Oh mine eyes have seen the glory of the theories of Freud,
He has taught me all the evils that my ego must avoid.
Repression of the impulses results in paranoid
As the id goes marching on.
Saturday 1st April 1978
"Wotcher!"
"Hello."
"Gawd, cheer up a bit, sunshine! After I went to all that effort to book a bloody audience wiv' ya!"
"Sorry! I'm really, really happy to hear from you."
"Christ, you get posher by the day."
Remus laughed, despite himself. The sound echoed back through the receiver, and made him think about Grant's voice travelling all the way through the telephone wire, from the very bottom of England, up through to him in the Scottish Highlands. Muggles were pretty magic too, really.
"How are you?" He asked, "Still enjoying the seaside?"
"Winter was fucking dire." Grant replied, settling into the conversation. Remus could hear the cigarette between his teeth, the grind-click of a zippo lighter. He longed to see the other boy, to see his face and watch his expressions. "Rain. Freezing cold wind - it comes in off the sea, rattles the windows worse than at St Eddy's. Mind you, the students made up for it."
"Students?"
"At the Art College, and Brighton Poly. You get loads of our sort, at art schools. I was seeing an engineer, a poet and a painter."
"Is that three separate people, or one very clever person?" Remus asked, wryly.
"Cheeky beggar. Wouldn't you like to know." Grant snickered. "What about you, anyway? How's lover boy?"
Remus snorted derisively.
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"Fine."
Grant exhaled loudly.
"Lord, not another fight, is it? Tell you what, sweetheart, you want to get on top of these moods of yours."
"What moods?!" Remus frowned. Grant laughed,
"You're the moodiest bloke I know, worse than a girl on the blob when something's pissed you off. And you 'aven't half got a mouth on ya. I've 'ad broken ribs hurt less than some things you've said."
"You never said..."
"No, well, I let you get away with it because it's easier than picking a fight. 'sides, it's not your fault. I'm the same, in't I? We all are, institutionalised kids."
"Institutionalised?!"
It was an enormous word coming from Grant, but it felt rude to say so. God, Remus thought to himself, when did I become such a snob?
"Yep, 'pparently that's what we are. The poet told me - 'e was doing a course in psychology. Said I'm afraid to stay with one person too long 'cos I was abandoned too much when I was small. Dumped him after that, obviously."
"I've been with Sirius for ages." Remus replied, defensively. "It's only ever been him."
"Got the same problem, though." Grant mused, as though they were just passing the time of day, "When was the last time you let anyone be nice to you without saying something 'orrible back?"
Remus pressed his lips together.
"I don't do that." He said, though he already knew Grant was right. Bastard.
