Chapter 154: The War: Autumn 1978
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Stop your messing around (ah-ah-ah)
Better think of your future (ah-ah-ah)
Time you straighten right out (ah-ah-ah)
Creating problems in town (ah-ah-ah)
Remus peered over the top of his book through the cafe window to see if there had been any change in the street ahead of him. He looked at the clock on the greasy wall beside him. Five minutes to go, if Pete wasn't running late.
Remus looked at his book again. He hadn't really been reading it, he was too distracted. He found himself rarely in the mood for studying, these days, between Order meetings, strange and half-explained assignments, visiting Hope in the hospice - which he tried to do every other day, now.
On top of this, Remus and Sirius were learning to look after themselves for the first time. After a week of takeaways, Remus admitted defeat and asked to borrow a recipe book from Mrs Potter. Results had been mixed, so far. Sirius, meanwhile, seemed to have reached crisis point at the state of the bathroom, and dedicated several evenings to finally learning some cleaning spells.
They'd had a fight over whether or not to get a television (Sirius was bizarrely suspicious of this muggle technology; he couldn't see the point), and then another one over the motorbike (Remus hated everything about it, but most of all the highly dangerous flying charms Sirius was attempting).
Other than that, things were going pretty well. Well. As well as anyone could expect.
The clock kept ticking. Remus lifted the chipped mug of tea to his lips, drank, then grimaced. Stone cold. He'd been there an hour at least, but it wasn't as if he had anywhere else to be.
Since the botched mission to Knockturn Alley back in July, Remus had noticed a clear shift in the nature of his missions. He was often paired with Peter, and generally only sent on 'soft' assignments - passing on messages, collecting dead portkeys - once or twice he'd been stuck making sandwiches for visitors to the Potters.
Meanwhile, Sirius and James's fortunes had taken them in a completely different direction. They both spent much of their time with Frank and Alice, or the Prewett twins, up to all sorts of interesting things like advanced defense, guard duties, and even one or two midnight raids.
Sirius was having the time of his life. Remus was miserable, but not saying so. In other words, business as usual.
Finally, Remus looked up and saw movement. It was the end of the working day, and men in smart suits and hats began to fill the pavements. If you looked very closely, you could see that some of these men and women were dressed a bit less conservatively than the others. It was the end of the day at the Ministry of Magic, too.
Remus got up, quickly, banging his shins on the orange plastic chair beside him. Hissing through his teeth, he limped slightly on his way out. Outside it was muggy - not sunny, but hot and sticky; headache weather. Thick, queasy storm clouds hung above the grey buildings, and a powerful reek rose up from the cafe bins, old food putrefying in the unseasonable September heat.
Remus hung back a moment, waiting and watching, not wanting to be seen. A tall, handsome young man strode past, wearing black robes and a bottle green waistcoat. He had sharp cheekbones and platinum hair, though he was very young - Remus recognised him at once as Lucius Malfoy, the man Narcissa had risked her life to marry. Remus watched him stalk up the street, fleetingly commending Sirius's cousin on her excellent taste.
