Centre of Twilight

Christmas was rapidly approaching and, heralding its anticipated arrival, came snow. Admittedly, it was nothing compared to the weather currently engulfing Scotland, but there was enough to lightly dust the ground and to set the residents of the tiny village in Cumbria to speculating on whether this year would see a white Christmas.

One tiny cottage on the outskirts of the afore mentioned village looked particularly pretty on this cold, clear night. The snow had fallen, the clouds had moved on and the stars and waxing moon set the scene to sparkling fire.

There were no footsteps in the snow on the path – despite the fact that it had lain there since lunchtime that day. No milkman delivered here; no postman ever called. And it seemed that no one ever came out.

Inside, Remus Lupin lay asleep in bed with nothing covering him but his boxers and an old t-shirt bearing the legend: ‘Quidditch Players Do It With 4 Balls’. At some point during the night, Remus had shoved the duvet aside and seemed quite comfortable, despite the chill temperature of the sparse little room.

Occasionally, however, he would wince and once or twice, he turned, pushing his face into his pillow; his mouth working silently as dreams plagued his slumber.

*~*~*

‘“Sirius, I mean it! We can’t risk you getting caught!” Remus shook his head emphatically, moving to block his lover’s path to the door.

“Remus, come on! You can’t expect me to just sit here while you and everyone else are off fighting to save Harry. How can I just stay here when I know you and he are in danger?” Again, Sirius made to push past and again, Remus sidestepped, blocking him.

“You’re not going, Siri.” He said resolutely. His voice was soft but firm and his eyes were dark with quiet determination. A determination to match that of Sirius’.

“You know what Snape would say to that!” he snarled, dark blue-grey eyes full of desperation. “Imagine if anything happened to Harry – the things that bastard would say…”

“You’re more worried about what Severus might say than what I tell you?” Remus’ voice got suddenly louder as his own temper slipped. They were running out of time; already it had been nearly ten minutes since Snape’s call to alert them of Harry’s danger.

“Remus -” Evidently, Sirius realised he’d said the wrong thing but it was too late in Remus’ opinion.

With a disgusted shake of his head, he turned away, saying over his shoulder, “Whatever, Siri. You do whatever you want. If you want to risk your own neck then you do that.”

“I’d do it for Harry.” Sirius insisted, his expression pained. “And for you.” He added in a whisper.

“But you won’t stay for me.”

It was delivered on a whisper and, not waiting for a response, Remus stalked out of the room and hurried up the narrow hallway to where Tonks, Kingsley and Moody were waiting.

“Dumbledore will catch up with us.” Moody informed him abruptly, clearly eager to get moving.

Without turning, Remus felt Sirius’ presence behind him and he sighed. Clearly there was nothing he could say to dissuade his lover and perhaps that was an indication of Sirius’ true feelings. That, however, was something to discuss at a later date…’

*~*~*

Remus rolled over onto his side, kicking the last of the duvet over to the left of the bed. He mumbled something unintelligible and then sank once more into restless sleep.

*~*~*

‘“Come on, you can do better than that!” Sirius yelled, his easily recognisable voice echoing throughout the room.

Remus snapped his head round, feeling instinctively that something was wrong. Something bad was about to happen. He opened his mouth to protest; to warn his lover that something was wrong; but as he did so, Bellatrix cast a second jet of light and it struck Sirius hard in the centre of his chest.

It all seemed to happen so slowly and yet there was simply no time for Remus to reach Sirius; no time to prevent his fall through the veil; and no time to keep that momentary flicker of fear to mar the man’s beautiful face.

For he remembered that that was how he’d seen Sirius: just as handsome as he’d always been. For Remus, Azkaban had taken nothing of his lover’s looks –the spark of humour remained, even in those haunted eyes. And surely just a few months of regular meals would have allowed Sirius to gain that lost weight and to flesh out his hollowed cheeks once more.

But none of that was possible now. Now, Sirius was falling and Bellatrix was screaming triumphantly and Harry –

He caught the young man just as he hurtled past; hell-bent on charging through the veil to rescue his beloved godfather.

“SIRIUS!” Harry yelled. “SIRIUS!”

“There’s nothing you can do, Harry -”

“Get him, save him, he’s only just gone through!”

“- it’s too late, Harry.” Remus insisted, fighting to hold onto the boy as he thrashed and kicked.

“We can still reach him -”

“There’s nothing we can do, Harry…nothing…he’s gone.”’

*~*~*

Gone.

That was the first thought to enter Remus’ head when he awoke following his dream. Sirius was gone, fallen through the veil and everything since then had been a dream.

He blinked up at the ceiling, gazing at the cobwebs between the heavy oak beams. There was a strange light coming through the tiny bay windows, this morning. The room was over-bright and yet the light had a sort of blue-grey quality that didn’t speak of sunlight.

And then, remembering the snowfall of yesterday, he realised that more snow must have fallen last night. Sirius had wanted…

He stopped and, holding his breath turned his head towards the pillow beside his own. There, snug beneath the rumpled duvet, was Sirius. His head rested on the pillow with the long, slightly tangled dark hair forming a halo around him.

So it had been real. The dream had left him disorientated that was all. The rescue at the end of June, the slow recovery in this hide-away cottage – it really had happened and Sirius was alive.

Rolling onto his side, Remus lightly stroked one finger across Sirius’ forehead, down the side of his face and across the warm, pink cheek. Enjoying the feel of the other man’s very soft skin, Remus did it again and then smiled when his lover’s eyes opened and regarded him very calmly.

“Hey,” Sirius murmured; his voice husky and full of sleep. He looked as if he might say something else but suddenly became aware of the duvet that was piled on top of him. “Bloody hell, Remus, I’m boiling in here!” he complained and shoved the offending covers off, revealing a broad, naked chest.

Over the months since Remus had rescued him, Sirius had gradually regained both his strength and his physical fitness. Where once he had been little more than skin stretched over bones, with a regular, healthy diet and exercise (gained mostly in helping Remus get this cottage to an acceptable standard), Sirius now had flesh on his bones and even sported toned muscles.

“You going to lie there ogling my body all day?” Sirius smirked, “My mercilessly overheated body, I might add.”

“I’d be the first to agree that you’re hot.” Remus leered, sliding nearer, “But as for the quilt and everything, well you know I get too hot and you feel the cold more than I do.” His werewolf metabolism increased his general body temperature and seemed to go into overdrive on cold nights.

“When I was a skinny, underfed escaped convict, I felt the cold.” Sirius objected, rolling over to welcome his lover into his arms. “Now, I’m a hot-blooded male with…urges.” He pushed away the intervening duvet and pulled Remus against him to prove a point.

“Hm…well, Mr Hot-Blooded-Male, you’ll just have to keep your urges to yourself. The rest of the house will be freezing so we need to get some wood in and get a fire lit downstairs.”

Sirius made a dismissive little gesture, “Use a warming charm. Or better still, let’s stay here.” And he tightened his arm around Remus’ waist.

Remus, however, pushed himself away and rolled, getting out of bed and leaving Sirius to make discontented little huffy noises.

“Up, Sirius!” he commanded, ignoring his bathrobe and padding naked out to the bathroom.

“I am!” Sirius grinned, demonstrating as such by pushing the duvet down further and stretching languidly.

“I mean, get out of bed!” Remus called back and then reappeared and paused to lean in the doorway. From where he stood, he could just see that the snow had successfully covered the roof of the porch. “I need a shower,” he said then, looking at Sirius once more. “Coming?”

He didn’t need to ask twice.

*~*~*

After a lengthy shower and a shorter breakfast, Remus ventured out to the woodshed while Sirius began preparing the fire. If he had been here alone, he thought, he would have lit a fire in a second with just a wave of his new wand. Remus, however, wanted them to live as muggle-like as possible in order to avoid detection from other witches and wizards. Considering that he was supposed to be dead, it wouldn’t do for a passing Death Eater to pick up his magical signature.

So their post from the magical world was delivered via floo from Dumbledore and they went food shopping once a month in the nearest supermarket, to avoid making memorable impressions on the local muggles. And, Sirius thought with a sigh, they lit the fire with newspaper, kindling and matches.

Owing to the especially cold weather of late, they’d had more fires than usual and so the newspaper pile under the stairs was becoming shorter and shorter. This one, for instance, was dated September 1st.

Thinking back to what he was doing back then, Sirius failed to notice the headline at first. This particular paper was The Daily Prophet and shortly after this date, Remus had suddenly stopped taking it, he remembered, and the substituting muggle papers, with their immobile photos, had frustrated him at first. This, though, caught his eye almost immediately and he stared at the headline, wondering what on earth it was talking about: STILL NO NEWS.

How bizarre. A newspaper announcing that there was no news? But then Sirius read the passage underneath and his blood ran cold:

‘After five weeks since his disappearance, there is still no news of Harry Potter’s whereabouts. Hogwarts is opening for the start of a new school year today, and yet the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, has made no comment concerning The Boy Who Lived.

There is still speculation concerning Harry Potter’s safety and many believe that he has fallen foul of You-Know-Who, who was reported to have returned shortly before Harry’s disappearance.

It has also been suggested that perhaps our once-plucky saviour decided that he couldn’t survive another attack from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and has gone into hiding.

See page 2 for an in-depth discussion concerning Harry Potter’s whereabouts and the possible reasons for his disappearance.’

Furious and scowling, Sirius abandoned all thoughts of lighting a fire and turned to read the additional pages before going in search of more newspapers.

*~*~*

Having carried the log-filled wicker basket into the kitchen, Remus pushed the door shut and stamped snow off his boots before toeing them off and padding into the lounge in his socks.

“It’s so cold out there, I vote we stay by the fire and drink tea all day!” he announced happily, not pausing until he realised that the kindling wasn’t alight and there was a tense, angry silence in the room.

Putting the basket down again, he stared at the spectacle before him. Sirius was sitting cross-legged on the hearthrug with newspapers scattered all around him. At first, Remus was about to make a joke; asking if his lover was trying to catch up on all the news that he’d missed. But then it hit him: Sirius had read about Harry.

As the storm-coloured eyes lifted to his, he chewed at his bottom lip and edged further into the room.

“Siri -?”

“When were you going to tell me, Remus?” There was a tight, controlled quality to Sirius’ voice and Remus saw that he was clenching his fist around one of the newspaper pages. “Were you ever going to tell me? Or would you perhaps wait until I asked after him? In fact, as I recall, I did ask – twice - and you told me he was fine.”

Yes, he had. Almost the first thing he’d asked after Remus had pulled him back through the veil was if Harry was safe.

“I know.” Remus replied, his voice low and calm. “And at the time, he was fine. Then, just a couple of weeks ago, you asked after him again,”

“And?” Sirius’ tone was cuttingly sarcastic.

Remus winced. “By then, he’d been rescued; he was at Hogwarts and he was safe.”

Sirius’ voice then was flat and cold, “And you weren’t planning on telling me anything of the intervening period?”

“Siri,”

Abruptly, his lover erupted into anger, standing in a rush like an uncoiling snake. “Damn it, Remus, are you aware of how I feel about that boy? Can you comprehend what I would do to keep him safe?”

“Yes!” Remus shouted back, losing his temper in a flash. “God, Siri, listen to yourself! Your impulsive insistence to ensure Harry’s safety is the entire reason I never told you. When I pulled you through the veil, you were sick and near death - you’d been so long without food, water or light. You were blind, Siri – remember that? And damned near helpless! Yet still you would have charged off to rescue your godson! And that’s what -!” He stopped abruptly and turned his back. The remembered row that had filled his dream came back to haunt him and he shivered.

“That’s what? What, Remus? Yes, I’d want to rescue Harry – of course I would. Merlin knows I couldn’t bloody save the boy’s father!”

“Sirius, don’t bring that into this! James’ death has nothing to do with this!” Remus shook his head, still staring at the doorway.

But Sirius was unrelenting and, Remus knew, once he got started on a subject such as this, he’d never let it go. “I should have been his Secret-Keeper, Remus! I should never have trusted Peter! I should have -!”

“You should have trusted me!” Remus yelled over him, turning and striding swiftly towards him. “But you didn’t! You couldn’t see beyond the wolf in me!”

“No, all right, you’re right, Remus! I was a failure in every way, wasn’t I?” Sirius cried hoarsely, “I couldn’t protect James and Lily; I didn’t trust you and I let that mangy little rat sell our best friends to fucking Voldemort!”

Tears had suddenly appeared in Sirius’s eyes and ran down his flushed, pink cheeks. He stood staring into his lover’s face for a second and then he turned, sitting down amongst the papers again.

“Siri,” Remus knelt down and wrapped his arms around the other man’s shoulders. With a sigh, they sank down to the carpet together and the row was over as abruptly as it had begun.

*~*~*

“So tell me about it.” Sirius prompted later.

They sat before the roaring fire, listening to the logs pop and sizzle in the dancing yellow flames as the world beyond the lounge window seemed frozen in silence; the snow muffling all sound.

Remus was sitting in an armchair that he’d pulled closer to the fire and Sirius was sat between his feet on the floor so that Remus could brush his ebony hair.

“Well,” Remus drew a deep breath, “I don’t know all that much.” He drew the brush down through Sirius’ hair and then smoothed it to a shine with the flat of his hand. Not a single grey hair, he noted absently, despite what the man’s been through. As he gathered his thoughts, he repeated the action and smiled when Sirius gave an involuntary groan of absolute pleasure.

“Harry was being kept under Malfoy Manor – did I tell you that Lucius escaped?” he said then.

Sirius grunted; too mellow now to offer any kind of vitriolic comment.

“Well, from what Albus has told me, Voldemort’s plan was to use Harry for the fusion and coalition of power. He was going to take all of Harry’s powers and, most likely, his life-force too.”

Sirius grunted again and then asked, “So when did Albus find out where Harry was?”

“Two weeks after school restarted. Draco Malfoy told Severus everything.”

“Ouch!” Sirius retorted, “Bet that hurt Lucius – his own son turning informant on him.”

“Hm…Lucius retaliated, though.” Remus remarked and then told Sirius about the attack on the Prince of Slytherin. “And now, according to Albus, Draco and Harry are…” he paused.

“What?” Sirius pulled away and turned to look up at him in surprise. “Harry and Draco?” Remus nodded and Sirius shook his head in wonder, “What would James make of that, do you think?”

“He would make no more of them than he did of us.” Remus smiled and caressed his lovers face. He grew serious then, his amber eyes becoming large and dark, “I wanted to tell you, Siri. But I didn’t want you to worry – you were so ill for so long and I couldn’t risk… Well,” he shrugged.

“I know.” Sirius replied and caught the hand that was on his cheek. For a long moment, they gazed at each other and then Remus bent down to kiss him.

*~*~*

They spent the rest of that day with no further mention of Harry; relaxing instead and taking comfort from being together in a warm, little cottage, watching more snow falling outside.

It was clear to Remus, however, that Sirius was thinking about his godson; clear by the fact that he was content to sit in front of the fire and not go charging about like a kid, in the snow. However, it wasn’t until they were washing up the breakfast dishes, the following morning, that Sirius mentioned it again.

He was in the middle of the drying up (a task that he particularly disliked doing the muggle way, claiming that as the dishes dried anyway, there was little point in wiping them with a tea-towel) when he suddenly stopped and looked at Remus. Feeling the weight of those dark, searching eyes, Remus stopped washing up and turned to look back at him.

“Is Harry all right now?” Sirius asked earnestly. It seemed to Remus, as he paused to regard his lover, that Sirius had long been torn between wanting to know and yet not wanting to ask.

He sighed, looking still and pensive, but didn’t respond.

“Remus, I need to know,” Sirius urged gently. “I won’t charge into the fray if you don’t want me to, but I need to know.”

Remus sighed and gazed appraisingly at his lover. “He’s not in any immediate danger.” He said at last and then, seeing Sirius’ frown, went on. “There was a secondary attack after he’d been brought back to Hogwarts - but he’s fine!” he hastened to add as Sirius opened his mouth to leap in with angry indignation.

“Fine? What the hell’s Albus doing? How could Harry, of all people, be attacked whilst still in Hogwarts? Isn’t anyone looking after him?”

“They are now, Siri.” Remus nodded and then hesitated, “Come in here; let’s sit down and talk about this.”

Sirius frowned again but did as he was told, following Remus into the lounge.

“Because of all that he went through over the summer,” Remus began, “Harry underwent certain…personality changes.”

“Like what?”

“Well, for instance, he no longer wanted to spend any time with his friends because he felt as if they expected a story or an explanation of what happened.”

“Ron and Hermione wouldn’t do that, though!” Sirius protested, “They’re his friends!”

“Were his friends.” Remus corrected, “Now, his chosen companions are Draco and -” he broke off and paused for a moment, then said, “There’s something else you should know. When Harry was being held by Voldemort, he was exposed to Voldemort’s own Dark magic,”

“Yeah, you said. The fusion and coalition of power.”

“Right, so when Harry returned to Hogwarts, he still had those abilities. And then, when he was attacked, he was in a coma for four days.”

“Remus, you’re doing a rotten job of reassuring me.” Sirius growled, looking fearful.

“Wait, Siri. While he was in that coma, Albus says that Harry did something. Somehow, he developed that Dark Arts ability and, when he came round, he suddenly had enough power to summon Albus, Minerva, Draco and Severus to his bedside.”

“Severus?” Sirius raised his eyebrows, “What did he summon him for?” And then he paused, reading his lover’s body language and going over what he’d told him so far. “You started to say who Harry’s new friends are.” He said in a low voice, “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Severus has been working tirelessly to help him, Siri.” Remus rushed to explain, his tone conciliatory, “He could have sent Harry packing but instead he let him in and apparently showed great talent as a counsellor when Harry needed it.”

“A counsellor?” Sirius sneered, “In what? Lack of hair care? How to be an evil, malicious bastard?”

“In helping Harry come to terms with the things he was forced to do.” Remus retorted, sounding exasperated. At his lover’s blank stare, he growled and scooted forward in his chair. “Think, Sirius, what would Voldemort have Harry do, whilst in his custody? A teenage boy who was particularly innocent and of a good heart. Wouldn’t it just amuse the hell out of him to corrupt Harry as much as possible?”

Suddenly Sirius’ blank stare turned horrified. “Remus, what are you trying to tell me? What do you know?”

With a sigh, Remus shook his head. “Nothing for definite.” He said sadly, “Only speculation and the odd bits and pieces that Albus has told me.”

“Like?”

Another sigh. “He killed someone, Siri. A Death Eater – Avery, I think Albus said. Voldemort had Harry under some kind of Imperious or similar and commanded it, so Harry did it.”

His lover was suddenly pale and shaking; though whether with horror or anger, he didn’t know.

“And Snape helps him how?” he asked finally, swallowing.

“Harry’s responded well to his no-nonsense attitude. Snape doesn’t try to wrap him in cotton wool and he never gives him that mother-hen look that Molly gives him. Instead, he’s cold and matter-of-fact and Harry relaxes in his company enough to talk about things.”

Sirius thought about this for a long while and then shook his head, “It still makes no sense. But I guess if it helps Harry to go down to the dungeons occasionally then there’s no harm in that. I mean, it’s not as if he’s moved in with Snape, is it?”