Madam Pomfrey was horrified by the state of Remus’ skinny, battered frame when he finally went to see her.
“What has that woman been doing to you?!” She gasped, angrily.
“Oh no, I did all this myself,” Remus gestured dryly at his bare chest. The nurse tutted, peeling away another bandage.
“Yes, but she’s barely done anything to treat you… I had no idea muggle medicine was so primitive! These are magical wounds, they need magical care!”
Remus nodded, tiredly. He’d grown used to the carnage now, the pain had settled on his shoulders like a heavy burden – one he thought he would probably just have to bear. Life was full of limitations, he simply had more than others. Perhaps that was why he was so drawn to James and Sirius.
Madam Pomfrey wanted to observe him over night, but he refused, grumpily. The full moon was two weeks away and he wanted to sleep in his own bed as much as possible.
He walked back to the common room slowly, though he was feeling better than he had in a month – Madam Pomfrey had given him a potion that made him feel loose and comfortable, and pleasantly light headed. There was no chance of a quiet afternoon, though, for when Remus reached the dormitory he found Sirius sitting on his bed, the record player and brand new albums spread around him.
“Lupin!” He beamed, excitedly, “You have to hear this!”
“Thank merlin you’re here,” James groaned from his own bed, where he was flipping through a quidditch magazine. “He’s been banging on about that muggle singer all summer.”
“He’s not a muggle!” Sirius snapped, hands on his hips, “He has to be a wizard. Has to be! You should see the clothes he wears…”
Remus crossed the room and picked up the record sleeve. He smiled, mildly surprised,
“Oh, Bowie! Yeah, I like him. I don’t think he’s a wizard, though,”
Sirius looked mildly disappointed that Remus had heard of him, and Remus hurriedly explained, “I’ve heard Starman a lot, on the radio, but no one at St Eddy’s has the album!”
Placated, Sirius settled the black disk he was holding onto the turntable and fixed the needle in place. James sighed deeply and got up, leaving the room, magazine under his arm. Sirius ignored him, watching Remus’ face eagerly as the slow drumbeat began. Remus sat down on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes to listen.
Pushing through the market square
So many mothers sighing
News had just come over
We had five years left of crying…
It wasn’t the same as Electric Warrior; it was darker, moodier. Remus liked it a lot. There was a story in it, though he wasn’t sure he understood all the parts yet. As the closing bars of Rock n Roll Suicide reverberated, Sirius lifted the needle and moved it back,
“Listen to Suffragette City again, that’s my favourite!”
Remus smiled – he could have guessed that. It was loud and rude, and you could dance to it. This mellow thigh'd chick's just put my spine outta place...
For himself, he thought he liked Moonage Daydream best, because it was weird and spacey. Or Lady Stardust, because for some reason it reminded him of Sirius. – his long black hair, his animal grace; the boy in the bright blue jeans… Remus quickly dismissed that thought, sure that Sirius would find it hysterically funny.
Once they’d played the album all the way through again, and then re-played their favourites, it was almost dinner time. They sat cross legged together on the bed, pouring over the album notes.
