Like Real People Do

by third_crow

Chapter 3

Summary:

“You’re bloody dramatic, is what you are,” Remus laughed, and then he reached his crutch over and poked it between Sirius’ feet so he had to dance a little to avoid tripping.

“I won’t be angry,” Sirius said. “Honest. Go on, just do it. Get it over with. I’m ready.”

“Alright, fine. I’m breaking up with you,” Remus shrugged.

“Wh…” Sirius slowed to a stop. Remus stopped too, raising his eyebrows, and Sirius frowned. “Hm. No, you’re right, I didn’t like that at all,” he mused quietly. Remus rolled his eyes, but he was clearly holding in a smile. “Take me back?” Remus barked out a laugh. “Go on, take me back.”

“Awfully desperate of you,” Remus put his free hand on his hip.

Notes:

(this chapter will discuss grief heavily)

“Is that a hickey?” Marlene asked. Remus’ hand flew to his neck. “Is that– Remus. Remus.”

 

“What?” 

 

“Remus John Lupin, is that a fucking hickey?”  

 

“Mar lene–!” Remus swatted her hand away. “Your fingers are freezing!” 

 

“It is!” she said, thoroughly ignoring him. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Remus, this is a family friendly establishment you slag.”  

 

“Wh–  excuse me?” he laughed, and she hit him on the arm. “Ow!” 

 

“You’re supposed to tell me when these things happen, Remus! Oh my god, there’s– there’s more. How many more?” She reached for his collar again, tugging it down, and he ducked out of the way. 

 

“What happened to family friendly?” he demanded. “Hey– quit– Marlene!” 

 

“Oh, wow, he’s mouthy , isn’t he?” 

 

Remus didn’t think he’d ever blushed so hard in his life. 

 

***

 

Once, when Sirius was just out of high school, he’d met a guy at a bar. His name was Jason, but he went by Jay in a terribly-pretentious-about-it way. Regardless, Sirius had liked the way he laughed and how the corners of his eyes wrinkled when he smiled and how his fingers were calloused because he played bass. They had dated for a few months, actually. Sirius hadn’t really had a boyfriend outside of school before, and those were generally hushed and secretive, so this was something important. A coming-of-age, of sorts. A rite of passage. 

 

And then Jay cheated on Sirius with an Irish bloke he met at a concert, and he lied about it for two months until Sirius walked in on them hooking up in his own apartment. 

 

Regulus would have expected Sirius to call James, first. In fact, right up until then, Regulus would have expected Sirius to call everyone else in his entire contacts list, and then maybe in the phone book, and then maybe stand on the street corner and rant like a madman before he called Regulus. They had come quite far by that point, but not quite this far, Regulus thought– but Sirius called Regulus first. Sirius had gone and broken his heart, and he had called Regulus first. 

 

This was not the first time Regulus had seen his brother cry, but it was the first time he’d seen him cry over love, and Regulus had resolved in that moment, with his big brother’s face buried into the side of his neck and tears staining his shirt, that he would be the very first in line to knock someone’s teeth out on Sirius’ behalf. 

 

He started with Jay. 

 

This was not the first time Regulus had hit someone, but it was the first time he’d hit someone for his brother. 

 

If Sirius had any severe feelings about this decision, he kept them to himself. 

 

Sirius had dated on and off since then, usually in short, simple stretches, and never anything particularly meaningful (at least in Regulus’ opinion). No one had given Regulus much cause for concern, aside from one bloke who had told Sirius that since he’d dated a girl once in high school, he wasn’t really gay, was he? Sirius had adamantly refused to give Regulus the boy’s name, nor his address, and so Regulus had to settle for the lesser satisfaction (though greater pride) of knowing that Sirius had called the guy a bloody wanker and left him at the restaurant to pay for their meals on his own.

 

And then Sirius went and fell ass over teakettle for some starry-eyed café barista, and Regulus was on high alert. 

 

It wasn’t so much a critique on the man himself– Regulus hardly knew anything about him (and neither did Sirius, mind you)– but significantly more a result of circumstance. Because Sirius had just lost James. He had just lost James, which was the same as saying you lost a brother, or you lost a twin, or you lost a bit of your soul, or maybe the whole soul, or maybe the whole world. 

 

And the world had lost James and Lily as well. 

 

Sirius had never been so quiet in his life. It was agonizing, and it was helpless, and it was resentful, and Regulus hadn’t really appreciated all of the ways that Sirius was Sirius until he wasn’t the same anymore. 

 

Time passed with cruelty, and it did not hurt less when their deaths became distant. Things were different, and they were darker, and they were quieter, and they were also new and loud and sleepless and sunny, because now there was Harry, and Regulus had to think that if there wasn’t Harry that he may have lost Sirius, too.

 

So, no, it wasn’t so much a critique on that starry-eyed barista himself. Remus could have been a saint– Remus could have saved kittens from trees on his way to work every morning and helped little old ladies across lakes of lava in the afternoons and Regulus would not trust him any more than he would trust a rat during the plague. 

 

He had to give him credit, though, because Sirius was suddenly being propelled forward by something instead of being pulled back. He woke up early, now, got dressed, really dressed, took showers, brushed his teeth, brushed his hair, bought himself something nice every morning, talked to people– talked to someone.  

 

And when Remus stood him up, when Remus left his brother sitting at a table by himself checking his phone over and over, when Remus made Sirius drive home and tell his little brother that he’d been royally ditched , Regulus found, to his surprise, that he didn’t actually want to knock Remus’ teeth out. He wanted to knock Sirius’ teeth out. He wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until his neck was a slinky and his brain rattled around like rocks in a tumbler and yell I told you so, I told you so, I told you so, I warned you– I warned you and you didn’t listen! You never listen! You never learn!

 

Sirius never learned, and Remus had stood him up.

 

Except he hadn’t. 

 

So Regulus was then faced with the immense task of forgiving Remus for standing his brother up, because there was no world in which he wouldn’t be an asshole blaming an epileptic for having a seizure, but there was also no world in which he would be okay with someone leaving his brother sitting alone at a table set for two. 

 

And yet Regulus had never met someone so easy to forgive as Remus. Which really, really didn’t make sense, because Regulus held grudges. Regulus was the king of holding grudges. Regulus could hold a grudge against gravity for holding him to earth if he had half a mind to. There was nothing he couldn’t not let go. Vindictiveness was a beloved hobby and a well honed skill. 

 

But he had met his match. 

 

The first time Regulus had met Remus, it had been entirely by accident– and this was very distinctly vital to note, because if Regulus had been prepared, he would have said a lot more than what he did say, which was nothing. 

 

And at the grocery store of all places. What a nightmare. 

 

“Sirius!” Remus had said, and with so much absolute delight in his voice that Regulus forgot for a moment why exactly he was angry with him. 

 

And then Sirius went and said “Remus!” with equally as much delight, and Regulus felt a little joy for a moment before he reminded himself that no, he was supposed to be the skeptical one, the cynic, the pessimist. 

 

“What are you–? Well, grocery shopping, obviously, nevermind,” Remus interrupted himself, and then leaned forward over the handle of his cart a little to peer at Harry. “Hello!” he cooed, and Harry went weeeh! and then awah and then ma-ma-mah and Remus looked like he was melting a bit. Then Harry started to yank his shoes off, and Sirius lurched forward to stop him from throwing them across the aisle. 

 

“I buy you nice things, and this is how you treat them?” Sirius asked Harry, and Harry said huh-huh. “Apology not accepted,” he sighed, and tucked Harry’s shoe into the back of the stroller.

 

“Maybe he wanted a different color,” Remus suggested. 

 

“Well, then, he should have said so,” Sirius replied, shrugging, and Remus stifled a laugh with his hand over his mouth, and Regulus was still just blinking at him. “Oh. Regulus, Remus. Remus, Regulus.” Remus grinned at him. 

 

“Pleasure,” he said, holding out his hand, and it was the only time that Regulus actually believed someone when they said that. And so Regulus shook his hand, and then he hated himself for it, because what he should have done was scowl , and maybe turn up his nose, and maybe cross his arms for good measure. “Really sorry, though,” Remus said, “but I’ve gotta run– Marlene’s coming over in, like,” Remus checked his phone, “jesus christ. Yeah. Alright. I told her I’d get dinner.” Sirius laughed, waving him on. 

 

“Don’t let us keep you,” he smiled. 

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Remus asked.

 

“Bright and early,” Sirius nodded, and Remus smiled wider, and he pursed his lips a little to keep it from growing too big. 

 

“Cheers,” he said. He started walking away, but then stopped and turned to Harry in the stroller. “For the record, I think they’re very nice shoes,” he stage-whispered to him. Harry glared at him and waved his arms menacingly. 

 

And then he was off, rushing his way over to the checkout line, and Regulus sort of blinked after him like he was a ray of sunshine escaping into a storm.

 

“Told you so,” Sirius nudged Regulus with his elbow. 

 

“Told me what?” Regulus hissed, batting his arm away.

 

“I dunno. Whatever you’re thinking right now, about him… told you so,” Sirius said, a shit-eating grin creeping across his face. 

 

“Piss off,” Regulus muttered, and Sirius barked a laugh. 

 

“Language!” Sirius gasped dramatically. “You didn’t even say hello to him! Cat got your tongue, Reggie?”

 

“Piss off,” Regulus repeated, more insistently this time, but it held no bite.

 

“Well, when Harry has a foul mouth, we’ll know who he got it from,” Sirius sighed, shaking his head like a disappointed parent, and Regulus rolled his eyes. “Go on, then, tell us what you think.” 

 

“About what?” 

 

“Remus, idiot,” Sirius huffed. 

 

“Don’t call me an idiot, you prat. I only met him for a second.” That was all the answer Sirius seemed to need, apparently, because he was grinning to himself like he’d won a bloody prize. 

 

Regulus couldn’t really give Remus any shit after that, honestly, because he hadn’t given him shit the first time he’d met him, and so he couldn’t just start giving him shit out of nowhere. It just wouldn’t make sense. And it also didn’t make sense to give Remus shit at all, because it would sort of feel like kicking a puppy– a very tall, very gangly, very scruffy little puppy, who Sirius had, as previously stated, fallen ass over teakettle for.

 

Regulus wasn’t quite sure what exactly the grudge was that he’d intended to volley against Remus, but he was, for the first time in his life, unsuccessful in holding one.

 

***

 

It had taken Remus and Sirius an embarrassingly long time to realize that they had completely forgotten about their first date– not the first date that they’d actually gone on, but the first date that they’d planned. It had occurred to Sirius while he and Remus were walking through the park, an activity they’d come to thoroughly enjoy, and Sirius had stopped short and blurted out, “Sicily's!” 

 

“What?” Remus asked, stumbling to a halt. Even Harry made a confused sort of huh-huh?

 

“Sicily’s!” Sirius repeated urgently. 

 

“Sirius, love, you’re going to have to give me a bit more to work with than that,” Remus sighed, adjusting his grip on his crutch. 

 

“We never went!” Sirius explained. “Do you remember? When I first asked you out, we were going to get dinner, and then you– well… but we were going to go to Sicily’s on Broad and Seventh!”

 

“Okay?” Remus half laughed. 

 

“I never took you to dinner,” Sirius lamented, very aware of how dramatic he was being. They started walking again, and he spoke, waving a hand. “That’s how I asked you out– I asked you to go to dinner with me, and then I never even took you to dinner! That was the whole premise! Are we even dating then?”

 

“Guess not,” Remus shrugged nonchalantly, and Sirius made a noise like he’d been gutted. 

 

“Oh, Moony,” Sirius sighed. “We have to break up.” Remus laughed, shaking his head. “I mean it! We simply have to. And then I’ll ask you to dinner again, and you’ll say yes, and then we’ll be properly dating.” 

 

“Ah, yes, properly,” Remus mused, smirking. “Definitely haven’t been doing that the past month.” 

 

“Go on, break up with me,” Sirius urged. 

 

“Wh–  me? Why’s it me that’s got to break up with you?” Remus demanded.

 

“Because it was my idea to ask you out,” Sirius replied easily.

 

“Well, then, shouldn’t you finish what you started?” Remus raised an eyebrow.

 

“I fully intend to finish what I started, Moony, rest assured,” Sirius said, the corner of his mouth twitching up, and he reveled in the way Remus blushed, looking away in front of them to avoid looking at Sirius. “Come on, break up with me. Please? Our relationship is built on a throne of lies, Moony.” Remus snorted. “How can I call myself an honest man if I never even took you on our first date?” 

 

“If you recall,” Remus noted, “I was in the hospital. I hardly think it was your fault. Unless you’ve got something to tell me,” he added. 

 

“That’s no excuse,” Sirius sighed. “I’m a sham.” 

 

“Yeah,” Remus shrugged. 

 

“A fraud. An impostor– nay, a charlatan.”  

 

“You’re bloody dramatic, is what you are,” Remus laughed, and then he reached his crutch over and poked it between Sirius’ feet so he had to dance a little to avoid tripping.

 

“I won’t be angry,” Sirius said. “Honest. Go on, just do it. Get it over with. I’m ready.”

 

“Alright, fine. I’m breaking up with you,” Remus shrugged. 

 

“Wh…” Sirius slowed to a stop. Remus stopped too, raising his eyebrows, and Sirius frowned. “Hm. No, you’re right, I didn’t like that at all,” he mused quietly. Remus rolled his eyes, but he was clearly holding in a smile. “Take me back?” Remus barked out a laugh. “Go on, take me back.” 

 

“Awfully desperate of you,” Remus put his free hand on his hip.

 

“What can I say? I’m a desperate man. Come on, Moony, take me back,” Sirius asked again, and Remus shook his head, and then had the audacity to start walking again. “Remus.” He kept going. Sirius walked after him. “Remus, take me back.” 

 

“Hm?” Remus said, and kept right on walking. 

 

“Moony. Moony. Come on, Moons, take me back. Remus!” 

 

“What’s that?” 

 

“I know you heard me!” 

 

“Sorry?” 

 

“Take me back!” Sirius whined, and Remus was trying desperately hard to hold back a smile and was also failing miserably. “Oh, this is cruel,” Sirius moaned. “Cruel and unusual. Take me back, Moons, come on. Moony. Moony, take me–”

 

Remus turned very suddenly, then, so suddenly that Sirius nearly fell flat on his ass, but Remus caught him with an arm around his side, holding him up just slightly and pulling them close to each other, and he ducked down just a little until their faces were so, so close together, so close that Sirius couldn’t really look at Remus without going a little cross eyed. He was a statue, and Remus was the same, and for a very long second they were just sort of frozen like that.

 

“Alright,” Remus finally breathed, and it was hot against Sirius’ lips, and Sirius was certain his face was completely flushed red. Remus moved their faces apart just slightly so that they were looking into each other's eyes, and he took his hand from around Sirius’ waist and put it against his cheek. Sirius swallowed hard. “One condition.”

 

“Anything,” Sirius said instantly. Remus smiled.

 

“Take me to dinner?” 

 

***

 

Ok, so it was a nice car. Fine. It was a nice car, and it was very beautifully repaired, and maybe Sirius actually did know what he was doing. Fine! Fine. Fine. Marlene would admit it. 

 

But honestly, sue her, most times when people said they were fixing up an old car, it was usually a piece of junk with a new paint job and a polished fender and that was about it. And yeah, she might have scoffed a bit when Sirius told her he was fixing up 1956 Continental for some well minted bloke in Liverpool, and she might have rolled her eyes a bit when he said, no, really! and when he rattled off about how it’d been shipped over from America and how he’d rebuilt the automatic transmission and given it new shocks and put a bloody bluetooth radio in it– 

 

And it was the bluetooth radio that had really done her in, because she had to see that– a bluetooth radio in a Mark II? Her dad would be rolling in his grave.

 

But there it was, a 1956 Continental Mark II, original 368 cubic inch V8 engine, Coker radial tires, chrome bumpers, power steering, red leather wrapped steering wheel– and yes, a bluetooth radio. Christ, though, she had to think he’d earned a bit of good music at that point. 

 

“Huh,” Marlene said, and Sirius looked right fuckin’ chuffed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back a little. “And, uh…” she cleared her throat. “Not for sale?” 

 

“Spoken for,” Sirius smirked. “Like I said–” 

 

“Liverpool, right,” she murmured, leaning her head into the window at the driver’s side. She whistled. It smelled new, like steel and leather, and fuck, he’d even made the radio look like it was vintage so it fit in with the dark wood paneling on the inside. “Remus, I’m in love with your boyfriend,” she concluded with a nod, turning back to look at the two of them standing on the curb. Remus’ eyes flew up. 

 

“Wh– now h- hold on–” he stammered. 

 

“ Also spoken for,” Sirius cut him off. Remus looked positively smitten, and Marlene groaned loudly. 

 

“No fair,” she said. “Christ, Sirius, let me drive it? How much just to drive it? I’d pay you so much. Free coffee for life.” Sirius laughed. 

 

“No chance, McKinnon,” he shook his head. 

 

“You’re taunting me,” she hissed, turning back to the car. She placed her hands very gingerly on the hood. “Showing me a car like this and telling me I can’t even drive it,” she shook her head, closing her eyes. 

 

“He let me drive it,” Remus said, and Marlene turned on him so fast she felt her neck pop a bit. Two thoughts flashed through her head; the first one (which should not have been the first one) was how come Remus got to drive it and not me?! And the second (which should absolutely have been the first) was you let Remus get behind the wheel of a car? Are you fucking insane? Are you truly, honestly fucking insane? 

 

“You– what?” she demanded, and her mouth went dry right up until the second that Remus’ terrible poker face cracked, and she realized he was kidding. “Oh,” she breathed. “Christ, Remus, don’t scare me like that.” 

 

“What, you don’t think I’d be a good driver?” Remus asked, raising an eyebrow. 

 

“Oh, sure, yeah, you’d be a brilliant driver. Let me know how it goes when you get a fit looking at a bloody turn signal,” she sighed, and Remus laughed, tipping his head back.

 

“I feel like I’d be fine for a bit,” he shrugged. 

 

“Mhm,” Marlene rolled her eyes. 

 

“Maybe I’ll bicycle instead,” Remus scratched his chin pensively, and even Sirius snorted at that. “A man can dream!” Remus said defensively.

 

“A trike, maybe,” Sirius proposed gently, “or a Big Wheel?”

 

“Don’t patronize me,” Remus groaned.

 

“I’ll get you one of those side-cars to put on my motorcycle,” Sirius grinned, and Remus glared at him. “You could get goggles! Like that dog in the cartoon!” 

 

“I just said not to patronize me!” 

 

“I’m not patronizing, I’m providing reasonable alternatives,” Sirius defended himself, and smartly took a step out of range of Remus’ crutch. 

 

“This is discrimination,” Remus nodded decisively. 

 

“What!” Sirius exclaimed. 

 

“I demand equal rights. Just because I’m epileptic doesn’t mean I can’t drive.” 

 

“That’s exactly what it means,” Marlene pointed out. 

 

“Plenty of epileptic people drive!” Remus protested. 

 

“Yeah, the ones who don’t get seizures every other day,” she added.

 

“It’s not every other day,” Remus pouted. “It’s, like, twice a week. At most.” Marlene and Sirius both made a squeaky sort of ehhhh… sound in complete unison, and then cackled loudly when Remus threw his hand up in the air in exasperation. “The little ones don’t count!” 

 

“Right, right, that’s what’s written in the DVLA guidelines,” Marlene nodded, holding back another giggle. “Seizures permitted as long as they’re the little ones.”  

 

“Honestly, Moony, you’d hate driving,” Sirius mused. 

 

“I know I’d hate it,” Remus whined. “That’s not the point. The point is that I’d like the freedom to make poor choices and inconvenience as many people as possible while doing so!” 

 

“Ah, yes, a noble cause,” Marlene said sagely. 

 

“Don’t worry, Moony, you can still make lots of other poor choices,” Sirius smiled, patting Remus on the shoulder like he was comforting a sad child.

 

“Yeah, and you inconvenience me every day!” Marlene added cheerily. Remus shot her a withering look, and she couldn’t help but laugh. 

 

“That’s offensive, that is,” Remus put his right hand on his hip. “I take offense to that.” 

 

“You were supposed to,” she smirked. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” 

 

“Do you see how she treats me, Sirius? This is an unsafe workplace environment.” 

 

“We’re not at work!” Marlene protested. 

 

“See? And now she’s followed me home,” he shook his head. Sirius snorted. 

 

“This is Sirius’ place!” 

 

“I’m reporting this to HR,” Remus sighed. “Sirius, you’re a witness. I’ll need a statement.” 

 

“Of course,” Sirius said, pursing his lips in an attempt not to grin like a dickhead, and Marlene threw her hands in the air and groaned. 

 

“I’m stealing the car,” she muttered, turning and opening up the driver’s side door, and behind her, she heard Sirius make a desperate sort of huh-wh–uh! sound that made Remus giggle.

 

***

 

It had started at dinner, and in hindsight, Remus would be very glad they had decided to stay in rather than going out. Sirius apparently knew how to make one specific meal very, very well, and that was a dish called mutter paneer, a recipe he had learned from James, and who James had learned from his father, and who his father had learned from his father, and so on. 

 

Remus had never been very good at cooking, having a pretty severe aversion to open flame and sharp objects on account of... well, on account of the way that he was, so the offer of a home cooked meal was even more endearing. So they had started with the cheese, and then the peas, and then the tomato and onion sauce, and Sirius was apparently very bad at making naan by hand, so they heated up some store-bought and agreed to pretend it was made in their own kitchen. 

 

They set the table. They put out silverware on napkins and tall wine glasses. Sirius pulled out Remus' chair, which was hilarious and also made Remus' stomach flutter a bit, and they lit a candle in the middle of the table. And christ, wasn’t that romantic, just the two of them? Sirius' flat smelled like garam masala and kasuri methi leaves and garlic.

 

And oh, it was amazing. Remus ate while Sirius rattled off a story about how James had taught him how to make it, how they'd almost lit the whole pan on fire and had to start over, and he talked about the next time when James practically quizzed him on the ingredients and stood with his arms crossed, shaking his head or nodding very slightly when Sirius made his choices, the whole time a massive grin on his face, and from everything Remus had heard about James, this felt very in character. So they ate, and they talked, and Remus told a story about how his mum would cook meals for him but they were very much not like this, because Remus was a very picky eater when he was younger. (Sirius had laughed when he told him the common excuse he used– it's got bits in it. )

 

And then, with the next bite, the flavor changed a little, and it took Remus a moment to recognize it. 

 

When he did, it startled him, and he didn't really have a chance to form a thought before he clapped a hand over his mouth as though he'd be able to feel the taste of metal through his fingertips. And then he thought, no . And then not here , and then not now, and then no , again, and then this isn't fair. Because they'd made dinner , and they'd set the table , and they'd lit a candle and Sirius had pulled out Remus' chair , and this wasn't fair . 

 

Remus cut himself off abruptly, forgetting whatever it was he was saying before, making a sort of choking noise, and he kept his hand over his mouth. Sirius was staring at him, he knew, but he couldn’t make himself look up, training his eyes on the table in front of him. 

 

“Remus?” Sirius asked. Remus’ eyebrows pinched together a little because he didn’t say Moony, he said Remus . It was fine. It was fine. “Remus, what’s wrong?” 

 

Remus shook his head. Instead of answering, he took his hand away, reaching for his wine. He took a mouthful, swishing it around a little between his teeth before swallowing but… no, it was still there. It couldn’t be– not now.

 

“Moony, you’re worrying me,” Sirius urged gently, and Remus felt guilt pool in his stomach, because this wasn’t fair, and Sirius was about to get a whole lot more worried, and he hated it– “Hey,” Sirius said softly, and he placed his hand overtop of Remus’ very carefully.

 

“Sorry,” Remus said because it was the first thing he could think to say. “I’m–” Sirius stared at him with those big, concerned eyes, and Remus swallowed hard. “I’m gonna have a seizure.” 

 

Sirius’ eyes widened a little, and Remus was fairly certain that they both felt like the air had left the room but for very different reasons. 

 

“Are you getting an aura?” Sirius asked. Remus nodded jerkily. “Did it start just now?” Again, another nod. “Okay,” he said, leaning back a little. “Alright. It’s alright.” He looked like there were a thousand things going through his head all at once and Remus hated it all of a sudden, hated everything. He hated himself a bit, and then his brain, and then his dad just for a second, and himself again, less briefly than before.

 

“You don’t have to stay,” Remus blurted out, sort of insistently, and he found he hadn’t really formed the intention to say it before it was already being said. A look crossed Sirius’ face, one Remus hated as well, and he looked down at the table so he didn’t have to see it anymore. 

 

“What?” Sirius breathed, and Remus felt his breath hitch. The metal taste was spreading over his tongue, and he felt that dense, heavy feeling settling in, an impending doom, like something was coming, and he ground his teeth against it. “Remus–”

 

“You don’t have to stay,” Remus repeated, cutting him off a little breathlessly. “You can– I won’t be upset,” he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “You don’t have to–” Sirius was moving. Remus knew he was, even though his eyes were closed, because he was still holding onto his hand– and after a moment, he was kneeling, settled in front of him, taking Remus’ other hand in his as well. Remus could only feel the touch on his last two fingers, and he hated that as well. 

 

“Moony, look at me,” Sirius asked softly, and Remus shook his head like a child. Grow up, he wanted to shout at himself, but he was– he didn’t– he couldn’t– “Remus, love, please. Look at me.” He forced himself to open his eyes, and Sirius was looking back at him, gray irises all sparkly in the candle light, and Remus ached a little because they had lit candles, and now he was going to ruin it. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

 

“You can,” Remus insisted. “You can–  you don’t have to–” 

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sirius shook his head. “Come on, what’s wrong? We’ve planned for this, right? It’s no different than before.” 

 

“It is different,” Remus rasped. “These ones are different. They’re– they’re scary,” he continued. For you, he wanted to say. For me. For everyone. It’s not the same. Sirius had seen some of Remus’ seizures before. The twitch in his neck and shoulders happened every so often, and his absence seizures were common when he was overly stressed or tired. Once, when Remus had slept over at Sirius’ apartment after a movie night, Sirius had woken him up in a bit of a panic because Remus’ legs were jerking in his sleep, and Remus had to assure him that it was alright, and it was normal, and he was okay. And secretly, in his head, then, he’d thought it was very sweet of Sirius to care so much, to be so worried. 

 

This, though… this was different. He didn’t want Sirius to see this. He didn’t want him to be worried, now. He wanted him to care a little less, enough so that he… so that he could–

 

“I know,” Sirius said softly, running his thumb over the back of Remus’ hand, pulling him back into the present. Remus swallowed again, and he felt the metal taste clinging to his throat. The sinking feeling still felt distant still, but it was there, always persistent. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

 

He said it with so much certainty that Remus began to resign himself to it; the seizure was coming, and he couldn’t stop it, and Sirius wasn’t going anywhere. He’d see. It was inevitable, Remus knew. And Sirius had never shied away at the idea. In fact, they’d gone over it quite a few times, how something like this would go. 

 

Sirius stood, pressing a kiss to Remus’ forehead before leaning past him a little and blowing out the candle. The smell of smoke lingered in the air. Sirius pressed a hand against Remus’ cheek, smiling at him gently, and to his credit, he kept the worry out of his face almost entirely. It was only there in his eyes, but it was there.

 

“Let’s sit,” Sirius proposed. Remus was already sitting, of course, but he knew what Sirius meant, and he let Sirius guide him to the floor. He felt a bit like he was floating. The inevitable was in front of him, but he was clinging hard to the moments just before, when they were sitting, eating, laughing, when there was a candle lit on the table and Sirius had just uncorked the wine. Remus exhaled shakily as he crossed his legs underneath him, rubbing his hands over his face. Sirius moved Remus’ chair out of the way, clearing a bit more space, because that’s exactly what he was supposed to do. 

 

Because they’d talked about this. 

 

Step one, Remus would get an aura. It would taste like metal, and he’d get this feeling, this distant, growing feeling like something was coming, something big, and it would build in his chest slowly and heavily. Check. Step two was to sit on the ground. Check. Step three was to clear the area. That’s where they were now. Check. Step four was conditional– loosen any tight clothing, take off anything around the neck. Remus had a severe aversion to neckties because of this step, and so it was hardly an issue, not that he’d wear a tie in Sirius’ apartment anyway. 

 

And oh, that made this worse, didn’t it? They were in Sirius’ apartment. He didn’t know why it made it worse, but it did.

 

They’d done all the steps, then. Check, check, check. Sirius sat on the ground in front of Remus, crossing his legs as well. Remus watched as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, opened up a stopwatch app, and set it on the ground to his side. The feeling in his chest got a little heavier, and when Sirius looked up at him, he must have looked truly miserable.

 

“Oh, Moony,” Sirius sighed, and Remus tipped his head forward, leaning against his chest. “Come on, love, it’s alright.” He rubbed his hands up and down Remus’ forearms and then over his shoulders and back, and Remus felt a little tingly. 

 

“Sorry,” he murmured into Sirius’ shirt. “You–”

 

“Please don’t tell me to leave again,” Sirius interrupted him, cupping his hand over the back of Remus’ neck and holding him still, and Remus couldn’t help but smile a little and think, you know me so well.

 

“Okay,” Remus breathed.

 

“We planned for this, right?” Sirius asked, repeating the sentiment from earlier, and Remus nodded against his chest. “I’m not afraid. I mean– I’m a little nervous, I’ll be honest, but it’s not– it’s because I want you to be safe, you know? And I know… I know this is hard for you.” Remus nodded again, and realized a little belatedly that Sirius was probably freaking out a little. Or a lot. And he wouldn’t say anything about it because that’s just sort of how he was, but he was definitely freaking out.

 

“It’ll be alright,” Remus breathed out, forcing himself to believe it as well. He leaned back. “It might look a little scary, but it’s– I’ll be alright.” He hoped that was reassuring. He really couldn’t tell. How do you prepare someone for that? He’d always wondered what it looked like from someone else’s eyes, but it also made him a bit sick to think about it. Sirius nodded nonetheless. 

 

“How do you feel now?” Sirius asked, and Remus furrowed his brow. The metal taste was still just as strong. He was still just as heavy. He still felt the same sense of something is coming. It was always hard to tell, once the aura started. It wasn’t like a timer. He didn’t know how long it would be. 

 

“The same,” he replied simply, and Sirius hummed. “Sorry about dinner,” he added, and Sirius breathed a laugh. 

 

“We’ll have leftovers,” he shook his head. “Not like you can’t light a candle twice, right?” Remus couldn’t help but smile a little at that, because it was so simple when he put it like that, huh? “Okay,” Sirius continued, “so… during. Can we just… for my sake.” This is how they’d talked about it when they planned; before, during, after. The before was done, now left just with the waiting part until the during. Remus took a breath.

 

“Put me on my side,” he said. “Don’t stick anything in my mouth.” It’s an old wives’ tale, Remus had told Sirius the first time he’d asked. You can’t actually swallow your tongue. And it’s a good way to break my teeth or pop my jaw out of place or something.  

 

“Yep,” Sirius nodded along. 

 

“I might not breathe very well,” Remus said, closing his eyes now because it was a little easier to talk about this if he wasn’t also staring right into anxious eyes. “Marlene says I make a lot of noise. It’s normal. And I bite my tongue sometimes. That’s normal, too.” 

 

“Right.”

 

“Time me,” Remus said. This was the important part. “I don’t usually go longer than three minutes, but sometimes I get to four. At five, call 999.” Sirius was quiet, but Remus knew he’d heard. It was rare, but it happened, and ever since Remus had wound up in the hospital the day that Sirius had asked him out, there was a lurking fear in his chest that it would happen again, that he’d shaken something loose that day and things would start to get worse again like they had been when he was younger. Even three minutes was long for a seizure like this, he knew, but they weren’t as violent as when he was younger. They were slow and jerky, and sometimes, in the middle, he was told he just sort of trembled with his eyes rolled back. He swallowed hard. “And then just– just talk to me,” he finished quietly. “It makes it easier.” 

 

Remus’ eyes were still closed, but he felt Sirius lean forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek, just under his eye, and when he pulled away, he opened his eyes to meet Sirius’. 

 

“It’ll be okay,” Sirius said, very likely assuring himself as well as Remus. Remus nodded. 

 

“Afterwards I’ll be a bit confused,” he noted. “And emotional. And tired.” There were a lot of ands, honestly. Remus could go on for a while.

 

 He was a bit of a mess after these ones, he knew, but he was a bit of a mess always and Sirius didn’t seem to mind that very much. The metal taste got stronger in his mouth, slowly creeping down his tongue and throat like he’d swallowed a battery. And then there was a moment where that heavy feeling crashed over him so quickly he lost his breath, and it was all acid and fear and numbness and he felt himself pitch forward. 

 

It was always blurry at this part. He was there, and then he wasn’t, and there really wasn’t ever any inbetween.

 

There were words that Remus couldn't hear, blood rushing in his ears, that strange floating sensation. He was breathing hard, everything locked up and tight and sore and his skin was hot and cold all at once. 

 

There was something like copper in his mouth. Involuntarily, like something else was in control of his body, he heard himself making sounds, strange gasps and groans and inhales that got stuck in his throat, and he was twitching still, but it was slowing. 

 

He had to remind himself of that. It was slowing. He was alright. It’s alright. He couldn’t tell if he was telling himself that in his own head, or if he was hearing it from outside, or if it was both.

 

His arms jolted and then stilled, and then stiffened again, and he felt something soft on his fingers, just against the very tips.

 

There were still words. They were low and soft and gentle, and Remus clung to them like a hand pulling him forward through water. He made a noise in his throat, maybe trying to respond, and his lungs finally expanded fully all in one huge gust of air.

 

It burned. The sensation of pain hit him a little delayed. He squeezed his eyes shut against it.

 

"It's alright," the voice was saying–  Sirius was saying. He recognized it finally. “It’s alright. You’re alright. That one wasn’t bad, I don’t think, right? Two minutes? That’s not terrible, I don’t think,” he said, and groggily, Remus thought that he was probably saying that to help himself a bit, too. “It’s alright,” Sirius repeated. Remus hummed, forcing the sound out of him just so that Sirius knew he was there, that he was trying. Something in his chest spasmed, but stilled quickly.  "I'm here, sweetheart. It's alright." Remus felt warm, then, because he had been Moony, and he had been love, and he had sometimes been dear or once even baby, which had been shot down rather quickly, but he had never been–

 

"Sweetheart?" he rasped weakly, raising his eyebrows as he forced his eyes open. The world was all colors and shapes. “That’s a new one,” he added. His voice sounded a little wrecked, like always. Sirius laughed a little, a shaky sound of relief.

 

"Well, I can't just call you Moony forever, can I?"

 

"You could try," Remus sighed. He felt out of breath and sore. 

 

"Could I, now? Forever?" Remus didn't bother holding back his smile. He probably couldn't have if he tried. He hummed an affirmative, closing his eyes again, and he felt something warm against his cheek, leaning into it. Sirius ran his thumb back and forth against his skin, cupping his jaw a little. He was tired and floaty and not quite sure where he was, really, but this was better than waking up alone, he decided. So much better. Infinitely better. 

 

He shifted his weight slowly, turning further onto his back and attempting to ignore the way his whole body felt like it was sore and sour. The copper taste was still on his tongue, and he brought his hand up to wipe the corner of his mouth. It came away red. 

 

"Ugh," he muttered. 

 

"I think you bit your tongue," Sirius said. Remus hummed. 

 

"I usually do," Remus sighed. 

 

"Hold on," Sirius murmured, and he started to stand but then stopped himself. "I can get you a towel. Will you be alright?" Remus nodded, smiling a little. "Right. One sec." He squeezed Remus' hand and then he was gone. Remus could hear him opening a drawer in the kitchen, turning on the tap. Remus blinked at the ceiling as the blurry swirl of shapes and colors became something coherent in his head and the fog began to lift from his thoughts, slowly but surely. Sirius was back in a few seconds, as promised, pressing a damp cloth into Remus' hand. 

 

"Thanks," Remus breathed. He wiped his mouth haphazardly and with little regard for aim, and he moved his tongue around the inside of his mouth, trying to figure out where the damage was. It seemed like it was just the side. He'd probably caught it between his teeth at some point. "How long was it?" Sirius checked his phone. 

 

"Two minutes, two seconds," he replied. Remus nodded. 

 

"Can you write that down?" he asked.

 

"Already did," Sirius nodded. And huh, that did something in Remus' chest that made him feel a little snap. He didn't really know what it was, exactly, but he had to force back something hot building behind his eyes, electing to simply nod instead. "You alright?" Sirius asked gently. 

 

"Tired," Remus supplied simply, and his throat felt a little sharp. 

 

"Do you think you'll have another one?" he asked hesitantly, but Remus shook his head. The aura was blissfully gone, satisfied. "Do you want to go lie down?" Sirius proposed. "I mean, not on the floor. Couch? Bed?" Remus nodded again. 

 

"Bed sounds nice," he rasped, pushing himself up on his elbows. Sirius put a hand around his chest, guiding him upright. The world swam a little in front of his eyes and he blinked to clear the stars in his vision. 

 

"Can you stand?" Sirius asked. Remus laughed a little. 

 

"I don't think you could carry me," he smiled, shaking his head.

 

"Well, maybe I've been working out," Sirius pouted, and Remus raised his eyebrows. "Alright, fine, I haven't been working out." Remus laughed again. 

 

"I know," he said. He rocked himself forward, attempting to use the momentum to stand, but his left leg buckled a little under him. Sirius caught him around the waist, keeping him on his feet. 

 

Sirius moved slowly with him, one foot in front of the other, like he was remembering how to walk again, and he was very gently deposited onto Sirius' bed. When he did, Remus turned onto his side and pressed his face into the pillows and breathed in deep. It smelled like Sirius, like his shampoo, like the paint he used on the cars he fixed, a bit like tea leaves and rain. Sirius ran a hand up and down his back. 

 

"I'm gonna go put the food away, okay?" he murmured. Remus felt a pang of guilt in his chest. "I'll be back." Remus knew it was true, but something in him wanted to latch onto Sirius and pull him to his chest and never let go, to absorb all of that warmth like stars colliding. Instead, he nodded. 

 

There were the sounds of dishes clattering, water running in the sink, the fridge opening and closing. He tried to convince himself that he hadn't ruined the evening with very little success. 

 

When he was young, in the hospital, all hooked up to wires and monitors and covered in sticky nodes on his forehead and skull, he remembered watching the EEG screen and waiting for the spikes and crashes and sharp lines that would show up when his neck twitched or his legs spasmed, and in those little lines, he'd picture faces, angry and scary like halloween masks or carved pumpkins or ghosts. He'd picture them laughing at him, taunting him, haunting him from the outside, because it was easier than thinking that this was part of him. 

 

Now, he was older, but he closed his eyes and saw those lines and pictured them laughing at him again, and he felt like a child still. 

 

The bed dipped, and he was swept out of his own head, opening his eyes to see Sirius climbing onto the mattress beside him. 

 

"Still alright?" he asked. Remus just nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. It was in the after that he felt all sorts of things crashing over him in waves, exhaustion and guilt and sadness. Sirius scooted his way over and Remus leaned back a little, letting him tuck himself against his body, and then folded himself back over Sirius' torso and chest like he was a koala on a tree. Sirius had made that comparison once. It was Remus' favorite way to cuddle up to him, Sirius flat on his back and Remus clinging to him tightly and Sirius carding his hands through Remus' hair, and just staying like that until they fell asleep. 

 

Except now Remus felt that guilt again, teetering on the edge of a crash, threatening to drown him, because this wasn't right. This wasn't what they were supposed to be doing. They were supposed to be eating dinner, making jokes, watching that tall, stupid candle burn down to the bottom, and then they were supposed to puzzle out how they were supposed to get candle wax out of the woodgrain on the table, and Remus wasn't supposed to feel like this, all disoriented and confused and like he couldn't really keep his thoughts all lined up in the same direction, and it didn't feel fair. 

 

It wasn't fair, and his breath hitched, and then Sirius did the terrible, awful thing of asking, "are you okay?" and that really did it. 

 

He buried his face into his shirt and made a really rather pitiful, wet noise, and he wrapped his arms around Sirius' waist a little tighter like somehow he'd float away. 

 

"Moony?" Sirius urged, a little panicked, and that just made it worse. "Hey, hey– what's wrong? What is it?" He felt Sirius push his hair off of his forehead with his fingers, gently tucking it behind his ear, and he kept his fingers against the back of Remus' head and rubbed little circles there. 

 

"Sorry," Remus mumbled into his shirt. 

 

"What's wrong, love?" Sirius asked softly. He felt Sirius' other hand come to rest against his back, and the softness of it all made Remus cry harder. "It's alright," Sirius murmured. "Hey, come on. It's alright." 

 

"I ruined dinner," Remus said, or tried to say, but it really came out rather muffled and unintelligible because he didn't lift his head to say it. 

 

"I can't hear you, sweetheart." There it was again– sweetheart. Even now, it made Remus' stomach flutter a little. Sirius' voice rumbled lowly in his chest, and Remus squeezed him harder. He realized that he didn't really want Sirius to hear him, because that would only make Sirius feel guilty as well, and there was no reason for them both to feel like this, honestly. 

 

“Sorry,” Remus repeated instead, and then very suddenly he felt the wave lift a little and his thoughts cleared just enough to think rationally. And rationally, this felt a bit like a silly thing to feel guilty about, and then he felt guilty about feeling guilty, but he really couldn’t control it at this point, and then it was sort of funny, honestly, and then it was sad that it was funny, and funny that it was sad that it was funny, and all of this at once forced Remus to take a long, shuddering breath in. “Ugh,” he said, because it felt like a pretty accurate word for this.

 

“What’s wrong?” Sirius asked again, and Remus turned his head just a little so he wasn’t completely face-planted into Sirius’ chest.

 

“I’m all wobbly,” Remus mumbled between hitches in his breath. 

 

“Wobbly?”

 

“In my head,” Remus sighed, which he knew probably didn’t make any sense at all. “I’m, like… emotionally wobbly,” he clarified, though clarified was a loose term here.

 

“Emotionally wobbly,” Sirius echoed, and Remus could hear a hint of a smile in his voice. “Anything in particular you’re wobbly about?” Remus felt the corners of his mouth turn up, because it sounded so funny when Sirius said it, not at all like a bad thing. 

 

“Stuff,” Remus breathed, wiping his eyes on the back of his wrist. “Things,” he added. 

 

“Right,” Sirius said. “Wobbly about stuff and things. The worst things to be wobbly about, really.” Remus laughed wetly, a giggly sort of thing. 

 

“Ugh,” he said again. 

 

“Ugh,” Sirius nodded, running his hands through Remus’ hair again, and Remus leaned into the touch. 

 

“Was that scary?” Remus asked. Sirius paused, thinking about the question for a moment, which meant that whatever he said next was probably going to be the truth. 

 

“Yeah,” he breathed, and Remus winced a little. “Just a bit. I didn’t know if I was doing everything right, and… well, scared isn’t really the right word, actually. Worried, I think. Concerned.” 

 

“You did it right,” Remus assured him, and the hand at his shoulder squeezed. “I felt very safe,” he added truthfully. There was another pause, and Sirius held Remus a bit tighter.

 

“Good,” he said very, very softly. “I’m glad.”

 

***

 

It was so beautifully cruel how much Harry Potter managed to look like his father. It was as though every day he grew a little more into James’ eyebrows, his nose, the curve of his smile, the roundness of his cheeks, the delightful bubbliness of his laugh, the sharpness of that cry. Harry looked like James, everyone said, except his eyes; he had his mother’s eyes.

 

Euphemia had heard this from everyone who ever knew James and Lily. She had heard it since the day Harry was born, since the moment Lily held him in her arms, since the second James had leaned over and seen Harry’s eyes blinking open at him, as if the universe had looked upon her grandson and decided, in no uncertain terms, that this was James in all ways but one– just the eyes. Because Harry had his mother’s eyes. 

 

And oh, how Euphemia tried to convince herself of it. How she prayed to any god and every god who might listen that she could see it, that she could look at Harry and see anyone else, anyone besides her son. That she could see him as anything other than her boy. The only thing she has of her boy that’s just him , that’s only him. And she tried, and she tried, and she tried, and it was never enough. Because that was James. Harry didn’t have his mother’s eyes, because to her, it was all just James.

 

How could it be anyone else? 

 

“And that’s…” Remus leaned over, narrowing his eyes at the photo on the page. “Oh,” he murmured. There was that flicker of recognition in his eyes, staring at the album, the same recognition everyone had when they saw, and she braced herself a little for it. “They look so much alike,” Remus mused. 

 

“Yes,” Euphemia sighed. “They do, don’t they? That’s what everyone says.” 

 

“Sirius told me Harry looked just like his dad,” Remus blew out a breath, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’ve only ever seen– I’ve never seen a baby photo of him. They’re identical, aren’t they?” 

 

In the photo, James was grinning; he was tiny and round and his arms were bunchy and soft and he was reaching for the camera with thick, stubby fingers. He was 22 weeks, here. He was sitting on his dad’s lap, and Fleamont was holding him against his chest, his hand tight and tense just like he always was when he held James. Monty had never outgrown that, really, even as James got older– that bubble of anxiety, the tension in his hands when he held onto his son, a dreadful fear of dropping him. He had that fear when James was born, and when he was two weeks, and when he was two years, and when he was twenty years. Every time Monty held his son, he had that fear of dropping him, somehow. So little had changed.

 

“They act the same, too,” Euphemia sighed, flipping the page. “Little troublemakers, the both of them.” She looked over at Harry where he was napping peacefully in his rocker. Only maybe an hour before, he’d ripped several of Monty’s mustache hairs from his lip and waved them around like a prize. “Terribly rude babies, too,” she added.

 

“I’m, like, eighty percent sure Harry’s flipped me off before, honestly,” Remus muttered, and Euphemia laughed, tipping her head down a little to avoid being too loud. “Who’s that, then?” Remus asked, pointing to the next page. 

 

“That’s Monty,” Euphemia smiled. 

 

“No,” Remus gasped, leaning forward. “Really? Where’s the mustache? I thought he was born with it?” She stifled another laugh, waving her hand a little. “He looks awfully grumpy, doesn’t he,” Remus noted. 

 

The album in front of them was all baby photos. Lily had made it for them, a terribly fun game of guess who in trying to name all of the faces that had evolved into people they loved. Euphemia and Remus were sitting on the couch, Remus crossing his legs casually underneath him– a level of comfort that Euphemia was frankly rather proud of encouraging in the several weeks since she’d met Remus for the first time– and they were flipping through albums quietly together. Every so often, one of them would find a photo, one Remus had a question about or one Euphemia had a story about, and they’d trade comments back and forth in quiet contemplation. 

 

And Remus was, generally, quiet , she found. She had never pictured Sirius with someone quiet right up until the moment she met Remus, and then it sort of made sense in that opposites attract sort of way. 

 

But they were quiet now, together, because it had been a very, very long day, and apparently they faced their exhaustion in much the same way. 

 

Because today was July 31st, and it was Harry’s birthday. 

 

And it would only continue to be his birthday for another twenty-seven minutes. 

 

Euphemia and Remus were alone in the living room with Harry, which seemed an odd sort of combination, but Fleamont and Sirius had gone off together to mourn in a way only a father and son could mourn a son and a brother. Euphemia wondered if, when Fleamont had led a silently crying Sirius off by the hand, she would have to stop Remus from following them. But it seemed Remus was coming to know Sirius quite well, because he only tapped Sirius’ arm gently as he walked, and Sirius ran his fingers along Remus’ fingers in return, and that was that. 

 

It was these last twenty-seven minutes that it seemed Sirius could no longer be around Harry. He could be here to see his godson turn one, to celebrate, to eat cake and laugh as Harry threw fistfulls of icing to the ground and smash it into his hair, and he could walk around the neighborhood and sit and have tea and try not to say what they were all desperately trying not to say, but it was now, in these last twenty-seven minutes, that Sirius simply couldn’t do it. 

 

He could watch Harry turn one, but he couldn’t watch him begin a new year without his father. In twenty-seven minutes, Harry would be one year and one day , and the one day felt infinite. 

 

So it was Euphemia and Remus and Harry, and a pile of photo albums, and an old antique grandfather clock ticking away in the corner that had been an heirloom in Fleamont’s family for generations and which now felt a bit like a rude sort of reminder. 

 

“This is also Fleamont, then?” Remus asked, pointing to another photo. 

 

“No,” Euphemia corrected, “his brother. Charlus.” 

 

“Charlus,” Remus echoed. 

 

“Yes, yes, they’ve all got very odd names, haven’t they?” Euphemia laughed softly. 

 

“I don’t think I’m one to judge,” Remus shrugged.

 

“I don’t think any of us are, dear,” Euphemia noted, and Remus seemed to consider this for a moment. Euphemia could practically see the list forming in his head; Remus, Sirius, Regulus, Euphemia, Fleamont…  

 

“We’d be a nightmare at a coffee shop,” Remus mused, and Euphemia raised her eyebrows. “They’ve got to write the names on the cups,” he explained, and she made a soft oh sound and covered a smile with her hand. 

 

“Sirius tells me that’s how you met,” she said, and Remus blushed a very adorable shade of pink. Oh, to be young and in love, she thought. “He said you knew how to spell his name, and that did it for him,” she shook her head, smiling. “His words.” 

 

“Sounds like something he’d say,” Remus pursed his lips. “So… Charlus.” 

 

“Yes. And then Monty’s parents– Josephine,” she pointed to a rather old photo of a rather grumpy baby. “And Edgar.” 

 

“Well, those names aren’t terrible,” Remus shrugged. “How’d they come up with Fleamont?” It was Euphemia’s turn to shrug. “Alright,” Remus turned the page, and then his eyes widened a little. 

 

“Oh, you recognize him, huh?” 

 

“Oh my god,” Remus breathed, and then giggled a little, leaning forward. “Oh my god. That’s– that’s Sirius.” Euphemia couldn’t help but grin at how childishly excited Remus was at realizing this. “He looks exactly the same. How old is he here?” 

 

“Something like six months,” Euphemia replied, and Remus huffed out another quiet oh my god. “We’ve got Regulus to thank for these photos,” she added. “He stole them from his mother one year on his seventeenth birthday.” Remus frowned. 

 

“Regulus went back?” he asked hesitantly, and Euphemia saw how his face pinched in concern. Ah, she thought. So you told him?  

 

“No, no,” she waved a hand. “Only to visit. Much to Sirius’ dismay, of course, but at least he brought some spoils back with him, hm?” This seemed to satisfy Remus at least a little, though she wondered if he might ask Sirius about it later. 

 

“That’s Regulus,” Remus said assuredly, pointing to a photo on the opposite page. Euphemia nodded in confirmation. “And… hm. Andromeda?” he guessed, and she nodded again. 

 

“I’m impressed,” she said. 

 

“She’s the only other one Sirius ever talks about from his family,” Remus shrugged. “They’ve all got quite a look about them, don’t they? Very regal.”

 

That was a great word for it, Euphemia thought. Regal.

 

Remus turned the page, and even though Euphemia knew what was next, it still made her heart twinge just a bit. Remus narrowed his eyes at the photo a little, but she knew he recognized this face. These eyes. 

 

“Lily,” he said simply. 

 

“Yes,” Euphemia replied. And she knew what was coming, because everyone said it– they always said it, without fail, every time they saw her, and they saw him, and they’d put the two together. 

 

“He’s got–” Remus started, but Euphemia cut him off. 

 

“Remus, dear,” she said gently, but her voice shook a little. She placed a hand over his where it was thumbing the next page of the album. “I’m sorry, but– please– please don’t say what you’re about to say.” 

 

Remus was silent. Euphemia was aware that he was staring at her, confused, perhaps, or concerned, or even just contemplative, but it made her ache a little just knowing he was watching. 

 

“I know,” she breathed, squeezing his hand a little. “And I– I really can’t hear it, right now.” There was another silence that stretched between them, and then Remus squeezed her hand back a little as well. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. She shook her head. 

 

“It’s just that everyone says it,” she sighed, looking down at Lily’s photo, and she felt a strange sort of feeling right then– a bizarre need to confess. It was now twenty-one minutes until Harry was one year and one day, and she felt a need to confess. “And I just don’t see it,” she breathed, and felt infinitely lighter. “I just don’t see it, isn’t that strange? Since the second he was born, everyone’s just agreed. Oh, he looks just like–” her breath hitched a bit. “Just like his father. But he’s got his mother’s eyes. But I just can’t see it. Isn’t that so awful of me? I can’t see it. It’s just– it’s just James.” 

 

She looked over at Harry, sleeping, dreaming, maybe, and it was just so beautifully cruel, wasn’t it? How much Harry Potter managed to look like his father? 

 

“My James,” she choked, and placed her face gently into her hands. And she was glad, then, that Sirius wasn’t there to see it. A mother could only cry in front of her boys so much, you see, before it began to weigh on the soul. And she felt a bit guilty as well, because she could cry in front of Remus, now, but what if he became her boy as well? Sirius seemed rather certain about the certainty of all this, after all. How did she start going about collecting sons? It was a rather strange hobby, she thought.

 

Remus was quiet, just as before, and he placed a hand gingerly across her shoulders and held her just a little in a very awkward sort of way, like he didn’t really know what to do. She didn’t really know what to do, either. But she had so far learned a simple art in the practice of grief, which was to cry, and then to stop crying very shortly after starting, and to still feel a great deal of relief from it. And so that’s what she did, here. 

 

“Oh,” she tutted, “pardon me,” and she lifted her head, dabbing at her eyes gently with the back of her wrist, and Remus looked equally as startled by this as he had when she started crying in the first place. 

 

“It’s… er– it’s alright,” Remus said, though it was a bit more of a question than a statement.

 

“Awfully difficult times, these are, hm?” she sighed, looking down at the photo of Lily again, this chubby little ginger baby who had never done anything cruel in her entire life, and now Euphemia was erasing her from the image of her grandson. Euphemia blew out a slow breath.

 

“I don’t think it’s awful of you,” Remus murmured quietly. She glanced over at him, but his eyes were also trained on Lily’s photo. “Not to see it.” She hummed. 

 

“It’s a bit selfish, though, isn’t it?” 

 

“No,” Remus said definitively– so definitively, in fact, that he seemed a little shocked with himself. Euphemia was a little shocked with him as well. “Sorry,” he muttered sheepishly. “But… you’re not selfish for– for holding on to what you had.” Had, she thought a bit numbly. Past tense. “Harry looks like James,” Remus finished simply. “Your James. That’s all he has to be, for you.” 

 

“Oh,” Euphemia said as she was left with little words left to say and little breath left in her lungs. 

 

She understood a bit more why Sirius had so much certainty about this one. He was so sincerely opposite to Sirius, and also so very opposite to James as well, and in a moment where everyone seemed to remind everyone else of the same someone, Remus was a bit of a welcome sight. 

 

“Thank you, Remus.”

 

Later, when the old grandfather clock in the corner of the room heartlessly struck midnight, stirring Harry from his sleep, Euphemia would think about Sirius, and how the sound would reach him, and how he’d cling to his father and mourn his brother and cherish his son.

 

And there were so many things that Euphemia could never ask Sirius; things like what will he call you? and what will his first words be? and how will you tell him what happened to his dad? She supposed, though, that the last one was a question for all of them, and a question none of them could answer, just yet. Because how did you think about things like that, really? How were you supposed to idly consider the ways in which you’d tell your grandson that his father was– that he’d never– and how were you supposed to explain why no one was ever called dad or mum, or why there were so many people, here, but none of them looked quite as much like– well, there weren’t words, she supposed. There simply weren’t. Maybe there would be, eventually, but for now there were none. 

 

This, she thought rather guiltily, was convenient, only because Harry also had no words, and so he could not ask these questions quite yet, and so she felt as though she had a bit of time left still to gather some inkling of what to say. 

 

***

 

“Do you want to move in with me?” Sirius asked. 

 

Remus choked on his coffee so violently then that Sirius was pretty sure he heard it bubbling around in his lungs. He tipped forward, attempting to set his drink down once, and then twice because he missed the little café table the first time, and placed a hand against his chest as he hacked up a hazelnut latte. 

 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, oh my god,” Sirius spluttered, thumping Remus on the back. “I should have prefaced that with something, christ.” Remus kept his head ducked but waved a hand haphazardly, wheezing something that was completely unintelligible, and then went back to coughing. “I just knew I was going to psych myself out, and I’ve been trying to ask for weeks now and– oh, dear,” he cut himself off as Remus sucked in a breath. “I should have waited until you finished your drink,” he mused, because hindsight was always 20/20. 

 

“It’s fine,” Remus choked out, and then coughed a bit more, and Sirius looked around at the few other people in the café worriedly. He mouthed he’s fine to the barista at the front. They were at a coffee shop downtown, pausing for a break mid-shopping-trip because apparently, Sirius was a bit dependent on coffee now to function, an addiction he had lightheartedly blamed on Remus. 

 

“Do you want water? I’m going to get you water,” Sirius asserted, standing, but Remus grabbed a hold of his wrist and sat him back down. 

 

“I’m fine,” Remus breathed, and then coughed a little more, and then breathed again. 

 

“Sorry,” Sirius said again, sheepishly. 

 

“You– okay,” Remus shook his head like he was clearing away cobwebs. “Hold on.” He cleared his throat, rubbing his chest a little, and he made a soft little whoo sound. “Ask– ask that again. What?” Sirius’ mouth went a little dry. See, this was why I asked it out of nowhere, he thought, because now I can’t ask it again.  

 

“Well– I– okay, listen,” Sirius said, and Remus did that thing where he raised his eyebrows just a bit like he was about to smile but he was holding it back for some reason, and it did nothing to help Sirius’ fluttery little heart. “I was just thinking, you know? I know it hasn’t been like, crazy long, but– I mean, people get married faster, Moony, honestly, and no one–!” he choked a little, because oh, christ, that’s not what he meant to say. “Not that I’m proposing or something! I’m just saying– well, I think it’s– okay. Listen,” he said again, a sorry attempt at a reset. 

 

Remus took a sip of his latte, not choking this time, but didn’t say anything, and Sirius really refused to look at his face just now because then he’d really stick his foot in his mouth. He took a breath. 

 

“I just think… we really just click, you know? And you spend a lot of time at my place, and I spend a lot of time at yours, and it really just– it kind of sucks having to leave. And I’m not… going home alone sometimes just doesn’t feel right, cus it’s not… with you. Wow, that’s… that’s corny. Sorry,” Sirius shook his head. “And I’ve thought through the logistics a bit, too, and I feel like it makes sense, like, practically.” So romantic, nice, he thought sarcastically. “We don’t exactly live close by, and you can’t drive, so that makes it a bit harder to see each other. And I love your flat, I really do, but it’s got all those stairs, and you’ve complained about the shower before, and my place has got the lift and we’ve already got the seat for the tub and all that?” 

 

He realized that Remus was nodding along to all of this, which gave him a little bit more boldness to continue. 

 

“And I’m not just writing off your place as an option, but it’s small– and that’s not a bad thing– but we’ve got Harry, you know?” He realized a little belatedly that he had said we’ve got Harry and not I’ve got Harry but he was already barreling along before he could overthink that too severely. “And, if you wanted, we could also look at new places. Other places. Together. That’d be… you know. Great.” 

 

He was realizing now how often he said you know, like it was sort of a safety blanket, like he was praying that Remus did, in fact, know.  

 

“And you can say no,” Sirius added. “By the way. We can stick with having each other’s keys. I quite like having your key. It’s just… I wanted to throw the option out there.” Throw the option out there was a very light way of putting it, frankly. Sirius had sort of hurled it like a javelin, one he had been weighing in his hand for a long time before having the confidence to release it. “And Harry likes having you around,” he finished quietly. “So there’s that.” 

 

Harry wasn’t with them right then– Regulus and Andromeda were babysitting, taking him to some new museum where you could touch everything. It was one of the reasons why Sirius had decided that now was a good time to ask, because he felt like it would be a little manipulative of him if he sat Harry in front of Remus and told him he could still say no, because Remus adored Harry, and that felt a bit unfair.

 

Remus cleared his throat a little, settling back in his chair, and Sirius finally mustered the strength to look at his face. He had his lips pursed just slightly, his eyebrows pinched but not frowning, and he was resting two fingers very lightly on his bottom lip like he did sometimes when he was thinking. 

 

“Okay, so…” Remus started, and Sirius’ stomach dropped through the floor even though he had no idea what Remus was about to say. “First of all, yes, so you can stop freaking out.” Sirius’ stomach flew back up from under the floor and went straight to his throat instead. His eyes widened a little, and Remus breathed a laugh at the look on his face. “And second of all, I was trying to find a way to bring that up for, like, forever, but it seemed a little rude to ask if I can move in with you, because honestly my flat really isn’t even built for me, nonetheless all three of us.” 

 

"You were... you were thinking about it, too?" Sirius had sort of gotten stuck on that bit.

 

"Well, yeah," Remus shrugged, but he was blushing a little. "I mean, like you said... it feels right. I don't like sleeping alone." 

 

Well, that was a very simple way of putting it, Sirius thought. How come he couldn't just say that? That was what it boiled down to, really. He didn't like sleeping alone. He didn't like being alone. He didn't like knowing that sometimes, he'd come home, and he'd be alone– about as alone as he could be with Harry of course– that they'd be alone, then. And wouldn't it be nice to come home to someone? Not to someone . To Remus. 

 

"And I like having Harry around as well," Remus smiled. "For the record." 

 

"Well..." Sirius breathed, leaning back in his chair. He realized his heart had been sort of hammering away in his chest for the past several minutes, and it was only slowing just now. "Lovely," he finished. Remus stifled a laugh, taking another sip of his coffee. 

 

"You really wouldn't mind if I moved in?" Remus asked, and now it was Sirius' turn to (nearly) choke on his coffee. 

 

"Mind?" he repeated incredulously. "Moony, I'm asking you to." 

 

"I know, I know," Remus waved a hand. "But it's– you know, I'm– and with Harry– well, it might– you–" 

 

"You're not really saying sentences, love," Sirius pointed out gently, and Remus sighed, shaking his head. 

 

"I'm really not, am I?" he hummed, and then went quiet for a minute, finding his words. Eventually, he sighed. "I think I'll spare you all of the disclaimers, actually," Remus mused. "I think you'd be a bit upset at me."

 

Sirius could take a pretty good guess as to what Remus wanted to say, because he had given Sirius many a warning and disclaimer and caution in the past, harboring a good deal of guilt on many occasions about the support he often needed. Marlene had told Sirius that he was always like this, even when he was in grade school. Then, he also bore a terribly bitter embarrassment about it all, and for a time, Marlene had been fairly certain that he’d become a bit of an agoraphobe because of how much anxiety he had regarding the way people looked at him. Though, Sirius though, a bit wasn’t a great way of putting it. Remus would hide himself away for weeks at a time, and would leave the safety of his mum’s house only to go to doctor’s appointments. 

 

And Sirius learned about all this because he had texted Marlene one night several weeks ago after Remus had sort of shut himself away. 

 

They’d been at the grocery store earlier that day, and it struck Sirius how quickly a perfectly normal day could turn so quickly, because all it took was some idiot group of teenage boys (because wasn’t it always teenage boys?) snickering at Remus. And it really was such a small thing. He’d fumbled and dropped a can of soup (because he’d picked it up with his left hand and hadn’t quite convinced his fingers to grip it hard enough for its weight) and he couldn’t quite figure out the best way to lean down and pick it up without fumbling it again (because that day was a particularly wobbly day) and Sirius knew that it was the little things like this that Remus preferred to puzzle through on his own (because he was independent, and it genuinely wasn’t because he couldn’t, just because he needed a bit more time ). 

 

And in hindsight, Sirius really wished he’d just picked up the can for Remus, because Remus’ momentary frustration at being helped would have been significantly more preferable than the awfully bitter look on his face when the boys laughed and nudged each other, and it would have been infinitely, innumerably, exceptionally better than the way Remus’ face drained of all color and his body physically recoiled when one of them muttered something truly awful under his breath when he passed by.

 

And for all Sirius wanted to ream them out for their cruelty, he didn’t really know how socially acceptable it was to tear into a random group of teenagers in public, nor the legality of threatening to hit them with his car, he also didn’t think that Remus would appreciate it. In fact, he knew with a great degree of certainty that Remus would hate him for it. And so Remus had shut his mouth, set his jaw, and not said another word until Sirius dropped him off at his flat and offered to come in and help him put away the groceries and Remus had simply said no. And then, quietly, thank you. And then, after a pause, see you tomorrow.  

 

Sirius had texted Marlene, who called him instead of texting back, and she had told him that Remus just needed a bit of space, and that unfortunately, nothing Sirius had to say on the matter would be anything new, or anything Remus hadn’t heard before, or anything Remus hadn’t told himself before. And that it was also a good thing that Sirius hadn’t threatened to hit them with his car, because once, Marlene had punched one of their classmates for spitting the same word at him when they were teenagers, and Remus hadn’t spoken to her for four days. (Though she noted, to Sirius’ delight, that Remus probably couldn’t go four days without speaking to Sirius , and probably also couldn’t go four hours without speaking to Sirius either, and that he would talk himself through his feelings well enough on his own to arrive on the other side with an appropriate degree of anger and a healthy dose of self worth.)

 

Remus had come a long way, it seemed, both in his mentality and his perception of the world around him, but it had clearly been an arduous, difficult process. And Sirius felt a sort of painful longing, too, a wish that he had known Remus when he was younger, to see him how he was before just so that he could appreciate who he’d become. 

 

And now he’d come so far as to stop himself before even making an attempt to push Sirius away, and that was certainly something lovely, wasn’t it? 

 

“I’ll spare you the disclaimers about Harry as well, then. It’ll be a mutual restraint,” Sirius smiled, and Remus smiled right back at him, and they were sat there smiling at each other like two idiots in love. 

 

“Nothing you could tell me about Harry would make me cherish him any less,” Remus said, and Sirius laughed. 

 

“Well, that’s a rather mushy thing to say, don’t you think, Moony?” 

 

“Mushy?” Remus demanded, mock offense crossing his features. “I’m mushy because I care about a baby? Your baby?” 

 

“Yes,” Sirius smirked. “Very mushy. Soppy, even. Terribly soupy.” 

 

“Soupy…?” 

 

“That… wasn’t the right word.” 

 

“No, I think not,” Remus shook his head. “Sappy?” 

 

“Isn’t that the same as soppy?”

 

“I dunno, you’re the one making fun of me,” Remus laughed. “Pick your insults better.” 

 

“It’s not an insult,” Sirius defended himself. “It’s an observation. You’re terribly sappy, and awfully mushy, and a bit of a romantic.”

 

“Oh, I’m a romantic , now, am I?” 

 

“Very much so, actually,” Sirius mused, swirling his coffee around in his cup. “Swoony!” he exclaimed. “That’s what I was going for. Not soupy. Christ.” And then he giggled a little and said, quietly and rather proud of himself, “ swoony Moony.”

 

“Oh, sod off,” Remus laughed, kicking Sirius’ shin under the table.

 

“Come on, that was good,” Sirius batted Remus’ foot away. “Swoony Moony. It’s a wonder I haven’t thought of that before, honestly.”

 

“Truly, considering you call me Moony every other sentence.”

 

“I really do, Moony, don’t I, Moony? It’s just that it’s so lovely, Moony, I really can’t help it–”

 

“You keep calling me that so much, it’ll wind up being Harry’s first word,” Remus shook his head, smiling. 

 

“Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely?” Sirius sighed almost dreamily before he thought much about what he was saying, because oh, wouldn’t it? Remus blinked at him, a surprised sort of look that made his eyes a little wide, and then his ears turned red. Sirius felt himself blush a little as well. “Probably a good bit better than dickhead or pissed, because lord knows I say those ones too much.” Remus opened his mouth a little but no sound came out. “What do you think he’ll call me?” Sirius asked quietly, looking down at his coffee. He’d asked the question a hundred times to himself, but he hadn’t ever said it out loud, he realized. 

 

Remus leaned forward, putting two fingers underneath Sirius’ chin (and, as always, Sirius found himself wondering if this was his left hand or his right hand, because that mattered at least a bit) and then he placed a very gentle kiss against Sirius’ lips. Sirius hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until they fluttered back open and stared into Remus’, soft and warm like a campfire, and from this close, Sirius could practically map out constellations in the freckles across his nose. And then Remus smirked. 

 

“Dickhead, probably,” he said.

 

***

 

If you saw them, you’d think they were in love. 

 

And if you watched for long enough, you’d know. 

 

You’d watch, and you’d see how they looked at each other, and how they touched each other gently and softly and carefully and intentionally, and how they cared for each other, and you’d be able to feel it, if you tried, like it was in the air, or like you could touch it, like it would be warm and velvety or slippery like silk. 

 

And it would be in simple things, like how one handed the other his coffee, and how one took the other’s arm, and how one leaned his head against the other when they sat on park benches. 

 

It would be in quiet moments when the world was still and anything but lonely, and they would say little things that meant bigger things that didn’t need to be said because they both knew them already, and you’d overhear about how one thought the fridge might be broken because the creamer went bad, and how the other remembered that they needed to do laundry, like desperately, because he was on his last pair of socks, and how they had to buy a spare key so that someone or someone else or someone else again could come and watch the baby, and how they had to call someone to fix the sink, and how they would watch something funny on TV when they got home because this had been a long day.

 

You’d see them, and they’d be so strange together, like one was a puzzle and the other was a deck of cards, or like one was a romance novel and the other was a thriller, or like one was punk-rock and the other was classical, but they were always sort of in the same category of things, so it made sense.

 

You’d see them, and they’d be a little sad sometimes, or a little worried, or a little scared, but one would be a rock and the other would be an anchor and they’d figure it out, always, because that’s just how they were.

 

You’d see them, and they’d be in love.

 

***

 

It was a car. 

 

It was a wrecked car. 

 

The front was crumpled in, metal folded like an accordion, windshield completely shattered, and inside, the driver's and passenger's side seats were torn to shreds and bent, steering wheel tipped forward and hanging strangely. Both side-view mirrors were gone. The right of the car was dented in as well, toward the front, a sort of crater. 

 

Remus blinked at it once, twice, the weight of it settling into him like he was being pulled down slightly. Distantly, he remembered something he couldn't possibly remember; himself, as a child, sitting in the back seat of his father's sedan, only a seat belt strapping him in, no car seat. He didn't want to bother with it. It was just a quick trip, after all. And then he was learning how to walk again.

 

"It's James' car," Sirius murmured. He was sitting on the ground to the right of the door into the garage, his legs pulled up slightly, elbows resting on his knees, and Remus could tell he'd been crying– he'd been crying the way he always cried about James; silently, by himself, and far away from Harry. 

 

It was a car.

 

Remus had never seen it before. Sirius had rented out three of the little shed-garages that lined the back road behind the apartments. In the first one, there was his car–  Sirius’ car– and his motorcycle, and quite a lot of spare parts and cans of paint and bits of metal. 

 

Remus had seen the second garage from time to time, always containing a vintage something-or-other, mid-repair, and usually when he came out it was to tell Sirius that he’d been out there far too long, or that he needed to come eat lunch, or that he was grumpy and lonely and Sirius needed to come spend time with him and not whatever car he was working on because Sirius really did get lost in what he was doing sometimes. 

 

The third garage, Remus had never seen until now. He’d assumed it was storage, maybe, probably filled up with boxes or car parts or something meaningless and easily forgotten because Sirius never mentioned it. But Sirius hadn’t been in the first garage, and he hadn’t been in the second garage, and so Remus had checked the third garage, and opened the door, and here he was, and here it was.

 

It was a car.

 

The leftovers from the wreck told their own story, here. The tires jerked sideways meant that they'd skidded. They'd been hit from the front first, and then the side. They'd been cut out of their seatbelts. And Remus thought, perhaps a bit too objectively, that there was no way the driver had survived the impact at all. It was probably quick. Remus hoped it had been quick. 

 

"It's James' car," Sirius echoed, and Remus let out a breath, processing this slowly. He sat down gently next to Sirius, moving carefully. Sirius moved his legs, letting his hands fall into his lap, and he leaned his head against Remus' shoulder. "He was driving." 

 

It was probably quick, Remus thought again. He didn't say anything. Sirius huffed a laugh, then, and it took Remus by surprise.

 

"When I got my motorcycle, he was so mad, you know?" Sirius breathed. "He told me I was gonna get myself killed on the road. Pancaked was his word, actually." 

 

Sirius reached over and took Remus' left hand, holding it in his lap as well, and started absentmindedly running his fingers along the inside of his palm. Remus had never felt much resentment toward the numbness he felt in that arm, reserving that specific emotion more for his brain, but he hated it now. He wished he could feel the patterns Sirius was tracing. 

 

"Lily just told me to wear a helmet." Sirius's hands shook a little, and his chest tensed like he was holding something back. Remus did his best to squeeze his fingers around Sirius'. "I don't..." he began, but his voice cracked heavily, and he swallowed, breathing in and out until it wasn't rasping in his throat. "I don't know how to be... I'm not who I was, then, anymore. Not– not without them here. I think... I think if you met me, before, I'd be different." Sirius lifted Remus' hand weakly, tapping it down again against his legs a few times like a child waving his arms during a tantrum. "It's just not fair, you know?" 

 

Sirius smiled, and then laughed once, harshly, and then he was crying, properly crying, in that ugly terrible way that people cry when everything feels numb, and it feels cold, and it feels like the only thing that makes you a person right then is to make it loud and awful and violent and to force it out so hard your stomach aches and your throat burns. 

 

And Remus wrapped his arms around him, not gently at all. He held him tight and rocked him stiffly and stifled his breath so that Sirius could feel the hammer of his heart. Sirius was holding onto Remus desperately, his hands clawing until they felt secure wrapped around Remus' chest and he dug his fingers into Remus' ribs on either side and pressed his face against Remus' collarbone. He cried harder that Remus had ever seen him cry, harder than he cried at Harry’s birthday, harder than he cried when they’d had to take Harry to A&E because he’d gotten a stomach bug, harder than he cried when Andromeda called to tell him she’d got into a little fender-bender, and she was fine, but she didn’t want him to hear it through the grapevine. He dug his fingers in and made awful sounds and cried.

 

And it wasn't fair. 

 

It was a simple truth that echoed and reverberated in so many things; that Harry was not old enough to remember James or Lily, that they would not see his first day of school or his last, that they would not toast him at his wedding or meet his children or celebrate his birthdays and light candles and set them in icing and tell him to make a wish, that they would not see him make a wish, that they would probably be the subject of his wishes now; that they would not buy a house or a dog or rent a summer home, that they would not plan their retirement or put away savings or move to a bigger house or move back to a smaller house; that Remus would not meet them; that Remus would not know who Sirius was with them; that Remus would never meet Sirius the way that Sirius had known himself for so long. 

 

And it wasn’t fair. It was James’ car, and it wasn’t fair. James had been driving, and it wasn’t fair. It had probably been quick, and here was Harry, and here was Sirius, and here was everyone left behind, and it wasn’t fair.

 

It was a long time before Sirius' breath stopped heaving and catching and rasping in his throat, and even longer before he stopped shaking, and longer still before he released his iron grip around Remus' ribs and shifted himself so that he was supporting just a bit more of his own weight. He rested against Remus' side and nestled his head against his shoulder and just breathed, for a moment, in a sickly sweet sort of tired way.

 

"It's James' car," Sirius repeated, and it was almost a plea. "I can't just... I can't just get rid of it," he whined. "And I was gonna repair it, because that's what I do , but I can't– I was– but I- I can't fix it." He gestured uselessly to the car. "I can't fix it, I can't. I can't fix it." He was a broken record, but he didn't have any tears left to cry, and so he was just repeating it, helpless, his voice failing him. Remus squeezed him around the shoulder. 

 

"Do you want to try?" Remus asked. Sirius made an awful noise, and Remus' heart felt too cold and too small. 

 

"I have tried," Sirius rasped. "I come out here and I try, and I just stare at it, and it ends the same way every time. I can't fix it, Moony. I don't know how. It'll never be the same." 

 

Remus really didn't know if Sirius was talking about the car or talking about everything else, but he supposed it didn't matter much. 

 

"No," Remus murmured. "It won't." Sirius' breath shuddered out of him. They said nothing for a while, sitting and staring at the car, thinking, breathing. 

 

"Do you think he'll blame them?" Sirius asked quietly. "Harry... do you think he'll blame them? Because they’re not here?" Remus' stomach lurched.

 

"Do you?" he asked. Sirius had a physical reaction to that, flinching like Remus' words burned him, and he jerked himself upright and stared at Remus’ face with some combination of agony and determination crossing his features.

 

"No," he blurted out urgently. "No. No, I– of course not." 

 

"Okay," Remus said, moving his fingers idly over the back of Sirius’ hand. "Why?" 

 

"Wh... because they– it wasn't their fault. They were... it wasn't their fault." Remus nodded. “But what if he– what if he doesn’t get that? What if he doesn’t believe me? I don’t– I don’t know how to get him to believe me,” Sirius choked out, and he leaned his head forward against Remus’ chest again. “What if he doesn’t understand? They– they weren’t– it wasn’t–” 

 

Remus blew out a slow breath and steeled himself for what he was about to recount.

 

"My dad was driving, too," he said. Sirius went very still. "When we crashed, my dad was driving, too. He didn't put me in a car seat, even though we had one. We were… we were just running to the store and back. And I was too short for the airbag, and the seatbelt got jammed, so he just sort of left it, and then he ran a red. Mum was at work." 

 

Remus hadn't really talked about his dad before, he realized. Not to Sirius. Not really to anyone. Everything that needed to be said had always been between Remus and his mum, and even then, they understood each other so well they didn't even need to talk about it. 

 

"It was his fault," Remus added– factually, objectively. "And I blame him. I do. Maybe that's mean and bitter, but I do, and my mum blames him, because he made a choice. But James and Lily... they did everything right." 

 

Remus could only guess at this, but he knew in some fantastical way that he was correct. He knew they wore their seat belts. He knew Harry was in a car seat, probably the most expensive one, crash tested, rear facing, straps fitted perfectly over his chest. He knew James used his turn signal, stopped for yellow lights, checked his blind spot religiously, never rolled through a stop sign, waved on pedestrians. He knew Lily checked his messages for him so he never used his phone in the car, and read out directions so he didn’t have to lean over to see them, and quieted down when he was merging onto a busy road so it wouldn’t distract him. She checked Harry’s car seat, and then James checked his car seat, and then she checked it again, just in case, and that was why Harry was still here.

 

"They did," Sirius insisted. “They did everything right.” 

 

"It was an accident, Sirius," Remus said. "Harry won't blame them any more than you do." There was a very still, very silent pause, and then Sirius nodded against Remus’ chest. Remus rubbed his hand over Sirius’ back, feeling the way that Sirius’ breathing slowed, how it stopped hitching in his throat, how it evened out to something familiar and less painful, and Remus kept is eyes trained on the car–  James’ car. 

 

He wondered how often Sirius came out here and did this, just sat and stared at the car and destroyed himself over it. How often he asked this question, if Harry would blame his parents for this. How often he’d try, and fail, and come back later.

 

"You haven't mentioned your dad before," Sirius noted softly, in the way that he often did when he had a thought and just said it right away, especially when it was something he was curious about. Sirius squeezed Remus’ hand a little. "Is he... did he–" 

 

There wasn't really a way to ask if someone's dad was dead, Remus realized, and so he saved Sirius the trouble.

 

"No, he's– my mum left him. I don't know where he is now, honestly," Remus shrugged with the shoulder that Sirius wasn't leaning against. "There was… well, you know, a lot happened, after. And it was his fault. So she… yeah.”  

 

"Yeah," Sirius murmured. "We should go see your mum again soon," he added thoughtfully, and Remus breathed a laugh. "What?" 

 

"Nothing, sorry," he shook his head, because of course that would be what Sirius took away from that revelation. "She'd like that." Remus felt Sirius smile against his shoulder. Remus leaned into him a little. "You don't have to fix it, Sirius," he sighed. "And you don’t have to get rid of it. It can just... it can just stay like this, for now. And then you can make it something new, if you want. When you're ready. Yeah?" 

 

Remus was not talking about the car, but whether or not Sirius knew that, but he supposed it didn't matter much.

 

"Yeah," Sirius echoed, and Remus thought that he might be genuinely agreeing. He kept running his fingers across Remus' hand, and after a pause, he said, "can I ask you a question? Unrelated." 

 

"Sure," Remus replied. “Always.” Sirius shifted, pushing himself off of Remus’ chest. He brought his other hand down, ghosting his fingers across Remus’ palm.

 

"What can you feel, here?" Sirius asked, holding Remus' hand in both of his own like it was a fragile sort of object and pressing his thumb gently into the skin under his forefinger and pinky. 

 

And Remus thought that was a funny question, because no one had ever asked him that before, actually, aside from doctors. But they didn't really count, he thought. And he was pretty sure he'd only really mentioned the nerve damage in his arm to Sirius just once.

 

He pursed his lips a little, holding back a smile, and shifted his arm out from behind Sirius' back. He put his left hand palm up into Sirius' right, and he put his other hand over Sirius' left, guiding it. 

 

"Anything to the right, here," Remus said quietly.

 

With Sirius' pointer finger, he traced a line very slowly down the inside of his ring finger, across his palm, curving a little toward the right, and then traveled the touch down over the heel of his palm, over the long vein in his wrist, and drifted off as it approached his elbow where the line between numbness and sensation became blurry for him. 

 

"Oh," Sirius said, keeping his fingers gingerly against Remus' skin. "It goes up your arm, too?" Remus hummed, nodding, and Sirius ran his fingers back and forth over that hazy divide. "I didn't know that," Sirius mused as though that had changed something in his mind. 

 

He trailed his fingers back down Remus’ arm, cupping his hand again, rubbing little lines up and down along the right side of Remus’ palm. He took a deep breath in, and then blew it out slowly, and then–

 

“I love you, Moony,” he murmured, and there were fireworks under Remus’ skin where they were touching. “Did you know that? I don’t think I’ve said it, yet. I love you. I love you so much. You’re just lovely, you know? You’re just so easy to love. Did you know that?”

 

Remus swallowed, and there was something thick and sweet in his throat that was spreading in his chest, and he wondered if Sirius could feel it beneath his fingertips. Easy to love. Remus hadn’t known that, actually. 

 

“I love you, too, Sirius,” he breathed, and Sirius honest to god giggled just like he had when they’d first kissed, because he really never could hide when he was happy, could he?

 

“Do you really?” he asked, and he looked up at Remus with those starry gray eyes. “Do you really really?” And then Remus laughed, too, because he couldn’t help it.

“I do,” he grinned, “I really, really do.” Sirius threw his arms around Remus’ neck, crashing against him like a wave, and he held him closely and pressed little peppery kisses into his shoulder and neck and up to his jaw and across his cheek, and then he caught Remus’ face in either of his hands and pressed their foreheads together and breathed him in. 

 

“I’m so happy, you know?” Sirius murmured, his eyes closed softly like he was sleeping. “I didn’t know if I’d ever… but I’m so happy. You know?” 

 

Remus put his hands on Sirius’ waist and leaned forward until their lips were pressed together, and Remus had to think, absentmindedly, that they really fit quite well with each other, didn’t they? They really, really did. 

 

“I love you,” Sirius said again as they parted, breathlessly, like Remus had drawn it out of him, like he’d drawn out his soul and this was what it looked like, and it was all Remus.  

 

“I love you, too,” Remus said, and then because he hadn’t yet said it by itself, “I love you.”

 

***

 

i could not ask you where you came from

i could not ask you, neither could you

 

honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

we could just kiss like real people do

Notes:

wow. okay. listen. wow.

this turned into something so much more than a cute little coffee shop au, and i'm not mad about it. i almost made myself cry while writing this. there's just something so beautiful and awful about falling in love after losing someone, and something so precious about learning to trust someone with every part of you, and man, i'm just a hopeless romantic, okay? sue me. god. this was so much fun to write and also made me think so much about what grief and love and mourning and happiness look like to people.

i don't even know where to start with unpacking it. i'll leave that to all of you.

this last chapter was literally 16k words, so... there's that. man. holy shit.

a lot of folks have asked if i'm going to make this into a series, and i think i will, actually. i've grown rather attached to my version of these boys. and i'd like to explore a bit more of remus' disability, and showcase a few more characters, and i've got some ideas bouncing around that didn't quite fit here, if you can believe it. if that's something you're interested in seeing, you might consider the 'subscribe to user' button because i'm not sure if it'll notify anyone if a series addition is posted. I'm also open to ideas and suggestions for what you might want to see :)

so. good lord. that's that, then, isn't it? for now, at least.

please do let me know what you think :) i truly appreciate all of the kind words you've all left me. they make my heart warm.

and if you want some more wolfstar, check out my long fic, Would That I – a soulmate au that's spanning all 7 years at hogwarts...

Notes:

when people talk about 'gay panic,' this is what they mean. its these two. they're gay, and they're panicking. look at them go. just a couple'a dudes.

anyway,,,, let me know what you think :) I've got this almost completely written, so it won't be too long before I post chapter 2, I just need to edit and make sure it lines up with the finale. it'll probably round out at somethin like 25k words? i think i am incapable of writing Short Things. Alas. the more the merrier, i suppose. but fr im a glutton for comments i love talking to people :)))))

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of the coffee shop au