These people 'round here
Wear beat down eyes sunk in smoke dried faces
They're resigned to what their fate is.
But not us, (no never) no not us (no never)
We are far too young and clever.
6th June 1983
“Sometimes I wonder if you’re using me.” Grant said, one afternoon in the summer of 1983.
“We all use each other.” Remus replied, dryly, “And that’s what we think love is.”
“Christ. Can’t talk to you when you’re like this.” Grant sighed heavily, reaching for a packet of cigarettes on the bedside table.
“Like what?”
“A gloomy git.”
Grant pulled a long white cylinder from the box with his teeth, and Remus lit it with his wand point. Grant sucked on it appreciatively, settling back against Remus’s body, in the crook of his arm. Remus lazily stroked Grant’s collar bone until it was his turn to smoke. They’d almost given up; sharing a quick post-sex fag was their treat.
“Sorry.” Remus said, “I don’t mean to be gloomy.”
“Pfft.” Grant replied, cheerfully, “Be gloomy if you want, I’m only teasin' ya. ”
Grant made everything so easy. Remus could barely remember when their relationship had grown into what it was now.
...
It had started with the regular visits, after that first intervention. They’d grown more frequent, and eventually Grant was just there all the time - first he slept on the couch, and then he didn’t anymore, and it was never discussed again.
By midsummer 1982, he’d moved all of his belongings in - such that they were.
“I travel light,” he winked, shaking out a rucksack that contained a few clean pairs of underwear and some t-shirts. One sock. For god’s sake.
“I’ll give you some money.” Remus said, monotonously. “You can go shopping.” He still had a few hundred pounds Sirius had converted to muggle money in case of emergencies. Remus didn’t feel guilty about spending it; it was just sitting there.
“I’m not here to scrounge off you.” Grant insisted.
“I know. But you need clothes.”
“Yes mum. I’ll borrow some of yours for a bit, ‘til I get myself sorted.”
“Fine.”
So Remus went to Debenhams by himself one afternoon and bought as much as he could in Grant’s size. Jeans and t-shirts and underwear and socks and jumpers, pyjamas and even a cheap pair of trainers that were on offer. Bright colours, because Grant was a bright person, and Remus had seen enough black to last a lifetime. He folded it all away in the chest of drawers. It felt good to fill them; they’d been standing half-empty for over a year.
Grant wore the clothes, but they never discussed it.
There were some things they could not avoid talking about, though.
Remus hadn’t been doing magic at all for the first few months - actually, he found that he couldn’t, a lot of the time; even when he tried. Perhaps the grief. All those funerals. It may have had more to do with his drinking, though he couldn’t be sure. There was a block there; like a wall had gone up. He could apparate for full moons, but that was the extent of it. Then one day, it just came back, as if it had never left him.
