Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /

Incendio

"change is coming and these bones of mine are aren't ready." 
- via Ben Maxfield

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London, April 1977

Sirius had never been to a "cinema." The place where the pictures move on the ginormous screen in front of you. The only moving pictures he'd ever seen were those in the newspapers or photographs. They even made noises! Not just the people like in Hogwarts portraits. No, the people made noises but so did the wind when it howled and the cars when they ran. Cars! They were ingenius, really. Wonderful. Of course, they weren't as light weight as brooms, but they appeared to be much more comfortable with seats and windows you could block out the rain with. The birds chirped on the screen, even when you couldn't see them, and there was bloody music!

He was enraptured with this fascination. It was better than the little box that played the good music. It was good compared to wizarding music; every song had the word magic, cauldron, and broomstick in it, and it made Sirius want to gag. No, the cinema was now his favorite place in the entire world. There was popcorn that got stuck in his teeth and candy that made his eyes water – the sour ones were his favorite. They'd apparently been rolled in some sort of interesting dust that made your taste buds tingle; whatever it was, Sirius wanted more of it.

The boys had decided to spend their last Easter holiday with each other on a nice trip to London for the weekend. James managed to convince his parents to let them borrow an old flat just on the edge of the city for their trip, promising not to destroy too many of the artifacts and furniture. If this trip was spent like any of their other ones, that promise was likely to be broken by Friday night.

The town was bustling with life, as per usual, and they blended right in. Remus and Peter had finally persuaded the others to wear Muggle clothes.

"Robes will look strange in London," Peter cried. "We just want to be normal for the weekend."

Well, anyone in their right mind would know that the Marauders were anything but normal. Even if they wore Muggle clothes and talked about the latest trends, they stood out. Perhaps it was their rough housing or their loud voices, talk about people with strange last names or history that had never happened before. Whatever it had been, it made people stare. However, they didn't seem to notice, or they just didn't care. Sirius remained on Remus's back, arms draped around his shoulders lazily as he argued with James about the cinema.

"He clearly died, Sirius," James declared. "Guns aren't like wands; they're lethal."

"Wands can be lethal," Sirius shot back. "I've dodged a few hexes from Snivellus over the years. Nearly lost the skin on my neck last year for it."

"But bullets aren't like spells, idiot," James rolled his eyes. "Imagine a bunch of killing curses being thrown at you at high speed. You can't just dodge them by tucking and rolling."

"Want a bet," Sirius challenged darkly.

"No," Remus crooned. "No, no, no. There will be no bets because you're not going to be doing any dueling this weekend. We are in public. Real life public, where Muggles are present ninety-nine-point nine percent of the time."

The others whined, sulking as they continued down the boulevard.

"You're no fun," Peter pouted, crossing his arms.

"No, I'm responsible," Remus countered. "And, even if I did let you duel, it would be out of plain sight, not in the middle of the bloody street!"

Sirius nuzzled into the crook of his neck, his warm breath blowing against Remus's skin. He loved the way Moony smelled. It had changed over the years, just like his own scent. He was sure he'd smelled like flowers at one point; that had been the only body wash Euphemia could spare at the manor. Then he smelled like smoke and sugar. Remus nearly kicked his arse for sneaking a smoke between classes; never again. For a while, he'd mooched off of James's shower gel. Then the rain.