Sinope's Fiction: For To Preserve This Day

Title: For To Preserve This Day
Author: Sinope at (no spam!) gmail dot com
Rating: PG
Pairing: None (hints of Severus/Remus and Sirius/Remus)
Summary: Coffee and chocolate are consumed, and Hogsmeade has a white Christmas.
Author's notes: Thanks to Jude, Anjali, Nancy, and especially Lore for betaing and general hand-holding along the way.
Disclaimer: This is an unofficial fan work. No profit was made; no ownership is implied.

"In Glasgow, [pause] cloudy skies and light snow showers are expected today through Christmas Day, while a nasty set of winter storms will be covering the coast from Inverness to [long pause] Aberdeen. Finally, Hogsmeade should expect heavy snowfall today and tomorrow, [pause] but the skies ought to clear out on Christmas Day for an unusually lovely stretch that will usher in 1981. Thank you for listening to WWN Weather, and have a good day."

Two slices of Sainsbury's white bread with margarine and Marmite, and one large cup of black coffee. Severus had eaten the same breakfast every day since Remus had arrived at his London flat, until Remus abandoned even asking whether he wanted a cup of drinking chocolate in the mornings.

Remus turned his attention back to the hot milk, which had grown a wrinkled skin during the weather broadcast. Stirring with one hand, he used the other to spoon cocoa powder into the saucepan with plenty of sugar and a dusting of nutmeg.

He could feel Severus watching him. Outside the kitchen window, icy rain drizzled over the Peckham alleys in thick sheets of claustrophobic grey. Remus poured himself a mug of chocolate and brought it to the table, finally meeting Severus's eyes with a slight smile. "Off to Knockturn Alley, I suppose? Will you have at least Christmas as a holiday?"

"Most likely. There's no reason for the shop to remain open." Severus paused, draining the last of his coffee. "You may wish to join me. We have a customer coming in from the continent today who's been researching your . . . condition."

Remus's mug jerked to a stop an inch from his mouth, splashing cocoa onto his collar. "He has a cure?"

Severus treated him to a thin smile. "The cure is what it has always been: a silver bullet to the head. He claims to offer some sort of treatment, however."

"I'm coming." Remus's mouth felt very dry. He glanced down at his cocoa-stained shirt. "Give me a moment to change out of this, would you?"

Severus nodded, and Remus set the mug in the sink, cast a self-cleaning charm, and headed to the folliculus continendus he kept under the sofa that had been his bed for the past fortnight. It held only the most basic of possessions: two spare changes of clothes (from which he retrieved a clean shirt), a small purse full of Sickles and Knuts, and, deep in the bottom, a creased map of the London Underground. Remus glanced back over his shoulder before drawing out the map, but Severus was still in the kitchen, scanning the Daily Prophet.

It took only a moment in the loo to change his shirt; once he had tucked it in, Remus quickly pulled his charmed match from his pocket, tapped on the Elephant and Castle station, and began to scribble over the map. P still safe . . . no evidence against LM . . . MF suspect . . . A few hurried lines later, he tapped Camden Town, glanced over the text that shimmered into view, then tapped Piccadilly one last time to hide it and tucked the map under his stained shirt.

Severus was waiting in the kitchen. His eyes strayed to Remus's clean shirt, then back up to his face. "You're ready to go?"

Remus nodded, pulling on his frayed cloak as he followed Severus to the door. Once they stood outside, Severus muttered his usual warding charms over the house in the deep, sibilant whisper that always sent a shiver trickling down Remus's back. "Maddox's, then," Severus said more audibly.

An Apparation later, and both stood in Knockturn Alley beside the age-decayed apothecary, barely out of the rain. Mondrian Maddox himself lived in the flat above the shop, and he had already opened his business for the day.

Remus glanced through the dusty windows, took in the wizened man dressed in severe yellow robes who waited inside, and followed Severus through the door.

"He's a blatant extortionist who wouldn't be above diluting the potion to make his profit margin wider, but his evidence does seem to be solid." Remus and Severus were both gazing at the sample vial of "Wolfsbane Potion" resting on Severus's table. Outside, the rain had hardened into wet, icy sleet, pattering against the window.

"What other option do we - do werewolves have, though?"

Severus's eyes met Remus's. "Some of those present actually did well on our Potions NEWT. Sorbier gave away more of the potion's ingredients and brewing process than I believe he intended; it shouldn't be difficult to study this sample and replicate it."

"Do you think the Ministry would offer it to werewolves, then?"

"Doubtful," Severus said. "Too high of a cost; some of the procedures he mentioned, though not time-consuming, require a good deal more skill than that of a standard apothecary. There are - others, however - who might be more generous."

Both of them knew what that meant, and neither spoke for several minutes. A thought swam into Remus's head, uninvited but not unprecedented: For all his intolerance, Voldemort never overlooked the marginalized, from Dark creatures to unpopular Slytherins. He wasn't sure that the Order could say the same. Briefly, he glanced at Severus; the hollows under his eyes and the ghosts of bruises on his cheeks were sharply visible under fluorescent light, but the expression on his face remained opaque.

"I'd best go to bed, then, so I can start the analysis tomorrow," Severus said after a moment. He rose, leaving the vial on the table, and flicked off the light as Remus followed him out of the kitchen, walking by memory in the resulting darkness.

"Goodnight, Severus," Remus said softly. As Severus turned to his room, though, Remus brushed his fingers over the young man's shoulder despite himself. It was the first time they'd touched in two weeks of living together.

Severus started, then stiffened. "Yes?"

Remus's mind raced to think of a reason to justify his sudden urge not to let Severus go. Unbidden, he remembered Christmas-time last year; he and Sirius had spent every evening in front of the fire, nestled under one of Sirius's thick wool blankets, sipping chocolate. What he remembered most, though, was how blissful it had felt to bask in the shared warmth, alive and intoxicatingly vulnerable.

Severus still stood, silent beyond the soft in-and-out of his breath, and Remus shook himself out of his memories and tried to ignore the warmth still rippling in his fingertips. "It - it doesn't matter, Severus. Sleep well."

"Hm." Before Remus could think of anything better to say, Severus had disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door.

For breakfast on Christmas Eve, Severus ate two slices of Sainsbury's white bread with margarine and Marmite, and one large cup of black coffee. Lupin heated his usual chocolate, cooked porridge with cream and brown sugar sprinkled on, and listened to the morning weather.

"Good morning, and welcome to WWN Weather. Today it's a crisp Christmas Eve across Britain, and I'll tell you just what to expect as you visit family and friends. In London, the gray skies we've been seeing [pause] will -"

Abruptly, the wireless stopped. Remus twisted around to see Severus's finger on the dial, a dark gleam in his eyes matching his slight smirk. "Why don't we have some peace and quiet at breakfast today for a change? You can always read the weather forecast in the paper."

"I - you know it's always more up-to-date on the broadcast," Remus fumbled for an excuse. "And it's not as though we ever have much conversation -"

"Oh, is that it? Perhaps I'd be more talkative if you didn't always disappear to the loo a few moments after the Weather Witch finishes each morning." Severus turned away and began to leave the kitchen. "Incidentally, if you intend to recruit me for an organization that uses such crude methods of spying, let me reassure you that I know many more pleasant methods of suicide."

Remus froze, his mind processing that Severus knew, his hand ready to dart to his wand. Words were a few seconds in coming. "Are you going to take me to Voldemort?"

Severus stopped and faced Remus again briefly, his eyes narrow. "No. My side demonizes Muggleborns, yours persecutes non-humans; who am I to say which is less worthy? And at any rate, the Dark Lord's methods are hardly more sophisticated than your clever little broadcasting code."

"My side doesn't kill the innocent," Remus said mildly.

A short bark of a laugh was Severus's response. "No one is innocent, werewolf. Your side kills Dark Creatures as soon as you declare them a threat, but Muggles are already a threat. Anyway, it doesn't matter - it's all politics."

"Will it be 'just politics' if Lily and her son die thanks to your friends?" Remus's voice remained quiet, but his fingers trembled, pinching themselves together.

Severus gave Remus a cold smile, his teeth bared. "I think you'd best speak with Black, not me, about using one's friends to commit murder. Get out, Lupin, and tell your precious Dumbledore that I'm not interested."

Remus nodded tiredly, meeting Severus's eyes for one more moment. Then he turned, fetched his folliculus, and stepped out the front door.

Light snow fluttered through the air outside Sirius's Hogsmeade cottage. A few moments after Remus pressed the doorbell, he saw Sirius's shaggy head poking from the upstairs window, a delighted smile washing over his features. "Remus! You're back!" In a few heartbeats, he was running out of the front door, pulling Remus into a breathless hug. "Back in time for Christmas, Moony, you rascal!"

Remus pressed his face into Sirius's hair, inhaling the earthy, damp fragrance so familiar it never failed to catch his breath. "Happy Christmas," he said, then softly added, "I've missed you."

"Well, come in from the cold, you berk!" Sirius replied, laughing, and tugged Remus indoors. "The place is a mess - I wasn't expecting you soon, not that I mind of course, but don't mind the dishes in the sink, and just clear yourself a spot to sit down - cream and sugar in your coffee, right? Or maybe some chocolate, I know you love it when it's snowing."

Remus licked the last remnants of that morning's chocolate off his wind-dried lips. "Just coffee, thanks."

The two settled onto Sirius's battered sofa, Remus trying to ignore the twitch of irritation he'd always felt at how poorly Sirius treated his ridiculously expensive furniture. "So, where'd the old man send you this time?" Sirius asked as soon as they'd positioned themselves comfortably. "Vampires in Bulgaria? Aesthetomancers in Florence? Did you get to ward off hordes of hex-throwing fiends?"

"No," Remus said, smiling fondly. "Just London this time. I can't really talk about it, though - Dumbledore's orders, I mean."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and Dumbledore said that students were only allowed in Hogsmeade on Saturday, but did that ever stop us? So seriously, Moony, what've you been up to?"

"I - I can't tell you. Truly. I'm sorry, Padfoot."

"Fine then, don't tell me, if you really don't think you can trust your own mate with a secret," Sirius said, and though his nose crinkled in playful petulance, his eyes startled Remus with their unsmiling stare.

"Don't do this to me, please," Remus said, already weary. "You know you can trust me. I trust you more than anyone I know."

Sirius set down his coffee mug with a sharp clack. "Then why did Peter see you leaving Knockturn Alley with Snivellus? Really, Moony, I'm not stupid. And - you know I'm glad to see you, of course I am, and I really do want to believe you, but - Snivellus?"

At that, Remus's patience ran dry. "His name is Severus, Sirius - Merlin, we're not twelve years old any more! His name is Severus, and the fact that Dumbledore himself asked me to meet him should be bloody well enough for you."

"So Dumbledore asked you to meet him, did he?" Sirius said. "Did Dumbledore tell you to follow him to Knockturn Alley? Did Dumbledore give you a Christmas shopping list - an ounce of goblin's tooth here, a pint of unicorn blood there?"

Remus was silent. Sirius opened his mouth again, then shut it with a snap. His expression faded back into that of a cross twenty-year-old. "I just want my friend back, that's all. You're talking to so many bloody Dark Creatures that I feel like you've forgotten about us, about me."

Remus sighed and turned away from Sirius, watching snow trace its gentle flight past the window. "If you think that vampires and Dark Arts could make me forget you, Sirius, then maybe you never knew me in the first place."

"You're right," Sirius said, his voice muffled in his arms. Remus knew without looking that he'd have curled himself into sullen ball, just like he always did. "Maybe I never did know you."

Christmas passed with a quiet awkwardness; Sirius and Remus had Christmas dinner with Sirius's cousin Andromeda, and Remus chatted with her husband Ted while pretending he didn't notice Sirius avoiding his eyes. They went to bed early, and Remus left the next morning before Sirius woke, walking the snowy path up to Hogwarts.

Out here, winter had sunk its talons solidly into the hard earth; icy winds shook the black tree-skeletons and battered Remus's cheeks and nose. He dug his hands deep into his winter robes and grinned at the bare, stinging pain, so different from the last month's stovetops and radiators and delicate maneuvering. Remus knew that he oughtn't have felt so cheerful; he'd failed at his mission and probably compromised the radio broadcast code in the process. The sun had risen high enough to sparkle off the window-panes and icicles of Hogwarts, though, and at last Remus felt the pleasure of returning home.

Breakfast hadn't yet begun in the Great Hall, so Remus was able to slip to the Headmaster's chambers without attracting any notice beyond a ghost's friendly wave. Not all the Order members could afford to meet openly with Dumbledore, but Remus, as a recent student, was expected to turn up and report on each mission.

As Remus ascended the stair to Dumbledore's office, he heard descending footsteps; a teacher or a member of the Order, he concluded, and stepped aside to let him pass. Instead, he saw a black robe swirling around skinny ankles, then a thin, spidery chest and arms. His eyes finally met a very familiar, irritated face. "Remus," Severus nodded, and began to pass him by.

"Severus, what're you doing here?" he asked, placing one hand on Severus's forearm. The other man winced as if Remus had touched a recent bruise, then fixed any icy glare on Remus.

"My activities, associates, and choices are none of your concern, werewolf. Now, I would appreciate it if you let me go."

Remus noticed abruptly that Severus was more nervous than he'd ever seen him, though his eyes were unfathomable in the dim torchlight. At last the pieces clicked together in his mind. "Thank you," he said quietly, and released Severus's arm.

"Hm." The dark-robed young man continued his descent, avoiding Remus's eyes, while Remus continued climbing in the opposite direction.

finis.