Once upon a sunshine,
Before the final bell,
I told my story to big boy,
With connections straight from Hell.
His fiddle was his sweetheart,
He was her favourite beau,
And hear me saying was all he playing
Them songs from long ago.
And then I told my story to the cannibal king
He said baby, baby, shake that thing.
Saturday 13th January 1979
First Moon
“I hate this.” Sirius said, chain smoking.
“I know you do.” Remus replied. He rubbed his temples. He was getting a headache, not uncommon on a full moon.
“I mean I really hate this.” Sirius puffed, staring out of the window. He stood there, one arm folded across his narrow waist, other arm crooked at the elbow so that he could hold the cigarette to his lips. He had to keep stretching up on his tiptoes to blow the smoke out of the gap in the window - it was too cold to open it all the way. Every time he reached up, his t-shirt rode up almost to his belly button, displaying soft skin and a line of fine dark hair.
Remus lay on the couch, a cold flannel on his forehead, watching Sirius inhale, stretch, puff. Lovely, lovely creature. How had Remus ever got so lucky?
“It’s bloody mental, sending you on your own. Why can’t I go with you? I could go as Padfoot.”
“No.” Remus sighed, “You still smell human. They’d tear you apart.”
“What if they tear you apart?” Sirius turned sharply. He looked distraught, his cheeks were pink, which was incredible for he-of-the-porcelain-complexion.
“Me?” Remus snorted, trying to sound careless, “Greyback’s prodigal son? Not likely.”
“What’s a prodigal son?”
“Oh right, er… just means I’m going to get a warm welcome. Gaius said not to hurt me. Livia called me her brother.”
“Could I come with you for a bit? Just before anyone else shows up?”
“It’s not safe, Padfoot.” Remus said, gently.
Sirius stubbed out his cigarette angrily on the windowsill. Remus wished he’d stop doing that - they would need to repaint it soon - but now was not the time to scold him. “Why don’t you go to the Potters’?” He suggested, “Don’t spend the night here by yourself.”
“I don’t care where I spend the night.” Sirius flung himself into the armchair.
“Well I do,” Remus tutted, “I need to know where to go after the moon’s down.”
“Shit, yeah,” Sirius sat up, sweeping his hair back, “Ok, I’ll go to the Potters - then if you need any patching up Euphemia will be on hand. Fuck, what if you can’t apparate? What if you--”
“I’ll send a patronus.”
“But if you’re not strong enough…”
“I will be.” Remus replied simply. He was going to an enchanted forest, based on the co-ordinates Moody had sent. If there was even half the magic there that there was in the Forbidden Forest, then Remus foresaw no problem getting himself out. Unless someone with equal strength tried to stop him, but he was trying not to think about that.
