Portraits

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When Sirius, Remus, and Peter arrived home after the long night of watching Superman - and then debating Superman - the flat in East London was dark and quiet. Peter scurried to his room, bidding the other two goodnight with great big yawns that made Sirius snicker once his door was closed. "You and Prongs made him think too much about Wonder Woman doing the hanky panky," Sirius declared, following Remus into the kitchen. 

"It really only stayed being about that for a few minutes before it turned into more of a debate about how the sun could give him power," Remus said, opening the fridge and taking out the chocolate milk. He waved a wand and a glass flew to the table from the cupboard. He poured himself a half glass, drank it quickly and refilled the glass to the top before putting the bottle away. "We decided that it was similar to solar power producing electricity."

Sirius nodded at the chocolate milk, "Things on your mind, Moony?"

Remus shrugged.

Sirius waved his wand and produced a silly straw in the glass with three loop-de-loops in a bright hot pink color. He grinned.

Remus took a sip of the milk through the straw, eyes crossing to watch it loop-de-loop before it reached his mouth. "Ahhh," he said, letting go of the straw.

"For real, though," Sirius said, his eyes - well, serious. "Chocolate milk?"

Remus shrugged again, "Just needed a little pick-me-up, I guess." Honestly, he was still thinking nearly constantly about the werewolves, about the things Dumbledore had said about them, and his talk with Lily during the full moon night. The movies they'd watched had barely drawn his attention away, honestly, and every time somebody was in peril and Superman managed to save the day, Remus wondered if it was possible - maybe, just maybe - that he could be saving somebody instead of wasting time thinking about it. "I guess I'm missing Ned Veigler," he said by way to give Sirius an explanation without fully lying - because of course any time he thought about the werewolves, he thought about Ned.

Sirius frowned and sat down in the chair next to where Remus stood. He rested a chin on his hand and stared up at Remus. "I know you miss him a great deal." Sirius ran his hand along Remus's arm. He could feel the prickly little jolts of anxiousness that ran up his fingertips with each touch of Remus's skin.

"More than you know," Remus answered.

"I reckon it's probably very much like the way I miss the little pondscum sample that was my brother," Sirius murmured.

Remus was always uncomfortable the way Sirius spoke about Regulus. Like, did he miss him? Did he not? Did he call him things like that because it was too hard to speak the boy's name? Because he was still mourning or because he really was as indifferent as he pretended to be? Remus suspected of course that Sirius was trying to make lighter than he really felt about it and that was why all the jokes, but sometimes Sirius said things so flippantly that it became hard to believe it wasn't real.

"Something like that," Remus murmured.

Sirius bit his lower lip and thought for a moment, then, "Why don't you go to Fallengunder - just floo in and check-see if his portrait is any more sentient than it was last time we went. Blimey, can you believe that's all the way back at holiday? Surely he's come a way since then. Hell, by now he might be fully aware."

Remus nodded, "I ought to do that, you're right."

Sirius grinned, "Now and then I have a moment of being right." 

Remus finished his chocolate milk and they went down the hall to the bedroom. Sirius looked up at the portrait of Regulus, which hadn't woken up since he'd spoken to it during his mad dash home the day of the World Cup. The portrait was leaning against the frame, asleep again, looking peaceful. Sirius sighed and hurriedly kicked off his boots and jeans and climbed into bed while Remus took his time changing and toodling about the room doing little chores - like picking up Sirius's things and putting them in the hamper.

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