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greyeyedmonster-18 · 1 year

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(awhile ago, i played an ask game in which i was asked to make a story involve MCD and one of the answers i gave was: postcard from paris.

so...i present, a postcard from paris au. you don't need to read the first fic, just the second chapter and you're good to go.

xoxo)

greener grass (the greenest growing)

part 1: a beautiful day

Remus stood awkwardly in the corner of the drawing room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, looking out the open window at the blue skies that were a perfect contrast to the heavy velvet curtains and the mood from inside the house. Glass of wine in his hand, knuckles turning white from gripping the stem so hard, only half hearing Sirius's voice telling him he was an uncultured swine--a barbarian-- for letting his fingers touch the glass.

Remus didn't pretend to have a culture in the first place, glancing down at his feet where his black dress shoes were untied and scuffed on the toe. Suit and tie, dressed in a sort of costume he hadn't wanted to put on that morning before attending the service, caught somewhere at the intersection of denial, disbelief, and dread. He typically loved going to Number 12.

They had spent birthdays and New Year's there, celebrating milestones with joy the way Sirius and Kingsley knew how to do.

Going away parties and promotion parties.

Baby showers and welcome back parties.

And now they were here.

The house was filled with small talk and music from a record player that felt more eerie than ambient. It made Remus's hair stand on edge the way everyone passed along platitudes and placations; it made him roll his eyes when he walked in and saw security scanning people's wands. Death apparently wasn't a big enough occasion to warrant privacy, treating the service and the reception as another charity gala or event of the season. And not something terrible that had happened.

He took a sip of his wine, teeth on edge as a woman's overly shrill laughter rang through the halls.

It should have been Sirius's obnoxious laughter. Not hers.

Remus stepped towards the window, slumping over to rest his forehead on the glass, eyeing the white roses that framed the backyard of Number 12.

"I think he reinforced the glass, so if you're thinking of taking a nose dive..."

Remus pulled his forehead off the window and turned around over his shoulder to the sound of the familiar voice. Familiarity was supposed to bring comfort, or so the saying goes, but it sent knots straight to Remus's stomach.

Though, at this point, his stomach had been in knots for two weeks, what was a few more?

"Looks like I've been thwarted then," Remus murmured, not quite making eye contact with the man in front of him. James gave a half-grin that quickly fell from his face, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his hair.

Nearly 40 and he still had a full head, not a strand of grey in sight. Meanwhile, Remus had bags under his eyes the size of carry-on luggage and more grey hair than he could count.

"How are you doing, Moons?"

"That's a stupid question to ask. How are you?"

James opened his mouth and closed it again, walking into the drawing room after shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers, robes hanging over his shoulders. It was strange. James in all black, when normally James took every opportunity to wear bright magenta's and purples.

Yellow's and bright oranges, mirroring a sunset in the sky or extravagant city lights in the night. Remus had once thought James was the Eiffel Tower-- the real fucking thing that was it for him-- only to have the fantasy crumble when James hadn't followed through.

Again.

Leaving Remus waiting and disappointed.

Again.

Not that Remus had put the effort in either...again.

They went around and around, and now James was in black robes, and Remus was holding a wine glass, and they were in the same room for the first time in seven years.

"You're right...stupid question."

"Cheers," Remus raised his glass, finishing the contents in a long gulp.

"Is the wine good at least?"

"Would it be a Black party if it wasn't?"

"Not much of a party."

"That bint from the Ministry with the hat might disagree..."

"Oh, her..." James muttered, shaking his head, looking as if he was about to say something, but he stopped himself again. Remus knew that look--that feeling. He had been wearing it and feeling it for the past two weeks since he got the news.

"Yeah."

"I...I know it's been a while..." Remus snorted, "And I know...we kind of fell apart--"

"You make it sound like an accident."

"Wasn't it?" asked James, "We...were young. Some things work out when you're young, and some things...just don't."

"I don't think that changes because we're older..." Remus finally met James's eyes, hazel sending him straight back to their best friend's wedding.

“I told you we’re not doing this.”

"Doing what?" James asked hands paused on the belt buckle of Remus's trousers, identical robes already shed behind them in the bedroom of Sirius's villa in France, bottle of champagne on the dresser.

"This! What we always do!It's so fucking stupid. We pretend its forever and then it ends the same. You leaving for work, and then we write letters for another two weeks and promise to floo and visit and you send me postcards and pictures but we never end up meeting until there’s some…function. And that's what happens, every single fucking time. When Sirius moved out, when Sirius got engaged, now he's married and unless he gets married again, I don't know when the hell I'm going to see you!"

It wasn't a wedding.

"This isn't a wedding," Remus told him.

"I know," James swallowed, "I don't know how I'll get through it wit--"

"Dad-- there you are!" a third voice came and this time both Remus and James turned around to greet it, "Why are you two being all dodgy by the window?" Harry asked, adjusting the glasses on his face.

It was cruel torture, the way Harry had grown up to look so much like his father and haunted the halls of Hogwarts for Remus. The privilege of watching Harry grow tainted by memories of his father and what if's from when Harry was younger.

"Were you looking for me, Haz?" James asked a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Yeah, we're kicking people out now, Mum says we can do it but someone needs to go sit with--"

"Sure," James nodded and inclined his head toward Remus. They easily fell into step again, as they left the safety of the drawing room. Side by side, one foot after another, a single unit, but it never stayed like that for long. They walked through the hall, Remus listening to Harry and Lily move people out the front door.

Thank you for coming.

It means so much.

"He didn't even like half these fucking twats..." James muttered under his breath.

"Don't need to tell me that..."

"Good."

The casserole was delicious.

"It tasted like feet," remarked Remus and James coughed out a laugh, just before they came to the sitting room.

A casket in the middle of the room, white roses around the base.

Vacated chairs.

Velvet curtains wide open

And Sirius sitting on the edge of the couch, head in his hands now that the room had cleared out, fingers frantically combing through his hair over and over again.

Ordinarily, Remus would've made a joke about how he was going to go bald.

But it didn't seem like the time.

"Habibi," James said gently, sitting next to Sirius on the couch and pulling hands out of his hair to hold them instead, "Did you have the feet casserole?"

Apparently it was the time.

"Feet casserole?" Sirius responded quietly, still staring down at the ground. "I think its technical name is Widower casserole."

"Mmmm no, I'm pretty sure its feet," James corrected, turning his head to look at Remus, "Remus had some."

We make a good team, Moons.

"A whole big toe," Remus nodded, before taking a breath and crossing to the other side of Sirius, "Budge over, where are your manners?"

"In my husband's casket, I think..."

"I'll put mine in there too," Remus agreed.

"You didn't have any to begin with," Sirius retorted and nudged Remus lightly with his shoulder.

They were three again.

James.

Sirius.

Remus.

On a couch.

Blue skies behind their heads.

James hands holding onto to Sirius so he wouldn't slip away.

Life lines.

"We have a week. To sit here...and...be with him one last time..." Sirius said softly, lifting his head up from the ground, and staring at the casket instead. His jaw was tight, muscles in his hands flexing over and over again against James's. "You think that'll do it?"

"Do...what?" asked Remus

"Help this feel less shitty?"

"No," Remus said bluntly, leaning back against the couch to stare up at the ceiling. He felt two more thumps against the cushions in succession, seeing Sirius and James from his peripherals looking up all the same.

"But its...a beautiful day," James continued, "And...we're here."

Remus didn't have to look down to know it was James's hand on top of his knee.

Remus didn't even have to wait for the wine to kick in to know he would be absolutely fucked, once again, in ruins and shambles by the end of the week. It didn't matter that it was a funeral. It didn't matter that Remus had told himself he was too old to me making the mistakes of a twenty year old; thirty year old.

James's hand gave his knee a squeeze. An electric shock through his body, and Remus closed his eyes.

Here we go again.

#greener grass #moonchaser #remus lupin #james potter #sirius black #part 1 of three #cw: mcd mention #cw: grief #cw: death #grief and mourning rituals!!!

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greyeyedmonster-18 · 1 year

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(i cut this from my postcard from paris au, so now yall get it as a treat)

Remus made quick work of getting ready for the day, as he always did, glasses still on, swapping out pajama pants for worn jeans and a longsleeve t-shirt, sliding on house slippers before leaving the half-comfort of his (was it still?) room.

It smelled like coffee in the hallway, and faintly of butter, voices getting more and more clear as he got closer to the kitchen.

“Dad. I know what I’m doing,” Harry’s voice said, though these days it was harder to tell Harry and James apart.

“I just want to be sure you’re being careful and—” Remus could recognize James's voice whispering in a crowded room. Didn't need to think twice.

“You can do that sitting down over there.”

“Isn’t this supposed to be about resting? Shouldn’t be cooking, Haz...” A scrapping of a chair against the floor.

“Well we can’t all sit and do nothing,” Lily commented, “I don’t think the point of the week of mourning is to perish and join Kingsley in his grave from lack of sustenance.”

“Please have some tact, Lily…” James sighed and Remus heard Harry snort as he entered the kitchen to see Lily and James at the table, Lily with a cup of coffee in her hands and legs crossed underneath her, red hair in a messy knot on top of her head. James was bouncing his knee as he watched Harry from afar, his son at the stove, with a carton of eggs next to him.

“I’ve never pretended to have tact, why would I start now?”

“She has a point,” Remus said, half smile on his face. Four open chairs at the table, and Remus wracked his brains trying to remember which one was the one Kingsley sat in. Sirius hadn’t wanted to eat in the dining room and had worked with Kingsley to make the kitchen the center of the household. A circular table so everyone could be included. Which was a nice thought until someone ceased to exist, and there was an unspoken sacred spot. “Uh, this..seat taken?” Remus gestured to the chair on the right side of Lily, leaving a space between him and James wide enough to swallow them all whole.

#greener grass #snip snop #a postcard from paris au #a moonchaser au

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