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Blue Moon	By : Lilitany Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Remus/Sirius Views: 2271 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I never will. I make absolutely no money from writing this.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
Chapter 6; Bottomless Pockets

Remus was beginning to regret even telling Sirius about the bloody nightmares.

It wasn’t as if he had actually even told him everything. He’d said nothing about the sense of heightened awareness within the dream, the tingle in his senses that made it so he could quite nearly feel the whiskers trembling on his face. He didn’t tell him about the wolf’s slick satisfaction while Remus tried to reject his dreaming with all he had, resulting in the nightly vomiting. He had definitely not told him that sometimes, at the end, he swore he could almost taste the blood.

No, what he’d said had been more along the lines of an extremely awkward “Er, so, basically, I’ve had these nightmares, right, like, almost every night- or, I suppose, every night, really, and they’re, erm, about, just….me, as a wolf, or, I suppose, as the werewolf that, er, bit me, um, eating me. Toddler me, I mean. Um. It’s not a big deal- And don’t look at me like that, Sirius. I can see those eyes. It’s not. You don’t have to get all weird because of it. It’s just a normal part of the werewolf thing, probably. I mean, I’ve never read anything about it, but it’s not like werewolves wrote the books on werewolves, though I think perhaps one should sometime, maybe, um, me, I should. Anyway, it’s just a fact of life, and I do not want you making some big thing of it, alright?”

Despite Moony’s careful and stuttery wording, Sirius kept gazing at him with the same doleful, big-eyed, guilty look that he got when Remus found him eating his chocolate, but magnified with importance, somehow. He also kept casting deeply offended glares towards Remus’s bed, as if it was all his poor innocent pillow’s fault.

He would’ve been able to ignore the looks, honestly, if it weren’t for the goddamned hovering. Remus could go almost nowhere in the first few days after the admission without Sirius popping up behind him, grinning his usual grin but staring at him in a way that suggested he thought Remus was going to drop off to sleep or start puking or just collapse in a puddle of bones –what a puddle of bones would look like, though, Remus wasn’t really sure- on the floor for no reason at all. He also seemed insistent on trying to feed him. Constantly. Like it was his life’s mission. Remus wasn’t sure what Sirius had said to the house elves, but suddenly he could do nothing without Sirius attempting to shove tarts, and sweets, and once a whole roast chicken at him that he seemed to pull out of his endless pockets. Remus refused every time, partially because he didn’t need a damn monitor, and partially because nothing that came out of Sirius’s clothes could be sanitary.

James and Peter noticed, of course. How could they not? They, however, put it up to the approaching full moon and the weird, uncharacteristic mother-hen state that Sirius seemed to get in every time they got close.

Except his usual pre-moon state was usually less, well, manic than this, and certainly more subtle.

Well, Remus was simply getting tired of it. He hadn’t told Sirius about the nightmares to get him to throw him searing sympathy looks or procure food every time he coughed. He’d told him about them because he was practically forced into it with emotional blackmail, Sirius-charm, and threats to scream at the top of his lungs, which was really something that all of Hogwarts did not want at three AM.

Things didn’t really get out of hand, though, until three nights after said telling incident.

The Marauders had just sort of been casually lounging about, pretending to do homework while James and Sirius were actually plotting incredible mischief upon the Slytherins for the next day (assisted by Peter’s enthusiastic but somewhat unrealistic ideas, and Moony’s thoughtful comments that were followed with the rather hurried warning that, as a Prefect, he knew none of this was happening, had not just suggested whatever he had just suggested, and his ears were temporarily off), as usual, when Sirius had complained really loudly of an aching back. This alone should have rung warning signs in Remus’s head, because, while it was not unusual for Sirius to complain loudly, he never did it without an end. He complained about headaches when he wanted Remus to pet him. He complained about neck aches when he wanted James to give him extra pillows. He complained about hickeys when he wanted Peter’s big eyes focused on him while he retold the stories of his nighttime romps with unnamed females who he had yet to prove actually existed.

So Sirius complaining about back aches should have alerted Moony that something was going to be gained, and it was not going to be pretty.

When everyone turned their eyes to him expectantly, waiting for the eventual request for whatever it was he wanted, Sirius took it in a far different direction than most had thought.

“D’you think it could be the bed?”

“Sirius, mate, you’ve slept in that bed for five years, and it’s never given you trouble before.” James was looking at him rather suspiciously through the thick lenses of his glasses, which for once were not sliding down his nose or halfway to falling off his ear or tangled in his hair, as he had been trying to read a Transfiguration book and therefore didn’t have the patience for pretending he could see through them clearly while they were sideways.

“Maybe it’s getting old. Maybe there’s a loose spring and it is jabbing me.”

“Are they even spring mattresses?” Peter thought to ask. Nobody knew.

“Maybe the house elves have bewitched it. Maybe I have grubbed it up so badly that it is sagging with the weight of the pastry crumbs.” Sirius continued, voice very, very grave and continuing to make Moony suspicious.

“Maybe there’s a pea underneath, princess.” Remus muttered from his cross-legged spot on his own, very comfortable bed. No one understood his mumbling but Sirius, who shot him a dark look. Both James and Peter had the feeling they had missed a hilarious comment, because when Remus irritated Sirius’s inflated ego, it usually was pretty funny.

They didn’t really mind. It happened often enough for there to be another one if they waited a few hours. Besides, James was just as proficient as messing with the lovely Mr. Black, and it wasn’t as if it did any irreparable harm, as his sense of self-worth was too high for them to ever actually make a dent.

They thought it was good for him, really. They were being wonderful, dear friends and trying to keep him grounded.

“Shut up, Moony. I think I will simply try something new tonight and see if it makes a difference.” Everyone looked at him with slightly wary expressions. If he was going to suggest they try sleeping on the roof again, after last time, he was getting a pillow across the face. Then he spoke with a slight twinkle in his eye, which always meant trouble. “I think I shall sleep on the floor.”

“Wouldn’t that just, you know, make it hurt more?” Asked Peter, a little bewildered by his statement and Moony’s sudden stiffening across the room.

“Nonsense, Pete! I’ve read that it’s quite good for the spine!”

Ignoring James’s incredulous ‘You read?’, Sirius bounded off his bed with a bundle of covers and pillows in his arms, dropping them all suspiciously close to Remus’s bed. “G’night then, chaps!” His voice was exceedingly cheerful. James and Peter raised their eyebrows at each other and Remus, before shrugging and scrambling into their own, continuing to be comfortable, beds.

“I’m investigating your weirdness in the morning, you realize, Sirius.” Said James, as he peered down at his book, before giving up and dragging a well-read Quidditch magazine from beneath his pillow instead. “I’m not doing it now because it is late. But I think I may have to perform tests. Brain tests. To make sure you haven’t caught whatever Bellatrix has.”

“That, my dear friend, is a genetic disease from years of Pureblood inbreeding, and I might very well have it. My parents are cousins, you know. No wonder I’m a bit mental.” Declared Sirius from the floor, still cheerful, as he made himself comfortable in the absolute mess of blankets.

The moment the light went off, Remus was leaning over the side of the bed and hissing at his friend.

“Sirius, are you honestly sleeping on the floor by my bed. Really. And I want you to think carefully about your answer, because the wrong one may force me to behead you.”

“Oh, Moony, the things I do for you.” Said Sirius’s undeniably pleased-with-himself voice.

“What exactly is this meant to achieve?”

“Well, this way I’ll hear immediately when you start the nightmare-Don’t shush me, Moony, it’s unbecoming. And then, I think I’ll be able to help. Just include me in the space for the silencing spell, and there’s not a problem.”

“How exactly are you supposed to help?”

“I haven’t decided yet, but I’m going to at least try. Plus, this way, I can stop driving you batty by force-feeding you.”

And with that logic in mind, Remus regretfully acquiesced.
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Blue Moon