Snapshots: Reconciliation

[toujours_nigel]

The covers are ripped off, the windows opened, the curtains parted and the blinds rolled up. He groans and tries to hide under his pillow, but even that is taken away. It’s like being back in the dorms. Before N.E.W.T.s with only an over-caffeinated Sirius for company. Only worse.

           

Grumbling something to that effect only gets him laughed at. How Lily manages to sound so chirpy at such an obscenely early hour is something that he hopes will always remain a mystery. “Wha sho fuhny?”

           

“You, my husband. Now get up.” Being the contrary soul he is, he promptly tries to go back to sleep, but Lily hits him, hard, on the shoulder. “Come on, James, get up.”

           

He knows, from past experience, that she’s fully capable of dragging him out of bed. Wonderful spell, Levicorpus, and if there isn’t a wand to hand, well, Lily only looks petite. So he sits up, with the due number of complaints, and blearily opens one eye.

           

It’s beyond annoying how good Lily looks. She’s in forest green robes that fall just so, not a fold out of place. Her hair is up. She’s smiling.     

           

He groans and hugs her round the waist, cheek resting on her engorged stomach. “Why are we up so early?”

           

“Because, my love, it’s not early. And you have to be at the Academy in an hour or Moody will do unspeakable things to you.”

           

“Oh fuck.” She laughs, evil, heartless woman, at the speed with which he lets go of her and scrambles out of bed.

           

“I’ll lay your clothes out.” He mumbles in answer, mouth full of toothpaste. “Breakfast’s in ten minutes.”

           

He makes it out of the bedroom with more than a minute to spare.

           

“…still worse.” Lily drifts out of the kitchen and into the closet next to it.

           

“What’s worse?”

           

“You’re early,” Lily calls, vaguely surprised.

           

“No morning wood,” he answers cheerfully, ambling into the kitchen.

           

And almost into Sirius, who is sitting on the counter, fiddling with Lily’s pots and pans and who spits out a bit of the apple he’s demolishing. “So did not need to know that, Prongs. Can’t you muzzle him, Lily?”

           

“You’re just jealous he gets regular sex, Lance.” Lily bustles back in, tying on an apron, kisses him on the cheek and slaps Sirius’ hand away from her frying pan.

           

“And I don’t, my Vera?” Sirius winks at him, sucking the injured fingers. He gulps. Too weird, this.

           

“Your left hand,” says his wife to his lover, “doesn’t count.”

           

“Bitch.”

           

“Brat.” Lily tugs at Sirius’ hand and he hops off the counter, handing her and replacing utensils and cutlery as directed.

           

He sits down heavily in a chair and watches the absurdly domestic scene. Their friendship isn’t new, but he doubts he’ll ever stop finding it surprising. Sirius had watched him chase Lily with barely-veiled resentment and they had spent seventh-year in grudging tolerance of each other. But his engagement had changed something and Sirius had voluntarily gone over Godric’s Hollow with a fine-tooth comb the week before Lily moved in and painstakingly removed all evidence of his association with the Blacks, confiscating even old photographs and toys. Then, as the final touch, he had drawn Lily into a long, convoluted story about Regulus and Barty Crouch and how ‘Uncle Bartemius’ (the only time Sirius has ever called the man that) had not been best pleased.

           

Lily, right on cue, had said, “I didn’t know you were related to the Crouches.”

           

“Evans,” Sirius had said, “I’m related to everyone. The Lestranges, the Malfoys, the Yaxleys, the Longbottoms, the Weasleys. I’m even related to James. His mother was a great-aunt of mine.”

           

And that had been that. Lily, who he doubts had wanted to see it at all, blissfully ignored all evidence that her husband was not socially on par with the Weasleys. It had also, he supposes, been the start of Sirius and Lily’s friendship. He hadn’t really noticed. Months after that conversation, he’d asked what made them decide to like each other, and the reply, (they chorused, “Mutual dislike of you.”) convinced him to never repeat the question.

           

Sirius hands over the wrong knife and Lily jabs him with the hilt.

           

“Vera, hurting me,” he says, grabbing her wrists, “is not worth how your kid will kick you if you jolt him.”

           

“I know.” She waits till he lets go, then jabs him again, this time in the ribs. “But it feels so good.”

           

He had thought Rita Skeeter’s article would shatter Lily’s illusions and had braced himself for a row. But Lily had just found the nick-names delightful and had immediately adopted them for herself and Sirius.

           

“So, what are you planning to do with my wife today?”

           

Sirius grins delightedly at him, then turns to Lily. “Pay up.”

           

“Why must you assume,” Lily asks him, pulling a Galleon from her purse, “that he’s here to do something with me, not you?”

           

“Because, my Vera, he has classes and you don’t,” Sirius answers, pocketing it.

           

He bites back the incredulous, “You bet against Sirius about me?” and instead says, “Well, what are you two doing?”

           

“Going shopping for Remus,” Lily says, placing a plateful of unidentifiable food in front of him. Lily likes experimenting in the kitchen. Sirius, who always sticks to fruit, likes to aid and abet, and now comes to the table, no doubt eager to see him die a terrible death.

           

He warily cuts off a piece, spears it on his fork and puts it I his mouth. He chews carefully – it’s edible, which is not something that can be said for all Lily’s culinary experiments. Lily is staring at him, wide-eyed. Obviously, and though she’ll vehemently deny it, she hadn’t been sure about the outcome. “It’s good,” he says, briefly considering the idea of asking what’s in it, then decides to leave well enough alone. “Does Remus know this?”

           

“’Course not, Prongs,” Sirius snorts. “I’m not stupid.”

           

“Then what are you planning to do with whatever you buy?”

           

“Oh, that’s easy.” Sirius flashes him what Lily calls a ‘mega-watt smile’ and fishes another apple out of the fruit bowl. “He thinks he’s getting a furnished flat.”

           

“With what?”

           

“Sirius is buying him a bookshop,” Lily says, nearly clapping her hands.

           

“You WHAT?!?”  he chokes on his coffee. “Sirius, do you not like living? ‘Cause, mate, there are easier forms of suicide.”

           

“See, you’re giving him a heart-attack,” Sirius tells Lily, a tad reproachful. “She’s exaggerating. I had a talk with Mr. Penn. You know, bloke who owns that rare-books shop five shops down from the Magical Menagerie?” He nods, dumbstruck. “Well, he’s getting old and his daughter – she’s married and lives in Ireland—and her husband, nice man, by the way, researches old scrolls or something, they’re both worried about him and want him to live with the. He’s quite married to the idea, but he couldn’t find anyone he trusted to take over the shop.”

           

“So you convinced him to trust Remus?”

           

“Wasn’t all that hard, Sirius grins. “We’ve both gone in a few times, last year, and Mr. Penn knows Remus just about worships books. He’s happy to leave his babies to fellow devotee.”

           

“And the flat?”

           

“It’s just above the shop. Mr. Penn was planning on shutting it up and using it as a storeroom of sorts. He’s not exactly rich and he’s lived there for fifty-something years. He accumulated a lot of things.”

           

“And you’re paying for the shipping, I assume?” Typical of Sirius, if so.

           

“Yes. And no, they’re not fleecing me.”

           

“Wasn’t suggesting that,” he says, though they both know he was. “You do know Remus will realise you had something to do with it when you tell him?”

           

“Ah, but the thing is, my Prongs, I won’t be the one telling Remus.”

           

“You will,” Lily says and grins wickedly at him. “For some reason, Remus thinks his ‘I can take care of myself’ lecture worked on you, so he’s less likely to suspect foul play.”

           

“I see.” It’s really the least he can do, though remaining inscrutable in front of Remus is near-impossible. “I take it not many people know about Mr. Penn’s decision to move?” Sirius shakes his head mutely. “How come you do?”

           

“I, we, have been on the look-out for something for a while, Lily and I,” Sirius says. “A friend of a friend told me. Cost me two dinners at the Ritz.”

           

He raises his eyebrows – a tactic that always works on Sirius, for some reason. He suspects Lucius. “Friend of a friend? Do I know either of them?” Lily giggles. “What?”

           

“You sound just like my father talking about you,” she says, and that gets a smile out of Sirius. “I’ve met them both and they’re really nice. Sirius’ friend is really handsome, pale, dark hair, mid-twenties, very sophisticated. Gives me hope,” she adds solemnly, “that you two will amount to something, someday.” He hides a smile in his coffee, when Sirius sticks his tongue out at her, and she intones, “Very faint hope. And his friend, Mr. Fell, has a book shop in Soho, and this weird and wonderful man told us about Mr. Penn.”

           

“Ah. Weird and wonderful?”

 

“He has a fetish,” Lily says conspiratorially, “for rare and misprinted Bibles.”

 

Sirius chimes in with, “Remember Uncle Alphard’s ‘friend’, David? Fell’s like him, a little.”

 

“I see. The job’s a permanent thing?” It’s perfect for Remus—no boss to check up on him and find out that he can’t work full moons, a place to live in, and, considering Sirius set it up, no doubt an adequate salary.

 

“Almost. They’re going to try him out for two years, and if he hasn’t done much damage by then, it’s his for life.”

 

“When’s he start?”

 

“A week from whenever you get the guts to tell him,” Lily says. “Mr. Penn wants to be gone by July, so before that.” She beams at him. “Isn’t it great? We’d almost given up hope, then right out of nowhere, Tony—that’s Sirius’ friend—takes us to Mr. Fell and we hear about this.”

 

“A veritable miracle,” he drawls.

 

“No need to be sarcastic, husband mine. It very nearly is.”

 

“Where are you going to shop for furniture?”

 

“Well, the stuff can’t look new, so I’m going to give Lily a tour of the second-hand shops. We’ll find something that’s suitably Remus-y.”

 

“Let me buy some of the things,” he says suddenly, stifling the impulse to say, “Let me help.”

 

“Thanks, Potter,” Sirius drawls, “but I think I can afford a few used chairs and an old bed.” Sirius has always been very possessive of his kindnesses. It’s his sandbox and he doesn’t want intruders. “And the look on Tony’s face when he realised I wasn’t a complete boor made picking up the tab at the Ritz worthwhile.”

 

“Besides,” Lily says, trying to placate him, “you’re telling Remus. That’s by far the worst part.”

 

“Right,” he says, feeling like he just lost something, “of course. You two have been plotting this for months, haven’t you?”

 

They smile guiltily, and Sirius says, “We’ll be meeting Tony for lunch. Can you come?”

 

“No. I’m sorry. Wish I could.”

 

“It’s okay,” Lily says. She gets up and gathers his plate and their cups, “It’s better to see Tony when he’s with Mr. Fell.” She walks off, trailing the china and ducks behind the counter.

 

“Why,” he asks Sirius, “is she so obsessed with the two of them?”

 

“She thinks they’re a couple,” Sirius answers, rolling his eyes.

 

“Are they?”

 

“Don’t know.” Sirius looks at him, eyes grave. “Does it matter?”

 

“No. No, of course not.” He looks over Sirius’ shoulder, but Lily doesn’t look up, doesn’t seem to have heard what’s being said. “Sirius, where are you meeting for lunch?”

 

“Leaky Cauldron.”

 

“So Tony’s a wizard?” But he’s almost sure what the answer is, Sirius won’t meet his eyes.

 

Sirius shakes his head, all mirth forgotten. “He’s magic, but not a wizard. I don’t know what he is, James, but I wish Lily hadn’t met him. She doesn’t treat him with proper deference, and while he’s finding that amusing right now, I don’t know how long that’ll stay the case.”

 

“Other?” He knows, as does Sirius, as do most of their relatives, that there are beings in London who it is best not to meddle with.

 

Sirius nods. “Ancient. Demon, probably. I can’t exactly ask, can I? But he won’t harm Lily, I’m almost sure of this. I’ve known him for over a year and he’s… nice, odd as that sounds. I think he likes me.”

 

“So Fell is…”

 

“Someone with a really inappropriate name, yes.” Sirius smiles, leans back. “Lily wasn’t too far off, talking about miracles.”

 

“See, James, I told you it was difficult,” Lily seats herself beside Sirius. “I’m so glad something’s finally going right for Remus. He’s had such a hard time, this last year.” Sirius squeezes her hand, laces their fingers together.

 

He looks up from their joined hands and stares at them, both fairly glowing with happiness, and wonders, again, how he is fortunate enough to have two such generous people love him so much and why they are stupid enough, unfortunate enough, to love someone who daily betrays them. “So am I. He deserves it.” Sirius shoots him a wary, questioning look, but he shakes his head subtly.

 

Then Lily looks at the clock behind his head and winces. “James, you should have left ten minutes ago. You’ll be late and Moody will rip you to pieces. Go.”

 

He is, and Moody does, but that isn’t what leaves a bad taste in his mouth all day.

 

Nor is it Lily’s cooking.