Dysfunctional

63 - Tall Tales

Monday, November 3

Remus dropped in to visit him late in the day, an awaited reprieve since Sirius had had little company besides Gwen for an entire day. He had assumed staying in Hestia's home would subject him to more of the latter's company, but since she was brewing the antidote for him, he saw her less frequently than he would have liked.

Sirius was longing for a good shower - while Scourgify did do the trick, the smell of blood hanging about him was not particularly pleasing. And so, on Remus' idea of charming his bandages with an Impervious, Sirius showered and emerged after a while, feeling enlivened.

"I was positive you had fainted in there," remarked Remus, without lifting his head up from the newspaper he was reading.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, foregoing any remark. Taking a warm shower was a luxury that Azkaban had denied him and if Sirius liked to indulge himself longer than was necessary, he couldn't care what anyone else thought of it.

Remus, who had noticed him fumbling with his trousers with only one free hand, strode over and helped him into it. Sirius did not put on a shirt, seeing as it was not feasible with having to have his bandages changed every so often.

The two were talking amongst themselves with Sirius helping himself to his lunch somewhat awkwardly, what with his left hand bandaged up to keep him from moving it and disturbing the wound on his shoulder.

Remus was relaying him the news from that day's Prophet. "...and the price on your head has jumped from ten thousand galleons to twenty."

Sirius shook his head, amused. He would be single-handedly responsible for most of the Ministry's expenses if the reward for his capture kept getting any higher.

"That seems needlessly desperate on the Ministry's part. Did they mention why?" asked Sirius.

"Only the detail that you were involved in the murders of the two Hit-Wizards who were found dead in Godric's Hollow. It's all the same drivel," burst out Remus, frustrated on his behalf. Sirius didn't mind. He had been typecast as a murderer for far too long that it was cumbersome to even summon the energy to deny their allegations.

"Bet he was really pissed off that his pet snake was killed," muttered Sirius, feeling vindictive pleasure in knowing that he had taken the one being Voldemort prized above all else in the same place where Voldemort had taken Sirius' best friend. It was as close as it was to fitting payback.

Remus however wore a troubled frown on his face. Noticing his quiet contemplation, Sirius caught his attention. "Sickle for your thoughts?"

Remus hesitated before his expression cleared and he shook his head with a wry smile. "I just remembered it's your birthday."

Sirius snorted derisively. "Another one bites the dust."

"Don't be so melodramatic!" interrupted a voice from the door. Gwen was holding the squirming slender, blue-grey cat that belonged to Hestia.

Newt, as he was so called, was a quiet, withdrawn feline. Sirius himself had first caught a glimpse of it only the day before when it had sauntered into the room behind Hestia, when she had visited him. The stately-looking cat had not taken well to the new additions in the house, but in a peculiar fashion had peeked over Sirius' bed rather interestedly.