Chapter 185: Early Summer 1995
Summary:
I don't really know what to say.
This chapter has a lot of ptsd stuff in it. Also passing mention of child abuse. As always, be kind to yourselves!
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
We passed upon the stair
We spoke of was and when
Although I wasn't there
He said I was his friend
Which came as some surprise
I spoke into his eyes;
I thought you died alone
A long long time ago.
Saturday 24th June 1995
That fucking phoenix arrived, first, and Remus knew at once.
"What the bloody hell is that?!" Grant leapt up, startled by the silvery bird which burst into their living room. They'd been watching telly, with all the windows open to counteract the summer heat. Remus had just been about to put the kettle on.
The bird sat on top of their boxy little TV and opened its beak, speaking in Dumbledore's voice;
"Padfoot is on his way."
Remus nearly dropped the empty mugs he was holding.
"Fuck."
"What?" Grant said, watching the bird vanish into thin air. "Who's Padfoot?"
"Fuck." Remus said again, setting down the mugs. He had begun to shake uncontrollably. He felt cold all over. "I don't think I can. I don't think I can..." he mumbled to himself, covering his mouth.
"Remus?" Grant stood up and touched his shoulder. "You're scaring me."
"Sirius." He spluttered. " Sirius is Padfoot."
"Bloody hell. The murderer?"
"Not a murderer, I told you."
"Right, right, sorry. Coming here ?!"
"It's his flat, after all."
"Oh, I forgot." Grant said, flatly. He bit his lip, "Should I... go?"
"No!" Remus clung to Grant, suddenly, "No, please, please don't. I can't be alone, don't leave me alone with--"
"Ok, ok!" Grant soothed him, hugging him back, "Calm down, all right? I won't go anywhere if you don't want. Just... just try to get yourself together."
"I'm sorry." Remus took a deep breath.
He knew he was acting childishly. This was no time to fall apart. He'd had years and years of that. If Dumbledore was sending Sirius to him, then something had happened. Something important. Now was the time for strength and action. He gazed around blindly for something to do.
"This place is a mess! I should start cleaning. He won't be long."
Grant was helpless to do anything but watch as Remus ran around the flat like a headless chicken, using every cleaning charm he could remember, combined with some actual manual labour when he mucked up the spells. He couldn't stop moving, he couldn't bear to sit still for a moment, because then he might have to think .
Within the hour, there was a scratching noise at the door, and a low, gruff bark. Remus froze. A scent he had not known in many years reared something in his subconscious.
