Coiled (Book 2 of 2)

From the Wedding that Never Happened to the Minch

A Decidedly Muggle Part of London.

November, 1978.

"Really?"

"Really."

"But really?!"

"Really."

And then comes the sharp gasp of relief as he rushes forward and sweeps me off my feet, spinning me around quickly as he holds me close. When he threatens to lose his balance, he slows and we stop. He's crying now, his tears in my hair as we continue to hold one another tight.

"We knew."

"We knew."

"We weren't imagining it, then."

"No."

"We really somehow felt -"

"- Something, yes. I do believe we did."

We flit freely between thoughts and words now, minds and hearts still racing, "I just really needed -"

"- I understand -"

"- To hear this now, given everything that just -"

I receive the rest of it as less a concrete, spoken thought and more an intense wave of emotion: the relief; his tremendous relief at hearing the truth of Reggie's situation.

The news he desperately needed; the strength he needed to go on, that's what he means.

I recognise it because it's a shared sentiment.

"I know, Evan. I know."

"Reggie's alive -"

"- Reggie's very much alive."

"And you saw him -"

"- I saw him, yes. I saw him, Evan! I saw Reggie!"

And from the way he leans forward and kisses me I'm convinced he's momentarily forgotten Remus is still standing right here.

Here, beside us in my tiny bedroom. It's an unspeakably chaotic scene, my entire room in a shocking state of disorder. Perhaps a fitting metaphor for the mess we presently find ourselves in. And most telling? Evan's hopelessly ripped tux, now reduced to a tattered, crumpled heap half kicked under my bed.

Yes, just one of the many remaining traces of our absurd evening.

There are other signs, too -

Though he's changed his clothing, Evan hasn't bothered to scrub his face, and neither has Remus. Their cheeks and foreheads are both still dirt stained from the struggle with Sirius just hours earlier. Evan dislocated a shoulder in the fight, something easily remedied by a quick resetting in the chaotic aftermath. But even now I see it's stiff when he moves about and undoubtedly terrifically sore. And the scratches all over his face and neck, fading by the minute thanks to a quick potion, are a final angry reminder of the encounter.

And Sirius?

He tore his eyebrow open, that much I saw for certain as he was being pulled off and away from the fray.

Now he's apparently run off to Lily and James's for a cool down.

Other than the present flurry of action in my room, the rest of the house is dark and quiet.

No one's seen Pete, of course not.

It's actually starting to trouble me, the way he's apparently dropped off the face of the earth entirely.