The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix - Part Two

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How long had it been since he'd done any drawing? He reckoned it had been quite awhile, he didn't even have any good pencils at the moment and the ones he did have were stubs he could barely wrap his fingers around when the moon settled into his bones.

He lifted up one of the pencils from the case and wrapped his fingers 'round it. He didn't have the flexibility in his fingers that he would have liked, but it was much better than trying to work with the stubs that lay in an old box under the bed. He opened the pad of parchment and leaned over...

"Blimey what a long day, huh?" Bilius groaned as he and Sirius stepped out of Gomer's after their shift, having returned their equipment for the night. "But that'll make for a nice pay. Thanks for coming out, I really didn't want to work with anyone else for such a long shift, the other guys on the team are -- well, they aren't very Sirius-ish."

"Nobody could ever be as Sirius-ish as I can," Sirius answered, grinning. They passed by Fortescue's and Sirius waved to Jasper Odair who was holding open the doorway for a brood of kids heading into the shop. Jasper tipped his paper hat in response. "It felt rather good to be out of the flat anyways," Sirius added, "I haven't been out in a bit so it was good."

"Everything alright? Gomer said you weren't feeling well and that's why you were out."

Sirius nodded, "Yeah, just had a bit of something, but I s'pose I'll be alright."

"Well you know what takes the bit of something's edge right off is a pint or two at the Grindyswallow. What'dya say?"

"I say what're we hanging about here for?" Sirius laughed and the pair of them disapparated to their favorite pub.

The Grindyswallow was busy but they found a table with some of the guys they recognized more by anecdotal experience at the pub than by name - Sirius wasn't sure he could name one of them right if pressed. Sirius took couple quick shots of Firewhiskey before nursing his third one as they stood about laughing and telling rubbish jokes and limericks, which had the whole table shouting uproariously. The music was loud and soon Bilius was competing with it, singing Henry The Eighth as he elbowed Sirius, who harmonized along a bit, and the night got fuzzy about the edges and Sirius felt like himself for the first time in awhile by the time he was leaving the pub, still half-singing some of the drinking songs the blokes had been singing.

He disapparated into the park across from the flat and shook his cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one up, and laying down on a bench to sober up a bit before he went inside, knowing Remus wouldn't approve of the drinking. But Sirius was fairly certain he was on the mend, so Remus ought to be happy for him, really. He braced his head up with his arm and stared into the sky. It was too overcast to see much of the stars, but he looked in the direction of Regulus anyway and smoked great billowing clouds into the cold air.

"Well Little Brother, I suppose you were right and it didn't much matter if you smoked after all, huh?" Sirius muttered, and he looked at the cigarette in his fingers, then took another long drag.

There was a sound in the dark and Sirius sat up, looking about, slipping his wand out of his hair.

Onied Shafiq - or what was it she'd called herself? Oni Lamm? - walked up, holding two mugs that were steaming in the cold air.

He stared at her as he put out his cigarette.

Oni stepped closer. "I saw you - from the shop. I've been home all week and - I didn't much want to go back to school, after the fight, I felt awful, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about Regulus and wondering how he's doing, with his arm and all, I know it was pretty bad and Peter hasn't been talking to me. I tried to come up to ask but I was scared because of how angry you were and I'm sorry that he told me. I am sorry. I didn't know he hadn't told you. And it's not that we were very close since he left school, he hadn't contacted me again after I made him tell me. I made him, you know, at wand point, and --"

"What's that?" Sirius asked, gesturing to the cups in her hand.

"Sahlab, with orange, cinnamon, and pistachios," she said.

"I don't know the first one but I like all that other stuff..." he said.

Oni walked over and held out the cup to him. "It's hot."

Sirius slipped his wand back into his hair, and reached out to take the cup. He sniffed it, then cheersed her, and took a sip. The stuff inside was incredibly good - creamy and floral and salty from the pistachio crumbled on top - so he pushed over and she sat down nervously next to him. Sirius stared into the cup. "What the hell is this again?" he asked, looking up.

"Sahlab," she answered. "It's an Egyptian recipe."

"It's good."

"Thanks... I made it myself," she answered. "My uncle makes it a bit thinner but I like it more like this... he sells his at the shop."

Sirius nodded slowly. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he'd probably be dragging Remus down to try this, maybe.

"How is he?" Oni asked. Sirius kept his eyes very carefully away from hers, even as she tried to meet his eyes, her brows pinching in concern. "Sirius?"

"He's dead," Sirius said flatly. "Voldemort killed him."

Oni froze completely. Her eyes were wide, and shone with the flood of tears that had come into them so suddenly at his words. The only word to describe her expression was devastation. Her voice was cracked, and her breath shook. "No."

Sirius could feel the emotion in her and he felt bad then for the way he'd delivered the news. He turned to her, "I'm sorry, I'm not very good at - at being -- gentle. You know how the family is."

Oni was crying.

Sirius wish he'd drank a great deal more of the Firewhiskey while he had the chance, he was so not drunk enough to be telling her that Regulus had died, he was barely drunk enough to think about it himself for that matter. He felt his knee start jumping with nervous energy and he quickly took another mouthful of the Sahlab, wishing he was pretty much anywhere else in the world. He wondered absently, too, what the Sahlab would taste like with a warm shot of firewhiskey in it, now that he thought about it, with the cinnamon it might be pretty good.

Oni was still crying.

Sirius took a deep breath, then did the right thing.

He put his arm around her and pulled her into him. She cried all the harder, but she melted against him, and he found himself fleetingly thinking about what might've been. She didn't fit very well against him and he thought that was a rather perfect illustration of what they were: not the right fit, whatever their parents had agreed upon all those years ago.

When Sirius walked into the flat, it was rather late.  Peter still wasn't home, but the kitchen light was on so he walked out there, "I'm sorry I was late, I was in the park across the way having a smoke before I came back - those gnomes really knackered us out - and I've just run into --"

Remus was asleep at the table, head down and arm curved around a pad of drawing parchment. Graphite had smeared up his wrist from drawing and there was a bit on his nose, where he must have rubbed his face. The curls at his forehead hung over and his mouth was open just a bit as he breathed, a ball of rubber eraser in his other hand.

Sirius carefully slid the pad out from under Remus's head and turned it to look at the picture.

It was Regulus. It was Regulus looking more like him than any photograph ever could. He was smiling, for one (Regulus always made a very solemn face in the few pictures Sirius had of him), and there was that light in his eyes - bloody hell, how did Moony capture that? Sirius could barely breathe as he stared into his little brother's eyes.