the cadence of part time poets

Chapter 77: Halloween, 1977

I drank the potion she offered me,
I found myself on the floor;
Then I looked in those big green eyes,
And I wondered what I'd came there for;

She's just a devil woman,
With evil on her mind;
Beware the devil woman,
She's gonna get you!

- "Devil Woman" Cliff Richard, 1976

Monday 31st October 1977

Despite earlier plans and agreed-upon festivities, Halloween was looking to be a rather drab affair where the Marauders were concerned. It didn't really matter that the girls had all but made them take a blood oath that there would be no tricks or traps that year; Sirius and James were still not on talking terms, and without JamesandSirius there was little to be done in the way of pranking. For the first time since that summer, Remus found himself as their go between—tip-toeing around James and all but pretending that he didn't exist at all in front of Sirius. In comparison, Peter got off easy. He'd managed to declare himself Switzerland, which was just Peter for 'I'm with James'. Sirius didn't seem to care—he had Remus, and their relationship was much more intimate and therefore worth much more, even if no one else knew it. James and Peter might have known one another since they were in nappies, but they'd never discussed the historical discourse that existed between mods and rockers while lying arse-naked in bed with the Doors playing in the background.

"You'd totally be a mod," Sirius said, a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

"I would not!"

"You would! I'd be a rocker, and you'd be a mod. And every night I'd ride my motorbike over to your house and kiss you under the cover of darkness, out of sight from all your mod-mates, lest they find out and gut me."

"A regular Romeo and Juliet, I see."

Sirius grinned, and then leaned over to kiss him for real. "There. Now you're catching on."

As wonderful as it was to have Sirius all to himself, Remus was worried. He tried imagining how James might have reacted if Sirius had told him the truth about their relationship; would he be relieved? More hurt that they hadn't trusted him in the first place? Or would he be disgusted? Not even Sirius had the answer. It was the same reason he'd never told anyone about Miles.

It's not what he'll say. It's what he won't say.

Remus carried the thought with him everywhere. It was almost gratifying to finally put words to the fear he'd been experiencing ever since that man had glared at him in the bookshop, but he couldn't say them aloud either, so what was the point?

Sirius never brought up the Potters again, nor whatever it was that he seemed to think he 'owed' to James. It seemed to become an out-of-sight, out-of-mind sort of thing; if he didn't talk about it, then he could avoid thinking about it, and if he didn't think about it, then it didn't exist. Remus never had it that easy, but he knew Sirius was hurting.

"We should start looking at flats soon," he'd said, when they'd vacated the dorm long enough for James and Peter to have a turn. "I'll be eighteen soon. That's old enough to rent. We'll just get a place on our own. Anywhere you want."

"How about East Finchley?" Remus suggested. Sirius had glared at him, then looked away.

"Can't go back there. He lives there."

"You know that this fight isn't going to last forever, right? Eventually you're going to get tired of all this and be best friends again."

"Oh yeah? Try me. I've the memory of an elephant."