tapping the paper. “I can’t sing emo shit as well as
Sirius.”

“It’s not emo ,” Remus snapped, plucking the paper from James. “It’s indifference. You can make
it sound good, I believe in you.”

“What are we doing for guitar?” Sirius said, leaning over Remus to look at the paper. His breath
ghosted the underside of Remus’s chin and he twitched involuntarily. Sirius gave him a funny look.
“Alright, Moonbeam?”

Remus took a step away from Sirius. “Yeah, sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair, sighing
exasperatedly. “I have no fucking clue for guitar. I think something harsh to go with the fill but I
haven’t a clue.”

Sirius plucked the paper from Remus’s hands and read it as he wandered into the studio. His gaze
was still fixed on the paper as his hand went around the neck of the guitar. The lights caught on his
rings, sending rays back off into the other room. He perched the paper, napkin and all, on the
music stand before slinging the strap around his neck and adjusting the pitch slightly. The other
hand came to strum on the body of the guitar. He looked up at the window slightly before
launching into a riff.

His hand played wildly at the strings, other hand moving slightly up and down the neck of the
guitar. His head bobbed along to his playing and Remus felt his head moving along the same,
aware of James playing in the air next to him. After a minute, James swung back into the studio
and sat down. Sirius gave him a sideways glanced and stopped playing.

“Yeah?” he said softly.

“Oh yeah,” James scoffed.

He tapped his sticks together, counting them in before launching into the fill. Sirius played along
with him this time and Remus couldn’t help but scoff in amazement at his best mates. The fill and
Sirius’s riff matched perfectly, all angst and anger. It was rough, it was raw and it was perfect for a
song that James had penned. He turned to see Moody staring at him.

Moody shook his head. “Don’t tell him this, but that boy is insane. In the best way.”

“I know,” Remus smiled, turning back to watch James toss a drum stick at Sirius, both of them
laughing wildly.

They recorded the fill and riff separately before Remus came in and filled in the blanks in the
music with a bass line. James then started to record the vocals. His voice was high, it was nasally
and it was not anywhere close to professional or proper. It was good though, and fit the song so
well. They spent hours trying to coach him through it and in the end, it only took them half the day
to burn through it. Moody had celebrated by buying them a six-pack and actually cheersing
James’s work. The song was near done as the night drew to a close. It was around eight that Sirius
started pacing.

“It’s missing something,” he said as he tapped the ring he’d gotten for all of them, resting on his
left index finger, against the side of his beer bottle.

“Like what?” James said. He was flicking a wadded up crisp bag in the air, letting it hit him in the
face then grabbing it and starting again.

“What’s all of our other songs got that this one doesn’t?” Remus said. He was working through his
second joint of the day from the floor, tapping the ash into the tray in front of him.

Sirius moved his hand to tap his index finger in between his eyebrows, still pacing. He took a swig
from his bottle. He turned to Remus. “I didn’t make any strange noises today.”

James scoffed. “Thank god for that.”

“You didn’t,” Remus agreed. “Maybe that’s it. Where do you think something is missing?”

“Chorus,” Sirius replied. He waved his arms slightly. “Needs something !”

James gestured to the studio. “Get after it, Scatman.”

Sirius set his beer down and walked into the studio, slinging the headphones around his head. He
twirled a finger in the air, signaling Moody to start playing their recording. Remus and James came
up to stand next to Moody, watching Sirius nod his head along to the first verse, fingers tapping on
the mic stand. The final line of the first verse played into their ears, James’s gravelly voice filing
the air.

“ Yeah I’m just looking and our future’s looking bleak and I’ll say ,”

Sirius pressed his mouth to the mic and sung into it, low and deep.

“ Ohhh, ohohohhhh, ohohohhhh,”

He looked up and smiled. Remus pressed onto the loud speaker. “You wanker,” He laughed. “That
worked.”
“Come harmonize with me,” Sirius said.

Remus joined Sirius, standing shoulder to shoulder, letting them brush together slightly. Sirius
nudged him, smirk still plastered across his lips. “Me and my weird noises, hey Moons?”

“You and your weird noises,” Remus sighed, he turned and smiled back at Sirius.

The harsh of the light made his grey eyes sparkle and Remus felt his chest ache a bit at the sight.
They were close enough again that the greys were turning into blues and the whites of his eyes
were pearlescent. He felt his mouth drop slightly and watched as Sirius’s eyes shifted to something
darker.

Nothing had been said about the prior Sunday the two of them had spent tangled on the floor of
their flat. Remus resigned to not mention it until Sirius did. He figured he’d chalk his very honest
confession up to something much more akin to a joke. Sirius, of course, didn’t mention anything
and thus they were left in a stalemate, Radiohead vinyl left on the turntable, Sirius’s barely there
whisper lingering in his mind like a lyric he couldn’t get rid of, begging to be permanently written
on the pages of his leatherbound notebook.

“Like you’re bloody in love with me ,”

Something had changed, however. Little glances weren’t little glances anymore. They were
covered in this shroud of something more . Something that tugged at Remus’s stomach right
behind his naval and made every smile Sirius shot towards him feel like a bullet instead of a
paintball. They’d had very minimal time alone, something Remus was grateful for as he wasn’t
sure he’d be able to control his hands if he’d been given a Sirius Black grin while the two of them
were in solace.

He tore away his gaze, acutely aware that they weren’t alone. James was looking at him strangely,
eyebrows pinched in thought. Remus shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the grin that was
forever burned in his skull. James’s visage had returned to normal when Remus looked back up, his
hand pressing into the speaker as he spoke.

“Let us have it then, lads!”

The song started in his ears and he tapped along to it. As the line played again, Sirius tapped them
in on the beat, middle finger on his elbow. It sent shivers down Remus’s spine and he had to stare
at the music stand to get himself to focus on the task at hand.

“ Yeah I’m just looking and our future’s looking bleak and I’ll say ,”

He hit an octave slightly lower than Sirius, breaking into a smile as their voices echoed in his ears.

“ Ohhh, ohohohhhh, ohohohhhh,”

James let out a noise of excitement so loud, it was easily heard through the glass. Moody flinched
at the sound, turning to glare daggers at James. James, of course, was too happy to care.

He smashed on the speaker again. “That’ll do lads! That’ll do!”

Sirius shrugged the headphones off and shoved Remus’s shoulder to get them to both leave the
studio. His hand lingered a bit longer than it needed to, burning a handprint through Remus’s
jumper and into his skin. As they left, the door to the room clattered open and Dorcas burst in.

“Can one of you fuckwits tell me why Evan Rosier hates you guys?” She snapped.

“Rosier?” Sirius said, blinking. “He’s friends with Reg.”

“Yeah, well. He’s not friends with you,” Dorcas scoffed. She held her phone up to her eyes and
began to read. “ ‘After putting a band such as Bonny Sunset into the world, you’d hope Order of
the Phoenix would be able to follow up with an equally promising act. Hopes fall flat with their
newest output: Marauders.”

“What the fuck?” Sirius snapped. He wrenched the phone from Dorcas, who’s face was settling
into a bitter grimace. He continued to read. “ ‘Marauders is made up of four blokes who seem to
think introducing scat to emo punk rock is a good idea. The main writer, Remus Lupin, needs a
therapist for how dark his lyrics are. They hit closer to a psychiatric ward than they ever would to
the general public.’ What the fuck ?”

Remus frowned. “I like my lyrics,”

“Go on, Pads,” James said with a jut of his chin.

Sirius shook his head, incredulous. “ ‘Never mind the lyrics, Lupin has shown in each of their three
songs released that he is incapable of producing an original riff. He recycles the same three cords
over and over—’ I wrote some of those riffs!”

“You did,” Remus replied with an arched brow. He took the phone from Sirius, curious to see how
Rosier would bash him further. “ ‘Their main vocalist, Sirius Black, ex-heir of the notorious House
of Black , sounds a bit like every other depressed indie alt rock singer. His croon is nothing short of
a dying cat and it’s a wonder he ever received any traditional training with how mismatched his
pitch is.’ Oof. ”

“I do not sound like a dying cat!” Sirius cried. “My voice is lovely!”

“Not according to Rosier,” Dorcas bit out. “Just wait it gets worse.”

Remus glanced down to keep reading. “’To round out the terrible trio is none other than James
Potter. A former lawyer (which is apparent in his lack of musical ability), Potter smashes on the
drums like a child would. The fills are boring or too much and never in between. Overall,
Marauders was not the pick-up OTP was looking for the first part of 2021.’” Remus looked up at
his friends. “Christ, what did we do to deserve that?”

Dorcas took her phone back. “He goes on to say that The Death Eaters are a better band if you’re
looking for a new rising pop-punk band.”

“The Death Eaters ?!” Sirius balks. “Snivelous’s band!? They’re god awful!”

Dorcas scoffed. She pointed at Sirius. “You did this,”

“Me?! The fuck did I do?”

“Your little school bully phase got you enemies,” Dorcas accused. “Rosier is mates with Riddle,
lead singer of that stupid, fucking Death Eater band. Snape must’ve paid him to write you all off
and promote them.”
“I didn’t even know Rosier was a critic,” Remus deadpanned. He turned to Sirius. “If he’s friends
with Reg maybe we can get him to take down the review? Or at least change it?”

Sirius nodded slightly, whipping his phone out and bashing his thumbs into the keyboard
aggressively. “I’ll see what he can do.”

Dorcas groaned. “I can’t believe this. Right before we’re about to release 9669 too!”

“It’ll be fine,” Remus said softly. “Marlene and Bonny Sunset have enough of a following to get
attention for us.”

“I can only hope,” Dorcas groaned, flopping into a chair and burying her face in her hands. She
lifted it back up and pointed at Sirius. “No mentioning this at the interview.”

“What interview?” James said, eyes wide with childlike confusion.

Dorcas buried her face in her hands again, pulling at her braids. She grumbled softly before looking
back up and glaring at James. “The interview with The Sun,” She deadpanned, waving a hand.
“Tell me one of you remembered it for fuck’s sake.”

“I did!” Sirius piped up. He nudged James. “Told you about it at the pub on Wednesday.”

James rubbed at the back of his neck. “Was that after the fifth or sixth pint?”

“Oh bloody buggering fuck!” Dorcas moaned, head back in her palms.

“James,” Remus said plainly. “We have an interview tomorrow at The Sun. They’re asking us
about our songs.”

“Brilliant!” James chimed. “Do I get to speak?”

“No,” Remus, Sirius and Dorcas said all at once.

James frowned. “I have good thoughts.”

“You do mate,” Sirius moved to put a hand on James’s shoulder with a sad smile. “Just not so good
at putting them into words, yeah?”

“Fair,” James grumbled.

“No mentioning the review,” Dorcas repeated, this time pointing at Remus. He held his hands up
as if her finger guns were going to do any damage.

“I’ll say nothing!”

“Good,” Dorcas nodded. “Now piss off and get your beauty sleep so I don’t have to coat your faces
in make-up.”

“Nighty night Dorky,” Sirius cooed. She merely rolled her eyes with a pained sigh before
wandering out of the room.

Moody let out a groan and propped himself up out of the chair. “With that nonsense done, I’m off,”
He glared at James. “Don’t touch my mixing board.”

“I don’t even know how to use it,” James said.

“Good,” Moody grunted as he pushed out of the door.

The room was quiet as the two others left. James’s phone had gone off, causing him to scramble
over Sirius to answer the text. He looked back at the other two men with a bewildered look, gave a
weird, weak and stuttering excuse about having to water his plants before sprinting out of the
studio. Sirius commented that all of James’s plants were dead just as he was sprinting out the door.
James’s eye twitched as he left, leaving Sirius and Remus to themselves and making all the hair on
Remus’s neck stand up on edge. Sirius shot him a smirk.
“’Nother joint?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Remus sifted through his carton to find one of his final joints amidst a few lingering fags. He took
Sirius’s silver MWPP lighter from his hand and lit up the end of the joint. He gently caught the
beer Sirius threw his way and gave it a look. He pulled on the joint. He wasn’t feeling the effects
of his earlier two beers but he wasn’t sure a third was a good idea. He looked back up at Sirius,
running one black-painted nail over the flat of Moody’s control panel, and decided a beer may
make his heart beat a little slower. He peeled the top off and threw it into the pile with the rest of
the tops they’d accumulated over the night.

Sirius settled back on the couch next to Remus, hand outstretched. Remus passed him the joint
after pulling on it once more. Sirius took it gracefully before pulling on it himself. He handed it
back over before rolling his neck against the back of the couch to look at Remus.

“I can’t believe James wrote a song.”

Remus laughed slightly. “He did, didn’t he?”

“It’s quite good too,” he said as he took the joint back from Remus. “Do you think we’re gonna
make it big, Moons?”

“Suppose,” Remus shrugged and pulled at his beer.

“I want to be like Oasis big. Led Zeppelin big.” Sirius said with awe. He handed the joint back.

“I think I wanna be bigger,” Remus sighed.

“Bigger than Zeppelin?”

“Absolutely.”
Sirius snorted, sipping his own drink. “Alright there, Moons. Zeppelin’s the greatest band ever.”

Remus pulled on the joint then turned to look at Sirius, smirk pulling at his lips that he was
desperately trying to hide.

“You know my thoughts on that .”

“Oh bugger off. Morrisey has nothing on Plant and Page.”

“He does too! Tell me a song better than ‘Asleep’?”

Sirius groaned and ripped the joint away from Remus. “’Asleep’ is so goddamn depressing,
Remus. Good songs make you happy not bloody suicidal.”

“Good songs,” Remus started, ripping the joint he was not nearly finished with back from Sirius.
“Make you feel anything. ‘Asleep’ is one of the best songs because it gives you such an emotional
reaction. Name a Zeppelin song that does that and don’t say—”

“Black Dog,” Sirius finished with his signature grin. Remus gave him a pointed look and Sirius
shrugged. “That is the song that elicits the biggest emotional reaction from me.”

Remus handed the joint back. “And why is that?”

“Well it’s rock and roll, isn’t it? I heard it when I was ten and that’s when I knew I wanted to be a
musician,” He let out a low whistle and carded his hand through his hair before pulling on the
joint. He blew the smoke out his nose and handed it back to Remus. “I mean the vocals, the riff and
general feel of the entire fucking song is just rock . It’s the best bloody song in the world.”

“I beg to differ,” Remus replied as he pulled on the joint. He turned to give it back to Sirius.

“Not my favorite Zeppelin song though.”

“How can it be the best song in the world but not your favorite?”

Sirius arched an eyebrow. “Is ‘Asleep’ your favorite?”

“Er— no but—”

“I rest my case,” He lips pursed as he finished the joint. He nubbed the filter out in the ashtray and
set his boot against the table, leg jostling ridiculously. “What’s your favorite then?”

“Zeppelin or Smiths?”

“Both I suppose.”

Remus reclined back with a sigh. “Smiths? Probably ‘Panic.’ Zeppelin? ‘Fool in the Rain.’”

“Moony, you boring man,” Sirius laughed. “I don’t think I have a favorite Smiths song. They all
are too sad for me.”

Remus sat up and kicked Sirius’s boot with his own. “Come on. Not even one?”

“If I was held at gun point, ‘Back to the Old House’,” Sirius replied.

Remus blinked. “I didn’t picture that for you.”

“I’m a man of mystery,” Sirius drawled as he grabbed at Remus’s fag carton and took one out,
holding it between his lips. He grabbed the lighter and flicked it to set the end of the cigarette on
fire, embers firing up in the dim light of the studio. He tapped the ash out gently in the tray.

“Now, Zeppelin. My favorite’s ‘Going to California,’”

Remus crinkled his eyebrows. “I don’t think I know that one.”

Sirius scoffed, dramatically. “Some musician you are! Don’t even know all the songs off Zeppelin
IV.”

“Do you?” Remus bit back.

Sirius gave him a look. “Not the point. Oi, hand me that guitar, yeah?”

Remus grabbed the neck of the acoustic, that they never touched, sitting on the side of the couch.
He handed it to Sirius and watched as the man balanced it on his knee. He took another puff of the
fag before stretching his hand out to Remus.

“Smoke the rest of this will you? I need full mouth range to sing.”

Remus supposed he could snub it out. He could’ve left it half smoked and whistling wisps of grey
into the night. He could’ve just held it. Instead, he pressed it to his lips. The end was only slightly
damp from Sirius’s mouth but Remus’s tongue jutted out to taste it just in case he could get a
lingering feel of Sirius’s tongue against his own.

It tasted how Sirius looked: sharp and lovely.

The beer was a bad idea.

He took one more hit of the fag, reveling in the taste before snubbing it out in the ashtray. He
turned to the darker haired man and watched him tune the guitar. Sirius cleared his throat then
looked up at Remus.

“I dedicate this to my Moonbeam.”

“Fuck you, wanker.” Remus replied through chuckles.

Sirius just laughed along and launched into playing his hands across the strings of the guitar. His
hair fell in front of his face, forcing Remus to focus on the way his fingers hit the strings. He
played deftly, swiftly and as if he was born to do so. It was magnificent to watch. As his hands
continued to pluck, he launched into the verse. His voice was low yet strong.

“Spend my days with a woman unkind,

Smoked my stuff and drank all my wine,

Made up my mind, make a new start,

Goin' to California with an achin' in my heart,

Someone told me there's a girl out there,

With love in her eyes and flowers in her hair.”

He continued to play on the guitar all the while and Remus was transfixed on the way he moved.
His whole body was swaying now, leather of his jacket brushing up against the belly of the guitar
and making a soft swishing noise. Remus wondered if his hands could make the same sound,
shoving the coat off Sirius’s shoulders with his hands and letting it fall to the floor.

“ Took my chances on a big jet-plane,

Never let 'em tell ya that they're aw-ooh-all the same,

Hoh, the sea was red and the sky was grey,

I wonder how tomorrow could ever follow today-hee,

Mountains and the canyons start to tremble and shake,

The children of the sun begin to awake.”

Sirius was lost in the moment, eye closed and head bobbing as his hands played at the instrument.
Remus was lost in Sirius. In the way his hair was waving slightly as his chin moved, as his arms as
they controlled his fingers. In the way his licked his lips slightly between lines. In the was his skin
seemed to glow silver in the dim light of the room. His heart stuttered a bit, pitching a bit more as
the guitar started to pick up and Sirius launched into the verse with more gusto.

“It seems that the wrath of the gods got a punch on the nose,

And it's startin' to flow, I think I might be sinkin',

Throw me a line, if I reach it in time,

Meet you up there where the path runs straight and high.”
The world seemed to stop turning, clocks stop ticking as Sirius sang. He was the energy of the sun
all bundled up into something musical and lovely and just so beautiful it couldn’t possibly be from
the earth. Remus’s lips parted and he felt his heart slamming into his ribcage with the roar of
thunder and the strike of lightning. Sirius finally went into the last verse. Remus felt his breath
lodge in his throat.

“Find a queen without a king,

They say she plays guitar and cries and sings, la-la-la-la,

Ride a white mare in the footsteps of dawn,

Tryin' to find a woman who's never, never, never been born,

Standin' on a hill in the mountain of dreams,

Tellin' myself it's not as hard, hard, hard as it seems.”

Sirius finished with the final strums on the guitar and Remus felt the puff of air lodged between his
lungs and his lips finally leave his body. Sirius turned to look at him, eyes hooded and dark with
something salacious and yet so familiar. The air was thick with silence as he put the guitar down.
He shifted slightly in his seat, hips moving to press his thigh against Remus’s then slumped back
against the sofa. He coughed slightly.

“Got any other fags?”

Remus swallowed thickly. “Yeah, here.”

He took the carton off the coffee table and placed it in Sirius’s hand. He went to pull away and
Sirius grabbed onto his wrist, holding Remus closer to him. Sirius sat back up, cigarettes
completely forgotten, and turned Remus’s hand over in his own. His scarred palm laid facing
Sirius’s eyes. Remus felt the fire burning behind his naval rage and he spoke to keep himself from
igniting it further.

“You trying to read my palm?” He said softly.

Sirius hummed. “Trying to figure out what you thought.”

“I could just tell you.”

“So tell me.”

It came as barely a whisper, not even hitting Remus’s palm with how light he spoke. Remus was
lost, completely and utterly lost. His mind was turning over at a meter a minute and his jaw fell
open slightly. He looked up from where Sirius was thumbing at his love-line, index finger running
down the scar across his knuckles. Remus felt himself inching closer to Sirius, aching to catch the
blues in his grey eyes and count the eyelashes that were fluttering over them.

“I think it was absolutely brilliant,” Remus whispered. “You’re brilliant.”

Sirius tipped his head up to meet Remus’s eyes. His brows pinched together as he looked at
Remus’s face, eyes scanning over the scar in his eyebrow and the one that cut down across his
nose. Sirius’s hand came up and cupped the side of his face, expression falling flat. His fingers felt
like butterfly kisses across Remus’s skin and he felt his breath catching once again. He smirked
slightly, huffing out his nose as his thumb pulled across his face to run across Remus’s bottom lip.

“God,” He said in a hushed tone so light that Remus wasn’t sure he was hearing the word right.
“What did I do to deserve you? To have you?”

He had Remus. He had every single bit of Remus, wrapped up in paper and set in front of him on
Christmas day. Remus let out a pained gust of air through his nose, face twisting into a look that
said please don’t do this to me. Don’t give me something I want so much if you don’t mean it.

“Sirius—"

Sirius ignored it, ignored all of it as he tipped his chin forward and pressed his lips to Remus’s.

It felt like every synapse in his brain was firing at once. Every bone in his body was ripe with
want and need and desire and just Sirius . He was frozen in Sirius’s grasp with his eyes wide open
as Sirius kissed him. They stayed like that, lips pressed to lips, as Remus felt his eyes fluttering
closed letting the warmth pressed to his cheek, the tender softness pressed to his mouth overcome
any rational thought he could make. He allowed himself to just give in , letting the connotation of
the moment seep from his brain and erase itself from existence.

Then all at once, the warmth was ripped from his grasp, leaving him cold and alone in the room
without an anchor. Cold and alone, like he’d always known to be.
Sirius pulled away with a nervous laugh. Remus was frozen on the couch, hands still twitching
with the inherent need to grab onto Sirius’s head and pry his mouth open and devour the other man
whole. He let out a shaky breath before slumping back onto the couch next to Sirius, who was
running his hand through his hair. He grabbed a fag, settling back against the couch to light it. He
shook his head with another half laugh.

Remus’s mind was turning over even faster now, what, what, what ? Was this what he thought it
was? Did Sirius finally make his feelings known to Remus? Was the every aching desire that
Remus had finally scratched out as the definition of unrequited? Did all of his years of pining roll
up to the top of the mountain and lob itself over the edge into a river made of finally ?

He was holding this world of feelings for Sirius on his back, letting it burn into his skin and make
his entire being ache with the weight of it all. As he tried to keep steady, a raven swooped down,
shredding through his stomach with its beak, eating him alive , all while he tried to balance the
world and not let it tip over and crush Sirius.

“Sorry, Moons,” Sirius whispered, eyes still focused on his lighter. It ripped Remus from his
thoughts as he looked at the other man out of the corner of his eye. Sirius held the fag in his mouth
and was puffing away sporadically, leg twitching against the coffee table again.

“A little too high, yeah?”

Remus’s heart stopped.

The raven seared through his flesh harder, causing him to fall to his knees. The lack of strength
was astounding, making the world on his shoulders burn through his skin and mar his bones.

“Yeah,” Remus said shakily. He stood up and rubbed his sweaty palms on his trousers. “Come on,
let’s get out of here. We gotta be up early for the interview.”

Sirius nodded along and stood up, shrugging his jacket back up his arms and letting out a matching
breath full of bewilderment. He blinked a few times before sending Remus a half smile and starting
towards the door.

They sat far enough away from each other on the tube ride home that their thighs didn’t touch.
They rode in silence, the clattering of the train along the tracks the only noise to fill the thick air
between them. They pushed into their flat half past eleven. Remus said nothing as he shrugged his
jacket off and hung it on the post by their door. He kept his head turned towards the floor as he
pushed into the kitchen, shaky hands pulling out the bottle of vodka from under the sink. Through
his peripherals, he saw Sirius kept pulling his hand through his hair.

He said nothing, but gave a quick tilt of his head towards Remus, before stepping into his room
and shoving the door closed behind him. The Pistols started up shortly after.

Remus poured himself a drink and slumped in his chair. He sighed heavily and finally let his mind
work in overdrive as the dull hum of Sirius’s voice singing Led Zeppelin played on repeat in his
ears.

--

The interview at The Sun was a live event and the very idea of it being live was making Remus
anxious beyond repair. He’d already blown through two joints and a fag that morning and was
proper stoned as he sat in the makeup chair backstage. Some lady was fussing over the mop of
curls on top of his head as his leg jittered against the bottom of the chair. She finally let out a huff
and gave up, walking away from him to finish with smoothing out Sirius’s hair.

James popped into view, huge smile on his mouth. He clapped Remus on the shoulder. “Live telly!
Bloody fuck, Moons! Mum’s recording it. Did I tell you?”

“Only seven times, Prongs,” Remus said as he ran a hand over his face.

James frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to speak. About myself. On live telly,” Remus deadpanned.

“I tried to speak they told me no.”

“Because you ramble. Did you even realize you told me about your mum seven times?”

“…No.”
“Precisely,” Remus groaned and pushed himself out of the chair, musing his hair a bit from where
the hair lady had shoved it down flat. “How am I supposed to talk about our music in a way that
doesn’t make me seem like a stuck up prick?”

“You never sound like a stuck up prick, mate,” James said softly. “Knowledgeable? Yeah. A tad
bit shy? Of course. Never stuck up.”

Remus groaned again. “I hate this.”

James threw an arm up to bring Remus’s head closer to him and gave him a sloppy kiss on the
temple. Remus made a disgusted noise as he shoved James away, causing the tan-skinned man to
laugh.

Sirius chose that moment to be done with his hair. “You snogging without me over here?”

“Yes. Jealous?” Came James. Remus couldn’t bring himself to speak.

They awoke that morning to business as usual. Sirius prattling on about nothingness as he fixed
himself and Remus tea and then slumping down on their couch next to Remus to drink it. It was as
if the entirety of the night before hadn’t happened. Remus was half sure it was a dream but the
feeling on his lips was so indescribable that it had to be real. He found himself touching them as he
got ready that morning, stomach turning itself over and over until he was sick and bent over the
toilet. He’d chalked it up to nervousness when Sirius had asked, brow pulled together in concern.

As if he wasn’t the fucking reason Remus was spitting up last night’s nightcap into the loo.

Their ride to the studio was just as all their tube rides went, thighs pressed together both listening to
their own music. Remus had blasted The Smiths so loud that morning he’d nearly missed their stop
and was nudged by Sirius several times to get off the train.

It didn’t help that the hair and make-up team had somehow made Sirius look better than he
normally did. His hair was waved more artfully, his eyelashes longer and darker and they’d put
some sort of sparkles on his collar bones that made them shine into Remus’s eyes. He couldn’t help
but stare.
“Oi! Moons!” James said loudly, hand coming up to smack his cheek.

Remus shook his head and turned towards James. “Sorry, what?”

“Ready? They said were on in five.”

He rubbed his cheek. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

Sirius laughed. It made his insides curdle. “Wakey wakey Moony!”

“He’s not normally up before noon unless he has to be at Paddy’s,” James said.

“Speaking of which, when’s your last day?” Sirius chimed in. The three were ushered towards the
stage.

“Next Friday,” Remus mumbled as the same lady doing his hair came back to shove a makeup
brush in his face.

“Is Fab having a party?” James was being powdered as well, his unruly hair being matted down by
some woman’s hands.

“Dunno ask him,”

“I can convince him,” Sirius replied. “It’ll be fun! We haven’t had a Paddy’s night in so long!”

“Last time we had a Paddy’s night I had to clean Prong’s drool off the floor when he fell asleep at
the bar,” Remus was shoved up into the bright lights of the stage with his bandmates. He was
distinctly aware of someone counting down from sixty in the distance.

“You’re a lovely bar maid, Moons,” James said as he sat down on the plush couch on the stage.
Sirius followed suit.
Remus scoffed then plopped down in between the two. “And you’re disgusting.”

The countdown was nearing thirty. The host finally popped up on stage and fell into a chair that
looked very uncomfortable yet somehow very stylish. He turned towards the band with a shit
eating grin.

“Lads, I’m Phil Duxburry,” He said in his overtly posh accent. His suit was dark blue and looked
like it cost Remus’s entire bar paycheck. He shook each of their hands then clapped his together.
“Right, so this’ll be simple. I’ll ask questions. You answer. Easy right!”

Sirius opened his mouth to speak and Phil cut him off with a wave of his hand and a weird guffaw.
“Though only two of you are allowed to answer, right? Silly me, I forgot.”

“ 15! ”

James held up a finger and went to speak only to be bulldozed over by Phil again. “Strange lot you
are, aren’t you? One of you looks like a model, the other a youth pastor and the third a botched
science experiment. However did you get together!?”

“ 10! ”

Sirius made a weird noise of protest but Phil just kept on going, resting his chin on the palm of his
hand and staring at Sirius. “You could be a model you know? If only you didn’t have any of those
horrid tattoos. God, me? I’d never put a bumper sticker on a Bentley—”

“ 5!”

“—though you lot could be Toyota’s. Pretty one could be a Volvo if he tried—”

“ 4 !”

“—do let me know if you’re single? I have a lovely friend who’d be so interested—”
“ 3 !”

“—Well alright let’s get this done with gents!”

“ 2! ”

Sirius seemed to be bubbling with anger. “Are you fucking—”

“Pads, shut up !” James hissed with an elbow into Sirius’s ribs.

The whir of the introduction music was enough to drown out Sirius’ slew of curse words as the
cameras panned in on Phil. ‘Holy Toledo’ blared as Sirius jabbed James back in the ribs, causing
him to curse and swat Sirius back. Phil looked as poised as ever. He crossed one ankle over his
knee and put on the sleaziest smile he could. He plucked a set of cards up from the table next to
him and tapped them on the top of his knee. The music started to fade out as James was making his
final grumbles. Remus swatted at him as the cameras came to settle on Phil.

“Welcome back! Next up, we have a new rising group here to tell us about their music! Marauders
is here with us in the studio today. How are we, boys?”

Sirius opened his mouth and Remus cut him off, terrified of what sort of half-rude comment was
going to be their opener. “We’re well. Thanks, Phil.”

“Lovely to hear it!” He leaned back in his chair. “So I’m told you three went to school together, is
that correct?”

“Yeah, Hogwarts School for The Arts in Scotland,” Remus replied. “We met in year ten and
became friends then and have stuck together since.”

“How sweet!” Phil cooed. Remus wanted to clock him in the face. “So what’s the set up here?
Who does what?”

“We all do a bit of everything,” Sirius chimed in. His voice held all the warmth of ice cubes.
“Remus and I play bass and guitar and James drums. We all have had a hand in the writing
process.”

“Wow! Multi-talented group here!” Remus wondered if Phil had ever said a genuine sentence in
his life. “So who’s responsible for ‘Holy Toledo?’”

“I wrote it,” Remus replied, fighting to not fiddle with his fingers. “Then I had a guitar riff in mind.
Sirius took on the chorus and made it his own and James obviously did the drums.”

“Brilliant that is,” Phil scoffed, fake amused. “So what inspired this? What even is a ‘Toledo?’”

“Toldeo’s a city in Ohio. Apparently they use the expression often. I thought it was wild expression
and kind of worked it into lyrics I had already penned,” Remus felt his leg moving along anxiously.
“I write lines as I get the ideas and then find a way to string them all together.”

Phil hummed. “A bit more like writing poetry then, y