we can be heroes | remus&sirius | the barns
If you asked Sirius, the duel was over in the blink of an eye but it took Remus ages to cross the lawn and rush back into Sirius’s arms.
(But of course it was a good thing that nobody asked Sirius, who would have also sworn on any holy book that Remus’s wink as he took the field had happened in slow motion; that the sun willingly disturbed its own rotation to angelically backlight the endearing gesture.)
Spectacle was not the right word for Remus’s duel with Gretchen Ollivander. The word drew too many associations with flash and not substance; with making a scene for the hell of it. Sirius, for example, was a fucking spectacle.
When it came to Remus, the only word that would do was: spectacular.
Sirius could not look away. The one time he tried, he found he was not alone in his fascination, his admiration. A magnetic pull to watch Remus, to seek him even in the thickest crowds, was not a new sensation for Sirius. But he got to watch it in real time, the pied piper pull of Remus Lupin, as it settled over the rest of the crowd. The countryside had finally gone as quiet as promised. There was nary a whisper or laugh from the onlookers as they—old friends, new heroes—watched the flashing wands, the delicate choreography of battle. Not even a fencepost creaked under the captivated eyes of the Order’s finest.
Gretchen’s momentum was disturbed, her early lead shattered in a way it hadn’t been all afternoon. In the space of a heartbeat, Remus pulled himself onto level ground, matching the battle-tested blonde blow-for-blow. Had they been fencing, their swords would have sung against one another, blades chiming out the points as they were gained and met, gained and met. Sirius could practically hear it.
Around him, too, he heard the onlookers stutter back to life: gasps as the spells became more complicated and unexpected; silent incantations and feigned wrist movements ensuring the opponent was as surprised as the audience.
And at the center of it all: Remus. His limbs moving lithe and lovely, cutting through the air so quickly they should have whistled; a jungle cat with enough reedy wherewithal to move silently, but enough teeth to sink in fatally on the first opportunity. It was a symphony of untapped power, and Sirius knew—knew, had always known—that the power radiated just skin-deep beneath Remus’s translucent skin. The reason it didn’t show itself more readily was because Remus wouldn’t allow it to – ever-careful, ever-cautious, ever-repenting.
Hope Lupin could pretend she was a ‘lapsed’ Catholic all she wanted. As far as Sirius was concerned, it was a hereditary burden, not so different from his own family tree. What other excuse was there for the piousness, the martyrdom, the sheer-bone-deep-fucking guilt that Remus carried around every day, just for being alive? Sirius could see it from a mile away. Sirius wanted to pray – on his knees for this one thing that could make him believe. Believe in himself, even, among less elusive gods.
It nearly went without saying that Sirius was: hot and bothered throughout the entire thing. His academic interest in the magic, his pride in seeing Remus take the cork out of himself for once…they towered high, but they were no match for those rolled up sleeves; the sinewy bicep muscles and blue-sky veins working together in a ripple across Remus’s arms.
As the duel went on, the situation became more dire: a furrow of Remus’s brow, dug low in concentration; a high red flush on his cheeks as adrenaline replaced stamina; tousled hair silver-streaked-golden-wheat in the sunlight when Gretchen made the mistake of repeating the same wind-tunnel hex that had taken Remus by surprise last time they dueled, back at school.
If she didn’t guess he’d obsess over learning to neutralize that one, thought Sirius. She doesn’t know him as well as she pretends to.
Sirius had, of course, seen this confidence and sheer power radiating from Remus before. Most recently—and most often, thank gods—when he was pinned down or pressed against a wall, happily helpless against a Remus who gave up control just enough to take control. It was impossible to not conflate the two.
When the duel ended, Sirius’s fascination did not. The shimmering enchantments were still warping the air in the fields when the outcome was clear. Around him, Order members broke into cheers, schoolboy whoops and whistles all aimed at congratulating Remus on a well-deserved win. And Sirius did the only thing he could do: stood among them, shoulder to shoulder, beaming with pride and waiting his turn.
The crowd thinned, spirited away by the promise of food, and Sirius’s path was finally clear. He did not ‘go to’ Remus so much as he stumbled against him, hands finding hips and lips finding cheek before Sirius pulled back to resume his marveling.
“Fucking hell,” he said; all teeth. There was no way to stop looking at Remus—not that he wanted to—radiating victory and savoring the taste of sheer-fucking-earned success. “I mean….I mean…!”
It was not that there was nothing to say, just that there was nowhere to begin. It all seemed equally important, clawing out the hollow of Sirius’s chest with its sheer, demanding volume and rendering him speechless. And proudly so!
“Unbelievable,” Sirius swore. “Un-fucking-believable! By gods. I’ve never seen you do that. I mean! I have, but not…like that. That was incredible. That’s the only word! The only one. Incredible, Moons. Nobody’s going to talk about anything else for days, rightfully so. I wish I could play it back for you somehow, that was just sheer! Fucking! Skill.”
Despite the warm day—and the direct sun they were baking in—Sirius’s palms traced the full path of Remus’s arms, gripping tight as if he was trying to warm the taller young man up; selfishly enjoying the knotted oak roots of muscle beneath his touch, made more dramatic through the fabric-softened comfort of Remus’s henley.
“Mildly?!” Sirius asked it in sheer disbelief, unable to access even passing jealousy through his enthusiasm. “Mildly. Fuck off, he was captivated. So was everyone. You were heroic.”
It was impossible to accuse Sirius of putting Remus on, fidgeting and fawning about the way he was, energy on overflow and poured rightfully into unabashed reassurances. Remus was, factually, the toast of the town; Sirius was, gratefully, invited to sip the champagne and join the applause.
“Well?” He slid one hand into Remus’s, melted away. “Don’t hold out on me! Tell me. How do you feel?”
The lunch bell had melted away into the background by now and, save for some stragglers hovering yards away, the boys found themselves alone. The lunch tables by the farmhouse looked tempting, and Sirius didn’t want to keep Remus from his adoring public…but the red barn, abandoned and casting shade onto all it surrounded, looked even more tempting in its solitude.
“I won’t kidnap you from your admirers for too long…” Sirius promised – breathlessly, suddenly, eyes wandering over toward the red barn and locking there, hungry.
To run off in some whirlwind escape with Remus, when both of them were flying high like this, was always a treasure, however temporary. It probably had nothing to do with the fact that Sirius was still halfway-hard from watching Remus at work – even less to do with his preference of working Remus up to match, rather than easing himself down. That’s what you’d hear if you asked Sirius, at least; and he was an excellent liar, on better days.
“But we could take the long way. I can tell you all about it, how fucking great you looked even from the cheap seats. Before everyone else butts in and I get to spend all of lunch listening to them tell it with all my enthusiasm, but none of my very patented charm.”
Sirius’s enthusiasm was infectious enough as it was, but mingling together with the post-duel high Remus was still reeling from? It was dangerous, in the best sort of way. The sort of way that might get to Remus’s head, that might make him cocky when the next big duel practice rolled around and Gretchen, glowing with praise as she had been, fought twice as hard to get her sportsmanlike revenge.
But those were problems for another day, surely, and Remus just let the sun beat down on his dizzied happiness as Sirius shot off his complimentary excitement. Hands were on his hips one moment, a kiss against his cheek before Sirius realized he had far too much to say to limit himself just so yet; Remus, a bit sweaty and still red-cheeked from exertion, listened to it all with that lopsided, still half-abashed grin on his face.
“I do kind of wish I could see it, too, just - y’know - to catch my form, anything I needed to work on,” he babbled, a brave attempt at reeling himself back in to humble. “Filming it all seems - torturous, though, and dangerous if the tapes get lost - I’ll have to make do with Gretchen walking me through it next time.”
Familiar, beloved hands on his arms, warmer than the rays of sun above them, Remus felt like he could fight a bear. Or take a very long nap. Or both.
“Was he?” He mused softly, delighting in Sirius’s delight, eyes sparkling as he watched his love enthuse over him. “I can’t even begin to imagine him being captivated, unless he was, y’know, looking for ways to take me out. Don’t you get that feeling that he’s kind of always looking for weaknesses, or something? He has that... aura.” He laughed, loud and bright, shaking his head at his own breathless ridiculousness, shrugging off compliments as he basked in them at the very same time. “C’mon. Not heroic. They all just love a bit of flash, it’ll blow over when Gretchen jinxes me next time.”
“I feel,” he said, answering truthfully, no attempts to sidewind at all: “Incredible. Haven’t had a proper duel since the last club meeting before finals and - honestly, not even a proper proper duel since the first time Gretch and I dueled, but. It felt good. I feel... like I’m supposed to be here, that sort of cemented it.”
Sirius’s hand slid into his, an offer being made to take the long way ‘round to lunch - which, of course, was only a few steps away. Sirius was already moving towards the deserted red barn, picturesque in an American Gothic sort of way, and Remus, as always, was powerless to do much of anything but follow the other man’s lead. Grinning, stupidly, exhausted and exhilarated and full of a certain kind of energy that his love most surely could feel from his inches away.
“You know how much I love hearing you talk about how great I look, and how much I love your particular brand of charm,” Remus mused, as if there were any doubt he was going to follow Sirius even if it meant getting lost in the nearby woods for enough time to miss lunch and dinner. His eyes followed Sirius’s gaze to the barn, confirming his suspicions that that was where they might be headed. A quick glance over to where lunch was being served - plenty of comrades talking excitedly, ravenously downing their lunches, paying no extra special attention to them.
The adoring crowd could wait; he really only cared about being adored by one person anyway.
“I expect nothing less,” he started, walking slowly towards the barn and waiting for Sirius to catch up, knowing the slack between their arms - hands clasped in the middle - wouldn’t stay taut for long. “Than a full recounting, you know. Of my swagger, obviously, and how dashing I must have looked all sweaty and panicked when she nearly got me with that wind-tunnel hex again.”
