All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

Summer 1976, Part Three ( Peace Talks )

They reached a strange sort of truce as those last few weeks of summer bled away. It might not have happened, if not for Euphemia Potter—the house was certainly big enough that Remus could have avoided them if he wanted to, and Sirius probably would have let him. But James’s mum clearly expected the three boys to spend all their time together, having no idea about any of the events that had taken place just a few short months ago at Hogwarts.

So although Remus and Sirius were still at odds in many ways—and although James was still caught somewhere in the middle—there was one unspoken rule on which all three boys could agree: none of them wanted to disappoint Mrs. Potter. The resulting stalemate consisted mostly of James and Sirius trying their best to go on with the summer as normal, while Remus resigned himself to hovering near enough to avoid raising any suspicion while still staunchly ignoring them, nose stuck at all times in the pages of a book.

It was better than nothing. And of course, Sirius wasn’t in any position to complain.

For his part, he resisted the urge to apologise to Remus every time they were within ten feet of each other, as that hadn’t seemed to do anything except upset Moony further when they were back at Hogwarts. It was still excruciating, feeling the distance between them like a physical barrier every time they shared the same space, knowing that he was the one who had placed it there—but Sirius was trying to learn how to unpick the need to assuage his own guilt from the desire to actually fix things. And he was beginning to understand that fixing things would mean prioritising Remus’s feelings over his own.

So he did his best. He tried not to fixate on the way things used to be, knowing that he had shattered whatever trust they’d built. There was no turning back time to repair it. Instead, Sirius reminded himself that he was starting over; that it would take time; that he would take what he could get, and be grateful for it. Every time Remus looked at him, or spoke to him—even if it was just one word—his heart kicked in his chest. This is better, he reminded himself, Things are getting better. He could learn patience, if he tried hard enough.

Still, Sirius wished that Remus would talk to him. Really talk, about what had happened. He knew there was no explaining what he’d done, but he couldn’t help feeling that there needed to be some sort of…catharsis. His betrayal was a drain between them, something that they inevitably circled, siphoning the life from their friendship. If they never addressed it, Sirius wasn’t sure how they could move on—and he desperately, desperately wanted to move on. To prove that he could do better.

But until then, he took what he could get.

Peter continued to come over practically every day, and Sirius would glance down as they flew on their brooms, just to see Remus reading under the shade of a tree. They lounged on the lawn, and Sirius accepted the cigarettes that he passed around, holding the smoke in his lungs as long as he could, like it was something precious. He let Remus choose the records they listened to, or else played the ones that he knew were his favourites. He watched the sun soak into Remus’s hair and skin, until he was nut-brown and freckled and glowing, with curls the colour of summer.

On the penultimate day of the holidays, they were back out in the sun, lying in grass that was fever-hot and tickled their backs. Sirius, James, and Peter lay side by side, with Remus a little further away—as he always was, those days.

“So tell me again,” Peter said around a yawn, arms stretched behind his head, “What was the Knight Bus like? I’ve always wanted to go on it.”