Centre of Twilight

“Remus,” Sirius muttered just loud enough for his partner to hear, “explain to me again what we’re doing here.”

Remus sighed and pushed the wheeled, metal trolley on a few more feet before pausing to survey a display of Christmas cards. None of the images moved, he noted, although occasionally one might produce a tinny, little carol when opened.

“We’re shopping, Sirius.” He replied in the same quiet voice.

Sirius looked around with a tense, perturbed expression. “Why do muggles feel the need to shop in the middle of the night?”

“Maybe because they’re busy the rest of the time.” Remus shrugged, moving around into the next aisle and peering at an assortment of CDs. Sirius followed closely, nearly stepping on Remus’ heels in the process.

“Okay, so why’re we here in the middle of the night?” Sirius pressed, “And what’s wrong with the other shop; where we usually go?”

“Well,” Remus sighed a little, “the other shop doesn’t open late like this one does and the lady on the checkout recognised us last time. Maybe,” he gave Sirius a sharp glance, “because you cast that Reparo charm on her till.”

“Hmph.” Sirius huffed defensively. He picked up one of the CD cases, studied the picture and rattled it ineffectively. “When did LPs get so small?” he queried, remembering muggle music of their youth. When Remus didn’t reply, he asked again, “So why are we here in the middle of the night?”

Remus pushed the trolley on a bit further, “Because it’s quieter at this time – we don’t want to draw any more attention than we have to.” He turned then and eyed Sirius in his muggle jeans that, two months ago had been loose on his underfed, skinny frame. Now, however, he filled them nicely and Remus regarded his legs and arse with an appreciative eye.

“Hey,” Sirius chided, catching his gaze. “Stop staring at me or everyone will want to come and look.”

“Like you’d care.” Remus shook his head. “Okay, we need the usual groceries but I thought, while we’re here, we’d get some new towels and bed-linen, a few luxury extras for Christmas and a couple of presents for Harry.”

This last caught Sirius’ interest and he looked excited for a moment, “Will we see Harry at Christmas?”

But Remus was already shaking his head, “You can’t, Siri. No one can know about you – least of all Harry.” In fact, he told himself, Sirius shouldn’t even have come with him tonight but keeping the irrepressible man under lock and key was just impossible.

“But will you see him?” Sirius asked, almost completely masking his feelings of envy. It was hard for him, Remus knew, wanting to be close to his godson but forced to keep his distance.

He reached out and touched his lover’s arm before caressing the side of his face, feeling the day-old stubble beneath his fingers. “I’ll see him.” He nodded, “And I’ll make sure he’s okay.”

Sirius returned his gaze with intense blue-grey eyes and then scratched absently at his cheek.

“We’ll get razors while we’re here,” Remus promised and moved on down yet another aisle.

*~*~*

An hour later and Remus knew that it had been a mistake to bring Sirius shopping. When the man wasn’t drawing the attention of men and women alike (well, he was gorgeous), he was sneaking things into the trolley.

“Siri, no, we’ll never drink that much beer.” He protested, “And why have you picked up mince pies? I’ll make my own.”

“Hm…but that takes time and I want a mince pie now.” Sirius muttered, stalking towards the confectionery section, looking at all the rows of chocolate like…well, like a kid in a sweet shop!

Remus cast a calculating eye over the contents of his trolley, tallying up how much they’d spent. With muggle cousins, he’d kept pretty much up to date with muggle concepts such as finance, currency and technology. Therefore, he was able to keep a muggle bank account (away from the prying eyes of Delores Umbridge), keep stock of his money going in and out and could even use a Cashpoint Machine.

Satisfied that he could afford it, Remus then told Sirius that he’d forgotten something and headed back towards the electrical section of the store. There, he selected a relatively inexpensive CD Player and buried it at the bottom of the trolley, along with a few chosen CDs. Sirius, he recalled, loved music and, in their youth, had shared his love of muggle music.

A resounding crash drew his attention then and just knowing that his lover was behind it, he hurriedly wheeled the trolley back to where he’d left him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Sirius was exclaiming, trying desperately to help a younger man with his spilled shopping, though in actual fact, he was only causing more havoc. The young man could only have been in his early twenties and looked pale and skinny within his shabby, none-too-clean clothes. It also seemed that he was rather taken with Sirius’ looks and couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off Sirius’ body.

Then, when Remus left the trolley and hurried to his lover’s side, the young man did something very odd: he took a rather possessive stance beside Sirius. At first, Remus thought that the young man was simply thinking that he, Remus, was going to be angry with Sirius but then he stopped, his senses screaming at him.

The young man was a wizard. He fairly reeked of magic and what’s more, looking into his feral, amber eyes; Remus had no doubt that he was a werewolf.

*~*~*

“Hermione, about tonight,” Harry began as the class packed away their Defence Against the Dark Arts books.

Hermione turned in her seat, ignoring Ron’s scowl and looked enquiringly at Harry.

“Well, I can’t make it.” Harry finished, shooting Ron a swift look and hoping at the same time that Hermione wouldn’t ask too many questions.

“Oh, okay.” She nodded, looking a little disappointed. Then, with a toss of her hair, she shrugged. “We didn’t have anything to do, though, I suppose. Maybe we can get together during the Christmas holidays.”

“Hermione, you won’t be here.” Ron interjected, looking at his girlfriend and pointedly not looking at Harry. “You’re coming home with me for Christmas.”

“Well, yes,” Hermione replied, looking somewhat flustered, “but we’ll be back before the start of term, won’t we?”

“I doubt it.” Ron replied, now giving Harry a sidelong look, “Mum’s planning the whole holiday. Bill and Charlie will both be there and now that Percy and dad have settled their differences…”

“Yes, all right, Ron.” Hermione sighed, sounding tetchy. She offered an apologetic smile to Harry who was determinedly NOT feeling the loss of his red-haired friend. “So what are you doing for Christmas?” she asked, perhaps hoping to give Harry the opportunity to prove that he didn’t need Ron.

“Spending the time with Sev-Snape and Draco.” Harry replied with a shrug and a mental rebuke at himself for almost calling the Potions master by his given name.

‘Careful.’ Draco cautioned from all the way across the castle in Transfiguration.

So Draco was keeping tabs, Harry thought, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to banish yet another headache. ‘I can manage.’ He retorted silently.

‘Quite. But can you manage to put off Miss Granger without starting a rumour about the three of us?’ Snape enquired from his first year Potions class.

Conscious of the conversation that he and Snape had had last night, Harry willed away a blush and then realised that Hermione was staring at him.

“You can talk to Draco? Even when he isn’t in the same room?” she asked, looking intrigued. Beside her, Ron finished packing his bag and stood, waiting. He did, however, look towards Harry with a mildly interested expression. Harry, out of habit, ignored him again.

He shrugged at Hermione, as if to say it was no big deal. He didn’t want her to know about the Nameless spell; about what it entailed and the price it demanded. With that thought, came another wave of guilt over Snape and he struggled to compose his features.

“Well, okay then.” Hermione was saying, “So I won’t see you tonight and,” she glanced at Ron, “I won’t see you over the holidays.”

“I guess it’ll be Potions on the first Monday back, then?” Harry offered what he hoped was a convincing smile.

“Mm-hm.” Hermione nodded, “And maybe I’ll come down that first week and make sure you’re on track with that year-long assignment.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Harry replied evasively, imagining Draco’s expression.

Then, turning to Ron, he took the other boy by surprise by stating calmly, “Have a good Christmas, won’t you?”

Ron jumped a bit, taking a step back and nearly tripping Seamus as he made his way past with the rest of the class. The lesson was well and truly over and everyone was heading out to drop off his or her books before dinner.

“Er…” Ron gaped at Harry and then, at a look from Hermione, said, “Yeah, you too.” And with that, he motioned for Hermione to follow him.

‘What was that all about?’ Draco demanded, marching down the corridors towards Harry.

Stepping out of the DADA classroom, Harry winced against the throbbing in his head but offered no explanation.

‘He was very subtly having a dig at Mr Weasley.’ Snape’s voice cut in. Then, aware that his two partners were close enough to make eye contact through the mass of students filling the corridor, he said, ‘I don’t know about you two, but I can’t face a room full of yammering, shouting students. Shall we have dinner in our rooms?’

Harry saw Draco give a tiny nod and then gave Snape his silent agreement.

‘Good. I’ll see you there.’ Snape responded, sounding pained. ‘Right now, I’m going to fetch a pain-relieving potion for my head.’

‘You two are always getting headaches.’ Draco remarked, finally making it to Harry’s side. ‘Maybe you’re both stressed.’

‘Can’t imagine why I should be stressed with you in my life.’ Snape retorted, even though both Harry and Draco knew he was joking.

‘I just bring excitement to your life.’ Draco countered and slipped his hand into Harry’s.

The effect was immediate. One second, Harry had been wincing at every noise and every glimmer of light through the high, arched windows; the next, almost all pain was gone.

‘Are you okay?’ Draco looked closely at him.

Harry nodded, smiling. ‘Yeah, I’ve been thinking about these headaches…’

*~*~*

“So let me get this straight.” Snape held up one hand, the other pushing aside his empty plate. This evening, it had been Italian gnocchi with four-cheese sauce; delicious, Snape's choice and definitely not on offer in the Great Hall, Harry knew.

“You’re saying that, because of the Nameless spell, we three have to be together, in one room, or we suffer headaches?”

“Well, you and I get headaches. I don’t know why Draco doesn’t.” Harry replied, glancing at his lover.

‘I was never a sickly child.’ Draco smiled angelically, ‘Never suffered any of the usual childhood maladies such as colds, sniffles or the like.’

‘You once had Dragon-Pox.’ Snape pointed out, smirking. ‘I remember visiting and wondering if your face would ever return to its normal shape and colour.’

Draco responded by sticking out his tongue.

“Ever since Potions, this morning,” Harry said, heading off a scrap, “I’ve had an increasingly bad headache.”

Snape nodded, “So have I – and I had the same, off and on, last week.”

“Well, I think that if we looked closely at when the headaches came and went, we’d find that they disappeared whenever the three of us were together.” Harry replied.

Snape shrugged, “Let’s test the theory. Draco, go outside and then walk up as far as the steps to the main corridor.”

Without any word of complaint, Draco got up and headed out the door. He hadn’t gone four paces towards the steps before Snape and Harry winced as their heads throbbed with pain.

‘Now come back.’ Snape commanded, pressing his fingertips to his right temple.

Draco complied and, as soon as he opened the sitting room door, the headaches diminished again.

Snape stared; first at Draco and then at Harry. “You’re right.” He stated, looking amazed. “I don’t know why it should be, but it clearly is.”

Harry shrugged, “Maybe it’s because we only worked part of the spell?” He beckoned then to Draco, who moved without question to sit on the arm of his chair; wrapping one arm around Harry’s shoulders. And that was it; the pain was gone completely.

Then, realising this, Draco got up and moved to make contact with Snape. Without a flicker of self-consciousness, he dropped into Snape’s lap and gave the man’s face a gentle stroke.

Before last night, Harry wouldn’t have batted an eyelid; after all, Draco was always very demonstrative in his affection. Now, however, Harry was aware of Snape’s ability to share their emotions and he realised what torture it must be to live and share an existence with two young men who were, in turn, sharing a physical relationship and yet not being part of that relationship himself.

Aware that Draco knew nothing of this, though, Harry could do nothing but offer the Potions master a look of apology and sympathy.

*~*~*

“Sirius,” Remus nudged his lover awake. It was twenty-four hours after they’d met Thomas in the muggle supermarket.

“Ngh?”

Twenty-four hours, during which they’d brought the young man home with them (Remus still couldn’t work out quite how and why) and had learned that he was on the run.

“Siri, wake up.” Remus shook Sirius’ shoulder until he rolled over and blinked up at him in the lamplight.

“What, Remus?” Sirius blinked, “What’s wrong?”

“Ssh! I need to talk to you about Thomas.” Remus whispered, pulling his lover over and into his arms but at the same time, making sure he didn’t fall back to sleep.

“Oh, Remus, not that again! Look, the lad was starving! There was no way that he could pay for any of those things in his trolley; it was all a ruse to disguise all the stuff inside his jacket pockets!”

All of which, Remus recalled, he’d ended up paying for.

“I know, Siri. Believe me, until I received your inheritance money,” and how strange was that now? “I was in a similar state from time to time. But that isn’t what’s bothering me. Siri, he’s a werewolf, a wizard on the run and he’s desperate! Who knows what he’d do for money!”

Now Sirius was wide awake and shaking his head emphatically. “No, Remus! That’s not true; he’s a good kid!”

“Sirius, you’ve known him all of twenty-four hours! How do you know what he’s like? How do you know he won’t sell our position to Death Eaters tomorrow? For all you know, he could be selling us out right now!”

Again, Sirius shook his head. “Thomas is good and I know that because I’ve talked to him.” He gave his lover a reproachful frown, “Unlike some people, I haven’t simply stood in the shadows and glowered at him. And, right now, he’s probably trying to sleep on that lumpy old sofa – and it’s freezing down there, Remus!”

“He’ll survive.” Remus replied flatly. “He’s got four blankets, the embers of the fire and werewolf metabolism to go with it all. And besides, if he’s been sleeping rough up until now, he’s used to colder temperatures than our living room.”

Sirius made a face but didn’t comment.

“So, what are we going to do with him?” Remus asked after a few minutes.

Sirius shrugged, still saying nothing. Remus stroked his lover’s hair, lifting it off his neck and running his fingers through the lengths. After several long minutes, Sirius murmured drowsily, “Can’t he stay for Christmas?”

Remus sighed and shook his head, despairing of his lover’s undying desire to take in waifs and strays. He smiled somewhat ruefully; what would his life have been like if Sirius hadn’t taken him in under his wing?

“Moony?” Sirius opened his eyes again, “Please?”

With another sigh, Remus tightened his hold on his lover and switched off the lamp. “We’ll see.” He responded, “I’ll talk to Thomas tomorrow.”

*~*~*

Taking Sirius’ words to heart, Remus tried very hard to get to know Thomas. Within one day, he was forced to concede that Sirius was probably right and the younger man wasn’t going to sell them out to any Death Eaters; it seemed that Thomas had enough troubles of his own, without getting into any deals with Voldemort’s followers.

So Thomas stayed another night…and then another. On the third night, Remus briefly gave in on the no-magic rule and transfigured the unused desk in the study into a single bed and gave the chill little room some character with a few Christmas decorations and a spare, brightly coloured bed-spread.

Thomas himself, Remus considered as he prepared lunch, was quiet and intense with no real inclination towards meaningless chatter. Instead, he kept himself to himself until engaged in real conversation.

This meant that they’d learned that his full name was Thomas Litworth and in the eight years since leaving Hogwarts, he hadn’t had any kind of work in the magical world. Apparently, he’d been training to be an auror when a werewolf had bitten and infected him. Since then, he’d been forced to leave Auror College and had worked mostly in muggle pubs and bars.

“It was okay…most of the time,” Thomas said now, sitting at the kitchen table with Sirius. “I used to think muggles were stupid but they’ve come up with some ingenious ways of coping without magic.”

Sirius smiled in response and exchanged a look with Remus. He’d voiced much the same opinion once whilst staying with Remus and his cousins.

“And muggles don’t believe in magic or werewolves,” Thomas continued, his voice soft and husky. “To them, it’s all just stories and legends. But even so,” he shook his head, “they didn’t like me taking regular time off every few weeks…or the moods.” He added with a frown.

Sirius made an indelicate sound and waved a hand, “You don’t have to tell me about the moods!” he shook his head, “With Remus, the whole world knows when the full moon’s approaching!”

Thomas’ expression transformed from a frown to a smile then. He gave Sirius a look of compassion and Remus was forced to bite his tongue to keep from launching into a vicious attack on the young man for daring to show warm affection towards his lover.

And this, he realised, was one of the moods that Sirius was talking about. The full moon was almost on them and was having an effect on Remus – and, he realised, on Thomas too. It was at about this time that Remus began to get possessive and territorial; and today, he wasn’t prepared to let anyone flirt with what was his. But then it seemed that, just as the wolf within him was getting ready to defend his mate, so Thomas’ inner wolf was preparing to challenge his authority.

Perhaps realising then that he was caught in the middle, Sirius cleared his throat and stood up to help Remus serve lunch. With an appeasing smile, he deliberately touched the back of Remus’ hand as he took the stack of soup bowls from him.

*~*~*

“So,” Remus began later as they washed up the dishes, “are you going to tell us the rest of your story?”

Behind him, he felt Sirius pause and turn from making a cup of tea and to his right, Thomas froze in the middle of drying up a saucepan.

“What do you mean?” he asked then, his voice tight.

Still aware of his lover’s carefully watchful stance, Remus gave Thomas a look and said, “I think you should tell us what it is you’re running from. Or whom.” He added after a pause.

Thomas placed the saucepan down on the worktop with exaggerated care and then turned to step back towards the table. There, he sat down again and looked slowly from Remus to Sirius and back again.

“I guess,” he sighed, “you deserve to know the whole truth.”

Remus made no comment but moved to sit down too.

“Before I start, though.” Thomas said then, “I want you to know that I wouldn’t ever kill in cold blood.”

“I think we’re going to want something stronger than tea,” Sirius remarked and snagged three glasses off the draining board and picked up the bottle of scotch that Remus had bought for Christmas.

Remus flicked a glance at him and then looked back at Thomas, wondering if he really wanted to hear the full story.

“I was engaged,” Thomas began quietly, “to a girl called Liselle. She was a muggle and until I met her, I thought I was definitely gay. You know,” he flashed a smile at Sirius, “I always fancied other blokes and couldn’t see anything special in girls at all.”

Sirius responded to the smile but then caught his lover’s frown and took a sip of scotch instead.

“Liselle was special,” Thomas continued, as if oblivious of the trouble he was causing. “She took my breath away, the very first moment I saw her.” He shook his head then, “If I’d known that I’d be responsible for her death, I would have stayed well away, though.”

Now it was Sirius’ turn to frown; his dark eyebrows coming together in a scowl. “You killed the woman you loved?”

“No!” Thomas shook his head violently, “But if she hadn’t been involved with me, if I wasn’t a bloody werewolf, she’d still be alive.”

Remus shifted in his seat. “I think you’d better tell us more.”

“Are you going to turn me in?” Thomas looked at him.

“Tell us your story and then we’ll talk about turning anyone in.” Remus replied evasively.

Thomas sighed, picked up his drink and threw the entire shot back in one. “Fair enough.” He nodded and then began. “Like I said, Liselle was everything to me. The only other person I ever felt those kinds of emotions for was Oscar but I’ll get on to him in a bit.
“So Liselle and I were engaged and we were planning our wedding for next summer. But, as I said, she was a muggle and consequently knew nothing of magic or werewolves. On the nights of the full moon, I locked myself away but told her I was working; she never suspected a thing.” He gazed at the empty glass for a second and made no response when Sirius refilled it for him.

“Then, a month ago, Death Eaters came looking for me at the pub. I gave them the slip – or so I thought – but then, the next night, they came to our house and made the same offer.”

“An offer?” Sirius sneered, “What did they want, exactly?”

Thomas’ lip curled in derision. “They wanted me; they’re recruiting all known werewolves, apparently.” He looked enquiringly at Remus but he shook his head; so far, he’d seen and heard nothing of this. “Well, anyway, they weren’t welcome and I told them as much. It was then that they started to get nasty. They said that they’d been ordered to ask at first but, if I wouldn’t come willingly, they’d take me by force if necessary.”

“So they tried to take you,” Sirius surmised.

“And you resisted.” Remus concluded.

Thomas nodded but his eyes were suddenly full of pain. “They didn’t take it very well,” he said softly. “They killed Liselle – maybe as some form of threat or maybe just out of spite – and I responded by killing them…all of them.”

“How many?” Sirius whispered, his blue-grey eyes dark and watchful.

For a long moment, it seemed that Thomas was lost within his own reverie but then he looked up at Sirius and replied, “Four. Four Death Eaters to recruit one werewolf and four Death Eaters to kill one muggle. I’m only glad that Oscar was at my sister’s house. The Death Eaters know nothing about him.”

Remus frowned, shaking his head in confusion. “I don’t understand; who’s Oscar?”

Thomas’ expression was guarded as he looked over at the other werewolf, “He’s my son.”